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felassan · 2 months ago

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Hayes Madsen for Inverse - Game Changers: 'Corinne Busche Is the Ruler of RPGs, Conqueror of Haters'

The director of Dragon Age brings her personal journey to life in her games with a rich, messy tapestry of love, life, and romance.

[source]

"If there’s a single Dragon Age character that ever made their way to Super Smash Bros, it should be the lovable dwarf Varric Tethras – at least that’s what Dragon Age: The Veilguard director Corinne Busche thinks. “Can you imagine, in a game like Smash Bros, seeing him whip around the battlefield,” Busche tells Inverse, “You could smash someone back off the ledge by giving Bianca a good old toss, and don’t worry, it��ll ricochet, he’ll catch it. It writes itself.” Varric, always with his beloved crossbow Bianca, has been something of a poster dwarf for the franchise — a constant in a series that drastically changes between each entry. But Varric himself is also a perfect representation of Dragon Age at large. An emotionally complex character, Varric openly deals with deep trauma, but can still manage to be whimsical and uplifting. That holistic sense of character is a big part of what’s made Dragon Age so successful, and lasting. Its influence is clear to see, especially in the 2023 Game of the Year, Baldur’s Gate 3 – which heavily borrows from the world and party member design of Dragon Age games. It’s a connection that’s been pointed out by countless fans and critics — but what’s fascinating is how Baldur’s Gate 3 and Veilguard feel like they’re advancing different aspects of Dragon Age’s identity. “It’s not lost on me, and it’s not lost on the team, how important these games are in people’s lives,” Busche says, “Coming into this game, that’s a tremendous feeling of accountability and of needing to be true and authentic to what these games mean to people.” When it comes to authenticity in games, plenty of directors and developers talk the talk, but Busche is the rare game maker who delivers. From her time with The Sims to Dragon Age, Busche has always brought a deep sense of humanity to the game, putting characters first and never shying away from nuance or complexity in identity, relationships, and existential crises. It’s what makes Busche a leader in the industry, and why BioWare tried so hard to carry on the Dragon Age series’ legacy with Veilguard. But Busche isn’t finished yet. She’s come a long way in the industry and has wisdom to impart — and more projects to come."

"Varric himself is also a perfect representation of Dragon Age at large. An emotionally complex character, Varric openly deals with deep trauma, but can still manage to be whimsical and uplifting"

"The Days Before Fantasy Like many developers, Busche got her start from humble beginnings, working on a series that’s a far cry from a fantasy epic — Tiger Woods PGA Tour. In fact, Busche hadn’t planned on working video games at all, but using her digital animation degree she landed work on Tiger Woods as an environmental artist, and the desire to keep making games stuck like glue. But her love of RPGs started long before that, with some deep-cut classics like Heroes of Might and Magic 3 and Final Fantasy XII – which she argues is the best one in the series. An even bigger influence on her personal philosophy as a developer, however, was the Square Enix cult classic Xenogears. “That was the first RPG that really touched my heart, that made me cry, where I feel in love with the characters, and realize these games have something to say,” says Busche “They touch on deep socially relevant narratives through these fantasy setting and the complexity of characters.”"

"Xenogears was an incredibly influential game to developers like Busche. Its creator, Tetsuya Takahashi, went on to make the wildly popular Xenoblade franchise."

"Those specific RPGs have a lot to say about identity and personality, and that’s a topic that Busche has constantly wanted to explore in her work – how games can explore autonomy and choice. Busche has been open in the past about transitioning while at BioWare, and how much the studio helped her feel seen and supported. But there’s another vital piece of her career that directly played into Busche’s expertise with Dragon Age, and it might not be what you think. Before leading the charge on Veilguard, Busche honed her skills working on an even bigger mega-hit franchise, The Sims. For over five years she worked in designer and creative director roles. “Working at Maxis and on a game like The Sims, is an incredibly fortunate environment for a designer to really hone their craft, and the reason I say that is they’re deeply complex games,” says Busche, “You’re really exploring underlying systems that drive character behaviors, skill progression, game economies, all allowing for emergent gameplay.”"

"Busche cut her teeth on the Sims 3: Into the Future expansion."

"To Busche, games like The Sims, or even Animal Crossing, continue to flourish because of human nature, the inherent need we have to be social creatures and form connections. They’re deeply relatable games that reflect our real lives, but in a way, that same idea can apply to a complex RPG like Dragon Age — and Busche’s time with The Sims gave her a unique advantage going into Veilguard. “I love that marriage of simulation and these fantasy worlds full of rich, deep characters that feel lived in. I believe that as RPGs continue to evolve, what you’ll see is an increasing focus on that marriage between simulation and a fantasy storytelling layer,” says Busche “After all, it’s about immersion, it’s about autonomy and relatedness. These are deep common aspects between these two seemingly different styles of games.”"

"An Origins Story Dragon Age has been a lot of things over the years, an open world game, a mobile hero-collecting title, dozens of comics and books, and even a Netflix series. Fan-created works have flourished for nearly two decades – the fan fiction archive website Archive of Our Own even has over 13,000 entries for Dragon Age: Origins alone. That idea of player agency and identity is the very bedrock of what Dragon Age is built on. As such, Dragon Age has always been incredibly progressive. Origins liberally featured queer romances, and Inquisition, the third game in the series, has a whole plotline about a major side character being transgender. This allows the series to explore themes of identity and belonging in ways other RPGs can’t, and Veilguard certainly sticks to that idea. “I’m an openly queer, trans woman,” Busche says. “It shaped everything about who I am, and it’s been the source of a lot of joy, a lot of difficulty, and perspective. For me personally, one of the greatest gifts about being trans is the amount of introspection it forces upon you. You spend a lot of time deeply examining who you are, and why that matters.”"

"Zevran from Dragon Age: Origins was an accomplished assassin, but, more notably in 2009, a bisexual character."

"For Busche, great games offer a mirror that allows you to reflect on your own identity, preferences, and choices. When developing a game, Busche says she is “thinking about the role introspection plays on people in general, and how each of us go through our lives having these moments of crises, epiphanies, and those quiet moments when you’re alone. These are questions that are ripe for personalized experiences like RPGs, especially when you consider our biggest creative pillar: Be who you want to be.” To Busche and the team it “felt like the right time” to really take Dragon Age’s exploration of identity further, especially with a character like Rook that’s so molded by the player’s personal feelings and thoughts. But one of the more interesting strides Veilguard makes is allowing you to share experiences, including romances, with a compelling cast of party members — easily some of the most memorable characters BioWare has ever created."

"The Fight For Progress And Fate For Dragon Age Questions about BioWare’s future abound, especially with the team now pivoting to focus work on Mass Effect 5 — a similarly long-awaited comeback for a beloved franchise. But in the immediate future the studio has faced a different problem, a hate campaign that’s put Veilguard at the center of a kind of culture war on social media, along with plenty of hateful comments toward developers and review bombing on sites like Metacritic. “I think we should talk about it,” Busche says. “It’s hard. I grew up in a time when it really felt like we’re there to celebrate the games and to have these shared experiences, and that drive is still there. I think the discourse we see is the result of highly polarized times, and perhaps it’s a little naive. I know it’s hard when you have to ask the question, is this game for me? Do I belong here? And games are better for it when we can say yes, you do belong here.” Dragon Age is far from the only game that’s come under fire recently, particularly for inclusions of diversity, or diverse storytelling. For most of this year, Assassin’s Creed Shadows has been the constant target of a hate campaign, with Ubisoft’s art director recently condemning the backlash and harassment the studio and team has faced. The creator of the indie game Tales of Kenzera: ZAU, Abubakar Salim, has also been vocal about the “fever pitch” of racism the game and its team have received. These kinds of events seem to be happening more and more, but for BioWare and Busche, the focus is on celebrating what the team has created. “I know, and something that’s very important to me, is that games are inherently diverse when you think about the size of these teams and the specializations you have within them. When you have diverse, complex, large groups of people coming together to make something, of course, the game is going to be a reflection of those teams,” says Busche “I think we need to consider that we can make the most authentic, best experiences when we’re tying into what makes us as the developers, and you as the fans, when we can tie into those elements that make us distinctly human, and that means differences.” In Busche’s mind, not embracing the lived experiences of the development team would result in stories and worlds that feel less relatable, less alive. Game developers also need to feel safe in what they do, which ultimately means being able to see themselves reflected in their work. “We have an incredibly diverse player base, and what I mean by that is their motivations and expectations,” Busche says. “This becomes the biggest opportunity to continue that tradition of reinvention.” At the end of the day, gamers Busche believes gamers have so much in common, starting with a love for the game. “What I long for is just that opportunity for us as gamers to step back and get in touch with why we fell in love with games in the first place, and recognize how difficult and complicated and messy it is to make games,” says Busche, “To share these vulnerable experience and just approach it with a little greater sense of kindness and curiosity.”"

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost #lgbtq #mass effect #mass effect 5

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theinfinitedivides · 2 months ago

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it's AMC promoting the series in their FYC post with all these new entries first face you see is Assad next to Jacob in 2x8 (iirc) used as promo for the PGA Awards and then you scroll through and zilch. zero. nada. that man could be a fucking cardboard cutout prop for all they care he Does Not Exist. i can't even be happy about the Delainey + Jacob nod for SAG or 2x5 & 2x8 being submitted they're literally wiping the only other prominent actor of color who made this season possible off the plane of existence. i'd laugh but i'm too busy suiting up to go find their racist xenophobic Islamophobic ass

#tv: interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire #amc iwtv #iwtv #assad zaman #armand #we love mess!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (we don't. i'd rather s3 flop if this is the trend we're starting from the get-go and if it gets worse #i'll fucking stand by that)#edit: just saw the typo. oh fuck me

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writereleaserepeat · 1 month ago

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Hear No Evil - Chapter 2

Masterlist

Chapter 1 // Chapter 3

CW: bbu, bbu-typical institutional slavery, nonsexual nudity, it/its pronouns used to dehumanize

Rowan hadn’t slept. Ever since he’d signed those papers, and ever since a tag reading sold was affixed to the top of the boy’s cage, he’d been caught in a whirlwind of panicked activity. There was so much to do, and not enough time to do it. As he walked out of the WRU warehouse, his head was spinning. He couldn’t even begin to imagine the essential rescue training he was missing, how much knowledge he lacked compared to the PLF’s experienced rehabilitators.

“Your delivery is scheduled between eleven and one,” the saleswoman had said as she handed him the paperwork, like the boy was a piece of furniture. There’d been no background check, no inquiry as to his credentials, no investigation to ensure that he was purchasing a pet for its intended purposes. The only questionnaire he’d been asked to fill out was related to his satisfaction with WRU’s service at the event – a survey he’d politely declined.

Just like that, with a stroke of a pen and a touch of his credit card to a digital terminal, Rowan had been granted the legal possession of a human being.

Still dizzy from the weight of responsibility he had just created, Rowan came to his senses long enough to make it home from the liquidation event. The rest of the day, and the rest of that night, were spent trying to make his condo ready for the incoming arrival.

Dawn hadn’t yet come when Rowan’s phone buzzed. He stopped fussing with the clothes in the hamper long enough to see it was a text from “Josh J. (Work)”

Sure man, I’ll cover your shifts this week. Everything good? You basically never take PTO.

No, Rowan wanted to reply, things were most decidedly not good. He’d acted on a rash impulse and was way out of his depth. As someone who’d been working for a decade and a half as a pet liberationist, he’d sworn to do good. He’d sworn to dismantle the system, to save who he could, to protest injustice. All that time, all that effort, and he’d still put money right into WRU’s hands in a moment of weakness.

And for what? To bring home a victim he didn’t have the knowledge or skills to help? This wasn’t even a victim that was prioritized for rescue, one with a strong chance at rehabilitation and reintegration into society, but a young man from a liquidation event with some undisclosed and undiagnosed problem.

All of that, however, wasn’t his colleague’s problem. Rowan grit his teeth and drafted what he figured was an innocent white lie.

Yeah, I’m fine. It was a hectic weekend and I realized I haven’t taken time to breathe in years. I’d think I’ve earned a few days away.

He didn’t want to elaborate any further.

Hell yeah. The response buzzed almost instantly. Then another. You fucking deserve it. No one hustles like you, boss. Crack a beer, put on the PGA, and I’ll try to make sure the station doesn’t burn down before next Monday.

Rowan would most certainly not be cracking a few beers and putting golf on the TV. At that very moment, he was doing his best not to get sick from worry or pass out from exhaustion. There were mere hours between his present breath and the boy’s arrival.

He’d spent the night doing his best to get ready to face the consequences of his actions. He’d combed the PLF volunteer site and tried to read every manual they had available on rehabilitating victims. He’d pulled his desk and computer out of the windowless den and set up the futon to make a bed, something resembling a room for the boy to call his own. He’d run out to the nearest department store and filled his arms with clothes that would be close to the boy’s size, at least from what Rowan could best guess looking over the papers. He’d tried to clean up the condo, but it was going to be impossible to make the space look livable before his latest acquisition arrived.

Hole-ridden sheets stretched over an ancient futon, clothes that likely wouldn’t fit right, the last of the toiletries Rowan could find in the drawers, a bathroom that had been hastily scrubbed with Comet from the very back of the closet - it all would have to be good enough for now. It just had to be good enough until Rowan could get his shit together.

It wasn’t much comfort to tell himself that it was probably better than what the boy had had in a long time.

As his shaking hands tried to fold yet another oversized sweatshirt - the boy would like that, wouldn’t he, something comfortable and warm? - Rowan knew there was one more call he had to make before the boy’s arrival. As much as he wanted to run from the reality of what he’d done, hide in shame from the fact his impulses had brought him to such an untenable situation, he also knew that he couldn’t get through this alone. He’d signed the papers, the charge had hit his card, he’d shaken the salesperson’s hand. He now legally owned a human being, a trafficking victim, an abuse survivor.

Folding laundry would have to wait. It was already almost seven in the morning, and the day wasn’t getting any younger. Rowan heaved a shaking breath from his lungs and sat down on the couch cushion next to the hamper. He hated how much his fingers trembled as he hovered over the familiar contact in his favorites list. It was two hours later on the east coast, and Grey would be on his way to the office if he wasn’t there already.

A lump lodged in Rowan’s throat as he hesitated again, face hot with shame. He’d come to his extensive privileges with the PLF through consistent dedication to the cause. His typical level-headedness and rationality had prevailed time and again, earning him promotion after promotion. He was one of their most crucial and well-hidden operatives currently active in the field. And yet, and yet, here he was, a pet arriving at his doorstep with no foresight or forewarning.

“How are you supposed to help this victim recover if you can’t even make a phone call, you idiot?” Rowan chastised himself through a grimace as he rubbed his palm across his furrowed brows. Rationally, making this phone call was the best way to get both himself and his incoming houseguest the help that they needed. Rationally, Rowan knew that he had to make this phone call sooner or later. But rationality hadn’t exactly been the captain of his choices over the last twenty-four hours.

It took another minute of gnawing on his lower lip before Rowan finally brought himself to hit the call button. The phone rang once, twice, three times, and-

“Hey there, Rowan! How’s my favorite videographer and secret agent?” The familiar and ever-cheerful voice washed over Rowan like a ray of welcome sunlight. It was warm and relieving, and some of Rowan’s tension immediately melted away. He could do this.

“Morning, Grey.”

“Yeah, it’s a morning indeed! What is it, not even seven there yet? Early morning for a busy man. You doing alright after the liquidation event yesterday? Any chance to pull footage or sound bytes yet? I’ve told her she needs to be patient, but you know Darcy is when they’re waiting on new content for our socials.”

Rowan took a breath and closed his eyes.

“Listen, man, I need your help. I went to the liquidation event, I got set up to take footage like I always did, they let me in without a hitch. But- but I might have done something a little impulsive when I was there.” The entirety of the admission wasn’t quite ready to come to Rowan’s lips, the words lodged somewhere behind the lump in his throat.

“Please don’t tell me they clocked you,” Grey groaned, his words thick with anxiety. It was the groan of worry that came with all the stresses of Grey’s status.

The two friends might have begun their time at the PLF together back in college, but while Rowan had been content as an agent with boots on the ground and neck on the line, but Grey’s ambition had taken him on the executive track. While Rowan busied himself with infiltrating warehouses and transportation trucks, Grey had climbed the ranks to become Vice President of the North American Division of the PLF. Although their career paths had diverged along with their practices, they’d remained as close as ever through their ideals and hard-fought friendship. And so Grey had become a full-time liberation executive, while Rowan kept his craft to weekends and evenings between his full-time job at the TV station.

“No, nothing like that,” Rowan said, falling over his words as he tried to soothe Grey’s fears. “No cops, no drama, no one suspected a thing. I got all of the footage I’d hoped to get, some sound bytes too. There was some seriously fucked up stuff, worse than usual, and it’ll make some great clips for us, this is some really great material. I’ll be editing it this weekend, at least I’d planned to do that, and-“

“Take a breath, man, take a breath. If you got in and out without a hitch, why’s the sky falling?”

Rowan swallowed, and pressed on.

“I- I, uh- I saw a victim there. I mean, I saw a lot of them, right, that’s the whole point of the event, that’s why we go. But you know, there was this one. There was something different about this one, okay? I can’t tell you what it was, you just, you’d have to see it to believe it, to feel what I felt. I looked at him, and I just- I couldn’t say no. It’s like he begged me to live with just his eyes. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and I mean never, and you know how long I’ve been doing this. So I- I guess- I rescued him. Bought him, really, if I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Cash upfront for a lifetime contract, signed on the warehouse floor, delivery set for later this afternoon. He should arrive in about four hours, actually, now that I look at the time.”

There was a pause, and Rowan could hear a slight crackling over the line as Grey took a breath. Finally, when Grey’s voice came again, it was more tired than Rowan had heard in quite some time.

“Jesus Christ,” Grey muttered. Rowan could picture his exasperated face even from more than a thousand miles away. “What were you thinking? You aren’t trained as a rescuer, you haven’t been assigned a rehabilitation team, and there’s no way we can get him in for an urgent medical work-up on such short notice. We’re not prepared for another intake, and you’re not-“

“I know, I know. I fucked up. I fucked up big time.” It was Rowan’s turn to cut his friend off. That guilt, that shame, it was heavier and heavier as Grey confirmed Rowan’s worst fears. This was a fuck-up on a massive scale. But there was no going back now. That boy was going to be in his home today, and he was going to be alive. That had to count for something, right?

“What’s wrong with him, huh?” Grey asked this over the sound of distant keystrokes. It was like the frustration from just moments ago had dissipated, and the confident leader had emerged with an air of business around him. It was that very trait that had made Grey a no-brainer for such a high-ranking role within the PLF. “You rescued him from a liquidation event, so this isn’t going to be a standard rescue case. Give me some more details, and I can try to connect you to a rehabilitator nearby for immediate and emergency intervention. I’ll need you to send me scans of the purchase papers, the ones with your contract, as well as any that come in his box later. Do you have his WRU ID number? I’m opening a rescue file in our system for him now.”

And now it was Rowan’s turn to let out a breath of relief. There was no anger left – no, there never had been anger to begin with – as Grey proved that he was every inch the liberationist that hundreds admired him to be. If Grey was going to scold Rowan, it would come at a much later time.

“I don’t actually know why he was sent for liquidation,” Rowan admitted as he hauled himself off the couch and walked back over to the kitchen table. It was piled with papers and books, all displaced during his frenzied cleaning and preparatory efforts, and it would probably take him some time to figure out where he’d actually put the contract papers. “I only had a few moments of contact with him on the floor, and the sales agent was vague. I looked over the papers, but it was only as far as the sales agent had mentioned in their words – he’s a dual-trained Domestic-Romantic with no apparent problems other than so-called ‘selective obedience.’ He apparently went through their standard and advanced refurbishment programs, but that didn’t fix the obedience issues. Cognitively, he was attentive and lively on the floor, capable of making eye contact and engaging with his surroundings. Physically, well, it was hard to tell under the jumpsuit. I saw some of the usual scarring under his uniform, and some fresh wounds on the sides of his face, but that’s it.”

Grey hummed as the keystrokes continued.

“Alright, well, that’s not really helpful. Sometimes they don’t share the true reason for the liquidation, and it’s up for the rescuer and their team to figure out the extent of the issues. I’ll need to get you a case manager who can follow up once he’s had his medical work-up and paperwork fully reviewed. It looks like our roster has a special-instance rehabilitator located about twenty minutes away from you, and I’ve already got her assigned to the case in our system. She’ll be the person you report to until we get a case manager for you both. She’s been with the PLF for about four years now, with twelve total successful rehabilitations, eight being special cases from liquidation events or other emergency rescues. I’ve sent her your contact information just now, and I told her to reach out as soon as possible. I hope she can get out there today, it being a Sunday and all. Her name is Angela Herrera, phone number ending in 8742, so pick it up when she calls.”

“You’re a miracle worker, Grey.” These five minutes had already changed everything. Rowan – and the boy – weren’t in this alone. They had not just the weight of the PLF, but the power of Rowan’s dearest friend, behind them now. Help was on the way. And by god, Rowan was going to take that help with open arms.

Grey gave a soft, strained chuckle.

“No, you’re the miracle worker today. You have given a human being a second chance at life, and that’s worth more than all the money in the world. Now, I would never recommend what you’ve today done to anyone, and it’s not going to be an easy path forward. But I know you did it with a good heart, and with good intentions. Most of all, I know that you are more than capable to handle this, even in these less-than-ideal circumstances. You are strong and you are smart – you’re going to have to be, for the sake of this boy.”

“I know. I will be. I’m going to do this, and I’m going to do it right from here on out. Even if this is how it has to start, it’s by-the-book going forward. You have my word I am going to put my whole heart and soul into making this right. Not for my sake, but his.”

Even without words, Rowan could feel Grey smiling.

“I know. Of all the people in the world, I can always trust you, even if you’re an idiot sometimes. Don’t worry about the footage from the event until you have your new guest settled in, alright? Any new liberation material can wait, and if Darcy bugs you about it, tell them to talk to me. Make sure you read through the PLF rescue manual on the rehabilitation site, then when you’re done reading it, read it again. When your guest arrives make sure you use a conversational tone, soft voice, lots of praise, slow movements and hand gestures, all of that stuff we went over in training for interacting with victims in the early stages of recovery. I know it’s been years since you took the training, but it’ll come back to you.”

“Of course. I already have the manual printed out and on my table somewhere – fuck, I swear I printed it, along with ten thousand other things, it’s here somewhere – but I read it. I’ll read it again now, as soon as I hang up. I’ll let you go so you can get back to your job saving the world. I’ve got my hands full over here, I guess. And, Grey… thanks for your help. Really. I guess I should thank you for not chewing me out either.”

“Oh, don’t count that out yet,” Grey said. “I’ll save the chewing out for a more opportune time, well after your new guest is settled in. Hell, I hope I can do it in person. We’re overdue for a visit anyway, and of course I’d love to meet your guest.”

“Noted.” Rowan felt his smile twinge slightly into a grimace. Of course, he wouldn’t get let off the hook so easily, not under Grey’s watch. “I’ll be on the lookout for a call from Angela or you, yeah? Otherwise, I’ve got to finish getting ready.”

“Yes, of course. Like I said, call me if you need anything, and I mean anything. Just because I’m Vice President now doesn’t mean I’m not your friend. You call, and I will pick up.”

“Likewise. Always. Chat later, Grey.”

“Later, Rowan.”

As soon as Rowan hung up he collapsed back into the couch, the already-wrinkled rescue manual clutched between sweaty fingers. There was so much to learn, so much to do, and so little time to do it. But it had to be better than death, right? Whether that was a lie or the truth, it was what Rowan had to tell himself now. Grey was on his side, and the weight of the PLF was behind him. They were going to give this boy a fighting chance at life, a second chance to live as a man, and not as someone’s pet.

It would be Rowan’s greatest challenge yet.

---

The third cup of coffee had just finished brewing in Rowan’s coffee pot when there was a knock at the door. It was half-past eleven, and despite knowing that this moment had been coming, the tightness in Rowan’s chest suddenly became as heavy as a stone. There was hardly a breath left in his lungs as he stumbled in a daze to the door.

He peered through the peephole and, sure enough, there were two men in WRU-branded coveralls waiting on his welcome mat.

A final deep breath in, heart fluttering like a hummingbird’s wings, and Rowan threw the door open.

“Good morning, Mr. Bailey. We’re here to complete your delivery.” The man’s voice was monotonous, droning, almost exhausted. It was like he was going door-to-door selling gym memberships rather than delivering a human being to a stranger’s home. And just as a salesman would, he shoved a clipboard with a thick stack of papers in Rowan’s direction.

“I need to scan your ID and have you fill out this confirmation paperwork. Once that’s done, my colleague and I will go get your delivery from the truck. As soon as it’s in your possession, you’ll have a final release paper to sign to effectuate the property transfer.”

Property. That’s all the boy was in the eyes of the law. In Rowan’s care he would be so much more, but for now, Rowan had to play into the charade for a few minutes longer. He grabbed the clipboard with sweating palms.

“Yeah, sure. Let me see those.” He scribbled something resembling his signature on any line he could find, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, and slammed the pen down as he reached the final page. “There, I think I’ve got it all. Here’s my driver’s license, that alright?”

The man looked over Rowan’s ID, apparently blasé as he matched the birth date on the plastic to the one Rowan had scrawled on the paper, then handed it back to Rowan with a grunt.

“Looks like everything’s in order here. We’ll be back in about ten minutes with your purchase. Does this building have a freight elevator? Tends to be a bit easier to maneuver for us.”

“Yeah, down the hall and to the left past the fire doors. Can’t miss it.”

“Great, thanks. We’ll be right back.”

And to their credit, they were. After only seven minutes of Rowan pacing his recently-cleaned hallway, all of his shoes tucked in the shoe rack rather than strewn across the tiles, a second knock came at the door. This time, when Rowan opened it, there was a large pine box on dollies between the two WRU personnel. The first thought that crossed Rowan’s mind was how much it looked like a coffin.

“Alright, here’s your delivery. Is the hallway fine, or do you have a room set aside?”

Rowan did have a room, but he didn’t want anyone associated with WRU in his home a moment longer than they had to be.

“Hallway is fine.”

“Great. Then we’ll go ahead and put your box there, and once we’ve got it off the dollies, we’ll require your signature right here.” Another paper on yet another clipboard was thrust into his hands, and Rowan’s mouth was dry as the box was rolled into his hall and heaved off the dolly and onto the floor. There wasn’t a sound except for the slight scrape of pine across the floor, and then the scratching of a half-dead ballpoint pen across paper, and then the shuffling of even more paper.

The WRU delivery staff gave a final look over where Rowan had signed before a forced smile came over their faces. The tall one spoke in a tired service voice, just like a cashier who was pitching a club card.

“Congratulations, Mr. Bailey, the transaction is complete and the property has been fully transferred into your ownership. The rest of the documentation for your purchase and otherwise accompanying the product are contained in the box, including an additional copy of the sales contract and the property’s medical and training records. Further information, if necessary, can be obtained from WRU directly, as can additional copies or digital copies of the necessary documentation. When putting any inquiry in with WRU, please use both your purchase number and the product’s WRU-issued identification number. If you’ve been satisfied with today’s service and delivery, please fill out the survey that will be sent to the email we have on file for you. While the cost of delivery was included with your purchase price, at the conclusion of the survey, you will have the option to leave a cash tip if you were particularly satisfied with today’s delivery service. Thank you for choosing WRU.”

The words bounced off Rowan’s consciousness as his attention turned to the box. The boy was in that box, waiting for him. All he could bring himself to do was wave off the delivery personnel with an open hand.

“Got it, I’ll look for the survey and all that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to tend to my… purchase.”

Before they could respond Rowan shut the door on them. They would receive no additional praises or compensation for their role in facilitating this abuse. What mattered now was that Rowan was, legally, the boy’s owner. And the boy was here now in his possession.

Rare courage overcame Rowan. Perhaps it was the fear driving him, perhaps it was the anticipation, or perhaps it was delirium from the all-nighter. Whatever it was, Rowan didn’t spare a single spare moment before undoing the deadbolts on the top of the box and heaving the lid open.

And there, laying motionless in a bed of straw, naked but for the black leather collar around his neck, was the boy.

---

Light pierced the pet’s eyes like a bolt of lightning. Its ears had been ringing, and although it couldn’t hear what had transpired beyond the walls of its box aside from the slight murmur of voices, it had prepared for the lid of the box to be opened.

You’re lucky, Handler Green had said with his hand wrapped around the pet’s throat, moments before it was thrown into the box and the lid cut off any light. You’re not going to die today. This is your last chance, so don’t fuck it up.

The last few hours – had it been hours, or had it been longer? – in the box had been filled with little more than abject terror. No amount of breathing exercises or attempts at sleep had soothed its nerves. All it could think of was the future ahead, the new master that would await it once the box was finally opened, how it would make its first impression to the person that held its life in their hands. If it failed here and now, it would surely die.

All it wanted now, and all it had ever wanted, was to be a good pet who served its masters well. It rehearsed its positions between waves of panic attacks, it silently recited its old master’s favorite recipes step-by-step until the ingredients sounded like poetry in its mind, and it stretched each morning to keep itself flexible and pliable. It tried its best to listen in training, no matter how hard the ringing had made it. And when it received punishments or corrections, no matter how severe, it remained silent.

Now, with light streaming into its box, it had a final chance to prove that it was good. The pet was certain that it could be good, be useful, be the perfect pet its new master wanted. Though fear was sticky on its parched tongue, it knew from training that fear would lend itself to its determination and would likewise reduce its error rates. Today, on this very first date, that fear would serve it well.

Fear meant that it was still alive.

The pet had been specifically trained for this moment, and it was well-practiced in this first essential maneuver. Handler Green had gone over the routine with it again last night after it had been brought back to the training facility from the warehouse. For once, Handler Green hadn’t administered any additional punishments as they rehearsed the motions. Perhaps that meant the pet had done something right.

In those same fluid movements it had practiced just some hours ago, the pet sat up from where it had been nestled in the straw, heaved a leg over the side of the box, then another, and threw itself to the floor and onto its knees. Its legs tucked comfortably beneath it in the kneeling position, the same one it had been taught to assume from those earliest days in training. Its joints ached from the time in the box, but pain wouldn’t stop the pet now, it never did. The pet did many things wrong, but not this one small thing – it could kneel as long as its master needed.

And though the pet didn’t dare raise its eyes, the flash of movement from its hurried scramble to the floor confirmed its fearful suspicions. That same man that had stood outside its cage at the warehouse, the same one it had accidentally made eye contact with, was its master now.

Hands on its lap, the pet bowed its head, kept its gaze low and fixed on the dark wood floors. Although its ears rang, and although it couldn’t quite hear if Master was speaking, it strained for the relief and release of a command all the same. All it wanted was the chance to prove, once and for all, that it was good.

---

Taglist:

@honey-is-messi @octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @squishablesunbeam @tragedyinblue

@clairelsonao3 @den-of-evil @cepheusgalaxy @aswallowimprisoned @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@honeycollectswhump @rekiroyalstraightprincemaru @whumpzone @peachy-panic @whumplr-reader

@dislexiher @cc1010foxy @onlybadendings @panstardalia @tempoghast

@dokidokisadness @anonfromcanada @starfields08000 @bloodredfountainpen @pumpkin-spice-whump

#hear no evil #whump #whump writing #whump blog #whump story #whumpblr #bbu #bbu whump #hear no evil chapter 2 #one big change in the rewrite is that grey plays a bigger role - they're best friends after all #also rowan's emotions fluctuate more because that's cool #anyway our poor boy has arrived!#enjoy y'all #this is a slower chapter so thank you for your patience!

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rafescvntyclubgf · 5 months ago

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Putt Slut? - Rafe Cameron Daydreams ☁️

+18 Minor DNI

Rafe x GolferGirlfriend!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

🪄 language and mentions of smut

650

You two haven’t seen each other long, but when you show up to the course with a bag of Callaway REVAs, he can’t help but get a little rattled, especially when he’s used to his girls play caddie, if that. He watches you smooth out your Vouri dress, slipping on your glove and Callaway hat before pulling your pony through the back. His eyes double, as you lean down to tie your shoes, catching a glimpse of your dress’s built-in shorts where he would typically see lace, mesh, or pussy.

“I didn’t know you were a golfer, princess,” his voice wavers.

To which you smile and nod. “You didn’t? Yeah. Since I was six.” He swallows hard as the stakes are quickly raised.

Suddenly, Rafe Cameron is nervous.

How would he impress you now? What if you won?

You came out of the front nine in the lead with Rafe at his wits end. He had no patience; his short game was a mess, too focused on what you would do next, which always seemed to be the right move. Not to mention you looked so good doing it, your focus locked on the game. Rafe found himself in a strange position where he was now fighting for your eye.

Halfway through the back nine, he found himself at a crossroads. There was no way he would win: play fair and lose to his girl or play dirty and knock you down a little… It started simply by disturbing your backswing or during a putt, a cough, or a sneeze. Normal enough. When that didn’t work, he switched to praise. The type of praise that would make you feel nervous about the next shot. But you didn’t falter.

There was only one tactic that remained. The one that could always throw him off his game. Rafe unbuttoned the top button of his crisp white polo, fingers curling around the leather steering wheel to let his biceps flex. Every movement was a little closer than before: your position on the golf cart, where he stood on the green, how long he’d linger for a kiss. He was talking sweeter too, his low tone deep and raspy as he leaned into your ear, holding your hips from behind as you took a few practice strokes.

“You look so pretty, baby.”

“Fuck, my girl’s so good at this.”

“Wanna take a break. Hmm? I know a spot, honey. Wanna make you feel good.”

“Need you so bad.”

“Don’t make me wait.”

PLOP.

Your ProV1 golf ball plunges into the depths of the murky pond as a sinister smile spread on Rafe’s lips. Your eyes narrow on his baby blues, catching him in the act, clocking his excitement as you put two and two together. The rest of the round plays out like the PGA tournament because, unlucky for Rafe, you didn’t like to lose either.

“Wanna just call it, baby doll?” Rafe asks knowing his game was unrecoverable, but if it wasn’t in writing, did it actually count? You shake your head ‘no’, tapping your little pencil at the card.

“One left, baby boy.” Rafe smirks and shakes his head. “A bet?”

“You’re already gonna win, baby,” he groans.

“Just this hole, Rafe. Winner gets whatever they want in the clubhouse.”

“Alright. Alright. Deal,” he agrees.

To no surprise, you close out the hole with a win. To which Rafe genuinely accepts defeat. The two of you walk up to the clubhouse hand-in-hand, Rafe still waiting for you to call him out on his bullshit from before but you don’t. He leads you toward the pro shop as he fishes for his Black Card but you pull him away fast, disappearing into the locker room with him instead, kissing your way into a bathroom stall. He lets out a devilish laugh as you undo his belt with a smile.

“Well shit, baby. What are we doin’ in here?” He whispers against your lips.

“Getting what I want.”

#rafeyscurtainbangs library 📚#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe #rafe cameron smut #rafe smut #rafe x fem!reader #rafe x reader

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rotaryswinggolf · 8 months ago

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youtube

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kaijuno · 9 months ago

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John Daly driving golf cart #69 in PGA events while smoking heaters, slamming M&M's, & beer bonging Diet Cokes looking like if the state of Florida was a person. What a legend.

Hooters, the restaurant chain, sponsors both Daly and his son, who might have even been conceived in one of their locations. Someone at Hooters HQ saw Daly and thought, ""That's the guy. The one who was promised to us, our sweet prince. Look at the leathery skin, the thin glaze on his forehead. That's the key to moving these fried meats."

Fun fact: John Daly has a man cave in a Hooters location in Tampa, Florida, a dedicated room for him to hang out and maybe even conceive more princes of the Hooters kingdom.

Although it's unlikely John Daly will ever die, considering nothing to this point has managed to defeat him. If he does ever cross over the golden bridge to the great beyond (that's presumably built entirely from all the honey BBQ ribs he ate during his life). I hope Hooters honors him properly with a ceremony that sends his breaded body out to sea like a king.

#john daly

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ukfrislandembassy · 10 months ago

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Ok like nobody seems to have noticed but Juliette Blevins has recently put out a case that Great Andamanese might actually have been Austroasiatic all along (to complement Jarawan possibly being an Austronesian relative). There's some stuff that's certainly suggestive, but it'll be a bit more work needed before I'm ready to accept these 32 proposed correspondences as anything more than chance, particularly after the Indo-Vasconic debacle. Still, below the cut I'm going to try and give this a fair review.

All of this is from 'Linguistic clues to Andamanese pre-history: Understanding the North-South divide', in The Language of Hunter Gatherers, edited by Tom Güldemann, Patrick McConvell and Richard Rhodes and published in 2020 (a free version of the chapter can be found on Google Scholar).

Looking through the data, it actually seems relatively rigorous as a set of comparisons; she's done a shallow reconstruction of a Proto-Great-Andamanese from wordlists (seemingly a relatively trivial exercise, though with caveats noted below) and is seemingly comparing these to reconstructions from the Mon-Khmer comparative dictionary.

Many of the correspondences are basically identical between the two reconstructions with at most minimal semantic differences, e.g. (in the order PGA~PAA respectively) *buə 'clay' ~ *buəh 'ash, powdery dust'; *muən 'pus, dirt' ~ *muən 'pimple'; *cuər 'current, flow' ~ *cuər 'flow, pour'; *cuəp 'fasten, adjoin' ~ *bcuup/bcuəp 'adjoin, adhere'. However, I wonder if the Proto-GA reconstructions here have been massaged a bit to fit the Austroasiatic correspondence more closely; in Aka-Kede for example, each of these words shows a different vowel; pua, mine, cor(ie), cup. It's not fatal by any means (in fact if the correspondences could be shown to be more complex than simple identity that would actually help the argument), but definitely annoying.

There's a couple of PGA items which are presented as having a straightforward sound correpondence in PAA where the semantics is close but doesn't quite match, but also alongside a semantic match that differs slightly in sound, e.g. by a slightly different initial consonant, e.g. *raic 'bale out' ~ *raac 'sprinkle' /*saac 'bale out'; *pila 'tusk, tooth' ~ *plaaʔ 'blade'/*mlaʔ 'tusk, ivory'; *luk 'channel' ~ *ru(u)ŋ 'channel'/*lu(u)k 'have a hole'. I think there's possibly a plausible development here, with perhaps one form taking on the other's semantics because of taboo, or maybe due to an actual semantic shift (she notes that the Andamanese use boar tusks as scrapers, which could explain a 'blade'~'tusk' correspondence in itself).

There's an item which seems dubious on the PAA side, e.g. she proposes a correspondence *wət ~ *wət for 'bat, flying fox' but I can't find a *wət reconstructed anywhere in the MKCD with that meaning, not even in Bahnaric where she claims it comes from (there is a *wət reconstructed but with a meaning 'turn, bend'). Meanwhile, *kut 'fishing net' ~ *kuut 'tie, knot' seems wrong at first, as search for *kuut by itself only brings up a reconstruction *kuut 'scrape, scratch', however there is also a reconstruction *[c]kuut which does mean 'tie, knot'.

There's an interesting set of correspondences where PGA has a final schwa that's absent from the proposed PAA cognates, e.g. *lakə 'digging stick' ~ *lak 'hoe (v.)'; *ɲipə 'sandfly' ~ *jɔɔp 'horsefly'; *loŋə 'neck' ~ *tlu(u)ŋ 'throat'.

More generally, a substantial proportion of the proposed correspondences are nouns in Great Andamanese but verbs/adjective (stative verbs) in Austroasiatic, some of which are above, but also including e.g. *cuiɲ 'odour' ~ *ɟhuuɲ/ɟʔuuɲ 'smell, sniff'; *raic 'juice' ~ *raac 'sprinkle' (a separate correspondence to 'bale out' above); *mulə 'egg' ~ *muul 'round'; *ciəp 'belt, band' ~ *cuup/cuəp/ciəp 'wear, put on'. This also doesn't seem too much of an issue, given the general word-class flexibility in that part of the world, though there don't seem to be any correspondences going the other way, which could perhaps be a sign of loaning/relexification instead.

I mentioned that a lot of these seem to be exact matches, but of course what you really want to indicate relatedness are non-indentical but regular correspondences, and here is where I can see the issues probably starting to really arise. We've already noted some of the vowel issues, but we also have some messiness with some of the consonants, though at the very least the POA matches pretty much every time (including reasonable caveats like sibilants patterning with palatals and the like). However, that still leaves us with some messes.

The liquids and coronals especially are misaligned a fair bit in ways which could do with more correspondences to flesh out. Here's a list of the correspondences found in initial position in the examples given.

*l ~ *l: *lat ~ *[c]laat 'fear', *lakə 'digging stick' ~ *lak 'hoe'

*l ~ *r: *lap ~ *rap 'count' (*luk 'channel' ~ *ru(u)ŋ 'have a hole'/*lu(u)k 'channel' could be in either of these)

*r ~ *r: *raic 'juice' ~ *raac 'sprinkle'

*r ~ *ɗ: *rok ~ *ɗuk 'canoe'

*t ~ *ɗ: *tapə 'blind' ~ [ɟ]ɗaap 'pass hand along'

*t ~ *t: *ar-təm ~ *triəm 'old' (suggested that metathesis occurred, though to me there probably would need to be some reanalysis as well to make this work)

I invite any of my mutuals more experienced with the comparative method to have a look for yourselves and see what you make of the proposal as it currently stands. It would certainly be an interesting development if more actual correspondences could be set up, though I do have to wonder if more work would also be needed on Austroasiatic to double-check these reconstructions as well.

#historical linguistics

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