#but I find it strange when people engage with the game

[centaurianthropology]

One thing that I think a lot of Disco Elysium meta misses (likely because a lot of it is very clearly written by young Americans writing from an intensely American-centric cultural perspective without even really realizing it) is that one of the singular and central themes of the game is massive-scale generational trauma in a home that is economically collapsing as its resources and people are being drained by an occupation.  People have noted that no one tries to help Harry, despite the fact his mental illness is incredibly obvious to everyone around him.  He tells Kim that he completely lost his memory, and Kim politely asks him to focus on the work.  He tells Gottlieb that he had a heart attack, and Gottlieb tells him that if he’s still alive it couldn’t have been that bad.  That he’ll drop dead sooner or later, but then so does everyone.

And that’s the most important thing: so does everyone.  Look at Martinaise.  Look at the world in which Harry lives.  It is not our own, but it is adjacent to ours.  More specifically, it is clearly adjacent to the states of the Eastern Bloc: overtaken and occupied by a faraway government that clearly doesn’t care about Revachol or its people.  And that is obvious in every tired face, every defeated citizen, everyone trying to eke out a little happiness or meaning in spite of the overwhelming trauma and damage around them.  The buildings are still half-destroyed.  The bullet holes are still in the walls.  The revolution was decades before, but it still feels to the people there like a fresh wound.  The number of men of Harry’s generation who are not alcoholic or otherwise deeply fucked up are very few.  Some, like Kim, hide it better, but the deeper you dig into his history, the more you realize how damaged Kim is.  He’s more than a little trigger happy, and hates that about himself, but he is a product of his environment: Kim’s entire life is seeing people he cared about shot and killed, so his instinct now is to shoot first himself, to protect those few people left who still matter to him.

Harry is not unique in his trauma.  He is a distillation of an entire culture of people who tried to rise up and make something beautiful, and were instead routed and occupied.  He is trapped between the occupation and the people on the ground, along with all the rest of the RCM.  Their authority comes from the occupying government, but it is implied that they were formed out of the remnants of the citizens militia which sprung up from Revachol itself as a way to try to mitigate some of the horrors being committed on its streets.  The Moralintern sure as hell wasn’t going to get their hands dirty, so they happily conscripted (and therefore could better control) this group, who are only recognized in certain places, and whose authority mostly amounts to giving out fines.  The RCM is corrupt, but it is corrupt in the same way its culture is.  Bribes are considered standard with them, not a moral failing, but a necessity, so long as those bribes are correctly logged as ‘donations’.  It’s how the RCM stays afloat, and the rest of Revachol completely understands that.  Everyone would take a bribe if it meant they kept eating.  Everyone would take a little under-the-table money if it meant keeping a roof over their heads.  The officersof the RCM certainly don’t make enough to see a doctor.  They have an in-house lazarus, and if he can’t fix them they just die.  Mental health care?  What mental health care?  Harry doesn’t get it for the same reason no one else does: it doesn’t really seem to exist.  There are no counselors, no psychologists, no psychiatrists.  How would they even start?  If the world is what is broken, if everyone is suffering a similar catastrophic amount, it makes sense that Harry’s trauma would simply get rolled up with all the rest.  Kim asks him to get on with the job because Harry’s suffering is not remarkable in Revachol.  He is one of an entire generation who have an astronomical number of orphans from the revolution, and so many younger people are left more or less orphans as their parents drink themselves into oblivion like Cuno’s father.  So Harry’s truly unique attribute is embodying all that trauma, having it all inside of him, filling him to bursting.

To really engage with the themes of the game, engaging first and foremost with the reality of Revachol is imperative.  Imposing our own reality onto Revachol, particularly if coming from an American perspective (which tend to have the habit of both viewing the world through an American lens and not realizing they’re doing it because they’ve never experienced a different lens), will always feel shallow to me because of this.

All that is to say, I would love to hear some more explicitly European meta about this game, and especially Eastern European meta.  If anyone can point me to some good, juicy essays from that perspective, I would be grateful!

#Disco Elysium #is such a good game #but I found a lot of the meta around it frustratingly shallow #and very VERY American #which is also frustrating #given how clearly Eastern European the roots of this game are #I have no problem with people using a game or other work of fiction to inform their own lives and experiences #but I find it strange when people engage with the game #as though it was coming from an American perspective #asking why certain things happen or didn't #based on how they would play out or have played out in America #anyway this a rambly way to request some meta from other cultural perspectives #I am very interested in reading it! #Disco Elysium meta

[charliemwrites]

…. So Mister(s) steal your girl, huh?

Content: Unhappy Relationship, (Brief) Gaslighting, Sad Reader

Bombshells, you always thought, were supposed to making a whistling sound before landing. A high pitched warning of impending doom. Too late to escape the incoming devastation, but at least it wouldn’t come out of nowhere. There’d be some time to brace, for all the good it would do.

Maybe you watched too many movies.

Three months. That’s how long you got to enjoy the bliss of engagement before the world began to fall around you.

Your fiance came home and sat you down, his hand around yours. You thought he was breaking it off for some reason. What he did instead was worse.

In the aftermath you can only remember snippets of the one-sided conversation. Like tinnitus, an awful running in your ears left over from a dropped bomb.

Things like,

Still young, I want to explore…

How will I know you’re my forever unless I know what’s out there?

Last bit of freedom before being tied down…

If you love me and our relationship…

You love your fiance and your relationship. You don’t want to lose it just because you’re selfish. He’s still coming home to you, after all. You’re the one with the ring and all the plans for the future. So what if he wants to… explore? He’s even offering the same to you.

An open relationship, he calls it, like it’s some innovative idea.

You’ve heard of them before, never had much interest. Still don’t, honestly, but it was that or the desolution of 4 years.

You insisted on a long engagement. Your fiance promises that you two can revisit the open relationship when you’re married.

Within a week of agreeing, he’s leaves for the weekend. He doesn’t tell you where he’s going, who he’s meeting. He comes back Sunday evening smelling like someone else’s perfume with a hickey on his collarbone. When you refuse any advances, he sighs and says he “understands that this is a transition” and goes to shower.

It’s like that for six months. Weekends without him. Sometimes sending him off Friday morning and not seeing him until Monday evening. Lipstick on his collars, strange perfume invading the laundry. You start doing his clothes separately.

Six months. You spend months suffering in silence, sniffling through Saturdays and drifting through Sundays. Adjusting meal plans to cook for one.

The last straw is when you try to make plans on a holiday. You and your fiance haven’t done on a proper date in months. You want to go out, have all his attention on you, not shared with his phone.

“Ooh, sorry dear, I’ve already got plans with Malorie. Rain check, yeah? We’ll do something next week.”

You decide to go out anyway, sick of feeling sorry for yourself. Nothing fancy, just a bit of self care. You buy yourself a cute new outfit, put on a bit more makeup than usual, do your hair. Find an interesting little late night book shop. They serve wine and food and have comfy booths for people to read or talk or play board games.

The perfect place to be out but alone.

You’re debating the merits of a romance novel when a voice comes from your left.

“Love that one.”

You blink, glance up. Find a handsome man with eyes simultaneously so dark and so warm. Coals, you think. There’s a cheeky little quirk to his mouth as he nods at the novel.

“It’s good if you like will-they, won’t-they.”

You hum. “I’m more in the market for something… easier? If that makes sense.”

He hums, gives you a solemn look. “It does. Here, you might like this then.”

He plucks a book off the shelf and offers it for inspection. You feel awkward reading it the summary thoroughly, especially when you can feel his eyes on you. But you skim it, it looks promising, and a hot guy just suggested it, so…

“Read a lot of romance?” you ask curiously.

He ducks his head a bit, endearingly shy. “A bit, yeah. Call me hopeless.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, but can’t help saying. “I think it’s just romantic.”

His eyes light up. “Yeah? And what kind of books d’you usually like?”

Before you know it, you’re talking thrillers and horror novels with him. Recommending your favorite spooky novel and then following up that you always read a comedy afterwards as a palette cleanser.

You end up touring each other around the shop, talking books and authors and genres. Yet you’re somehow surprised when he asks if you’d like to sit with him. But you agree, a little thrill in your stomach that you haven’t felt since… a while.

You each buy a stack of books, then claim a booth and proceed to read none of them. He tells you his name is Kyle, that he’s in the military but on leave right now, stocking up on entertainment for flights or long spans of hurrying up and waiting.

You’ve never met a military guy before, and you trip over your curiosity. Trying not to pry but interested in what he does. He’s polite and patient, admitting there are a lot of things he can’t tell you but he’ll answer. You don’t stay on the subject long, figuring the last thing he wants to talk about it work.

He gets you back in the department of uncomfortable topics when he notices the ring on your finger. You’re quick to explain the situation, hot with shame all over again, eyes stinging despite yourself.

Instead of mocking you or just getting up and walking away, Kyle sits back looking flabbergasted.

“That’s fucking mental,” he says, “excuse me for saying.”

You burst into laughter. Haven’t told anyone any of this out of embarrassment, but hearing someone on your side is… good.

“I thought so too, but… he’s happy,” you admit.

Kyle frowns. “What about you?”

You blink, can’t look him in the eye. You know the answer but make a show of thinking about it.

“I’d… like to be again. This — the open relationship thing — seems to be working for him. So… maybe it’ll work for me too?” You shrug. “Worth a try.”

Kyle reaches across the table, a big warm hand enveloping yours. There are callouses you’re not expecting. Tantalizingly different.

“Would you like to try it with me?” he asks. “Don’t have to put a label on it or anything. But my schedule is a bit… it’s hard to keep up a traditional relationship, you know? But I like you, and I think your fiance is a knob.”

You snort, but flip your hand around, thumb brushing over his.

“Yeah…” you muse, and after saying it, a surge of confidence infuses you. “Yeah, I’d like to try this with you.”

His smile is absolutely brilliant. You won’t admit — not even to yourself for a long time — but you fall in love a little right then and there.

#thoughts™️ #cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #misters steal your girl #poly 141 #open relationship trope #kyle gaz garrick #kyle gaz x reader

[vexwerewolf]

why is it that we only have like two licenses from any mech producer that’s a good guy? For a game where like there are clear good and bad guys (even if who you play isn’t necessarily linked to that) it seems strange to me that the only loot and XP you get is… more benefits from the bad guys

I can tell you the answer, but to do so, we're gonna have to talk about a completely different TTRPG.

If you've read @makapatag's truly excellent Filipino martial arts TTRPG Gubat Banwa (and if you haven't, here it is), you may notice that every single character class description (with one notable exception) ends with one of these babies:

I am not Makapatag, and I cannot write with quite as much grace and eloquence as he can, but I will try:

If you choose to become a Lancer, ask yourself why you mock the name of peace with these weapons of war. You call yourself a saviour, but your steed was forged from the murder of a world. You stride across the sky in a colossus built in your own image, so why are you too cowardly to give it your face? Why do you believe these machines of death can preserve life?

It is important to note that the admonitions in Gubat Banwa are not just there to make you feel bad; they are there as legitimate questions. The Sword Isles have seen so much blood, death and tragedy. Wars are not glorious and killing is not a game. So, knowing all of that, why have you taken up this discipline - no matter how noble and virtuous it might claim to be - to shed more blood, to bring more death, to write more tragedy? What could possibly drive you to this? What need is so great that you must kill?

The thing with Gubat Banwa is that there are legitimate answers to these questions! There are bad people doing bad things, and some of them will not be stopped with words or kindness. Sometimes, as sorrowful as it is, killing is the correct choice to prevent greater suffering and deeper tragedy - but adding less misery and death to the world is still adding some amount of it. Even the most necessary wars will drench the ground in the blood of the innocent.

A sword is a tool meant to kill humans; while it can be used for other things, it is not well-suited to anything other than this. A mech is, in its most basic essence, just a very complicated sword: it's usually used on things larger than a person, but it's still a tool built to kill.

So why have you taken up this path? Humanity was saved from the brink of extinction and has created wondrous technologies like printers, cold fusion and mind-machine interface, and yet you use them to play soldier in a giant metal man. Why do you choose to take up this machine of death, built by the greedy and pitiless? Why do you think these machines can ever make things right?

Because sometimes, despite everything, they can.

Warhammer 40K shows an awful world full of monsters and monstrosity, and in the darkest moments of its history, Lancer's world looked just as bleak, but Lancer's world differs in one crucial way. Warhammer's world has long given up trying to be better, but Lancer's world never did. Lancer's world kept insisting a better world is possible, and it used what tools it had to make it so.

Sometimes the correct choice, no matter how bitter it may seem, is to kill someone. When you need to do this, a sword is a perfectly good choice for the job.

If you find yourself discomforted by the fact that all the people you can buy mechs from are corrupt and immoral - good! You have correctly engaged with the text. You have understood that the sort of people who would make giant walking death machines and sell them for profit are not good people. But you still have a job to do, and you need the correct tools, and those people have them.

Lancer is not a game about a perfect world - it is a game about a deeply flawed and imperfect one that does not let its imperfection stop it from trying. You have to try to make a better world, even with imperfect tools made by unpleasant people.

#lancer #lancer rpg #lancerrpg #lancer-rpg #gubat banwa #philosophy #ethics #ttrpg

[adventuringblind]

Monsters in my Mind

Max Verstappen x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Sometimes those thoughts won't leave, the ones you don't want... The ones that can be dangerous. All it takes is one person to help make them go away.

Warnings: Intrusive thoughts, referenced/implied self-harm, violent thoughts, impulsive behaviors, panic attacks, non-sexual dominance as a form of coping, dom/sub undertones

Notes: My thoughts are self stabby as of late. Pardon me as I write this for myself to keep my head and hands busy.

Side Note: Consider feeding my praise kink maybe...?

Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi

The head is a strange place. One's conscious is usually meant to help them make the right decisions and not engage in acts that could hurt them or others. Her head, however, is the opposite of that.

It's a dark twisted place where thoughts that aren't her own find refuge. They want to bathe her in the ecstasy of things that shouldn't feel good. daydreams about things that could repulse any typical human being.

Sometimes they are so strong and her bodies reactions are so out of control, that she has to find relief somewhere. The knife against her skin takes the edge off. Is it normal to moan at the sting and feel satisfied looking at her red stained thighs? She does, until the realization settles in and the guilt won't let her think.

The thoughts laugh at her for giving in so easily. They scrutinize the fact she gets off on the pain.

She walks around in fear of herself. The anxiety and exhaustion from constantly fighting herself are visible on her body. She's tired, and everyone knows it. It's why they don't come near her. Always to caught up in her own head to realize people are trying converse.

It's not like her job requires to much discussion with people. Puzzles keep her brain busy and Ferrari keeps her busy with all the strategy mishaps they throw at her. They throw her a problem, she solves it, plans for next time, and they fuck it up again by not using the solution.

Sometimes she thinks about throwing herself in front of an F1 car going full speed. That voice in her head screams at her anytime she's close to the live track.

Then there is Max. His voice sends the thoughts running and it makes her want to cling to him. She wants him to never stop talking about anything and everything.

Today had been particularly difficult with the of the driver switch coming at the end of the season. Carlos and Charles are the first drivers she's worked with and they all got along great. She doesn't want it to change. That means more unknowns.

The wind graces her cheeks and kisses her finger tips as she sits on the balcony of their apartment. Everything is to much right now and her thoughts won't quiet.

She was in Maranello when the news came out. Her head became so loud with the fear of change and worry for her friend. Enough to be sent home for the day - alone, and nothing to help her head aside from the burning desire to just end it all.

Max had made arraignments for her to spend some time with him in the Milton-Keynes. She was still alone for periods of time. Enough to have to settle herself somehow.

The color red makes something in her relax. Specifically when it's flowing out of her own body.

Now Max is with her and she's stuck in her own head. The never ending maze of twisted thoughts keeps her from moving. The fear of giving in has been looming over her head for longer then normal. It feels like she's losing something, always has been with this team, but change feels far worse then staying with them.

Max hasn't pushed her to do much aside from at least stay in his presence. Occasionally attempting to get her out of her own head with movies and games. He's even spent hours at a time just talking to her about anything and everything.

He opens the door to the balcony, but she doesn't look at him. Not until he holds his hand out for her to take. An action she does without hesitation. No thoughts are needed for this, just following Max's lead.

He leads her over to the couch and arranges them so she can sit tucked into his lap. A grounding hand runs up and down the lenght of her spine. "I've been doing some research about how we might be able to get your head to quiet down."

"I'll do anything, jus' want it to stop." Her voice sounds dry and cracked from how hard she's screamed and cried through the last few days.

"Do you trust me?"

"More then I trust anyone."

She finds herself slipping off the couch and onto her knees, in-between Max's legs with her head resting against his thigh. His touch doesn't leave her skin. "You're doing so good for me. Listen to my voice and focus on taking big breathes for me. Can you do that for me?"

She hums in response. The continual stroke of Max's fingers against her face and sound of his voice already helping immensely.

"That's it, just breathe for me. I've got you; you don't have to fight the thoughts alone. I'm right here with you, keeping them away, never leaving your side." Max grabs one of her hands with his free one. her fingers lay between his. Her favorite puzzle with how easy the pieces fit together.

"You're here with me; I've got you. Those scary thoughts aren't your own. The are unwanted and uninvited, but most importantly, they don't define you. You are brave, loved, beautiful without gaping wounds. You're not crazy or psychotic. You are yourself, with your highs and your lows."

Her body has never felt like this. Her entire being wants to give itself over to Max. His breathes guiding her own, his gentle yet firm hold on her keeping her where he wants.

She lets herself fall under his spell. If Max can take the control away from her, make her complaint and relaxed like this, then he can have her thoughts too.

"That's it, such a good girl, let me think for you. I won't leave you to fight or flounder on your own."

She follows Max's directions, lets him guide her in this place of trust and letting go of things. He's turning her brain off and letting her float without any kind of worries except what Max is telling her to do.

Until all she can think of is him. The calm the comes with his presence and the way his voice falls over her like a soft blanket. Max is all she knows, occupying every crevice of her mind and leaving no room for anything else to creep in.

"How're you feeling, geliefd?" There is a lightness to his tone that makes her swoon.

She hums against his leg. "Warm, fuzzy, head empty."

"Then you stay here as long as you need, okay? I'll keep you safe."

And she does.

She falls into the warm embrace of Max's words. She lets him protect her and keep the dark ugly thoughts away.

With Max, her head is quiet. The voices can't come though. When they do, he's there to fight them back.

#x reader #formula 1 #f1 fic #fanficion #f1 fanfic #racing #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen f1 #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen x y/n #mv1 imagine #mv33 #mv1 #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv33 imagine #mv33 fic #mv33 x you #redbull #redbull racing #redbull f1 #redbull max #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #ferrari

[lessbienlesbian]

mizu x reader headcanons

ok this is gonna be a combination of a modern au and then also vaguely period accurate headcanons. i haven’t written in ages, so my apologies if this isn’t very good.

she requires very frequent reassurance because of how awful her past relationship was but is not great at asking for it

it takes her a long time to open up to people

if you are consistently kind and helpful to her she will accept the benefits of what you offer, but remain wary of your character/integrity/her ability to trust you for an extended period of time

basically what i’m saying is that my girl has some major trust issues

she’s at peace whenever she is in the water and is somehow very good at both sinking and floating

she enjoys teasing and banter, and takes pride in how easy it is for her to mess with you and make you flustered

she is very blunt and honest

she is surprisingly soft and gentle with you

she cannot cook to save her life, but she will gladly prep all of the ingredients for you and clean up after the meal

she has very quick instincts and struggles to let her guard down because of this

she’s super protective over her friends and you and would literally cut a bitch if they wronged you

she hypes you up and encourages you when you’re really angry and ranting about things

taking care of herself is definitely not her strongest suit, so you try to help her remember basic self care activities by giving her gentle reminders

her nose and cheeks get really pink and flushed in the cold or when she’s flustered or embarrassed

you offer to spar with her despite your complete lack of experience because you want to engage with the thing that she is most passionate about. she’s very hesitant at first because of the whole deal with mikio (i hate that motherfucker), but once you have reassured her that things won’t end the same way she relents and agrees to spar. for some reason, your first move is to go in with a headbutt and she can’t help but laugh at the grunt you let out when she easily stops you with a single palm to your forehead. as time passes she teaches you some actual techniques, but you never get anywhere close to her skill level. (not that you’re complaining though, being pinned beneath mizu while she gazes upon you with a look of pure glee is certainly not the worst position to be in).

she is very confident in her skills and abilities, but lacks confidence in her appearance and other areas so you make a point to compliment her frequently

you both take care of each other as best as you can

in the present day she would be really into video games, decorative ironworking, basketball, iado (or another sword based form of martial arts), and going to the gym

ok this might be strangely specific, but i think she would have a similar relationship with cats as she has with horses. she’s very catlike in her demeanor and general nature and i think she would find it rewarding to earn the trust of a similarly skittish and “wild” animal

okayyy that’s all i hope y’all enjoyed these. i left out the horny stuff but if y’all wanna see that then uhh like this post and i’ll write some nsfw headcanons.

#mizu x reader #mizu x you #bes mizu #blue eye samurai #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu #bes mizu x reader

[nqmonarch]

Like this man is so sad I just wanna hug him and hold him and tell him everything will be okay but I can't because he's not real. Therefore fanfiction.

Minor spoilers for Jing Liu quest

Comforting Jing Yuan through the screen

To feel lonely, is a common feeling. One that nearly everyone has experienced in their life. So of course, when it was one of those nights you find yourself more than ever sympathizing with Jing Yuan. For a character in a video game, that reminds you too much of yourself.

Originally the only thing that drew your attention to him was his looks. The constant relaxed grin and posture showcasing his confidence, his clothes fit him well showing his competency and also highly attractive body, and he had a badass lion by his side in the splash art. He was just plain pretty. And lightning lord was badass to use in combat. Even if he didn't do much damage it felt like he did damage, at least he did damage to your heart.

Then the lore-- oh my gosh the lore. The only one of his friend group to remember them completely and have to bare the brunt of the pain all while fearlessly and confidently leading however many people were on the Xianzhou. He was lonely. Terribly so. Maybe not in the same way you were lonely but the two of you could be lonely, together.

Whenever he appeared on your screen during a TrailBlaze or Companion quest, your fingers embarrassingly drifted to his hair touching the screen gently. Feeling nothing but cool plastic against your fingers.

Jing Yuan, on the other hand, felt a very strange sensation. Jing Yuan and his three friends were reunited again, yet they never fully could be. Dan Heng was not Dan Feng, as much as it hurt to remember. Yingxing held no memory of the past. Jing Liu left to fight against mara. Blade and Jing Liu had engaged in combat again, air rushing around the two of them at alarming speeds and all Jing Yuan could do is watch. It was all he could ever do.

Then even as the air grew colder and picked up with each clang of the blades, Jing Yuan felt warmth surround him, a hand resting on his head in an attempt to comfort him. He wasn't alone. He wasn't quite sure what kept causing all these strange occurrences, the sudden bursts of warmth when he ran into old friends and felt alone.

Then there was the sudden burst of strength he had, he'd always been strong but each swing of the blade felt effortless now and came faster, more precise, more accurate. But lastly was the strange feeling of comfort, sometimes while he was indulged in that feeling a cut or two would appear on his body only to be healed. His body felt no pain. There'd been a few times when he'd passed out, astounded as blood appeared before him, and he'd wake up moments later perfectly fine.

He wasn't sure exactly what the cause of it all was but he didn't feel quite as alone anymore.

And for some reason, neither did you.

You felt discomfort slink up your spine and rest in your shoulders. It felt like someone was watching you but, no one was around. You turned your attention back to Honkai Star Rail, as you watched lightning lord crash down and hit the enemies.

#JING YUAN DOES DAMAGE TO MY HEART I LOVE HIM #jing yuan #jing yuan x reader #reader insert #gn reader #hsr #hsr x reader #self aware hsr #self aware jing yuan

[yooniesim]

I'm sitting here thinking about a pretty age-old debate on simblr... the race of sims that have black hairstyles, particularly in cc preview pics.

I know it's been talked about repeatedly, but when it comes to cc previews for paid cc I think it's especially worth talking about. Some people say, well, the creator only uses a few different sim models each time, it's not like they're intending to be racist or something. It's just for convenience, because they're busy, they're hustling, they gotta pay their bills. They always use the same sim, so it's fine. But like... isn't that gross to y'all? Someone making money off of black hairstyles, but they can't even be assed to go in cas for 15 mins to make a black sim? Isn't that a prime example of appropriation of black culture for profit? Like the human aspect of us as a person is gone, it's just another part of us being advertised and sold. Black hair makes money, black hair cc is limited, it will sell and nothing else matters. It feels like black hairstyles are some kind of trend with them too, because none of these creators made them before it was possible to profit off of them... back then it was "too hard" just like now it's apparently "too hard" to make a different preview sim.

Also, it's not lost of me that when a creator does make a black sim for their previews, they're as light skinned and white looking as possible. Whether just by skintone, very eurocentric features (like they just gave a white sim slightly darker skin), vitiligo to make most of the skin light, or claiming the sim has albinism. And while some of this I'm sure is just finding that aesthetic more "pretty", I also think this has to do with potential sales. I'm going to be honest... besides engagement by black simblr itself, I've noticed a lot of posts I have get less engagement/reblogs if the sim in question has darker skin and darker hair. It's much more likely to pick up in the mainstream cc finds blogs/YouTube videos etc, if the content is for white sims or the sim has lighter skin and light hair. I don't care about engagement and simply make whatever sim I want to make, and since I do have that variety, it's how I noticed this strange trend. And with the volume of content paywall creators make, I think they noticed this too. Posts with lighter skinned sims get better engagement, and thus, make more money.

Have you ever noticed, even in paywalled cc packs, there will usually be a sort of token effect? One white sim, one ethnically ambiguous sim, one black sim. This is great if you're showing off something that will vary for different skintones- makeup and skin details, for example- but why is it always like this? And why is the variety usually only in previews for cc packs instead of solo items (like hairs)? It feels like it's all to sell better, to appeal to different demographics and say, hey, I didn't forget poc exist! Please pay for my content! It feels disgenuine, and since creators like this rarely engage with the community anymore besides paid content, it's hard to figure out whether they feel this way or not.

Personally, I don't care much what people do in their own games- I might look at them weird for a sec, but I move on, cos it's their issue not mine. But like many other aspects to this community, when it crosses over into paid content, it sparks my interest. It feels like everything, everything, is about maximizing profit now. And for the people that focus on that, that's their prerogative and all, I can't exactly stop them, but. It's just something I observed and wouldn't mind discussing with y'all.

(Note: I don't apply the "profiting off black culture" part to black creators, obviously. Also no hate to any creators that do this stuff. Be reasonable adults, please. I'm just discussing in a constructive criticism type of way.)

#ceci speaks #nonsims #text #the patreon issue #ceci speaks a lot more #negative #kinda? #just thinking #first thinkpiece in a while lol

[yuurivoice]

Saw a goofball post about ASMR Roleplay, romantic plots, narratives, etc. and so on.

Let me share some of my philosophy with you as someone in this game for 7 years, 150k subs on YouTube, and who turned this into a lucrative business for himself. I say all that not to flex, but to assure you that maybe I know a little bit about what I'm talking about.

Audio Roleplays, ASMR Roleplay, etc and so forth is not some sort of rigid, strict thing. If you believe that content in this niche has to adhere to strict rules, structure, and expectations, you've already entered into this with strange expectations because there is such a vast array of ways you can go about presenting this content.

Some of it is slice of life moments in time with an assumed relationships between character and listener. Before narrative audios started to pick up steam, or rather, a handful of folks (myself included) developed followings centered on original characters and stories, the vast majority of creators in this space were just doing snippets of experiences. And, in case you were unaware, that approach is wildly successful. Boyfriend Experiences, audio smut, etc. has a much wider appeal at this time because a listener can drop right in and enjoy it.

If you have somehow deluded yourself into thinking that every audio has to adhere to strict narrative rules, be defined by conflict, or things happening beyond whatever the vibe calls for, you're willfully putting yourself and the niche in a box. Which is fine, but seeing people piss and moan about it is strange.

My approach has been to blend narrative series along with one-shots. One-shots serve as super self indulgent audios that aren't tied to the narrative and allow listeners to engage with some of their favorite characters they fell in love with in the narrative without furthering the plot.

Sometimes I play the game, explore tropes and clichés that are popular for the sake of taking a crack at it. Because it brings in new listeners who then become fans of my narrative work and creates genuine supporters of my passion projects.

And ya know? It fucking works. It works really well. I can drop a very straightforward, stripped down comfort audio with Alphonse like I did today and move listeners to tears. And then we can continue on with BitterSweet when I'm good and ready. It keeps the channel running, keeps the audience engaged, and keeps me working.

The bigger point here is that creators should be able to approach their work as they see fit, without concerns about goofballs with strange expectations and standards dictating to them what is and is not valid. You wanna know what's valid? Creating shit that you like, that the people who support you like. However you achieve that is all good in my book.

Having some goofy ass superiority complex about how people play pretend with pretty voices is strange behavior. I'm proud that my community has never flung that kind of nonsense around, and I'm speaking on it to affirm that kind of stance for the folks who rock with me.

If you're a listener who has recently stumbled into this niche, I implore you to explore, listen to others, find what you like and enjoy it because you enjoy it. There are countless people making audio content these days and there's no wrong way to do it, never has been. There's something for everyone, and if someone tries to tell you otherwise, be wary.

I'm not about negative nonsense, not about tribalism or putting down one person over another. Lift up your faves and share why you appreciate them and their style. But petulant bickering and shitting on others because of something as trivial as audio content? Nahhhh. If I catch anyone spouting nonsense like that in my name, I try and snuff it out as fast as possible because that's not how my shit is built.

If you are someone who fucks with me and my work but has had some opinions like that, I implore you to chill because none of this has ever been that serious. I want people to enjoy what they want to enjoy because for the love of fuck, life is too short to try and grandstand over this silly little niche. Or please get all the way away from me and my people.

Deuces. ✌️

#asmr roleplay #audio roleplay #yuurivoice #feels like we went years without nonsense like this

[cuubism]

for @magnusbae

--

“Hob Gadling,” Dream says, and there’s a laugh deep in it, hidden in his eyes. “Am I to understand you’ve been engaging in petty theft?”

“I used to rob people on the road, and this surprises you?” says Hob, leaning against his kitchen counter. Then holds up a hand before Dream can respond. “Now, to be clear, my highwayman days are behind me. I’ve evolved. I’ve no interest in hurting people over riches. Also, would be bloody difficult to commit highway robbery nowadays.”

“I see you’ve thought it through,” says Dream from where he’s still lingering in the kitchen doorway. He clearly finds all of this highly amusing.

“I have, and rest assured, this theft was by no means petty. I’m pretty sure this is considered grand larceny.”

“Ah. I see it is no fun for you if decades of prison time are not on the line,” says Dream.

Hob winks at him. “Would you really let me go to prison for decades?”

Dream raises a haughty eyebrow. “I am your get-out-of-jail-free card?”

“Not getting caught is my get-out-of-jail-free card. You think I don’t know what I’m doing? You think I would do this for a lark without a plan?”

“Speaking frankly?” says Dream. “Yes.”

Hob laughs. “Alright, caught. But in my defense! It was for an important reason.”

Dream finally steps properly into the kitchen. “And what reason is that? I know you have no need for riches.”

“Wasn’t about need. Was only about charm. And getting in your good graces. And being the most irresistible and rakish boyfriend I can. Don’t think I didn’t see the way you looked at me at that first, portentous meeting.”

He lets Dream step in, closer and closer, like a predator with its prey. Doesn’t move. “You wish to give me the scrappy bandit I apparently so desired back then?”

“No apparently about it,” says Hob, and oh, it’s fun to be bold with Dream, now that he feels reasonably sure of not scaring him off. “But it’s okay, because I was even more weak for the prissy lord that you were. You know how much you could have gotten me to do if only you’d asked?”

Dream is standing right before him now, crowding him against the counter. His eyes gleam in the dark. “Does that include grand larceny?”

Hob laughs and lays his hands on his sides, feeling the taught realness of him, so much more dangerous than he’d thought of the lord he’d met in that tavern, and so much more glorious for it. “And more.”

He fishes the ruby from his pocket, letting it dangle on its long chain and catch the kitchen lights. He dips his head low as he holds it out to Dream. “A token of my affection. For my lord.”

Dream lets the gem fall into his palm, examining the fine cut of it. It doesn’t have the darkness, the strange angles of his now-broken dreamstone, but it’s still a gorgeous gem. Deep wine red, bottomless depths within the facets. Like Dream himself.

“A token?” He echoes, lips tugging up in a smile. “A courtly gift for one you have no need to court?”

“A small gift for one I am endlessly devoted to,” Hob says, and Dream’s eyes meet his again. There’s a smile in them, now, a real one. The gem is worth a bloody fortune, but Dream cares not for the monetary value of things. This is about the symbol, the game, the effort of it, and it seems it’s landed.

He does like pretty things, too. Hob knows it well.

“Put it on me, then,” Dream says.

He ducks his head for Hob to clasp the chain around the back of his neck. Hob kisses his forehead when he’s done.

The ruby sits against his breastbone, shining against the bare skin at the center of the deep vee in his shirt.

Hob squints. He could have sworn Dream was wearing something with more coverage when he arrived. “Did you… change your shirt?”

Dream smirks. “Perhaps. Such art requires its proper canvas.”

“Cheeky. You’re right, though.” Hob admires it on him, and sighs. So worth it.

Dream kisses his cheek, like they really are courting and he’s shyly accepting the gift. Hob takes hold of his face and pulls him into a proper one, one that’ll leave his lips as red as the gem. God, he better be able to convince Dream into wearing that and nothing else in bed. That sounds like a good way to die, if he ever were to choose one.

“How’d you find out about this, anyway?” he asks, letting his hands wander to Dream’s hair to keep him close.

“Matthew. He admitted that he helped you.” He doesn’t sound too upset about it, fortunately, for Matthew’s sake.

Hob sighs. “I tried to keep his involvement quiet. Blabbermouth.”

“He had fun, apparently,” says Dream wryly.

“Hope you won’t punish him too much.”

Dream smirks. “Just a little.”

“Going to punish me, then?” Hob says. It's meant to be challenging but he can’t keep the grin off his face.

Dream pushes him against the counter, hands pressed tight to his hips. “Hmm.” His voice rumbles through Hob’s body. His eyes are alight with fondness and danger both, and a shiver runs up Hob’s spine. “Just a little.”

#magnusbae #dreamling #dreamling fic #dream of the endless #hob gadling #my writing #1389 dreamling my beloved #thief hob my beloved

[akoyaxs]

Dangerous Games - II

✮ Pairing: Aonung x Tayrangi/Omotikaya fem reader ✮ Tags: Reader POV, oral sex (m and f recieving), slight voyeurism if you squint, banter, fluff, friends w benefits ✮ Read Part 1 here Note: this (backstory and character dynamic) is heavily based of my wattpad fanfiction "Dangerous Game", it's just a little more mature than I would post on my WP so I'm doing a Aonung x reader part now instead of the Aonung x OC in the fanfiction ˙ᵕ˙

So maybe things didn't go exactly to plan - not that there had ever been a plan in place.

But when you and Aonung returned back to the village, the others hardly failed to notice the marks you'd left all over each other.

Neteyam had been quick to notice the nips and hickeys along your neck, and Lo'ak's eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he saw the scratches you'd marked along Aonung's back.

The two Sully boys had instantly pulled Aonung aside. By their gleaming eyes and slight frowns, you could tell they were torn between their obvious disbelief that Aonung managed to have sex with you and their brother-like protectiveness of you (which was completely unnecessary as you outranked them both put together).

Kiri and Tsireya had been raising their brows at you, which you ignored after sharing the whole story with them. Tsireya had been slightly disgusted with her brother yet amused with your easy control of him, whilst Kiri had just listened intently with an incredulous grin on her face.

Unfortunately, in the moment where you and Aonung made that bet and engaged in certain activities in that soft forest clearing, you hadn't though about the longer term consequences.

One of them was Aonung himself. He couldn't stop shooting you strange glances despite your insistence that it meant nothing.

You had thought that finally giving him a taste would satiate his inexplicable fixation with you, but if anything, he was just seems to want you more.

You sigh as you walk out of your hut, forgetting the crucial fact that your kelku was next to the one the Metkayina were staying in.

You're striding past without your weapons when you hear a voice call your name from inside.

Tsireya is smiling at you from the entrance, nestled comfortably against Lo'ak. You can spot Kiri and Rotxo by the fire, chatting with Neteyam.

Not spotting a certain someone, you follow Tsireya's welcoming wave and duck into the kelku.

Yet upon entering, you realise you made a mistake in assuming Aonung wasn't there, because your foot catches on a thick turquoise tail, and you find yourself promptly falling into someone's lap.

Stupid ass skxawng, leaving his tail lying wherever for people to trip over. Why does he just have to be so stupidly massive.

You grumble a little as you push yourself up, finding Aonung's face suddenly inches from yours, an amused little smirk on his face.

"Shut up and get off me fish lips," you snap, gripping his shoulders to push yourself out of his lap.

"You were the one that sat on me," he points out, before he cuts himself off.

You don't miss the way his eyes instantly travel over him as you sit up and push yourself away, but before you can snap at him that your eyes actually aren't on your tits, Tsireya speaks up.

"You look beautiful," she gasps, smiling at you. "Where are you going?"

"There's a party tonight," you say, frowning at Lo'ak.

"Oh yeah," he says, shaking his head slightly. "I forgot about that- that's why we came here, to invite you!"

Immediately, your eyes widen, but Kiri's grabbing Rotxo's arm and begging him to come.

Which only means-

"You're coming too bro, right?" Neteyam asks Aonung.

Aonung clears his throat and peels his gaze away from you. You hadn't even noticed him staring- you'd gotten so accustomed to his bright blue eyes on you.

"Yeah," Aonung shrugs, and Neteyam grins.

"We had some good times in the reef- now it's our time to show you a good time in the forest."

"Here's your chance," I whisper to Aonung, so only he can hear.

"Chance to what?"

"To fuck around with some villagers and leave me alone," I hiss, grinning at him.

"I think you like having me around sweetheart," Aonung whispers back, not in the least deterred by the words.

"And what gives you that impression? My overwhelming love and affection for you?" you taunt.

"That and the way you were moaning in my ear the other night," he grins, teeth glinting sharply, and you feel the places where those very fangs lightly sunk into your skin prickle under his bright blue gaze. "Oh yes, yes, yes-"

"Shut your stupid mouth," you snap, quickly checking that the others couldn't hear your whispered, furious conversation.

"I thought you liked my stupid mouth," Aonung grins, before you whip his leg hard with your tail. "Ow."

The others turn to see him rubbing his leg and wrinkling his nose at you.

"Sorry, accident," you say, rolling your eyes.

"Yeah well, we should go before you murder Aonung," Kiri smiles, hauling you up and away from the stupid skxawng. 

You allow yourself to be led away by Kiri, Rotxo on her other side, and the others trailing behind you as you walk together towards the party.

You can hear Tsireya giggling at Lo'ak's stupid jokes, and Neteyam and Aonung are having a low, quiet conversation, though you can feel eyes burning on you.

You'd bet anything they were a very familiar ocean-blue set of eyes with that strange, unreadable expression.

Thankfully, you get a distraction as soon as you arrive at the party - alcohol.

It's been a long fucking week, what with training Aonung and scolding Aonung and avoiding Aonung and the other business with Aonung, and this is a time where you can just get away from fucking Aonung.

It's so stupid, the way he just always seems to be there, and when he isn't physically, it's just imprinted in your mind.

You don't love him - you don't even like Aonung - but there's just something about him that just remains with you wherever you go.

It's something about his faint sea-breeze scent lingering after he's been in the forest for weeks, something about the way his large blue eyes glitter no matter if they're illuminated by sunlight filtering through the foliage or the forest bioluminescence.

You grunt, downing a sweet, very strong drink of some unfamiliar sort.

You can still almost feel the ghost of his hands all over you, feel your fading nips and hickeys prickle when he's near, hear the faint groans and curses he left, messy and hot, along your neck as your back arched against his muscular chest.

Fuck, this isn't good.

The alcohol isn't drowning away these constant thoughts of Aonung.

Never once have you ever spared two flying fucks for a guy after you fucked.

It's not like you like Aonung, but you've hardly ever felt this level of... awareness... with any other guy before.

Each encounter has been the same, a quick fuck then you leave before things can get awkward, or worse, intimate.

So okay, maybe seeing your whole clan get murdered and destroyed by sky people at a young age could be traumatising, maybe even give you a few silly little intimacy issues, but your total aversion for intimate affection had always been uncomplicated.

You didn't need people to protect or defend you, you didn't need someone to take care of you.

Not once had you ever wished to stay and be cleaned up and praised and loved after sex; sex was just meaningless escape and occasional enjoyment.

These repeated thoughts of Aonung didn't mean anything. Nothing at all.

The next drink is even stronger, a whole coconut full of some shiny sapphire liquid that tastes faintly of lime, and you sloppily down it before swiping away the droplets.

Aonung didn't matter- it doesn't matter that you can feel his eyes on you from across the party.

But you only notice the burn of those ocean-blue eyes when it suddenly disappears.

You frown, turning to where you last saw Aonung, to find him speaking to some other girls.

Ha. Ninat was, simply put, a slut. She was named after her obviously egocentric mother, who Neytiri had once told you had put quite a few moves onto Jake.

Now Ninat 2.0, not exactly improved, was giggling obnoxiously at Aonung, twirling her long dark hair and batting her long lashes at her.

You just scoff and turn away, sipping another coconut. You don't like Aonung, but you know he can do better than that.

"Quite a step down, don't you think," a voice whispers in your ear, before you realise Neteyam's standing beside you.

"What do you mean?" you ask, frowning drunkenly at your friend. 

"Come off it," Neteyam grins, rolling his eyes. "It couldn't be more obvious you fucked Aonung, he's even more pussy whipped than before."

"He's not pussy whipped," you mumble. "He's just-"

"Totally obsessed with you and everything you do and everything that has to do with you?" Neteyam suggests.

"Sure," you shrug, too hazy to argue with him as you down another drink.

"But I mean, who isn't," Neteyam grins. "All the other guys in the clan are furious - they know how picky you are about lovers and the fact you chose an outsi-"

"Gross Tey," you swat at him. "They aren't my lovers, I'm just having fun. I'm still young, just let me live, mighty warrior."

He laughs, but lightly holds your arm to steady you.

"Look, Khalo has been glaring at Aonung this whole party. Moy'ka is working up the courage to come talk to you, and those five guys over there are literally fighting over who gets to shoot their shot."

"What's your point," you frown. 

"My point is that you are literally the most desired girl in the clan, and it speaks volumes that you're fucking a guy that has been here for weeks when every other guy has been bending backwards to get you to look at them their whole lives," Neteyam says sternly.

"I'm not fucking Aonung," is all you reply with. "It was a one-time thing, and now I'm ready to move on and forget about it."

"He won't."

"Come on Tey," you grumble. "I heard a million stories about Aonung when you were in the reef, he was fucking girls left and right and he never got hung up on anyone. Why would he be so obsessed with me?"

"Because you aren't falling at his feet," Neteyam points out. "Look, Ninat is practically trying to suck his dick already, and he couldn't give two fucks. You have him hooked, and I know you're intrigued by him too."

"You mean annoyed," you grumble.

"No I mean intrigued," Neteyam says sternly. "I mean, why else would you be avoiding him, then having all these weird whispered conversations with him when you think we don't notice, then taking him so far away to train?"

"I take him far away so no one can hear his screams of pain," you grin, drunkenly cackling a little.

"You're fucking demented," Neteyam says fondly, tucking your face back behind your ears.

"True," you shrug carelessly feeling eyes snag back onto you.

You don't need to sense that it's Aonung looking, but you turn to meet his gaze anyway.

He's shameless about his staring, pupils tiny slits in large blue eyes like an ocean trench, before a voice interrupts you.

"Hey," Moy'ka says nervously, holding a small wrapped leaf of meat. "I brought this for you."

"What is it?"

"Yerik meat," he says awkwardly. "From my hunt. I saw you hunting one a few days ago with um... with..."

He trails off nervously, and you follow his gaze to where Aonung stands.

Aonung looks normal, half-listening to Ninat chatter on about some stupid shit, but you can see his tail flicking agitatedly behind him, and you can sense the hard coldness of his gaze from here, snagged right on your face.

You have a moments hesitation before you turn back, ignoring Aonung and smiling at Moy'ka.

"So I hunted it for you," Moy'ka says nervously.

How cute, going to the trouble of hunting a hexapede and bringing you a meal. It's not much to impress the best hunter and warrior in the clan, but you accept it graciously, and he looks so relieved and jittery that you can't help smiling.

This is another strange idea that the men in the clan have, bringing you gifts from their hunts as tokens for your "affection". It never seems to occur to them that you could easily hunt for yourself, could easily murder them too, but it seems to be some pathological need for you to accept their silly little gifts.

Moy'ka seems to be mumbling about something or another, about hunting and archery, and you find yourself thinking more about his large hands then the words he's speaking.

"Really?" you sigh, struggling to pretend you aren't bored out of your fucking mind.

"Well," Moy'ka says, before looking nervously down at you. "We could discuss it in a more private area."

At this, your ears prick up.

You're drunk and need a distraction and to be frank, you're horny.

So you grin agreeably up at Moy'ka, and follow him away from the party.

It's a little shy and messy, your head banging uncomfortably against the back of the tree you're propped against as Moy'ka clumsily holds you up.

You've barely been at this for more than a few minutes, which is undoubtedly long enough for you to realise that your standards really have slipped.

First Aonung and now this, bumbling, clumsy fucking with this endearingly nervous but not at all worthwhile guy, who's grunting - like a hog - his praises of your tightness and sweetness and beauty and other stupid fucking bullshit.

This is what you get for trying to be nice, you think. Give a sweet nervous guy a chance opposed to the cocky stupid ones, and end up with steadier rhythm of your head slamming into the tree than his thrusts.

You'd never ever fucking admit it, but Moy'ka feels like a fucking twig compared to Aonung.

You can tell Moy'ka is getting close - a good fucking thing so this can be over and you can go sleep - and he looks up at you.

"Can I-"

"Yes, yes fine," you wince, reaching up to clutch the branches in an unsuccessful effort to stop your head knocking.

He comes undone in an embarrassingly quick, loud groan, shaking with the orgasm and the effort of holding you up and against the tree.

When he finally pulls out, you wince and steady yourself on the ground, feeling extremely disgruntled and unsatisfied.

The one good thing about this interaction was that you smartly chose to go near the river, so you quickly slide away from Moy'ka.

It's only when you turn back, you spot the figure in the shadows of the trees. There's no mistaking that massive outline, or the distinctly paler, more greenish tint of their skin. 

But it's the large blue eyes, seemingly gleaming out of the darkness with cold amusement that makes you shiver slightly. You duck underwater, knowing he saw you notice him, before resurfacing.

"Are you alright?" Moy'ka asks.

"Yes," you say, trying not to sound bitter about your overwhelming lack of pleasure. "You should be going."

"Are you sure?" he asks, looking slightly hurt. 

"Yes," you say, eyes travelling over Moy'ka's shoulder to Aonung again.

Moy'ka also looks, and completely freezes when he sees Aonung.

"So I'm fine," you say pointedly, waiting for him to leave.

"Are you um..." Moy'ka says nervously, his gaze constantly flicking between you and Aonung. "Are you alri-"

"Yes yes I'm fine," you grumble, resisting the temptation to roll your eyes.

Finally, he slides up and tentatively steps away.

He gives Aonung a wide berth, cautiously avoiding his gaze as he scrambles away, and Aonung steps forward.

"What, skxawng," you grumble, not bothering to look at Aonung as you slide out of the river.

"Nothing."

You glare at him, able to sense the waves of his amusement from miles away.

"Mhm, and how long were you standing there?" you ask suspiciously. "Watching him fuck me-"

"Is that what that was?" Aonung scoffs. "It looked more like he was trying to hammer your head into that tree."

"Perv," you scowl. "Don't you have better things to do then stalking me?"

"Not really."

"So you were stalking me then?"

"I was going for a walk," Aonung says elusively, and your eyes narrow. "Then I heard him grunting like a fucking pig. Oh, you're so fucking tight- uhg, uhghhhhhh-"

"Didn't sound that different to you," you snap, feeling your face grow hotter.

Aonung raises an eyebrow and straightens up, so he's a good head and a half taller now.

"At least you had a good time with me," he grins.

"You are such a dick," you snap, glowering at him.

"And you have terrible fucking taste. Besides me, obviously."

"That was just one thing," you say hotly, "It wasn't that bad-"

"Not that bad," Aonung repeats incredulously. "That wasn't bad?"

"Well-"

"He was literally about to send you through that fucking tree," Aonung scoffs. "You looked so uncomfortable, I thought I'd have to come rescue-"

"I don't need your rescuing," you hiss.

"No, I think you need a good fuck," Aonung grins. "Because if that 'wasn't bad' then someone's royally fucking up with you, princess."

"Well I tried, didn't I," you hiss. "So I didn't get a good fuck, I admit it. Can you fuck off now?"

Aonung just scoffs.

"Is that really what you want?"

"What else would I want," you snap. "The great pleasure of your delightful company?"

"Have you had a good fuck?" Aonung asks instead, ignoring your sarcastic words.

"Yes."

"Besides with me," Aonung says.

You turn to glower at him, but instead of finding the expected cocky smirk on his face, you find him looking genuinely interested.

Ugh, why does he have to be so fucking invested? Why is he actually fucking caring?

"What does that matter?" you grumble.

Aonung blinks, looking sincerely engrossed.

"You haven't?" he whispers.

"I have," you grumble. "I just... I don't have very high expectations when it comes to guys."

"Oh paksalin-"

"Don't call me that," you snap at the name, which seems taunting and cold in this conversation. "I'm tired and unsatisfied so-"

Aonung settles back slightly, leaning against the same tree you had just been fucked against, if you could even call it that.

You're disgruntled to see that because of his stupid height, his head is resting against the same spot yours had repeatedly been knocked against.

"I wouldn't leave you unsatisfied," Aonung says coolly.

It takes you a moment to process his words before you snap up and stare incredulously at him.

"Really?" you say dryly, trying not to let your emotions get the better of you. 

What is he on about now? Is he saying what you think he's saying? Aonung nods simply.

"I think you know I wouldn't," Aonung whispers, tilting his head a little so he's looking down at you.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

But also you're tired and impatient and still annoyingly unsatisfied, so fuck it.

"Get to the point," you snap. "Or get lost."

Aonung doesn't waste any time, pushing himself off the tree and striding towards you. It seems like he only took a single step, but suddenly he's a foot apart and you're having to tilt your head to look up at him.

"Do you want me to help you?"

His question tumbles in front of you, seemingly trapped in the little space between your body and his.

He's a smug little skxawng. He knows what the answer is, but he also knows how fucking impossible it is for you to say the answer.

"Yes or no?"

You growl under your breath, growing more irritated by the minute, but the air between you is thick and charged with tension and you can feel the anticipation growing inside you.

It's pretty fucking obvious where this is headed, but it's just so... infuriating.

Infuriating that what you want happens to be offered by the most annoying dick you've ever known in your life.

"Fine," you grumble under your breath.

"What was that princess?" he asks, fangs glinting in his familiar grin.

Not bothering to speak at all, you just crash your lips onto his and snake your hands around his neck.

There's no need for the kiss, and both of you know it. The deal was for sex and sex alone, pleasure alone, and you know what it means that you kissed him.

You kissed him.

You can feel his heartbeat picking up against your chest as he shifts, one of his hands on your waist and holding you up so your faces are closer, the other tangling in your long hair.

He smells good, like amber and sea-salt, and his lips are so soft and warm that you nearly forget about everything else and get lost in the kiss.

Then it deepens further and everything is hot and warm and tangling, his hand sliding lower, nearly at my ass.

It hardly ever occured to you how little you've kissed in your lifetime- probably less than you've fucked, but now here you are, pressing yourself as close as you can to this infuriating, uselessly hot skxawng.

If you weren't so fucking horny then yes, maybe you would have paused to think, to remember your previous distaste for him, your principal for not giving in to his amused and persistent seduction.

But you are so fucking so you just kiss him harder as one of his hands cups your jaw, the other clasping around the back of your neck and tilting your head farther up to meet him.

Your height difference seems ridiculous, and after a few moments he smiles against your mouth.

"Up," he whisper, hands travelling down.

He catches you as your legs wrap tightly around his waist, arms snaking around his neck to steady yourself.

His hands automatically move to hold you in place, one on your back and waist, the other arm propped under your ass, the hand gripping your thigh.

The kiss is messy and airless and hardly graceful, but you wouldn't have it any other fucking way.

You're all greedy and breathless, desperate for anything, and the feeling of his soft lips against your own, his fangs lightly sinking into your lip before his tongue lightly licks away the small pearls of blood just... does something.

You can already feel him growing harder below you - you think he might have already been hard before you even noticed him, watching you get clumsily fucked against that tree.

Now your head is spinning slightly, and you feel more hungry than ever.

It's infuriating, but you know out of most of the clan, this stupid outsider with his massive body and pretty paler skin is probably the best person to be doing this with.

The knowledge - knowledge you'd never speak aloud - that Aonung is the best you've ever had by a long fucking shot doesn't exactly piss you off in the way you think it would.

It isn't some aggravating, world-shattering fact, because you simply know that Aonung would be more than happy to be in this position again, offering you more pleasure because he cockily knows he can give it.

And with that, you're suddenly being pushed against the tree again, but it's different.

His hands are easily holding you up, arms cushioning under you so you aren't knocked against the hard wood. You hadn't even noticed him slide your loincloth away, but suddenly your legs are tossed over his shoulders and he's gazing up at you. 

It's that same fucking look. Of the smitten, puppy-dog variety, but also with a note of hunger and lust that makes you clench around nothing.

You just look back, and there's a few moments where you just stare at each other, both of you hungry and silent, then before you know it he's dived between your legs.

It's too risky to grip his braids as you had last time - you don't want to fall down even though you know Aonung wouldn't let you drop - but you need something to hold anyway. Your hands fly to the branches above to steady yourself, nails digging shamelessly into the bark.

"Fuck," you growl under your breath as he flicks and kisses and sucks, pressing his tongue against and in you as you throw your head back against the trunk.

It isn't just his admittedly amazing talent for giving head that is just so overwhelming- it has something to do with the way he's so effortlessly holding you up, something to do with the little growls and hums he lets out against you, something to do with the realisation he's not holding himself back.

Last time, even though he had been trying to impress you, he had still restrained himself somewhat.

But now he knows your hungry, and he could probably get away with doing anything.

His hands are holding so tight to your thighs you can already see the little purple blooms of a bruise under his fingers, and he's making sure to sink his fangs lightly into your inner thighs every now and again.

The tiny pearls of scarlet blood are smearing with slick and spit all over the lower half of his face, but he's just humming delightedly against you, his tail swinging happily behind him and a dopey, self-satisfied grin on his face.

Your legs begin to shake around his head, eyes rolling all the way back as you moan louder and claw at the branch you're desperately clutching. 

"I- I'm fucking close," you manage to choke out between loud moans, and Aonung growls against you, not even bothering to look up. "Don't you want to-"

Aonung pulls away, looking distinctly disgruntled that you're talking to him and making him stop his relentless attack on your cunt.

"Go ahead, I'm planning on satisfying you much more than once princess," he says off-handedly, before diving back down with more fervour than ever.

The words you were going to say die in your throat as you gasp loudly, and before you know it, you're tumbling over that edge he had you teetering on.

He licked your essence greedily, growling with every swallow as though he was starved. But he didn't stop, continuing to lick and suck with reckless abandon, grinning at your increasingly whiny moans.

"Okay, okay," you laugh shakily, pushing lightly at his head. "I got-"

"Just one more," he mumbles against you.

You're about to protest, to tell him he doesn't need to, when he gives you large, pleading eyes and you realise this isn't just about you.

He's sincerely enjoying himself - your taste, your moans, your heels digging into his back and legs trembling on his shoulders from the increasingly overwhelming overstimulation.

You just whine loudly when he blinks pleadingly at you, but you aren't about to back down now.

He's watching you carefully, eyes flicking between your trembling body and your rolling eyes and shamelessly loud moans.

Your breath is so shaky that your body trembles with each desperate inhale you attempt at, but it's hard to beat off your moans and whimpers for a moment long enough to draw breath.

Finally you just let go, squirting all over Aonung with a keening cry, trembling all over and nearly going limp in his arms.

You're mortified at how intense your orgasm was, even more so when you open your eyes and see yourself limp against the tree, propped up carefully by Aonung.

"Are you alright?" he asks, looking distinctly pleased with himself but also a little concerned.

"Sure," you say with a shaky laugh as Aonung sets you back down. "Where did you learn that shit?"

"I picked it up," Aonung shrugs modestly, at complete odds with the cocky confidence gleaming in his ocean eyes. "Just here and there."

"Right," you say, rolling your eyes at him, before noticing the bulge in his tewng.

He's painfully fucking hard now, and you can see the seams of his loincloth straining.

"Do you need some help?"

Your questions surprises you both. But then again, he did do a great job with you, and you weren't selfish. You're happy to help him out.

"I'm supposed to be helping you," Aonung points out, shifting slightly to cover his erection.

"You did," you argue. "Don't be up yourself, you can ask for help too."

When Aonung just stares at you, you shift closer and lightly trace his bulge.

Instantly, his breath hitches and his body instinctively moves to follow your touch. You teasingly let your hand drop and he exhales as you turn to raise your brows at him.

"So?"

"Yes," he breathes.

"Yes what, Aonung," you ask, feigning stupidness.

"Please help me," he begs.

It was easier than you thought as you grin and oblige, moving to your knees and sliding his tewng down, reaching out to grab his cock before it smacks against his admittedly very toned abs. 

It feels fucking massive in your small slim hand - the smooth teal colour looking prettily pale against the azure blue of your forest na'vi skin, the glowing blue tahnì gleaming invitingly at you.

You pump his cock a few times, grinning as he chokes out a groan, and lick a stripe along him before closing your lips around the tip. Instantly, his hand closes on a fist full of your hair as his head tips back against the tree, swallowing a choked groan as he watches you take him into your mouth.

He jerks when you open your mouth wider. You don't hate the way it stretches your lips - he's the biggest you've ever had and it makes the hinge of your jaw ache as you force him down your throat. 

When he hits the back of your throat, he groans loudly and inadvertedly thrusts his hips forward. You choke a little and his grip on your hair loosens slightly as he mutters a bashful apology, but you just grin slightly to yourself before taking him even deeper, suckling on the head and the sides over and over. 

You're pulling groans and curses out of him as easily as he pulls your head gently up and down on his cock. You don't mind it, he did a good job and this is his reward.

You feel him getting closer, twitching in your mouth. His moans are getting louder and breathier too, and his grip on your soft dark braids is only getting stronger and stronger until you're just letting him move your head, mouth open for him and eyes watching him all the while.

But as he's nearly at his peak, he pulls you off him, not wanting to cum in your mouth, but you just grab his hips and push him deep into your throat, moaning slightly and sucking faster. 

That alone makes him come, letting out a stream of low groans and softly mutter your name again and again as you keep moving through his high until he's cursing, catching his breath and lightly pulling you off him.

His pupils are blown wide, large black spheres ringed in a fine line of bright icy blue as he looks down at you, hand absentmindedly moving to cup your face and gently wipe away the rest of the mess he left on your face.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "You didn't have to do-"

"I wanted to," you say without thinking.

Aonung blinks, still struggling to catch his breath as he realises what he's doing and quickly drops his hand away.

"Well," he says thoughtfully. He looks like he's trying to wrench his gaze away from you, yet those large blue eyes stay stubbornly fixed in yours.

You don't exactly want to look away, but you have a strange feeling that even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to tear your own gaze away either.

It's something about the way you're both standing, him hunched and slumped slightly against the tree, you drawn to your full height, and the fact that he's still nearly a foot taller.

Then there's a shout of laughter through the trees, and you remember about the party and the village and every other single fucking thing that you just happened to forget when you were with Aonung.

Stupid skxawng.

"We should go back to the party," you say quickly, the first words that jump into your mind.

You know what you're doing. For the first time in your life, you're backing down. And it's not because he intimidates you- quite the opposite.

It's what you see as the possibilities that frighten you. Because sure, the night was obviously going to end with you and Aonung doing that, because the fucking tension was just unbearable. Because when he looks at you like that, it's pretty fucking obvious what he's thinking.

Neteyam was right, but he isn't just fucking pussy whipped. Despite all of Aonung's cocky joking comments, he doesn't only like you. He's not just attracted to you. 

He wants more than these little forest quickies, and you... you just have no idea what you want.

So maybe you have intimacy issues. What do you do now? This has never happened, feeling a desire to overcome those very issues.

WHAT HAS THIS STUPID, MASSIVE, FISH-LIPPED, MUSCULAR, INFURIATING, HANDSOME, RIDICULOUS, COCKY, SWEET, GENTLE SKXAWNG DONE TO YOU?

Aonung just nods, eyes still following you as you pass him his loincloth and slide on your own.

"Hey," he says, nudging you slightly as you walk back towards the village. "If you're ever left unsatisfied, just come and find me again."

"I'm pretty sure you'll be the one to come and find me if I'm hooking up," you grumble. 

"At least I can deal with you," Aonung shrugs. 

"Same with you," you grin with raised brows. "Seems like we can't have a conversation without you getting hard."

Aonung swats lightly at you, and you shove him into a bush.

"So is that a yes then?" Aonung calls after you, struggling to stand back up and brush the leaves off himself. "We'll help each other out? Friends with benefits?"

"Not friends," you point out. "We'd have to like each other to be friends."

"I don't have a problem with you," Aonung shrugs. "I think you're quite fantastic."

"Okay I already sucked your dick, don't try to get in my pants again," you grumble. "I'll see you later."

"Alright," Aonung says, grinning at you as you return to the village.

No one pays any attention to the fact that you returned together, though you notice Neteyam's golden eyes on the pair of you as you walk towards your kelku.

You don't bother saying goodnight as you and Aonung split up to go to your neighbouring homes.

But as you duck into the shelter of your kelku, you can still feel the burn of that icy gaze on you.

Friends with benefits?

You're still pretty drunk, but you can't bring yourself to bother about anything else as you crawl into your woven bed.

You can worry about the events of tonight tomorrow, but it's not like your agreement to Aonung's proposal means anything. Just sex- just helping the other out.

Nothing intimate.

At all.

#avatar the way of water #aonung fanfiction #avatar fanfiction #avatar fandom #avatar #aonung #aonung x reader #aonung x y/n #aonung x you #aonung x female reader #avatar smut #avatar 2 #aonung fic #na'vi #na'vi x reader #na'vi avatar #fics #avatar twow #avatar x reader #avatar fic

[ot3]

people are like the BG3 companions are sooo diverse it's HUGE for video games when there's literally only two LGBTQ+ identities represented like just say irl you think everyone is ~a little bit bi~ and be done games have been doing better representation for literally fifteen years

im someone who finds the concept of 'representation' to be a fundamentally flawed way to engage with media critique and i think the fact that it is the primary lens used to engage with characters sexuality in media has caused a lot of people to sort of miss the forest for the trees in these kinds of discussions.

imo saying 'these characters aren't playersexual theyre all just bi and you're a biphobe for saying otherwise' is pretty much the same level of engaging with a text that 'this female character needs to wear a skimpy outfit because her super power is stronger when her skin is exposed' is. you're saying something that is technically true within the fiction you're being presented but really overlooking an absolutely titanic amount of cultural forces that have come together to influence the result you're seeing, and prioritizing the imagined agency of fictional characters over critiquing the intent of the writers

don't get me wrong i'm not saying that people shouldnt enjoy the fact that these characters are functionally, mechanically bisexual in the game. i dont want to take that away from anyone who gets something out of that. but i do think it's kind of strange how infrequently people discuss the fact that Bisexual becomes just the default character sexuality of romanceable play characters so gamers don't get mad that they can't fuck the 3d model they want to. in function, what you get a lot of the time isn't people going out of their way to meaningfully write a bisexual character but rather people abstaining from writing characters with any true sexual/romantic preference in order to please the larger portion of their consumer base.

i don't think it's really fair to claim that these people must automatically assume everyone in real life is a little bit bi because assuming peoples opinions on sexuality apply to real people the way they apply to fictional characters is bad in either direction. but i do think it's a little bit strange that you can see something where characters are made bisexual for the express purpose of being romantically/sexually available to any type of character you could throw at them in order to maximize the appeal of a commercial product and not even stop to consider whether or not that's a dynamic that's worth critiquing a little. considering how much of the way biphobia manifesting in real life is bi people needing to remind everyone that being bi does not, in fact, automatically make you romantically and sexually available to any conceivable type of person on earth.

anyway i don't think Playersexual characters are necessarily a bad or harmful thing but they're certainly something i don't like. and i certainly think that trying to act like any criticism of it is secret biphobia is pretty ridiculous.

[butterflellies]

the kissing game - ellie williams x reader

summary: you come up with a new game that ellie already loves.

warnings: just some quick fluff, no use of y/n, lots of physical touch, first fic jitters?

~~~

Ellie feels something feather against her cheek.

The two of you are watching a new movie neither of you had seen before. It was interesting for sure, but sometimes your mind ventures back into the heart-quickening realization that your girlfriend exists and has a place in your life. 

Shifting her face away from the screen and towards you, she smiles lazily as she realizes it was your lips. However, you catch her slightly off-guard again as you quickly perch a delicate smooch on the very tip of her nose.

She blinks at you, effectively asking, ‘What are you doing?’ using only an expression. You simply shrug,

“I'm playing a game.”

“What kinda game?”

“The rules are for every time I think of you, I have to kiss you.”

You always manage to find new ways to make Ellie blush; were you trying to do so on purpose? She unconsciously leans towards you as you prepare your next attack,

“I can’t-” kiss “tell if i’m-” peck “good or bad-” kiss “at this game.”

Ellie’s heart is fluttering in her chest. Despite being breathless, she manages to mumble out,

“I think you’re the best at this.”

After decorating your lips onto her face and neck, even her hair, enough to make her freckles worry of being outnumbered, you suddenly lean back and let out a breathless ‘phew!’ You even fan your face for dramatic effect,

Ellie is speechless as you chirp,

“I think I need to pause the game for a bit.”

Laughter erupts from Ellie; it’s impossible to hold back the giggles any longer. Your silliness sends her heart and soul into cloud nine instantly, she can’t help but feel her body glow with love.

Ellie has moments like these too, when she remembers just who she gets to hold in her arms every night. Who she gets to wake up to every morning. Who she gets to watch back-to-back movies with for hours on end. She’s losing herself in your eyes already, and you chuckle at her awed daze, knowing exactly how she’s feeling.

Maintaining eye contact as best you can, you lean in impossibly closer; tilting your head in a way that your nose and forehead are cradled in her own. In this proximity, you flutter your eyelashes to tickle Ellie's freckles with butterfly kisses. Effectively leaving her giddy beyond comprehension.

She closes her laptop with a swift smack and shoves it to the side before practically launching herself on top of you. Wrapping her arms around your body, thus effectively encasing you into her cuddle trap, you squeal when she blows a raspberry on the side of your neck. Threading your fingers in her hair, with your nose deep in her tresses and inhaling the scent that both puts you to sleep and wakes you up every day. One that just screamed ‘Ellie!’

Later

The movie was long finished. The bright screen that previously lit the room replaced with a cool blanket of moonlight through the window. You had fallen asleep against Ellie's neck after your little play-wrestling, who was now absent-mindedly drawing things on your back. She's just finished drawing a heart between your shoulder blades when Ellie feels the familiar brush of your lips against her collarbone. She feels a smile already creeping up on her face,

“What are you doing?”

“I'm un-pausing the game.”

~~~

notes: this is my first ever fic post! i've always been pretty shy online which is strangely ironic given that irl i'm extremely social! but i'd love to try and engage with more more people on here in and fellow tlou lovers :) for as long as i've been on tumblr for reading fics, i have no clue what i'm doing when it comes to posting OR tumblr in general, but thanks so much for reading!

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #tlou x reader #tlou fanfiction #tlou x you #the kissing game #the last of us x reader

[galedekarios]

that interview is driving me insane i've been thinking about it for the past hour and i still can't wrap my head around it. i think what really gets under my skin is it just... contradicts with the text of the game. the most positive possible reading of the ending where gale blows himself up is that it was an unavoidable tragedy dictated by fate but even that's a stretch. to say it's a good ending?? or a satisfying conclusion to his arc?? i call bull. it's more infuriating because there is such a clear good ending for gale's character arc and it's the professor ending! his arc was about learning to accept himself as he was, to value who he is as he is flaws and all, and he's done that in the professor ending! and the god of ambition ending is a bad end for him but still ties into his overall arc in a satisfying if sad way (imo). the ending where he dies just... doesn't. which is fine as a tragedy but to imply it isn't exactly that, a tragedy, is wild to me. and it being so blatantly contradictory to the actual events of the game makes me think that whole thing was just catering to people who hate gale which like... why? people who don't like him don't care about his story so why pander to them like this?

uhg. i am sorry for blowing up your inbox like this i just feel like i'm gonna rip my hair out and need to express that to a fellow gale appreciator. i love gale's epilogue SO MUCH it made me feel for a bit like maybe the writers had actually changed how they felt about him but. nope! silly of me to hope for that. wish i could memory wipe that whole interview from my brain dark urge style.

don't be sorry at all! 🖤 i feel the same way in a lot of ways. altho i feel the need to mention that gale's writer, jan van dosselaer, was not involved in this interview.

i started to make a meta post about this yesterday, but reading things like this from gale:

act ii [after elminster] Player: An old man with a craving for cheese. Hardly the great wizard of legend. Gale: A wizard doesn't reach Elminster's age without enjoying their home comforts. Those who seek danger over cheese don't tend to live as long. Gale: For Mystra to have sent him... The severity of her bidding could not be clearer. Or weigh more heavily on me. devnote: reflecting on mystra sending elminster, of all people - a powerful individual, becoming reflective. Gale: Time seems so infinite when you are young... a month is an age, a year is a lifetime... it is a strange feeling, to realise how little of it one might have left. Player: You're seriously considering doing what Elminster said?   Gale: Of course - he offered the clearest solution to our problem. All I have to do is find the right place and time, close my eyes, and let go... devnote: Trying to sound upbeat, not fully engaging with what he's saying (that he's going to kill himself). Gale: Then the slate will be clean, wrongs will be righted, the Absolute will be gone... devnote: Trying to sound upbeat, not fully engaging with what he's saying (that he's going to kill himself). Gale: ...and I along with it. devnote: Still trying to sound upbeat, though this time the reality that this means he will die weighs a bit heavier

and:

act ii [act ii romance scene] Gale: I am terrified - I will not claim otherwise. My face could scarcely conceal it even if my words sought to deny it. nodecontext: Hushed, vulnerable Gale: There is no point in running from the inevitable. Better to meet it, on my own terms. nodecontext: Resigned

as well as this:

act ii [act ii friendship version] Gale: Yes... but there is so much to live for, and so few moments in which to house it all. Gale: Damn you. Damn you for giving me so much to care about. Our friends, our adventures... this would have been so much easier if it was just me. But it isn't. Gale: If there is a way - any way - to save all that's grown dear to me, I want to seize it. I just cannot fathom what that might be, other than to fail Mystra and condemn the world. Gale: Stay with me, will you? I don't want to think of it any more, but I don't want to be alone either.

act iii [before the netherbrain] Player: Gale... I think we should consider using the orb as Mystra intended. To blow up the Netherbrain. Gale: I'm getting rather tired of how often those I care about seem to reach the same conclusion.

when you have this:

and i just... couldn't finish the meta.

it's absolutely beyond comprehension for me how anyone could try to frame this as an ending that is the right one in "many ways", as the "guy who starts off annoying everyone", eating your "most priced possessions", having to "give back to the world".

for the founder of the company to say he wasn't "ready" the "first time", but he's finally "ready" now.

gale's death isn't only unnecessary, an instruction given to him by his former mentor on the behalf of a goddess, who would've sacrificed not only him but thousands of others to achieve her own goals, he doesn't want to die. he's terrified. he wants to live. he is offering this because he believes that his time has run out. because he wants his death to have purpose if it must happen. because he feels he made a mistake far bigger than he can ever make up for. because he doesn't want others to waste their chance at life like he feels he has. the will he leaves behind in the epilogue if he sacrifices himself isn't finished because he thought there would be more time. i could go on and on.

and again, the question is too... for what exactly does he need to "give back to the world"?

being perceived as annoying after coming out of what is presented as isolation and depression? asking for help with a now chronic impairment that feeds on his very soul and wreaks havoc on his body? for making a mistake? by that logic every companion deserves the same fate.

which brings me to the contrast to how most of the other companions are framed in this interview: k*rlach, "the labrador of the party". l*e'zel, "she's so young". ast*rion, "much of what he does it out of fear". sh*dowheart, "the jason bourne" and "victim of religous trauma". w*ll, "the true baldur's gate hero".

the difference is staggering. there's empathy here. there's at least a surface level understanding and/or appreciation of the characters there.

...and then you have gale.

it's alienating and disappointing to see devs have so little respect and care for their own character, as well as for the parts of their fandom who have grown attached to the character exactly for the strengths and flaws he has, for the struggles he faces and for the healing journey he can have if he is helped and lives.

#my opinion on larian has already changed to the negative for the way they've lied prior release re: what is actually in the game #as well as the amount of bugs and issues that other companies would be dragged through the mud for #as well as the extreme bias showing itself in the scene disparity of their characters #but this was really the final nail in the coffin for me #i also think that it would have been so easy to find a more diplomatic answer instead of choosing reddit talking points but that's just me #ch: gale dekarios #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #text: personal #text: asks #bg3 critical #larian critical #suicidal ideation cw #depression cw

[jarofstyles]

i would love a blurb about “You again” Harry and Yn going back to the cafe they went to together after reuniting at the dating location!!! Maybe a few years have passed and they wanted to go back because it shows how far they've come as a couple. They're all soft and Harry's just as enamoured with her that he was the very first day he saw her—but this time they have a little boy at home who has her soft nose and some of his features just like he hoped🥹

Wait this is so cute Omg. Yes.

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-

“Excuse me, pretty lady. Can I buy you a coffee?” Y/N felt hands covering her eyes which had made her bristle, but the husky voice behind her coaxed a silly grin from her mouth. Of course. He had to be cheesy.

“I don’t know. I have a very handsome, strong, scary husband at home. He may not take kindly to strange men buying me coffee.” She retorted, suddenly getting her vision back as his hands spun her around to face him. He was handsome in his blazer and button up, his faux scowl making him look even more delicious.

“Damn right I would. But thank you for the compliments. I’m glad to know my wife is very committed to me.��� He melted into his own small grin, leaning down to kiss the top of her nose. His voice dropped to a whisper. “Hi, beautiful. Can’t believe we’re back here.”

Taking a look around, Y/N couldn’t believe it either. It had been 6 years to the day they met in this very coffee shop. So much had happened but somehow the place had managed to stay mostly the same. “Mhm. The place where it all started. It’s a bit crazy, isn’t it?” She placed his hand in her own as Harry led her to the very booth they had first locked eyes on each other. Luckily it was vacant, so Harry had stolen it for them.

“It is. I wish we could have brought the baby.” He sighed. Their son was 3 now, having time with Harry’s mum while they had their annual date. This just happened to be the anniversary of the day they met. The ring on her finger symbolized their other anniversary. It hadn’t been long after they rekindled that they got engaged. Some may say it was rushed, but Harry referred to it as “when you know, you know.” Y/N teased him about wanting to lock her down quickly, but never had much to say after he reminded her of how quickly she said yes.

“One day we can take him here with us. Just not date night, hm? It’s the designated time for us to simply be a couple.” She kicked his foot under the table, initiating a casual game of footsie. Something Harry never understood why she liked so much but indulged because she liked to have the comfort. “Besides, I remember the day I saw you. You were so handsome but that first time you seemed distracted.” Now she knew why. But back then she hadn’t. “We clicked right away so I was so confused why I barely heard from you after. I’m glad you came back to find me.” Even if was a while after.

“It was driving me crazy. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And you love that I’m an old man so obviously I didn’t have much to worry about.” He joked, wrapping his hand around hers. There was a slight interruption of their coffees being brought to them, but their banter never faltered. It hadn’t after years of marriage.

“You’d think the decor would have changed but it looks the exact same. Like a time capsul.” She looked around at the same painting she had stared at during other speed rounds of those dates when she didn’t want to look the people in the eyes. Harry had been the one she couldn’t tear her eyes from.

“Kind of nice though. Nostalgia.” He replied, taking his own sweep. “I’ll always love this place. It brought me to you. The best decision of my life was trying to find you again.” His thumb swiped her knuckle as he kissed her cheek again. Still years into their marriage and he was unable to keep away from her.

“And your worst mistake was leaving me the first.” Y/N liked to tease him about it because he would trip over himself. This time though, she got the side eye and a scoff, his all knowing nod enough of an answer. “I’m glad you came back to try and find me. You swept me off my feet. I never imagined meeting someone and feeling connected to them so easily.” They’d gone through why it had hurt the first time they left without exchanging information and that sometimes; the soul just knows. The second time had just been a confirmation. Harry had really thought he was jumping the gun and he was a bit odd for liking her as much as he did but now he knew why.

“Me either. I’ll never take you for granted. Gave me the most beautiful baby and all your love. I couldn’t ask for more.” Y/N rewarded him with a kiss on the cheek, right where the dimple caved into his skin. It was her signature move when she had made him smile after their first few real dates to map out where they were so she could always aim there. “I’m just glad our dates can be much longer now. Speed dates with you aren’t long enough.” She twirled the wedding ring on his finger. “I need many lifetimes.”

#you again #you again h #jarofstyles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles smut #harry writing #harry styles imagine #harry drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfics #harry styles dad #harry styles one shots #harry styles fic #harry styles blurbs

[qcellbit]

On a slightly more serious note, I'm glad the “Egg Event” isn't "ending" and I find it strange when people complain about the eggs still being present. As much as people want to emphasise that the QSMP isn't any one specific type of server, it has now undeniably been transformed by its most active users and its community into a lore heavy roleplay server with a clear-cut cast of characters, and the eggs are now part of that ensemble of characters with personalities and motives richer than some of the players’ themselves. The only way in which the eggs and players are distinguishable in a story sense is by age. There is no longer an "Egg Event" being held to retain player engagement in the server’s infancy, and as unexpected as that probably was for both the audience and the admins themselves, I think that's an incredible thing. A real testament to the power of collaborative improvisational storytelling through the unconventional medium of video games.

#mine

[kimberleyjean]

Notes on Magic and Good Omens

Note: Do Not Show Fan Theories To Neil

This whole post started was inspired by the post I've linked here which names each card trick performed in Season One. If you haven't seen it before, please check it out as it's what the rest of this post is based on:

I was interested in digging into these card tricks more and it led me down a small rabbit hole. To start, here's a little more information on two of the tricks featured above.

Three Card Monte (via Wikipedia)

"Also known as find the lady and three-card trick – is a confidence game in which the victims, or "marks", are tricked into betting a sum of money, on the assumption that they can find the "money card" among three face-down playing cards. It is very similar to the shell game except that cards are used instead of shells." (Note: this reminds me very much of Aziraphale's three cowrie shells).

"When the mark arrives at the three-card monte game, it is likely that a number of other players will be seen winning and losing money at the game. The people engaged in playing the game are often shills, confederates of the dealer who pretend to play so as to give the illusion of a straight gambling game. As the mark watches the game, they are likely to notice that they can follow the queen more easily than the shills seem to be able to, which sets them up to believe that they can win the game."

George Joseph Muck

The George Joseph Muck, also known as Hand Mucking, refers to switching cards in play. George Joseph was the author of a popular book on slight of hand and card palming. Here we see a a King of Hearts switched for an image of the Beast (similar to the one we see later on the wall of Anathema's cottage).

Strange Coincidences or Happy Accident?

Here's where my little rabbit-hole sidetrack happened. On the Wikipedia page for sleight of hand, David Copperfield is named as being particularly skilled in this area. I was interested in why he picked that name - apparently he just liked the sound of it! But what I didn't know is that one of his famous tricks was making the Statue of Liberty disappear (which just so happens to be a big theme in Nina's Cafe). Just to add to the Good-Omens related oddness, did you know that he was in a movie called 7 Days in Hell which also features Michael Sheen? News to me.

A Dash of Creative Thinking...

Back to our card tricks, I just want to speculate a little on the amount of tricks being played here during the baby switch in S1.

We're lead to believe that we know where all the babies have ended up by the end. If that's the case, then where is the magic? In the Three Card Monte, the idea is to fool the mark. So if the magician does his job right, should we have been fooled? Yes, the parents in the show were fooled, but they aren't the ones being shown the card trick - the audience is.

Is there some reveal on the horizon to do with the baby switch? I haven't seen this mentioned elsewhere, so I thought it might be interesting to float the idea. If Neil was going to expand on the original Good Omens book, this could be an interesting direction to take it in.

#good omens meta #good omens card tricks #good omens magic #good omens season one #david copperfield #statue of liberty #michael sheen #good omens speculation #good omens baby switch