#I should make an edit with all the will art i have at the sound of judas and at the end a rollo fucking fuming hiding it from a student
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patchwork-artists · 1 day ago
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Hey you! Have you seen this post by @pigswithwings? Do you like it? Do you like animation? Well do I have the news for you! With the author's permission and consultance, I am running a 5 minute animation short film on it, called "Angel back at home"!
Now, here's the most exciting news: We are looking for storyboarders, background designers, and 3 voice actors of all genders! Even better, you don't need to be a professional on any of those things whatsoever, only have some knowledge on them (and be of minimum age 16) to try and apply for the role!
Unfortunately, it is not paid, as for legal reasons we can not make profit out of it. Why should you join then, you ask? In this project we guarantee three things:
Portifolio building: Everything you will be producing, you can be using to add to your personal art portifolio, if this is a career you'd like to follow!
Resume: The short-film will be hosted on several film festivals, so you'll be able to put a big list of festivals your work was featured in, if you'd like to follow any art career. If not, the entire experience can be written in several bullet points on a resume ("experience with working in group", "experience of working within a deadline", etc) for any general job.
Advice and art growth: Every art that gets made on this project will be seen by me, the producer, and will be given advice for improvement. This is especially good if you've been on an art block, is self-taught, or overall would like a different perspective on your art. Don't worry, I'm not harsh!
Additional points is that it allows me to know new artists and new talents! From the last project I had run in this format, I had taken notice of 5 to 6 different artists that I hadn't known were so talented for their specific skills, which made me keep their names for the next project I'd produce. I am someone who dreams of opening an animation studio for new underrated talents and non-professionals that are studying to be professionals, so i'm looking forward to finding the artists on this project that will catch my eye and I'll bring over to the next project.
The timing is flexible since it is a volunteer ran project, if I can't pay I can't demand work hours of a job, so the deadline won't be too tight. For 5 minutes of film, the boards, voice acting, and single music will all in total take about 3 months, with the deadline starting in ferbuary and ending in the end of April. The following months will be given towards animation, sound editing and mixing, and video editing.
Requirements for storyboarders: Know how to draw, understand rule of thirds, enjoy drawing expressiveness through body language. You can be using any drawing device, whether that's computer, cellphone, or traditional, as long as you use the storyboard template in question and stay faithful to references.
Application link for storyboarders
Requirement for voice actors: have a somewhat good microphone(doesn't need to be professional and expensive, just good enough so we don't want to give the audio editors too much work), have interest in acting (preferably have had at least one theather class).
Application link for V/A
Lines for V/A
Requirement for background designer: Know how to draw or how to put together a 3d model of free assests, you don't need to be super experienced and specialized with drawing backgrounds but it'll be good to have a basic idea of it. You will be given specific references for the backgrounds, and you won't draw every single background, it'll be split work
Application link for background designer
Applications end by ferbuary 8th, but may be pushed forward if the applications are low. Everyone that passed will be noticed two days after.
Best of luck to everyone!
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intramoon · 3 days ago
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hi aj !! i have a question i dont want to sound rude please know im not trying to be rude. i came back to simblr after a long time and its been really hard not to get discouraged. :/ my account is really dead no one interacts with me anymore. stuff is so different. i remember you used to be kinda popular but how do you deal with people not interacting with you as much as they used to?? i dont mean that in a mean way!! i dont want to quit simblr but idk how to get back to how things were
Hi! Don't worry, I don't think you're being rude, I understand where you're coming from. ♡ My response will be long because I have a lot to say about the topic, hopefully, it will help you.
If you were mostly active when I was in my "prime" (assuming that's what you mean by "kinda popular"), like 2018-2021, things will never be how they were then. The community, trends, and how we interacted with each other was so much different, I don't think it will ever go back to how it was then. I am kind of happy about that. Although my relationship with that time on Simblr is nostalgic (despite being too young and miserable to enjoy it), I think the community is in a healthier place now (mostly). I have had to adjust to a couple of things since coming back. One is that the content looks different now.
In my "prime" people were just getting into editing (that was a time before ReShade). Heavy editing and experimental editing were really celebrated, partly because everyone was learning and learning from each other. We just wanted to see what was possible. Now, maybe partly in reaction to that trend and how demanding it was, people have found an appreciation for the base game, simple screenshots with really only ReShade/gshade, CAS screenshots, etc. Not to say the former doesn't exist anymore because it absolutely does and people have become truly incredible at it. In some regard, it is an acquired taste especially if that's all you do. I've thought to myself many times should I stop editing the way I do, does that impact the way people take in my content? Do I have editing blindness? lol I like how I edit, I enjoy the process and, even if I do have editing blindness, I like how it looks. Even being an alpha creator, they are fewer and fewer as people opt for MM and MMix. I've thought, do people really not like alpha content anymore? Even my story at times felt like it didn't fit into the current story ethos. I thought about stopping it. I bring that all up to say, when you're coming back to a very different Simblr it can feel like what you used to make doesn't "fit in". And it might not. I don't think that should be the goal. The community now is so much more diverse, content-wise, that anything you want to make is possible. If you sacrifice your artistic vision, you'll end up leaving again. You have to make what speaks to you, regardless of the other noise.
Two, you have to find your reason for making your art. For a moment, I really lost touch with what I was even doing here. I took some time to figure it out. I first started because I wanted to tell a story that talked about intimacy through the lens of a sex worker and someone who had no romantic or sexual experience. I wanted to do this without over-sexualizing my sex worker character and infantilizing my other character. I wanted to write some of the dialogue I was having internally. Way back when that was all I wanted to do, I didn't struggle with being seen as much because I was posting with a purpose. That purpose wasn't likes or reblogs, but to tell a story and have a conversation. Everything else came after. Anyone coming back (or looking for a reason to stay) has to find, within themselves, why they want to be here and what they want to get out of it. I promise you if you reconnect with that, posting will be easier regardless of the outcome.
I know I took a lot for granted way back when. Asks about me or my characters, comments, tags, and even people wanting to join me in a Discord server or stream. Sounds like we both, a one point, wish we could go back. That just means it's something to appreciate more now. You can be and make really whatever you want, which wasn't always possible. Maybe think of coming back as a small rebirth and trust that if you keep at it, you will find your people. I am still in the process of finding mine but I trust they are out there. If you're passionate people will feel it. Best of luck and I hope something in this novel helps you! ♡
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guarddog-of-proendos · 1 day ago
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Image descriptions
- written by a visually impaired person
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What is an image description?
an image description is exactly what it sounds like, a block of text describing the content of an image. this is important for many people but especially for blind and visually impaired people who cannot see the image (at least, not well enough to understand what's going on)
(people also cite that this helps people with slow internet, if you add that to this post I am hitting you on the head with a stick. our access to the internet is enough of a reason to add image descriptions, they don't have to help abled people as well.)
image descriptions serve the purpose of providing the same access to content and context in a post that you, a sighted person, have. the goal is to allow equal access for visually disabled people and other people who struggle to access images.
have you ever been stuck scrolling through Tumblr while images are refusing to load? was that frustrating? imagine how we feel every day, all the time.
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How to write an image description
writing an image description is a skill. it's okay if you aren't great at it at first. not being great at it is not an excuse to not try. I'm tired of people telling me they can't be assed to try writing an image description because it might not be perfect. I would much rather read an imperfect image description than have no image description at all.
when you're describing an image the key point is to describe what's relevant, what you look at in an image. if the image is a tweet, describe what the tweet says. if the image is a picrew of an alter, describe what that alter looks like in the picrew.
You don't need to include every detail
a lot of guides will, with well intentions, tell you to describe a lot. sometimes, describing a lot is relevant. if you're describing a piece of art or photography then describing a lot is important because the point of the photo is to appreciate all of the photo. if you're taking a selfie, I truly do not care that your walls are blank and white. sometimes, more detail is less accessible. I don't want to scroll through paragraphs up on paragraphs for a photo that sighted people can just glance at and get the gist of.
take for example, this post divider I just used:
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you could describe this as: a post divider with a large star in the center surrounded by a halo of the moon phase in gold. 2 horizontal lines come from it in the center with a pattern of alternating sun, moon, sun, and star symbols.
... that's really long. the point for sighted people is to break up the text with something pretty. it's not to admire all the intricacies of the image.
a more appropriate description would be: a star themed post divider
text, on the other hand, should always be transcribed in full. do not describe your DNI banner as "a DNI banner" that tells me nothing. put down all the text, all of it, because all of the text is relevant.
never use AI to write an image description! it's insulting and often inaccurate. problems with generative AI aside, throwing an image into chatGPT and then copy and pasting the sludge it spits out makes me feel like I'm not worth taking a minute to actually write an image description. AI generated image descriptions tend to be impersonal, inaccurate, and hard to follow because it just throws up all the random details it picks up on rather than describing the point of the image. with the editing required to fix a chatGPT image description you could have written your own and it would be better.
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I truly cannot write an image description
ask for help. if you have no one you can directly ask, add a note to your post asking for help writing the description when you post it. when someone writes a description for you, copy and paste it into the original post. there is no such thing as image description theft, the point is accessibility. you can't steal accessibility. copy and pasting is not just okay it's encouraged!
on other people's posts (regardless of whether or not you can write an image description) you can often find image descriptions in the notes. taking a minute to check for image descriptions before reblogging an undescribed post is something fast and kind you can do for the people who need image descriptions. often you'll find a description and then hurray! that inaccessible post is now accessible!
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....but I don't have any followers who need image descriptions!
yes you do.
if you truly don't it's probably because none of them can access your blog. fix that and suddenly you will have followers who need image descriptions
why is this in the pluralgang tag? none of you describe images.
Questions are encouraged
(if you have any)
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minzart · 5 months ago
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Couldn't choose a ring tone that can imediatly conect with Will and that Rollo might chose(in a comedict thone ofc), I was between, hell fire, god help the outcasts, heavens light, night in the bald mountain, monochrome kiss and the funniest one judas.
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hintcoined · 1 month ago
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we need to talk about the end of this case because what
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noisytenant · 1 year ago
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You can stop capitalism and the attention economy from sucking the joy out of art for you right now*
*at the small price of, perhaps, your hopes and dreams.
Commodification and competition only suck the joy out of art when you buy into them. If you want to make art for fun and not worry about attention economies and algorithms then literally just stop worrying about them, and accept the consequences of that.
What are the consequences? There are artists who have successfully risen to a living wage off posting their art online, and in the shadow of these prominent but rare figures it is difficult not to dream of having even a sliver of their luck. And this is to say nothing about the social and emotional fulfillment of sharing art with others, but I'll be focusing on the economics here.
It's luck. Commercially successful artists who seem to have "gamed the algorithm" are prone to survivorship bias--it's impossible to know how many artists have tried the same tactics only to get nowhere. And most will attest that every step of these attention-economy-appeasing rituals is demoralizing and exhausting. Many--even those who succeed--give up or take a step back.
But if these rituals are so awful, why perform them? To potentially increase the meager chances of economic success as an internet artist? To see your engagement numbers go up?
I don't want to tell people to give up on this dream because I believe it is impossible. Instead, it is possible, which is the trap. And when the entire economy and job market are so dire, it's difficult not to dream of that lottery ticket.
I do believe we can live in a world where we can survive and make the art that brings us joy--Through significant effort and numerous systemic changes at every level of culture and society. And in the meantime, there is a huge grey area of economic sustainability--if you make even a little money off your art, that's more in your pocket.
But hobbyist artists have been making and continue to make art out of joy and curiosity regardless of how popular or commercially viable it is, it's just harder to find them on common online platforms. They're in your neighborhood, at work, in your family and probably among your friends, sitting at the library leafing through a "How to Draw" book or signing up for an adult beginner's class, if they have the money. And when we promote the idea that art is fun for everyone, we make more space for people to enjoy it.
We have a finite amount of time and energy every day. Our capitalist economy saps us of both such that we have very little left to devote to our passions. But we fail to realize how much more we lose investing in an arbitrary and fickle economy that is, in fact, entirely optional. If you work a day job with clearly defined hours, you may spend several hours miserably--and that is a problem that needs addressing--but your day ends. Meanwhile, the work of a professional internet artist is never done--You are always on the clock.
I feel heartbroken when I see artists lamenting how joyless, soul-sucking, and uninspiring art has become for them in the midst of our current circumstances. I think they are correct in identifying that the attention economy saps them of this joy--But they are not seeing the forest for the trees.
It is the difference between the expectation of success and the reality of disappointment, rather than the disappointment itself, that leads to such a depressing state of affairs. Let go of the idea that sufficient effort scales with reward in a system as arbitrary as ours. Save your energy. The best way to win is not to play.
Art is as beautiful and life-affirming as it ever was. Realize what it has to offer you, and realize what you need from elsewhere. We still need food and a roof over our heads. We still need friends and community. If we want art to occupy a joyful space in our lives, we need to rely on other parts of ourselves to get through the sometimes boring, tedious, and depressing work of living our daily lives.
Our capitalist system and its associated attention economy deserve every criticism they can get, but if we fail to question their fundamental assumptions, we will never truly move past them. We have the autonomy to untangle capital from our artistic lives, if not completely, at least to a more manageable state.
So, believe that art can be fun again. The things you want to see in the world are waiting for you to make them.
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ktempestbradford · 10 months ago
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I have been on a Willy Wonkified journey today and I need y'all to come with me
It started so innocently. Scrolling Google News I come across this article on Ars Technica:
At first glance I thought what happened was parents saw AI-generated images of an event their kids were at and became concerned, then realized it was fake. The reality? Oh so much better.
On Saturday, event organizers shut down a Glasgow-based "Willy's Chocolate Experience" after customers complained that the unofficial Wonka-inspired event, which took place in a sparsely decorated venue, did not match the lush AI-generated images listed on its official website.... According to Sky News, police were called to the event, and "advice was given."
Thing is, the people who paid to go were obviously not expecting exactly this:
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But I can see how they'd be a bit pissed upon arriving to this:
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It gets worse.
"Tempest, how could it possibly--"
source of this video that also includes this charming description:
Made up a villain called The Unknown — 'an evil chocolate maker who lives in the walls'
There is already a meme.
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Oh yes, the Wish.com Oompa Loompa:
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Who has already done an interview!
As bad (and hilarious) as this all is, I got curious about the company that put on this event. Did they somehow overreach? Did the actors they hired back out at the last minute? (Or after they saw the script...) Oddly enough, it doesn't seem so!
Given what I found when poking around I'm legit surprised there was an event at all. Cuz this outfit seems to be 100% a scam.
The website for this specific event is here and it has many AI generated images on it, as stated. I don't think anyone who bought tickets looked very closely at these images, otherwise they might have been concerned about how much Catgacating their children would be exposed to.
Yes, Catgacating. You know, CATgacating!
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I personally don't think anyone should serve exarserdray flavored lollipops in public spaces given how many people are allergic to it. And the sweet teats might not have been age appropriate.
Though the Twilight Tunnel looks pretty cool:
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I'm not sure that Dim Tight Twdrding is safe. I've also been warned that Vivue Sounds are in that weird frequency range that makes you poop your pants upon hearing them.
Yes, Virginia, these folks used an AI image generator for everything on the website and used Chat GPT for some of the text! From the FAQ:
Q: I cannot go on the available days. Will you have more dates in the future? A: Should there be capacity when you arrive, then you will be able to enter without any problems. In the event that this is not the case, we may ask you to wait a bit.
Fear not, for this question is asked again a few lines down and the answer makes more sense.
Curious about the events company behind this disaster, I took myself over to the homepage of House of Illuminati and I was not disappointed.
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I would 100% trust these people to plan my wedding.
This abomination of a website is a badly edited WordPress blog filled with AI art and just enough blog posts to make the casual viewer think that it's a legit business for about 0.0004 seconds.
Their attention to detail is stunning, from how they left up the default first post every WP blog gets to how they didn't bother changing the name on several images, thus revealing where they came from. Like this one:
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With the lovely and compact filename "DALL·E-2024-01-30-09.50.54-Imagine-a-scene-where-fantasy-and-reality-merge-seamlessly.-In-the-foreground-a-grand-interactive-gala-is-taking-place-filled-with-elegant-guests-i.png"
"Concept.png" came from the same AI generator that gets text almost, but not quiiiiiite right:
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There are a suspicious number of .webp images in the uploads, which makes me think they either stole them from other sites where AI "art" was uploaded or they didn't want to pay for the hi-res versions of some and just grabbed the preview image.
The real fun came when I noticed this filename: Before-and-After-Eventologists-Transformation-Edgbaston-Cricket-Ground-1024x1024-1.jpg and decided to do a Google image search. Friends, you will be shocked to hear that the image in question, found on this post touting how they can transform a boring warehouse into a fun event space, was stolen from this actual event planner.
Even better, this weirdly grainy image?
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From a post that claims to be about the preparations for a "Willy Wonka" experience (we'll get to this in a minute), is not only NOT an actual image of anyone preparing anything for Illuminati's event, it is stolen from a YouTube thumbnail that's been chopped to remove the name of the company that actually made this. Here's the video.
If you actually read the blog posts they're all copypasta or some AI generated crap. To the point where this seems like not a real business at all. There's very specific business information at the bottom, but nothing else seems real.
As I said, I'm kinda surprised they put on an event at all. This has, "And then they ran off with all our money!" written all over it. I'm perplexed.
And also wondering when the copyright lawyers are gonna start calling, because...
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This post explicitly says they're putting together a "Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory Experience" complete with golden tickets.
Somewhere along the line someone must have wised up, because the actual event was called "Willys Chocolate Experience" (note the lack of apostrophe) and the script they handed to the actors about 10 minutes before they were supposed to "perform" was about a "Willy McDuff" and his chocolate factory.
As I was going through this madness with friends in a chat, one pointed out that it took very little prompting to get the free Chat GPT to spit out an event description and such very similar to all this while avoiding copyrighted phrases. But he couldn't figure out where the McDuff came from since it wasn't the type of thing GPT would usually spit out...
Until he altered the prompt to include it would be happening in Glasgow, Scotland.
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You cannot make this stuff up.
But truly, honestly, I do not even understand why they didn't take the money and run. Clearly this was all set up to be a scam. A lazy, AI generated scam.
Everything from the website to the event images to the copy to the "script" to the names of things was either stolen or AI generated (aka stolen). Hell, I'd be looking for some poor Japanese visitor wandering the streets of Glasgow, confused, after being jacked for his mascot costume.
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HE LIVES IN THE WALLS, Y'ALL.
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seouljazzbar · 5 months ago
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GO WITH IT
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MARK LEE (이민형)
ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it
WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending
PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader
WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k
AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe
Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.
The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest. 
All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.
The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”
Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to  buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry. 
“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.
Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”
You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”
White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”
A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”
Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”
“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.
“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”
“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”
Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”
“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly  you needed to be railed? That was a new one.
The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—
“I’ll fuck you.”
You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.
“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats. 
“Mark—”
The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”
“Shouldn’t be what?”
“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”
The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”
Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”
“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”
That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. 
Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”
It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.
He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.
“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”
Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…” 
“Shouldn’t that be weird?”
He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties. 
“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”
“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff  noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?” 
His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”
“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”
Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”
“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”
“Mark!”
His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”
One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”
Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.
He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”
Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”
His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”
“Mm, don’t be shy.”
Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.
You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.
“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”
It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”
He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.
You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”
“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”
Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”
He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”
You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.
“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.
“I’m, I’m close.”
He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”
“Whyyyy?”
“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”
You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”
But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”
“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”
The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”
“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”
It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.” 
You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?” 
It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.
“Fuck.”
You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.
“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.
It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.
He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.
You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”
It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat. 
“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”  
“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”
All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet. 
“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in. 
“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.
“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.
Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.”  He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.
“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”
“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you. 
“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded  pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.
Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing  into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.
“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”
“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.
“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”
He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”
Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains. 
“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”
He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”
The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”
“‘m gonna cum again.”
He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”
“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.
“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.
“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.” 
He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.
Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed. 
You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”
“What time is it?”
He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”
“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”
Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”
“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”
He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”
“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”
He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”
None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.
“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”
4K notes · View notes
fruitjoos · 3 months ago
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serving up suds!
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parings: patrick zweig x fem!reader / art donaldson x tashi duncan
word count: 3.9k
summary: you and the rest of the girls on the tennis team need to figure out a way to earn money for new uniforms. your boyfriend suggests the best idea.
contains: SMUT 18+ with lots of cute boyfriend patrick plot, fluff, only contains art and tashi as side characters (sorry), suggestive language between art and tashi, oral (m receiving), inaccurate numbers probs, if you think anything else should be added, please let me know!
note: wrote this simply because i love and miss pookie patrick zweig so enjoy… i planned to post i choose you but wanted to post this instead! also, not edited – will be doing so shortly.
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You stood in front of Coach Williams, arms crossed and brows furrowed, your frustration barely masked. “We don’t even have proper uniforms,” you said, voice tight. “They just told us to wear red tank tops and the shortest white shorts we could find. It’s ridiculous. No one takes us seriously.”
It had been a minor irritation at first, something you could almost shrug off as a small injustice. But when you found out that the boys' team, including your boyfriend Patrick, had crisp, matching uniforms—with collars and the school logo stitched on the chest—your irritation curdled into anger. They looked like a team. They looked respectable. And you? You and the other five girls on the team looked like a mismatched afterthought.
A few of you had approached Coach Williams, hoping she’d understand, hoping she’d do something. You told her how embarrassing it was to stand on the court, mismatched and disheveled, while the boys walked by in their pristine gear. She’d just sighed and said the school didn’t have the funds. “Those boys raised the money themselves,” she added, almost proud. “If you girls want uniforms that badly, you’ll have to do the same.”
You groaned. Right, like it was that simple. You had done the math in your head—the cost would be at least a thousand dollars to get anything decent, something that would make you all look polished and cohesive. You wanted sharp collars, the school name embroidered in neat white stitching over your hearts, maybe even matching skirts. But there were only six of you, and $200 each was a lot to ask from college girls already juggling tuition, textbooks, meals, and a list of other expenses that never seemed to end.
The thought gnawed at you for days, and finally, you did something you never would’ve considered before. You went to Patrick. The two of you were sprawled out on the campus quad, the grass prickling your skin, the sun warm on your back. Patrick was fiddling with a Rubik's Cube he’d picked up from god knows where, twisting it clumsily, his focus entirely absorbed. You were trying to study, your math textbook open in front of you, but the thought of those damn uniforms kept distracting you. You sighed, louder than usual, trying to get his attention. He didn’t look up.
Another sigh, this one practically a groan. Patrick smirked, eyes still fixed on the colored squares in his hands. “Something on your mind?” he asked, voice teasing, as if he was enjoying your distress.
“Actually, yeah,” you said, sitting up and crossing your legs. “The girls’ tennis team needs uniforms.” He finally glanced up, confusion flickering in his eyes. “And I was wondering…” you trailed off, giving him a mischievous grin before reaching out to tickle his side. He jerked away, laughing, and caught your wrist. “...if you could, you know, maybe donate a little to help out.”
“You’re cute,” he said, kissing your cheek. “But I’m broke. Spent my allowance for the month already.”
Your head slumped against his chest, and you whined, letting the sound drag out, like a child who didn’t want to go to bed. “C’mon, Patrick. We need this.”
He chuckled, but you could sense his patience thinning. “Why don’t you do a fundraiser or something?” he suggested. “I don’t know, a bake sale?”
It was a simple idea, but it sparked something. You sat up straight, eyes bright with sudden inspiration. “A car wash!” you said, the words tumbling out in a rush. “We could do a car wash! Who wouldn’t want to donate to a group of girls in bikinis?”
Patrick’s smile faded. “Wait, I meant like selling cookies or something, not—”
But you were already on your feet, packing your things, a plan forming in your mind. Oh you’ll be selling cookies all right. “Thanks, babe! I’ll call you later,” you said, barely looking back as you headed off to find the other girls.
Patrick’s voice trailed after you, a mix of amusement and resignation. “Great. This is going to end well, I’m sure.” But you didn’t care. For the first time in days, you felt a thrill of hope. If it took a little shamelessness to raise the money, so be it. At least the girls’ team would finally have the chance to be seen.
You stood outside Art Donaldson’s dorm room, tapping your foot impatiently, half-wishing you didn’t have to do this. You were almost certain Tashi was hooking up with him. Everyone on the courts could sense the weird tension between them, the way they eyed each other during practice. It wasn’t admiration for his technique, that was for sure. Art was talented, sure, but he played like a baby deer—deft, but awkwardly loose, stumbling into his own brilliance.
Your knuckles rapped softly against the door, and when it finally creaked open, you caught sight of Art’s glassy eyes and his half-buttoned shirt. You had to stifle a laugh. He looked like he’d just rolled out of bed, and not because he was taking a nap. “Uh, is Tashi around?” you asked, already guessing the answer. Art glanced over his shoulder, almost as if he was checking to see if she was still there.
“Yeah, but she’s busy,” he said, with a casual shrug that didn’t quite hide his irritation.
“I’m sure,” you replied, tilting your head with a knowing grin. You leaned past him, raising your voice. “Tashi, come out here! I’ve got an idea!” Art winced, his expression morphing into a tight-lipped smile, the kind you give when someone’s overstaying their welcome. “She’ll be out in a minute,” he muttered, stepping back to let you linger in the doorway.
You could hear the faint sounds of shuffling before Tashi appeared, her hair tousled and her expression caught somewhere between glee and annoyance. “What are you doing here?” she asked, eyes narrowing.
“Patrick gave me the best idea,” you said, ignoring the way she rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed. She didn’t even try to hide her skepticism—those words didn’t belong in the same sentence, and she knew it.
“No, really,” you insisted, giving her a playful shove. “We should do a fundraiser!”
Tashi’s face softened slightly, but her arms remained crossed, a single brow arching. “A fundraiser?”
“Yes! Think about it—tight bikinis, soapy cars, a bunch of frat boys with too much cash to spare. We’d make bank!” You bounced on your toes, grinning—your excitement spilling out uncontrollably.
She scoffed, but you caught the flicker of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Maybe she was amused, or maybe it was just the sheer absurdity of the situation. “I’m not selling my body to a bunch of frat boys,” she said, shaking her head firmly.
“You’re literally in there with Art Donaldson,” you shot back, your shoulders slumping with exasperation.
Tashi’s eyes narrowed, and she folded her arms, leaning against the doorframe. “So, what’s that supposed to mean?”
You let out an awkward laugh, waving your hands. “Oh, nothing. Just making an observation.” You could see her jaw tense, but you pressed on, undeterred. “Anyway, I’m telling the other girls. We’re doing this, with or without you.” You winked, trying to keep things light, but Tashi’s expression was unreadable as she watched you turn and leave.
A week later, you found yourself in your dorm room, sorting through an array of colorful bikini tops. The whole plan felt like a gamble, but you were determined to make it work. You wanted it to be fun, at least, if you were going to be out there scrubbing cars for spare change. Patrick was sprawled on the edge of your bed, watching with a bemused expression. “You’re seriously going through with this?” he asked, one eyebrow raised.
“You suggested it!” you argued, as you adjusted the lettering on a handmade sign with your glitter gel pens.
“I suggested you bake cookies and sell them on campus,” he corrected, waving his hand as if to swat away the absurdity of your plan. “This is not what I meant.”
“We’re just washing cars,” you said, shaking your head as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And besides, it’s for a good cause.” You added a few more swirls and hearts to the sign, mockingly repeating his earlier words in a high-pitched voice before tossing a pink towel at him.
Patrick caught the towel and laughed, shaking his head. “You’re something else.”
Grabbing your keys and the finished signs, you turned to him, flashing a grin. “Walk me over there,” you said, already halfway out the door.
He groaned, dragging himself to his feet. “I better get a free car wash out of this,” he muttered, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. The two of you headed down the hall, and as you passed by, you could almost imagine the scene—the sun beating down, water glistening, and a line of cars full of guys willing to fork over their cash just to see a group of girls make a splash. Maybe it was shameless, but you were desperate, and desperate times called for bold, glittery, bikini-clad measures.
The sun was barely up, but the day was already heating up as you and a few of the girls set up the buckets of sudsy water, sponges bobbing in the foam, and wrangled with the nearest hose. Patrick stood nearby, scanning the growing crowd like a bouncer at a club, his eyes narrowing at any guy who dared stare a little too long when you bent over to dip your sponge. He was protective like that, and maybe just a bit possessive, but you couldn’t deny it felt good having someone in your corner, even if he looked ready to body check anyone who ogled you.
You were just about to yell something smart at him when Tashi strolled up, the sound of her flip-flops soft on the concrete, and every head turned as she made her entrance. She was all long, tanned legs, glistening in the sunlight, a tiny bikini peeking out from under her daisy dukes, and she moved with a sort of effortless grace that made you want to both envy and applaud her. You let out a sharp whistle, catcalling her as she approached, unable to resist. She rolled her eyes.
“Careful, those eyes are gonna get stuck back there one day,” you said with a small smile on your lips, and you could tell she was enjoying the attention.
“You look so hot!” you squealed, bouncing on your toes. Tashi flicked her hair over her shoulder, pretending to be exasperated, but she knew she was killing it, and so did everyone else.
Hours passed, the sun climbing higher, scorching the asphalt, and the music thumped from the speakers you’d set up, loud enough to echo down the block. You and the girls took turns yelling at passersby, daring them to get their cars washed, and you couldn’t believe how fast the line grew. It felt like every guy within a five mile radius had suddenly remembered he needed a wash, and they queued up, engines idling, windows down, some leaning out just to get a better look.
Your bodies were practically spilling out of your clothes, skin glistening, slick with soap and sweat. You pressed up against car windows, sponges swirling over the glass, your laughter and chatter floating above the music. “Thank you!” you sang out, flashing bright smiles as you took crumpled bills from hands reaching out of car windows, a parade of faces you didn’t even recognize. You skipped over to where Patrick was standing, collecting the money, and tossed the latest stack of bills into the box he was holding.
The pink, glittery box which you wrote ‘Stick something in me!’ on. It was heavier than you’d expected; you were actually making bank.
Before you could turn back to the cars, Patrick caught your wrist and pulled you close, his hand warm and firm. He cupped your cheeks between his fingers, smushing them slightly, and before you could even register the movement, he kissed you hard, right there in front of everyone. It wasn’t gentle, wasn’t soft. It was a claim, a brand, like he was marking his territory for all to see.
“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low, but loud enough for everyone nearby to hear, a hint of a challenge in his eyes. He wanted to remind you.
You blushed, caught off guard, but then a grin spread across your face. “I’m yours,” you repeated, just as firmly, before pulling him down and planting another kiss on his lips, making sure the message was clear. As you pulled back, you saw a few guys in line avert their eyes, and you laughed to yourself, a mix of pride and relief swelling in your chest. You had Patrick, you had the girls, and if things kept going this well, you’d have those uniforms too.
"Six-fifty… seven-fifty," Patrick counted, his voice low and steady, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in soft pinks and purples. You were sprawled out across the lawn, grass tickling your bare arms, and you watched him with a warm, tired smile, the kind of smile you give when everything feels just right for once. It had been a long, sweaty day, but now the breeze was gentle, like a cool kiss against your skin, and you felt almost weightless. Your body thrumming with a sense of accomplishment.
“Okay, that’s great!” you said, grabbing his arm, a burst of giddy excitement surging through you. Around you, the girls broke into their own cheers, hugging and high-fiving each other, still buzzing from the success of the day.
“And $100 from me,” Patrick said, pulling out a crisp bill from his wallet and tossing it into the box with a casual flick. The girls swarmed him, shaking his shoulders and showering him with thank-yous, calling him sweet, generous, the best. Even Tashi, who’d been leaning coolly against Art, broke into a grin, and she nudged him with her elbow. Art, who’d been half-pretending not to care, rolled his eyes but couldn’t resist. With a reluctant sigh, he parted with another $100, mumbling under his breath as he handed it over.
“Fine,” he said, almost as if the word hurt, but he was grinning a little, too, when the girls shrieked and patted his back. Rich people, you thought, shaking your head with a smirk. They always made it seem like giving was a struggle when it barely scratched the surface of their wallets.
You took a breath, pushing yourself up to your feet and looking at the small circle of girls around you, their faces flushed and glowing under the dimming sky. "I just want to say… thank you," you started, your voice slightly hoarse from yelling all day but still earnest. "I know this wasn’t exactly easy, but we did it. And I’m really proud." You reached into your own wallet, pulling out a $50 bill, twirling it between your fingers, and held it up like a trophy. “Here’s to us. And new uniforms!”
The girls erupted, their cheers echoing across the lawn, loud and jubilant, as if they’d just won a championship. For a moment, it felt like they had. The line between a football team scoring a last minute touchdown and a group of college girls hustling for their dignity had blurred, and you all basked in the glow of it, even as the day faded into night.
Later, you stumbled back to your dorm, too exhausted to think but too exhilarated to sleep. You flopped down on your bed, sinking into the mattress, letting out a long, satisfied sigh. You barely had time to close your eyes before Patrick followed, landing on top of you with a playful thud, his chin digging uncomfortably into your stomach.
“Ow,” you laughed, swatting at his head as he tried to adjust, mumbling an absent apology. He shifted, then propped himself up, and you cradled his face in your hands, tilting it up so you could look into his eyes. They were the soft blue of summer berries, glinting with mischief and tenderness, and you felt a sudden rush of affection that made your chest ache a little.
“I have the best boyfriend in the world,” you said, the words coming out soft, almost like a secret you were finally ready to admit. Patrick’s cheeks flushed a faint pink, something he did so rarely it was almost a treat to see. He gave you a shy, crooked smile, and you could tell he was savoring the moment, letting it hang in the air between you.
Then he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, slow and careful, his mouth tasting faintly of your pomegranate chapstick. It was gentle at first, then firmer, like he was memorizing every bit of sweetness. When he pulled back, his eyes were still half-lidded, and his lips curved into a teasing smile.
“So, what’s the reward for being the best boyfriend?” he murmured, his gaze flicking over your face, taking in every detail as if he hadn’t already committed them to memory. His eyelashes fluttered, casting a silhouette across his cheeks, and you felt a shiver of warmth spread through you.
His reward for enduring the humid, sticky air all day, the sun beating down relentlessly on his already sunkissed skin, was right here, pressed against him. He had been patient, sitting there with the box of crumpled bills, sweat glistening on his forehead, eyes darting protectively every time someone lingered a little too long on you. He deserved something for putting up with the heat, the endless chatter, and the occasional, awkward guy who looked like he wanted to challenge him just for standing there. And this was it. You, warm and pliant under his hands, your fingers tangled in his hair, lips brushing his, teasing, like you were savoring every second as much as he was.
You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head in mock contemplation. “Hmm, I guess I’ll have to think of something…” you said, running your fingers through his hair, pulling him closer until your noses touched. “Maybe a little more of this,” you whispered, your lips brushing his as you spoke, letting the promise linger in the space.
You rolled over, his back sinking into the worn mattress. You let your lips graze his jaw, then drifted down to his neck. He shifted under your touch, laughter mingling with a nervous squirm as your breath tickled his skin. “You’re so good to me,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his earlobe. “So supportive,” another kiss at his temple. “And so, so handsome.” A faint smile broke across his face, eyes closed, lost in the moment.
You let your fingers glide over the cool, metallic buttons of his shorts, tracing each engraved design as if it were spelling out something only you knew. You helped him pull them off, giggling as you threw them across the room. Your hand dipped into the dark mouth of his boxers, rummaging past his trimmed bush of curls, until your fingers closed around the smooth, familiar shape.
His hard cock slid out, catching the light above, precum gleaming, almost tauntingly. You held it up to your mouth, breathing in the faint trace of scent that lingered, delicate but intoxicating.
You stared at it for a moment, feeling a slow, subtle warmth unfurl in your chest. It was a tiny, almost imperceptible smile that tugged at your lips, like the beginning of a secret, and you could feel the tension building under your skin, pooling low in your stomach. Something about holding it in your hand made you feel powerful, like you were in control.
The head was your favorite color—deep, cherry red and glistening like a polished gem when you pulled back his foreskin slowly. You slid it between your lips, supple and sweet. Your tongue circled over his tip, feeling the tiny slit. His sap dissolving against your taste buds. You closed your eyes, savoring the taste.
His arousal melted on your tongue, sweet and syrupy. A thin string of saliva stretched between your lips and the tip when you pulled it away, snapping when you moved it too far. It was deliciously wrong, like sneaking a piece of forbidden fruit.
"You’re so sweet," you murmured, almost to yourself, but loud enough for Patrick to hear. He glanced up, his expression lustful and high.
“Wanna taste it?” you asked, slightly lolling your head to the side. The way you said it was innocent, almost playful, but there was a glint in your eyes, a subtle edge to the offer. You leaned up to him, grazing your tongue over his lips. He moaned at the contact. You grabbed his jaw, letting the glob mixed of your saliva and himself fall onto the heart of his tongue. He groaned, letting it slide down his throat. “I love you.” he whimpered, sloppily inhaling your lips.
You furrowed your brows, mocking the desperate look in his eyes. You watched him, a slow smile curling on your lips. You hadn’t realized how much you’d loved being in control. It reminded you that, for once, you weren’t following the rules, and that felt more delicious than anything you’d tasted in a long, long time.
You pumped your hand up and down his shaft, practically begging him to release all over your pretty face. “You wanna come for me?” you asked with a sweet, honey tone. “I’m so close,” he panted, fingers tangling between your strands of hair. “Fu– please,” he cried, mouth gaping open while hips desperately bucked toward you.
Taking him in your mouth again, you slapped his stiff cock against your tongue, the familiar sensation flooding your mouth as saliva pooled in your cheeks. His fluids mixed with spit, oozing down your lips and pooling on your chin. It felt disgusting, the wetness creeping along your skin, but deep down, every drop was a small victory for making him feel good.
With each stroke, you watched the fizzy mixture drip, the mess clinging to your hand and wrist as you pumped vigorously. You squeezed him in your palms, watching him sputter. Come painting across your face. You bit your lip, trying to steady your hand, hoping you milked him empty. His slit deflating a little more with every squeeze. You could see the droplets peeking through, mocking you.
He threw his head back, catching his breath. “Feel good?” you teased, sucking your fingers. You slid your body up his, his bare cock still hard, brushing against the skin of your thigh. His body jolting at the touch.
"Thank you for your help today, baby," you murmured, letting your lips brush gently against the tip of his nose, a soft, affectionate kiss.
“Anytime,” he said, a playful glint in his eyes. “And don’t hesitate to bring me any other problems you’ve got,” he added, only half-joking, clearly savoring the reward you’d just given him. “I’m always glad to help.”
You laughed, the sound light and warm, as you slipped off the bed. “I’ll keep that in mind,” you teased, padding across the room toward the bathroom to shower. You glanced back at him once more, a smile still tugging at the corners of your mouth, “You coming?” you ask, disappearing into the bathroom.
He slid off the bed in a hurried, awkward motion, the springs letting out a sharp, staccato creak that echoed through the room. His feet barely touched the floor before he was shuffling off, making his way into the bathroom behind you.
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screamsilas · 1 month ago
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@ii-neg-confessions is really stupid
@ii-neg-confessions is kind of what it sounds like, a blog about inanimate insanity to spread hate and negativity and I feel like people shouldn't be so open to absorbing hate all the time
I wrote a better worded version on my phone but the drafts thing apparently doesn't work so take this kind of lazy one instead cause I don't really wanna spend any more of my time on this earth trashing an admin on a confessions blog who most should know is just a negative nancy hater who needs to get off they damn phone
time to "see through the bullshit" and "simply call out this bullshit" instead of "mindlessly consuming slop and following the herd"! /quoting their blog
also if you are gonna say "ohh don't give them them attention that's what they want" hold that thought cause this post isn't FOR them, its to educate ABOUT them and show people they're stupid. Its your choice if you wanna block them. Also, this is my space to criticize whatever I want, block whoever I want, etc. so I'm gonna post this rant here and let people act under their discretion.
anyways more under the cut
update on 12/09/24; rephrased/added context to some stuff in the Adam Katz segment.
update on 12/09/24; added a funny thing at the very end of the post.
update on 12/10/24; removed Adam Katz segment for correcting and editing.
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[removed temporarily]
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This is one of those things that when I read it I audibly said " are you fucking serious" cause truthfully I don't think they are being serious here.
To make fun of people that are POSITIVE? you actually must be absolutely MISERABLE to make a whole word to try and describe people who are positive in a negative light. I don't have much else to say here other than they must be genuinely sad with their life to do this.
small bomb break just to preface something
death threats (I'm gonna talk about that)
I'm not gonna go into their blog and criticize every word they have ever said, because I simply don't want to, but feel free to add onto this in the comments or re-blogs, cause I think its important to acknowledge this person and see them for who they are... and act accordingly of course.
anywayyy...
I've seen a lot of the OSC unanimously say that Mil has sent death threats to the II crew which I believe is true considering their overwhelmingly negative behavior and opinions towards most people who like ii/the crew themselves. I wanna of course start by saying that (as obvious as it should be) DEATH THREATS ARE NEVER OKAY! In some places in the world, even online they can be ILLEGAL!!! Its never okay to tell someone that you are gonna kill them, or that they should kill themselves, no matter how bad you think their YouTube show is, or how true you think your preconceived notions about peoples life or political stances are, death threats of any sort? NEVER OKAY! The fact that they went out of their way and spent that time (and most of their time) blatantly hating on this thing that was never about or for them is really disgusting.
I never will say that I don't think its okay to have negative opinions or state said opinions, but from what I can see from this entire blog, its more than that. Its more than sharing criticism, its spreading hate about something a lot of people hold dear to them for no other reason then the fact that you hold hate in your heart
Some more stuff I wanna say (in bullet point form!)
I'm pretty aware that Mil has some issues, whether that be relationship, familial... its none of my business. If she's reading this, just know there are people who can help, help is always available to you.
for a blog that's all for "seeing the truth" you really love to delete everything you don't agree with (even if its negative)
using art and not taking it down even after asked to is really rude, everyone should know that.. well except for Mil, who still has the post up
people calling everything that is appealing to the audience "fanservice" is so stupid is that the only word you know? do you only know how to use buzzer words to catch your audience instead of giving genuine points?
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I was gonna say some more but I got distracted, and also I'm already sick of their shit so
okay bye bye!
p.s. ; a hefty handful of screenshots I didn't wanna write a whole paragraph saying they're shit to
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this one is just sad to read like who hurt you
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blatantly threatening a hack against AE's channel (also illegal)
shit like this makes me believe that this account is ragebait
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more "posies" talk (makes me giggle)
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looking pretty defensive to me (definitely a dream stan)
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self indulgent insert but uh maybe its cause cobs is in the show hmm idk maybe though
death threats arent okay even if mil sent them to others (it will only repeat the cycle)
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this is just funny to me, the ii crew has gone back and deleted scenes that aren't good, they have said they were young at the time and they are growing and changing people and apologized for what they did, what else do you want? do you want them to beg for forgiveness at your shoes?? you're fucking weird.
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""digital footprint" isn't real" says a lot
what do you mean?? they're hating WITH YOU!!!! just because they can see good in the show doesn't mean they're corny! full post here
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maybe because the songs are... musical inspired... maybe you just hate fun... (they literally say they do what am I talking about)
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hating for no reason again (and ignoring everything anon said except for the thing that caught their eye; hatred)
okay I'm done, Mil is exhausting, @ii-neg-confessions is exhausting, I'm forever a "posie" I guess
if you read this far also... hi! thank you for reading all of this and educating yourself! remember that despite their hatred, there's still lots of love and care in this world and you deserve the most of it! please get some water and a snack, and have a wonderful day!! <3
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okay that's my rant bye
p.s.
stop following me, mil
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novella-november · 3 months ago
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See, here's the thing about generative AI:
I will always, always prefer to read the beginner works of a young writer that could use some editing advice, over anything a predictive text generator can spit out no matter how high of a "quality" it spits out.
I will always be more interested in reading a fanfiction or original story written by a kid who doesn't know you're meant to separate different dialogues into their own paragraphs, over anything a generative ai creates.
I will happily read a story where dialogue isn't always capitalized and has some grammar mistakes that was written by a person over anything a computer compiles.
Why?
Because *why should I care about something someone didn't even care enough to write themselves?*
Humans have been storytellers since the dawn of humankind, and while it presents itself in different ways, almost everyone has stories they want to tell, and it takes effort and care and a desire to create to put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard or speech to text to actually start writing that story out, let alone share it for others to read!
If a kid writes a story where all the dialogue is crammed in the same paragraph and missing some punctuation, it's because they're still learning the ropes and are eager to share their imagination with the world even if its not perfect.
If someone gets generative AI to make an entire novel for them, copying and pasting chunks of text into a document as it generates them, then markets that "novel" as being written by a real human person and recruits a bunch of people to leave fake good reviews on the work praising the quality of the book to trick real humans into thinking they're getting a legitimate novel.... Tell me, why on earth would anyone actually want to read that "novel" outside of morbid curiosity?
There's a few people you'll see in the anti-ai tags complaining about "people being dangerously close to saying art is a unique characteristic of the divine human soul" and like...
... Super dramatic wording there to make people sound ridiculous, but yeah, actually, people enjoy art made by humans because humans who make art are sharing their passion with others.
People enjoy art made by animals because it is fascinating and fun to find patterns in the paint left by paw prints or the movements of an elephants trunk.
Before Generative AI became the officially sanctioned "Plagiarism Machine for Billionaires to Avoid Paying Artists while Literally Stealing all those artists works" people enjoyed random computer-generated art because, like animals, it is fascinating and fun to see something so different and alien create something that we can find meaning in.
But now, when Generative AI spits out a work that at first appears to be a veritable masterpiece of art depicting a winged Valkyrie plunging from the skies with a spear held aloft, you know that anything you find beautiful or agreeable in this visual media has been copied from an actual human artist who did not consent or doesn't even know that their art has been fed into the Plagiarism Machine.
Now, when Generative AI spits out a written work featuring fandom-made tropes and concepts like Alpha Beta Omega dyanamics, you know that you favorite fanfiction website(s) have probably all been scraped and that the unpaid labours of passion by millions of people, including minors, have been scraped by the Plagiarism Machine and can now be used to make money for anyone with the time and patience to sit and have the Plagarism Machine generate stories a chunk at a time and then go on to sell those stories to anyone unfortunate enough to fall for the scam,
all while you have no way to remove your works from the existing training data and no way to stop any future works you post be put in, either.
Generative AI wouldn't be a problem if it was exclusively trained on Public Domain works for each country and if it was freely available to anyone in that country (since different countries have different copyright laws)
But its not.
Because Generative AI is made by billionaires who are going around saying "if you posted it on the Internet at any point, it is fair game for us to take and profit off," and anyone looking to make a quick buck can start churning out stolen slop and marketing it online on trusted retailers, including generating extremely dangerous books like foraging guides or how to combine cleaning chemicals for a spotless home, etc.
Generative AI is nothing but the works of actual humans stolen by giant corporations looking for profit, even works that the original creators can't even make money off of themselves, like fanfiction or fanart.
And I will always, always prefer to read "fanfiction written by a 13 year old" over "stolen and mashed together works from Predictive Text with a scifi name slapped on it", because at least the fanfiction by a kid actually has *passion and drive* behind its creation.
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yuansie · 9 months ago
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the greatest gamble of all
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pairing. aventurine x gn! nameless! reader
synopsis. aventurine knows that he is unworthy of love, unworthy of you. because he, aventurine, is a tainted person and kakavasha is but a person with no future for himself. in both of his names, he is unworthy of you.
genres/aus. actually idek what type of au this would fall under saurrr idk what to say ummm friends to something more (?!), romance, pining, angst with a happy ending, smidge of fluff at the end
warnings. slight (or maybe not so slight at all?) spoilers about aventurine's background, mentions of death and murder, very sad and insecure aventurine, crying, slight displays of affection (a neck kiss?!), ooc aventurine ?! (bc im still doing the penacony quest HAHSHAJ)
wc. 1.6k
a/n. me when i only write about aventurine because aventurine is love, aventurine is life. also, i just have some serious brainrot for that man he deserves everything and more i love him sm !!!! also. aventurine this wednesday im SOOOO excited i need him NOW. will be skipping my first class so i can do his trial LMFAO and this NAWT edited !! (when will i ever edit something?? idk. whenever i am not a busy uni kid) the aventurine art was made by @/20231102thu on x (twitter) !!
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AVENTURINE IS FULLY AWARE THAT HE ISN'T SOMEONE DESERVING OF, well, anything. he’s just someone that aimlessly wanders this world, not having a set destination. he doesn’t have anything worth living for.  he doesn’t have a home to return to because home means returning to a place filled with warmth and love. 
he does not remember the last time he felt his heart warm up, he’s not even sure if he’s even felt warmth. it is but a distant memory filled with sadness, such sorrow that makes his heart weep without knowing it. though, nowadays, he doesn’t feel like that. there’s just an emptiness in him, but he doesn’t mind it anymore. after the events at penacony, he’s just been… lost.
he hears a door open and slide shut, followed by the sound of footsteps. then, he senses someone standing right next to him as he gazes out the windows of the astral express. you spent a long time convincing the conductor and himeko that aventurine should be a guest, and you finally wore them out with your pleading after a good amount of hours. 
“penny for your thoughts?”
aventurine glances at you. your wounds from the battle are still healing, he notes, given by the bandages that wrap around your forearm and head. sunday will have to meet his fury on another day. “just thinking that this is a nice place.”
you chuckle, “it is, isn’t it?”
all he does is hum in response, still staring out in the vast expanse of space. he likes how the stars look and as his eyes linger on penacony, he wonders if his home looked similar to that. he wouldn't know because he never saw how it looked when he left and never will. his thoughts don’t linger on that much when he instead focuses on the way your fingers brush against his hand. he flinches and stares wide-eyed at how you easily grab onto his hand, a dirty piece of flesh undeserving of the warmth that radiates from your skin and seeps into his own.
“aventurine—”
“kakavasha.”
“hm?” you tilt your head to the side, blinking at him in confusion.
he wants to look away from you, from your eyes. but he wills himself to keep looking and somehow, he ends up gripping onto your hand tightly. you don't complain and instead squeeze back, patiently waiting for him to continue.
“my name is… kakavasha.” aventurine feels his stomach twist and turn at your silence so he continues to speak, “i just thought… that you should know it before it’s completely gone.”
“and why do you say that?”
“it’s a name meant to be forgotten in the sand.”
your response is so quick that it almost gives him whiplash. “no it isn't.”
“excuse me?” he blurts out, surprised that you even said such a thing about him.
“it isn't a name meant to be forgotten in the sand,” you say, a certain calmness in your voice that has aventurine waiting with bated breath at what else you have to say. “it's too pretty to be forgotten and, well, it's your name.” 
and then he feels his face heat up; his ears, neck and cheeks feel like they’re burning up.
“kakavasha,” you hum, smiling, “kava, for short. it has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?”
it does have a nice ring to it, but only because you're the one saying it. aventurine merely nods, not trusting his voice at the moment. he looks away and stares outside the window, not wanting to look at you anymore because he fears this warm feeling will take over his entire being.
a nice silence blankets over the two of you, one that you break after a while.
“what’s the story behind your name right now? aventurine… why are you called that now?”
“because kakavasha had no future,” he replies, “kakavasha didn’t have a future, he didn’t deserve to live either. who i am now, aventurine, does.”
“kakavasha deserves to live too.” aventurine turns his body to look at you, blinking in surprise. “i don’t know how you got that thought in your head, but kakavasha deserves to live just as much as the person you are now.”
“but aventurine is tainted. this name has too much blood on it, too many sins on it. the person i am now doesn’t deserve to live either. kakavasha should be a name buried in the sands of time while aventurine should be burnt to a crisp for the things i’ve done.”
yes, he is tainted. his body, his everything is tainted. it is marred by an ugly color, a stain of who he was and is, never to be cleaned. aventurine lets go of your hands, worried that you might also get stained by his sins. he should drive you away now before the aching in his small heart decides to cling to you and the warmth you give him. he will tell you his story, tell you about the mark on his neck, tell you how he killed the man that bought him, tell you about how he is a tainted person. he is a tainted person unworthy of you, unworthy of that love you hold.
he may have never experienced love. after all, all of his past relationships were purely physical. no one cared about going deeper beyond his facade, they all just wanted a fun night. so while he has never experienced it, he is no fool. he can recognize that the emotion in your pretty eyes when you look at him is love. you love aventurine, the him who has betrayed and used you and your companions in one way or another on penacony. he doesn’t understand why and maybe he never will because the mere fact that you feel something towards him is so bizarre.
so he should ruin whatever it is that you love about him and tell you the truth, taint your rose-colored view on him. aventurine needs to do it now before his heart tells him not to. he knows his heart is already lovesick, so needy of that bit of love it has received from you. his heart wants to hold on tightly to you and drown in you, drown in those feelings of yours. his tiny heart wants to love you too, it wants to love you just as much as you love him. he wants your everything to consume his entire being.
but after he tells you the truth, you will leave and you will be the first and last person he’s loved. you will be the first and last person to somehow climb over the tall walls he’s built around himself and crack open the facade he’s made.
but what if… what if you stay after everything? what will happen then?
it is that small hope that he ends up clinging to.
if he is blessed gaiathra, if he is lucky, then what if… what if this is his greatest gamble of all? a gamble of love: will he lose you or will you stay?
aventurine has made up his mind despite the rational part in him telling him to not even do it, yet he does. the words flow out of his mouth easily, though his heart weighs heavy in his chest. he expects to you leave, he really does because who would want someone as ugly as him? but the tears that leaves your eyes and roll down your cheeks catches him completely off guard.
“why are you crying?” he asks, his hands reaching out to hold your arms.
your lips quiver and a hand grabs onto one of his while the other reaches out, fingers stopping before they touch his neck. aventurine leans in without thinking and a shiver goes up his spine when your fingertips gently graze the marks on his neck. you rub over the marks, “you didn’t deserve any of that, kakavasha.”
“if i could, i would take this from you and any pain you’ve felt and will feel. i would take away all of the unpleasant memories that plague your mind. for you, i would do anything.” 
his knees buckle at your words and you both tumble down to the ground; he ends up being on top of you. your eyes widen when aventurine’s own tears begin to rain down, some falling onto your cheek.
“why would you say something so cruel to me?” he mutters. “don’t give me false hope. you should leave now before you do it in the future.”
“why should i leave the man that i love?” you purse your lips, your eyebrows furrowing.
aventurine shoves his head into the crook of your neck. “i am undeserving of you. i’m lesser than everyone in all of these galaxies.”
“you are not lesser than everyone,” you grumble, raking your hand through his blond hair. “everyone is the same because at the end of the day, we all want to love and to be loved.”
“i’m afraid i won’t be able to leave you now.” he hears you laugh softly, saying how his eyelashes are tickling you. he decides to get impossibly closer to you and bat his eyelashes more, smiling at the sound of your laughter growing in volume. “you’re stuck with me, so don’t say i didn’t warn you.”
aventurine’s breath gets stuck in his throat. he feels your lips brush against his neck. “i think the one who should be saying that is me… say, promise me you won’t leave?”
“shouldn’t i be saying that?”
“kava, promise me.”
“i promise. will you promise the same thing too?”
“yes, i promise that i won’t leave you.”
kakavasha, a name forgotten in the sand, was dug up and remembered, held in the hands of someone that treats like the most precious thing. kakavasha, who had forgotten how it felt to love and be loved, remembered the feeling because of a single person.
and kakavasha, blessed by gaiathra, won his greatest gamble of all time. he won you and your love, something he will now protect and hold onto tightly.
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diamonddeputy · 29 days ago
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Okay I put this together for a buddy who couldn’t make it so I may as well put it here too now that I have it all in one place
All the dev commentary I picked up from the UTY anniversary stream
PLEASE REBLOG WITH ANYTHING I MAY HAVE MISSED
• It apparently took them FOREVER to solidify a design for Decibat. One of the early concepts was a literal baseball bat with wings and I enjoy this fact very much
• They originally had an idea that Dalv would accidentally try and move into Martlet’s house after leaving the Ruins LMAO
• They expanded on this piece of concept art that had been floating around: there were never really plans for the Feisty Five to be evil, they just made their own wanted posters to inflate their own egos LOL
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• I didn’t really write any of the specifics down, but listening to them talk about the Flowey fight was so interesting because they were all chiming in about who worked on what parts and where the inspirations were from and where they sourced their materials. Some details I remember off the top of my head:
- Flowey’s voice lines were pulled from the same McDonald’s commercial as his canon ones
- The audio for the scene where Martlet melts before Meta Flowey was a combination of a stock laugh and a clip one of the devs just so happened to have, when they used to edit for a YouTube channel, and the file got corrupted and just randomly made that sound
- The heartbeat monitor sound that plays during the Organic speciman is taken from the frequency of an actual human heart. Don’t remember the story about how they acquired that one
- The graphics for the Polygonal speciman were inspired by PS1 horror, Ben Drowned and that meme that went around in the late 2010s of a gif of a bug that made it look like a bug was on your screen (in specific reference to the little Flowey gremlins that crawl down the screen)
- They originally had plans to include a spectrogram in the fight, but decided it would make them seem too tryhardy
• There were plans for an underwater segment that were scrapped extremely early in development, something about a bridge in Waterfall breaking
• The comment Starlo makes in the Wild East about there being a fourth mission that was scrapped from the regimen is a reference to a literal fourth mission that the devs cut because they felt like it killed the pacing, where Virgil would kidnap the Feisty Five and tie them up in places around town and you had to go rescue them and it was a stealth game type thing
• - The designs for the Feisty Five have a lot of funny inspirations
- Ed was originally designed to be a normal monster, but they liked his design so much they used it for something more important
- Initial concepts of Moray’s design had them in a fisherman’s cap or a paper boat hat, to show how unserious they were about this. Also, they weren’t originally designed to be Angie and Gillbert’s child, a playtester just made that assumption and they were like y’know what sure we’ll roll with it
- Mooch’s design originated from a Minecraft RP OC that one of the devs had that she never got to use. Which is iconic tbh
• Mo was inspired by this lil dude, who showed up and had babies in one of the devs’ attic. Additionally, while coding the game, there were little variables they put in for fun like a timer. One of them was a number that just incrementally increased, and was labelled “Crimes that Mo has committed”
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• The fact that sparing Dalv doesn’t abort Geno, that everyone chalked up to being a genius narrative decision, was AN OVERSIGHT??????? It was a coding error caused by the fact that they were initially gonna make everything that happens in the Dark Ruins not count towards any route, like Flowey implies in his dialogue, but they went back on that decision and fixed it for everyone except Dalv. They made a comment on stream like “we should really fix that” and everyone in chat was like PLEASE don’t LOL
• There were never really concepts for a Geno Starlo fight. And a lot of it is the reasons the fandom talks about that he’s a coward before his character development and it makes more sense for him to back out in the face of real danger. But also because in terms of power level, it didn’t make sense for him to stand a chance. And also because they were making all the routes at once and designing the boss fights at equal times and this was the first chance they got to make a boss fight for Ceroba LOL. But the plan was already set by that point that it was gonna be her instead of him
• No one truly knows the origins of the super faded silhouette standing in the background of the UG Apartments shop in Geno. Apparently the dude who made the CG just. Put it there
• We got more insight into the Martlet transformation animation. It was made with SO much purpose. If you look closely, she starts to melt and the determination puddles underneath her, but then she gains control of it and the puddle ABSORBS BACK INTO HER, then shoots out in a burst when her first wing transforms. THAT’S SO COOL
• Additionally, they also canonized that Martlet took the determination before Alphys had any of the fallen-down bodies, and that she had no idea what it actually WAS, other than that it had something to do with the human SOULs. Which makes this even MORE impressive because she wasn’t intrinsically prepared to control determination, she just DID it
• Additionally, they also canonized that Martlet took the determination before Alphys had any of the fallen-down bodies, and that she had no idea what it actually WAS, other than that it had something to do with the human SOULs. Which makes this even MORE impressive because she wasn’t intrinsically prepared to control determination, she just DID it
• The dive-bomb attack Martlet does in her first-phase Zenith fight was inspired by Dyna Blade, as a Kirby fan that fact just made me happy lol
• Retribution was the last song made for the game, and was composed in just a couple days, which is WILD to me
• We got confirmation that Flowey is still in control of saves after defeating Axis in Geno, and Clover’s text in the overworld/after dying is just them being so focused on their mission that they’re drowning out everything else
• CANNOT forget The Jincident
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devsgames · 9 months ago
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HOT GAMEDEVS DON'T GATEKEEP
Inspired by this post by @midwinterhunt, here's a compilation of all the game dev resources I have come across, most of which I use fairly frequently. Most of these are free, some are paid but fairly cheap. Feel free to add your own resources. ✌️
Important reminder: When using basically any works or programs someone else created in your games, make sure you thoroughly understand the licenses and terms it has been shared with. If you don't know what the terms are, reach out to the resource and ask. Don't be lazy about this; it's not only dishonest but it can come back to bite you.
Engines
Unity - Best suited for mobile and multi-platform.
Unreal - Tailored for shooters and high-fidelity experiences.
PICO-8 - Virtual console for simple games
Godot - Open source and free!
GameMaker - Good for 2D games
Bitsy - Great little engine for making simple games and experiences
Construct - Never used but have heard nice things
Scratch - If you've never coded before, this is the best place to start. Great for young devs and those who want to get their feet wet.
Adventure Game Studio - Best suited for adventure games
RPG Maker - Best suited for top-down classic JRPG style games
Twine - Text-centric games like Interactive Fiction
Assets
OpenGameArt - Many assets, various licenses, and plenty of CC0 content.
Unity Store - For Unity only. Some free.
Unreal Store - For Unreal only. Some free.
Godot Asset Library
Jean Moreno's Toon Effects - Some of the best effects available on the Unity store. Unity only but I've used them in basically every project.
Steamworks.net C# Wrapper For Unity - Unity only C# wrapper for integrating Steam compatibility to your game
Itch.io - Plenty of free art assets and game dev resources
Kenney - Kenney makes tons of open-source assets for devs to use.
Art
Mixamo - Generates rigs for your humanoid models and lets you apply a library of free humanoid animations to them. Super helpful for prototyping. Adobe.
Blender - Free, open source and fully featured 3D program.
XNormal - Free offline normal map generator
Normal Map Online - Free online normal map generator
Crocotile - Cheap tool for building 3D models from sprite sheets
MagicaVoxel - Free voxel modelling tool
Piskel - Free online sprite drawing tool
Aesprite - Paid sprite drawing tool
TurboSquid - Not always great quality, but can be good source of free placeholders.
Textures.com - Limited texture downloads per day but free for personal use.
Pexels - Free stock photo resource. Most are free for commercial use. Check licenses.
Clipstudio - Good for illustration or graphic design. One time payment.
GIMP - Image editing program a-la Photoshop. Free.
Audio
Audacity - Free and fully-featured DAW/audio editor.
sfx.me - Free 8-bit synth-style sound effect generator for games.
CastingCallClub - Easy forum to find amateur voice talent for your project (p.s.: you should pay them).
FreeSound.org - Free sounds, searchable by license. A go-to for my audio needs.
Incompetech - Royalty-free music by Kevin McLeod.
Scott Buckley Music - Royalty free with conditions. Generally more on the cinematic side of things but very good stuff!
SoundCloud - 'Search -> By Track -> Filter: Use Commercially' leads to songs posted with allowance of commercial use. Always reach out to the artist to understand their terms and confirm that it's okay to use with your project.
Project Planning
Keymailer - Handy for mailing keys to influencers (don't expect a lot of traction unless you're paying for some of the features though).
Trello - Kanban board. Great for organizing tasks, managing bugs, etc. Free.
Notion - Private text and wiki page editor. Good for project organization, note taking, and fleshing out ideas. Free.
Obsidian - Alternative to Notion, with similar features.
Miro - Free whiteboard for organizing thoughts, images, brainstorming, etc.
Wave - Free Bookkeeping site. Great for keeping finances organized.
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megamagimugi · 5 months ago
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He's-a Gone
Luigi time! To suffer, that is.
(CW: character death)
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This is obviously a sort of comlementary piece to I Was-a Too Late. But it's more than just that as it also illustrates a certain fun, dark what-if idea I had. Please keep reading if you're intrigued!
Lore:
Luigi's Mansion, the first game. Everything goes the same as in canon until the final boss fight, when Luigi defeats King Boo in his Bowser costume. After King Boo comes out and Luigi intends to suck him in, the villain laughs and reveals the truth: Mario's painting was an illusion, so was everything Madame Clairvoya saw. All just to mess with Luigi. Meanwhile the real Mario wasn't just captured by the Boos, he was immediately killed by them on their King's orders. The only physical thing that's left of him in this realm is the five items Luigi found - hidden by the Boos for Luigi to find, another part of King Boo's sick game.
Luigi is able to finish the fight despite his shock and grief, fueled by the anger King Boo never expected from him. After getting out of the painting the plumber discovers that it is indeed empty, no Mario or anyone else in the portrait.
Heartbroken and guit-ridden, Luigi goes back to Professor E. Gadd's lab and gives him back the Poltergust 3000. He doesn't even want to stay long enough to see what is going to happen to the ghosts. Of course the Professor tries to offer some semblance of comfort, but we all know it's not his forte.
So Luigi leaves, only taking Mario's five items with him. He notices that the mansion has disapeared without a trace. The reality of it all finally hits him, and he practically collapses onto a nearby tree's large root protruding from the ground, putting down the precious items around himself, only leaving the matching red hat and the letter in his hands. He should have known something was off. After all, the Mario he saw in the painting was wearing his hat and both gloves.
Looking at all these items, to his growing horror he can't help but imagine what exactly might have happened to his brother and what his last moments might have been like. He hugs the hat to his chest and rereads Mario's note several times, knowing that the brief warning was his brother's last words to him.
Luigi can do nothing but cry for the beloved brother he couldn't save, desperately wishing it was his warm, living and breathing body pressed to his chest rather than just a couple of his belongings.
But Mario is truly gone, apparently having met such a horrific fate that not even a single part of his body is left in the physical world.
[Good night]
…I'll leave the rest up to your imagination ;) Sorry if I got carried away with my description. Occasionally even I enjoy being a little dramatic, though I'm no writer whatsoever.
Yeah, I'm not apologizing for making this one - I was nicer to Luigi than to his bro, at least here the Mushroom Kingdom and everyone in it (except for Mario lol) is still okay!
But alas,
You can no longer play as Mario (warning: this is a video with sound)
Rest in spaghetti, funny wahoo man.
@federthenotsogreat I'm tagging you because you said you wanted more Mario art like I Was-a Too Late, thought you might like this one too!
@drones-of-innocence Also tagging you because you were interested in my idea.
Edit: Tagging a few more mutuals who might want to see this based on their reaction to my previous angsty work just in case, feel free to ignore. Or ask me to remove the tag if you want, no problem.
@silenzahra (remember, no rush) @c-lavanda @jell-o101 @stripetkattelalala54-gf
@luigixfanxayjay @itsavee4117
And you @giddlygoat just because you have a Luigi's Mansion AU and I thought you might appreciate this... Also because I'm a fan 👉👈
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blackjackkent · 5 months ago
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@astreamofstars suggested my next dive into the parsed dialogue files should be looking at the various Vicious Mockery lines available for player characters, and the ways the different companion character VAs speak them. This turned out to be quite challenging, as there are a LOT of them!
There are a total of 97 unique Vicious Mockery lines, each of which was recorded by all ten companion character VAs PLUS all twelve custom character VAs, for a total of 2,134 recorded lines, which is wild. (This is not including Ethel's 60 unique Vicious Mockery lines as well, which brings the total to 2,194.)
youtube
In this video, I've collected all 97 VM lines across all ten companion VAs, along with notes (where applicable) on things like
references to Shakespeare (or other pieces of media)
places where BG3 continues a time-honored tradition of the series by butchering archaic English grammar
interesting inconsistencies between the VAs or with the written dialogue
(If you notice any references I missed, please let me know and I might edit the video! :D )
In making this video, I ended up listening to all these lines a LOT, and I do love that some definite patterns emerge which are very on-brand for the characters in question.
Astarion often sounds deeply disdainful and at times almost bored. He barrels through some of the lines as if he doesn't think the recipient of his insult is even worth his time. (Also him calling someone a "parchment-pallored villain" is a bit rich, don't you think? :P )
Gale is deeply pleased with his own cleverness and laughs at his own jokes.
In my opinion, Dave Jones by far most Understood The Assignment; Halsin bellows out the lines like a Shakespearean actor playing to the back row and really relishes the language.
Jaheira is in full mother-tiger voice and clearly ready to kick ass and take names; she's not messing around. (With one exception - I have been laughing over Tracy Wiles's reading of "Mouthier than an arse, twice as full o' shite" for the entire duration of this project, because solely for that line she sounds like she's been possessed by some unknown force and is utterly baffled by the words coming out of her own mouth.)
Karlach reads most of these lines as either battle-cry or schoolyard taunt and seems utterly delighted in both cases. I enjoy that she adds a fun roll on her r's to sound all mockingly fancy.
Lae'zel generally sounds like she's about to rip someone's throat out and often seems completely oblivious to the humor involved, even on lines like the delightful pun, "As the leg, you'll end in defeat."
Minsc definitely doesn't know what most of these words mean but he makes up for it in enthusiasm. I enjoy that "Mouthier than an arse" becomes "mouthier than a butt" only for him. XD
Minthara, like Lae'zel, is mostly not coming at this from a place of amusement; she's MAD. She sounds like a judge handing down sentence in the most disdainful manner possible. (That said, she has my favorite deliveries on some of the lines with timing-related humor: "Thou art saucy... as gruel," "Thine eyes! Pools of tepid piss," "Like a summer's day... thou art sweaty," etc.)
Shadowheart just sounds deeply offended that her target is existing anywhere near her. She's practically spitting on all her plosive consonants and it's delightful.
Wyll sounds remarkably fierce given how nice a dude he is, but a lot of his lines have some righteous indignation (appropriate for a former noble and the Blade of Frontiers) - or he just sounds like he pities his opponent. His reading of "It vexes me to know of you" is my favorite of the whole cast; he just sounds so disbelieving of his target's stupidity.
Overall I think my favorite of these lines is towards the end: "Your body's a temple - to an idiot god!" All ten companions really stick the landing on that one. :D
Thanks for watching! Hope you enjoy.
(Got requests for other investigations into BG3 dialogue? Drop me an ask and let me know! )
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