#alternatively i could just stop talking altogether
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THE ONE WHERE YOU REFUSE TO KEEP QUIET. . !
𝝑𝑒 contents: john marston x female reader, nsfw, modern au (sawry im a sucker for 'em), cunnilingus, fingering, pet names (pretty & darling), pussy drunk john. . . 754 words
𝝑𝑒 a/n: dabbling in a diff fandom for my comeback to writing is crazy ik but i hope u all enjoy regardless :3 im rusty i alr know
“did i ever tell you about what happened at my work last week?”
you let out a shaky breath as you cautiously ran your fingers through the hair of the man who is currently situated between your legs, eagerly lapping at your dripping cunt collecting everything you could offer to him.
there’s a momentary lack of a response from your companion, your question hangs in the thin air as the crude sounds of squelching bounces off the walls alongside with your airy moans that seep out more than intended to.
you rack your fingers once more through his long hair and tug at his roots which aids as a warning.
with not enough force to seriously hurt him, but for a low guttural groan to escape from his chest causing small vibrations against your already sensitive pussy.
he apologetically sucks on your puffy clit before he comes up for air then replaces his hot mouth with two fingers to rub tight circles on your nub, “no, pretty, you haven’t. what happened at work?” he inquired with a strained expression on his face.
his pupils are blown out and unstable as he quickly shifts his focus between your glowy face and your pussy that’s aching to be stuffed by him. however, you were pretty adamant on him eating you out instead.
john ducks his head back in between the plush of your thighs continuing his ministrations, noticeably slowing his pace for you to get your words out.
you whine with a small buck of your hips, “apparently we’re having some budget cuts nggh in a f-few weeks. . . which —oh fuckk— also includes employees.”
“uh-huh?” john mumbles against you. your words enter one of his ear and exits the other, more focused on alternating from long vertical strides from your hole to your clit then skillfully circling around it with his tongue.
his calloused hand grips at your ass pulling you even closer to his face in attempt at get every last drop.
“y-yeah, and my manager had the damn nerve to—mghm keep doing that and i’ll cum~”
your chest heaves as john spreads open your folds to dip his tongue into your pussy, visibly enjoying the way you desperately clench around the wet muscle.
he deeply chuckles and you shiver due to his stubble scratching at your skin, “what did your manager do, darling?” he incoherently slurs his words but you were able to pick it up.
“she broke the news during rush hour. i-i mean what a bitch, right!”
“a bitch indeed,” he affirms as he slowly pushes two fingers in your wet hole, ogling at the way you take his digits with ease, fully coating them with your slick.
you throw your head backwards against the leather couch that’s supporting your back. you once again find residence in his black locks, roughly tugging this time around.
a broken whimper lively dances off your lips as your eyes roll back; you could feel the coil forming in the pit of your stomach.
“feels so good… don’t fuckin' stop..” you mindlessly ushered out. the sensation of his fingers pumping in and out, dragging against your tight walls as well as the added pleasure of his tongue swirling and suckling at your sensitive clit almost has you over the edge.
just when john finally thought he’d shut you up for good this time, your lewd moans and pants get broken down till you find the strength to add another comment about your dilemma.
“a-and there’s talk of my f-favourite coworker—”
“—ya know, how about you tell me the rest of ya little story after i make you cum.” john interrupts your soon-to-be babbling session, stopping all of his movements altogether.
he places a chaste kiss onto your clit and looks at you for permission to continue. you nod with a squeaky whine, already dizzy and eager for him to resume.
“oh darling, what am i ever gonna do with you?” he whispered against your cunt as he continued pumping his fingers at a steady albeit fast pace and quickly reattached his mouth back on your clit.
you soon cum hard on his fingers followed by a few more tugs at his hair to signal you were ready to tap out.
he licks his fingers, maintaining eye contact as he groans loudly at the taste of you. so sweet. . .just for him.
his voice is hoarse as he slips your panties back on and then gives you his undivided attention,
“so…what was that about your favourite coworker?”
reblogs & feedback is extremely appreciated !! <3
#rdr2 x reader#rdr2 x you#john marston x reader#john marston x you#john marston smut#rdr2 smut#john marston fanfic#rdr2 fanfic#rdr2#red dead redemption 2 x reader#rdr fanfiction#rdr2 fluff#john marston#rdr x reader#rdr smut#red dead redemption fanfic#arthur morgan#rdr2 community#rdr john#rdr2 john marston#john marston fic#rdr2 fandom#john marston rdr2
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AHHHH!! all your rindou drabbles for kinktober are amazinggg , but that hanma shuji was the best one so far 😩!! can i request a #8,#17, and #37 with my man shuji 🙏🙏!
A/N: I'm posting this from the spirit realm please do not perceive me and the monster of a 4k fic I made for him I didn't mean to ;A; I like him a normal amount I promise. Anyways here's the fic I hope you like mwuahh. I also did the alternate universe of Hanma I'm sure that's not what you were exactly expecting but I wanted to keep it out of the realm of gangs just this once! I still tried to keep him a little mean hehe
Virginity/Orgasm denial/overstimulation x Hanma Shuji
You met Hanma when you went to the same school years ago, and being the shit head that he was, always picked on you for fun. It was never malicious the way it was when he was actively picking fights with other boys in gangs, but it was so fucking annoying you couldn’t help but cry with how frustrated you felt. He’d poke fun at you more, looming over you with how tall he was and just tease you until you stormed off. You remember that well, and definitely not fondly. Eventually you saw him less and less at school, and then he stopped coming altogether. The wave of relief that you felt when you were able to just go about your days in peace and quiet was immeasurable. Over time, and over the years, you thought of him less and less and forget him all the same, graduating high school, going to college, finding a job--Hanma was no longer a presence in your life.
Not until adulthood.
You were on your way home, feet dragging with how exhausted you had been feeling at the end of the week--work was hell, but you were grateful for the next two days off. You just needed to make it home in one piece. Of course that was asking for too much, because when you turned the corner your phone went flying out of your hand when you crashed into a brick of a body in front of you with a gasp. “Oh, shit” You hissed, scrambling to grab your phone with a flurry of apologies spewing out of your mouth. The body didn’t seem to acknowledge you, or so you thought, until you heard your name come out of a foreign mouth in a whisper. You paused, actually terrified now to look at who you bumped into, but looked up anyways--to someone you couldn’t recognize.
“Shit, it is you.” He breathed out with a laugh, smile appearing on his face. You frowned, brows burrowing up in confusion. “I’m sorry, do I know you?” You tried not to be defensive, you really did, but life had turned sour on you at a young age and you didn’t trust any men these days anyways. So you crossed your arms and stood your ground, looking like you were ready to fight at any given moment. The man couldn’t help but cackle, it was like life had slapped him in the face--you weren’t the shy skittish little girl he remembered anymore. You had grown up, fended for yourself, obviously not afraid to get into arguments with men you supposedly didn’t know. He feigned hurt after his laugh, pressing a hand to his chest and jutted his lips in a pout. “Come on, you really don’t remember me? You threw your backpack on me real hard in middle school you know. I think I still have a scar from your book.” Ready to turn away with a middle finger you barely acknowledged what he said, “No I don’t remember....you...” He could practically see the gears in your head turning. “Oh...oh my god--Hanma?” He flashed you a dazzling smile, “In the flesh.”
“Oh fuck off.” You tried storming away, there was no way you had just ran into your middle school bully and he thinks he can just smile at you like you had been besties. You weren’t going to even think about it for the rest of the night, you just needed to get home. Hell maybe he changed, but you weren’t gonna sit there and find out. Not willingly at least, because it turns out he wasn’t ready to end the conversation. “Woah, hey! Come on let’s just talk real quick doll face--” “Excuse me?” The shrill in your voice blatantly told him you were not having it. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Can we talk?” You stopped to look at him--really look at him and holy shit did he grow up. His hair was long to his shoulders, blonde money pieces nicely framing his face--one that was no longer grinning like a snarky piece of shit that you remembered, but soft--eyes almost pleading with you to just give him a chance for the night. And fucking tall--standing taller than six foot you craned your head to look up. You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose before answering. “Come on, there’s a bar along the way.”
-
“You’re....so different.” you commented.
He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. You learned he left the gang life behind years ago, and that he was a freelance photographer. You also learned that he made lots of friends from his old gang life that actually stuck, and that one of them recently got married. He told you about his travels, about the time he was in juvie (more than once), about what he did after he left school.
And he told you about how he never quite stopped thinking about you.
That made you pause your commentary at each remark, unable to take a breath in after the admission. Then you scowled. “You were an asshole Hanma. You know that? You were so fucking mean to me. And you’re saying you thought about me all these years? Ha, thought about what, how funny it was to torment me?” You let your anger flow freely with the help of the beer that was now warmed on the table top. He let you vent, getting out all your frustrations that you were never able to when you were a kid--to scared to know what he would do in retaliation. You thought this was better than therapy (and cheaper too.) When you finished your monologue of how much of a dick he was, you threw back the rest of the beer (gross) and looked at the sticky table. He made no moves to get up, which you were surprised over, instead you peeked up at him through your lashes and saw a man that looked as if he’d been slapped across the face. “I’m...wow. Yeah. I was the worst, wasn’t I?” A humorless laugh left his lips. “I didn’t...and listen, this isn’t an excuse, really it’s not, but I didn’t know how to act. You were the cutest girl in school and I just...I was a prick. Life was shitty growing up, and everyone always said ‘if you like a girl pick on her’. I guess it was too much, huh..” Another laugh. “I’m sorry, I really am. I thought I’d never see you again and now you’re here and I don’t--fuck, I’m sorry pretty girl.” Hanma hung his head in shame, playing with the emptied beer bottle in front of him riddled with anxiety.
There was too much to unpack in one night. You couldn’t believe half of the things he had even said to you tonight. So you decided to sit with it for a while. You excused yourself quietly, after (attempting and failing) to pay for your drink. “I...I have to go, Hanma.” He sighed, understanding enough anyways--it was a long shot for you to ever forgive him. But then your phone appeared in his line of sight, opened up to a new contact page with his name already up. His eyes shot up at you, hopeful, and took your phone without a pause to write in his number, he might have also changed his name just a bit, adding a heart at the end of ‘Hanma’ , so dry. You rolled your eyes at that, mumbling ‘don’t push your luck’, but kept it anyways.
-
For the next few weeks (months?) Hanma had integrated himself heavily into your life. You texted him every day, called just as much, and even met up with him for food or drinks a handful of times as your schedules permit. It was odd, having this bond form with someone you used to despise. But it’s not healthy to hold onto grudges like that. Especially from such a young age, and you knew he was really sorry, especially since he admitted to you night one that he had a crazy crush on you. So you let it go over time, and started seeing Hanma shine with his annoying personality again. And once he came out of his shell, really, he acted almost the same. Snarky, making faces, overly cocky like he couldn’t be beat. But he was softer now, and you found it endearing, especially when he’d come to your rescue. You’d be waiting for him to show up at your usual bar spot and be cornered by a man who was too drunk to look at you properly but was still in your face. “Come on, pretty. What’s your name huh?” You scoffed, leaning away from him as you grabbed your drink and covered the top. “Fuck off, dude. Not here for you.” You’d hear the drunkard grumble something about you being a bitch and before you were able to turn to look at him again and tell him off, you saw a tattooed hand grip his shoulder. “What was that?” Hanma leaned down to get in his face, toothpick in between his teeth as he waited.
“Fucking--nothing, dude, get off me.” Before you knew it the drunk was knocked on his ass on the floor and Hanma was shrugging it off, telling the bartender “He’s too drunk to be here, can we get him out?” with a shrug and a smirk when he was dragged off by security (as if Hanma wasn’t the one to shove him). You breathed out a giggle and smiled, thanking him for the save--and silently calming yourself down. He looked...good, turning back into his intimidating self when it wasn’t directed towards you. You wouldn’t mind seeing him like this more often, especially to your defense. You shake off the feeling and continue on with your conversation as you always do, though you’re distracted with the way he pushes his hand back, and how his veins in his hands look, and how--
“Hey, you good?”
You blink, startled and looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Unfortunately for you, Hanma has been getting too comfortable around you now. “What, see something you like?” He cooed, dipping his head lower to meet your eyes, voice now to a whisper. You fidget away, drink long forgotten as you try to remember how to breathe again, furrowing your brows. "I don't think I want to be here anymore." It was his turn to frown. "Hey no I'm sorry, I was joking—" "I'm hungry. Do you...wanna just grab takeout and go to my place?" Silently he nodded, dumbfounded that you had invited him over. It felt like an unspoken rule–he wouldn't ask if he could go over, knowing the answer would be 'no.' You weren't ready for him to invade your space like that. But after all this time, after close to six months of non stop talking and relearning each other it felt like the most natural thing in the world for you to ask. Even if you were a little nervous about it. And so you (he) paid your tab and left.
–
The two of you sat comfortably on the floor of your living room, eating from shared plates and having mindless movies on in the background as conversation continued. "Thanks for letting me over, doll–not gonna lie I was getting tired of always going out to a bar." He teased, laughing when he felt you shove him a little with your shoulder. "Be grateful, Hanma." You rebutted with a smile.
"Shuji."
....
"What?"
"Come on, we’ve been talking for months now. You can’t just call me Shuji? Not just once?”
You placed your chopsticks down, that fuzzy feeling coming back into your stomach the same as when you stared at him earlier. Could you call him Shuji? Did you think you were close enough to do that? He was so different than the Hanma you knew all those years ago, but somehow the same–still poking fun but now it felt good, the teasing and the taunting was reciprocated–maybe even building up to something else, that you had refused to unlock. “Come on pretty girl,” the name made your head spin and your face get hot, and him leaning in closer to you didn’t help. Hanma brushed your cheek, thumbing at your skin when he cupped your face, “just once. Just call me Shuji, please.” Your breathing hitched, eyes dropping down to look at his lips, and when you looked back up at him you noticed he’d done the same thing. “...You’re being so stupid, Shuji.” Your voice was barely heard above the sound of the TV. He chuckled, lips brushing against yours, “yeah well, you know what they say–love makes you stupid.” You closed the gap that barely existed to begin with, hands latching on to the front of his shirt as Hanma invaded your senses.
The kiss was dizzying, overwhelming, too much– everything and everywhere all at once. But you couldn’t find it in you to care, not when Hanma had been such a constant in your life recently, not when he admitted to loving you. You could practically feel the cockiness come flooding back, Hanma smiling into the kiss and nipping at your lower lip, easily slipping his tongue in after you granted him access. He’d taken over quickly, hand on your cheek pressing the back of your head deeper into him and the other trailing around your waist to pull you close. He had you straddling him, and you still were trying to keep up with the kiss. “Sh-Shuji, wait, h-hold on.” You broke free enough to speak if only for a moment, but he continued with the kisses down your jaw, and neck, and nipping at the juncture of your shoulder. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?” Fuck, his voice dipped low–the gravely sound was shooting straight down to between your legs. It was hard to breathe, he wasn’t letting up enough for you to tell him, but you needed to, you needed to–
“I’m a virgin.”
Hanma immediately stopped his ministrations, the sound of the TV turning more into white noise than whatever was going on. When he didn’t speak, you felt the need to explain. “I just, I don’t know–don’t fucking laugh, I don’t know what’s going on in your head.” You huffed, embarrassed. “I just...was never interested in hookups. And everyone fucking sucked, so I never...”You trailed off, looking away when Hanma tried to meet your eyes. He cupped your face so sweetly, small smile on his lips as he did so. “Look at me, baby.” His fucking petnames were going to kill you. But you listened anyways. “We can stop, or we can just make out–doesn’t matter to me as long as I have my hands on you.” He snickered and you wanted to smack him. You thought about it too, but you don’t think you’d find anyone better than Hanma.
You loved him, too.
“I don’t want to stop, Shuji.”
He didn’t need anything else after that.
–
“Aah, fuck, Shuji y-you’re being mean again.” You whimpered, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Hanma had your legs open around his waist, working his fingers deep into your virgin hole. It’s already been twenty minutes of him slowly working you open, curling two of his fingers in your cunt and pushing up against that squishy part of your walls that had you climbing up to your orgasm–only for it to never come. Hanma kept fucking stopping. He’d feel how your walls started to clench and twitch around his long fingers, and the absolute bastard would only snicker and pull them out, slapping them lightly against your clit. “Aw, sorry baby–Just can’t get enough of how you look.” He teased, devil horns practically growing on his skull. This was the Hanma you remembered from middle school, and it seems his sadistic torture moved from taunting you at school to taunting you in your own bed. But you don’t think you cared too much, not now. Not when you saw the love in his eyes. Slowly, Hanma pushed in a third finger, a hand coming down to push you into the mattress and keeping you still. “Gotta prep you, doll–don’t want it to hurt, right?” And you don’t think it would, you had toys, it wasn’t unknown territory, but you kept your mouth shut anyways when he looked at you like that, eyes devouring you. His pace quickened, pumping his thick fingers in and out, in and out, until he saw your nose scrunch up and your mouth open–whining and crying out as you climbed closer and closer and closer to your impending orgasm. You could feel it, and you spread your legs just a bit more to give him more space, eyes rolling to the back of your head–
And then he pulled out.
“Shuji!” You were so frustrated, tears flowing freely now with how angry you were feeling. You were ready to start telling him off, until he grabbed your jaw and loomed over you with such authority it made your skin crawl. “If you don’t stop me now, baby doll, I’ll never be able to keep my hands off you again.” His aggressive tendencies never really went away it seemed, even after leaving the gang life behind you had such a grip on him it made him crazy. “Tell me no, and we’ll stop.” He waited a beat, squeezing a bit more at your jaw expectantly. You simply stared at him, stars in your eyes as you looked up at the man.
“Keep going.”
Throwing caution to the wind, Hanma kept the hand tightly on your jaw as his messy fingers slipped back into your weeping cunt, finger fucking into you harder and faster than before, all three curling up back into that gummy part and not letting up this time. Your mouth hung open with the pressure he kept on you, moans flowing freely out–you babbled, repeating his name until it all just jumbled together in messy cries. You tried to keep your eyes open but the pressure building up so fast was dizzying. Your eyes rolled back, bordering screaming as he fucked into you. He said nothing, just kept staring at your face of pleasure as you finally descended into your orgasm, crashing over you in waves and not stopping. Your juicy pussy was splashing him, fingers slipping over to rub over your clit just as quickly. Your orgasm hit you like a fucking train, lower body spasming as he kept you at that high. “Too much, too much Shu–too much!” your legs were aching to close, and he let up just enough to let you get away, smacking your pussy twice before.
Hanma leaned down kissing your throat after letting go of your jaw, whispering against you “First it was not enough, now it’s too much.” He taunted, nipping at your skin before kissing up to your lips again. Even when he was being mean again, he pet your head and wiped away your tears. “You sure you wanna keep goin’ pretty?” You hiccupped, taking the time he’s graciously given you to take a breather, and nodded. He smiled like the devil himself and planted a harsh smooch right on your lips before moving back, lining his cock against your wet folds. “Y’ready, baby doll?” Another nod. He pushed in.
“Ah fuck, Shuji–s’big.” you gasped, arching your back in the pleasure and slight pain you felt. You couldn’t stop yourself–he was big, though you knew you were feeding his ego when you heard a laugh tumble from his lips–deep in his chest. “You’re okay, baby–gonna stretch you out nice on my dick.” He started moving slow, and you swore you could feel each vein as his cock stretched your walls around him. His movement was deliberate, passionate, like he was making sure your pussy would be molded to only take his cock for the rest of your life. Though even if he told you so, you’d openly admit you’d never be able to be with another man after him. As he felt you loosen enough to move freely, he fucked into you faster, leaning over onto his forearms–dropping his forehead to yours, hair forming a curtain around the two of you. “You waited for me, baby? Waited so I could take your virginity, right?” He spoke nonsense and you both knew it. But fuck, he felt so good inside of you, you couldn’t help but let him hear exactly what he wanted. “Waited for you, Shuji–wanted to give it to you.” You were able to barely get your words out before he groaned above you, humping you like a dog in heat. “Fuck, baby doll–pussy’s so fucking tight.” His jaw tightened as he got the words out, angling himself to feel you cum around him again. “Wanna feel you cum, baby, come on, give it to me.” his hips slammed against yours, wicked pace stealing your breath. Silent screams escaped you, gasping and crying when you came around him again, and he relished in the feeling of your abused cunt clenching and twitching around him. “There we go” He breathed out a laugh, kissing your tears as they fell.
Hanma only let up enough to get his hands on the backs of your thighs and push them up to your chest. He was fully over you now, continuing to pound into your swollen pussy. “Shujiii” You whined, nails clawing at his wrists but unable to move him. At this angle he kept hitting all the right spots and you needed him to slow down. Yet the only word that would spill from your mouth was his name, like a silent prayer or mantra. Your third orgasm of the night came quickly, messier than the first two–your juices splashing on his thighs as he kept fucking into you. Folding in half you had no power to stop him, only able to take the pleasure that was bordering on painful with how quickly he was making you cum with no breaks. “Come on, pretty girl, come on.” Hanma was far gone, pupils blown out with lust–mumbling to himself more than to you, bed creaking underneath you with his strength.
He maneuvered your thighs to be pressed against your chest with one arm, his now free hand finding your swollen clit and pinching– your screams and moans filling the room as your fourth orgasm felt like a house of bricks being dropped on you. You covered him in your juices, his cock now covered in a frothy white layer that webbed and stuck to the both of you. Even as he let go of your clit, Hanma was still chasing that high–so close to getting off. He wrapped his free hand around your jaw, covering your throat and shoving his thumb into your mouth. “Look at me baby.” He ground out, just to see your fucked out face eyes all teary and glassy. Your mouth was upturned in a slight smile, completely cockdrunk. It was enough to push him over the edge and still deep inside you, shooting his thick load in your abused hole.
Silence filled the air, and slowly Hanma let go of your face and your legs, pulling out and hissing when he felt his cum dribble out with him. “Fuck..don’t think I’ll ever stop dreaming about that.” He laughed, and laughed harder when your weak hand slapped his shoulder. He dropped his weight next to you, collecting you in his arms with a kiss to your temple. “How you feelin’ baby doll?” He whispered, and you hummed, snuggling deeper into him. “Good. Sore. Always so mean to me.” You teased, feeling yourself off into sleep. He smiled at your temple and let you drift into slumber, at least for now–he’d have to clean you up.
Until then, he reached over to your phone and finally changed his name in your phone, keeping the heart but replacing his surname with ‘Shuji’.
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FAIR TRADE — A DRABBLE
Also on AO3
Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader
WC: 1.0k words
Summary: A chance encounter with a ghoul leads to a trade for some supplies.
Warnings: SMUT (18+ ONLY), minors dni, exhibitionism (public sex), some degradation, sex for favors, hate sex kinda?, unprotected p in v, swearing, irradiated creampie (implied Radaway use), the ghoul being the ghoul, and i think that’s it! But lmk if anything else.
A/N: THAT ONE POST ABOUT GETTING SPOKEN TO CONDESCENDINGLY INSPIRED ME AND I HAD TO GET THIS DOWN. Not sorry >:)
—————
“My word… this is really turning you on, ain’t it?”
The ghoul’s condescending words set your teeth on edge, but you didn’t dignify him with a response. His hips snapped up harshly, your back pressing tighter against the dilapidated wall of the ruined house, wrenching a strangled moan from you.
“Tellin’ me you’re in desperate need for some supplies, but I don’t think that’s the only thing you’re desperate for…” he continued his taunt, gloved hands gripping your waist tightly. “You ever been fucked like this, sweetheart?”
Truth was that you hadn’t, especially not out in the open. Over his shoulder, you could see tumbleweeds being blown through the arid desert plains by the breeze. You were alert for any wanderers that might stumble upon the two of you, but it was getting harder and harder to focus when he was talking to you like that.
At first, it had seemed like a fair trade — you had just run out of caps but really needed some extra food and water to make it through the rest of your hike towards Filly. It was you who’d offered the alternative form of payment, but you hadn’t thought it would end up like this.
Worst of all, you didn’t think you would be enjoying it as much as you were… Even if you refused to let him know that.
The heels of your boots dug into his lower back insistently as you grunted, glaring at him in defiance. He laughed, a low, raspy sound that shook you to your marrow and made you throb around him.
“Somethin’ tells me you haven’t,” he said, looking down between your bodies to see how easily he slid in and out of you. “Well, I’m always happy to be the first…”
“Shut up,” you grumbled, but your annoyance disappeared with a gasp as he ripped the front of your blouse open.
He let out a low whistle. “Look what we’ve got ‘ere. Can’t believe you were hidin’ those from me.”
Your back involuntarily arched as he palmed one of them, licking his lips like he was eager to savor them. Then, without warning, he pinched your nipple and rolled it a little between two fingers, making you cry out.
The pain mixed with the pleasure deliciously, and at that moment, you hated yourself for being so close to coming. He noticed it too, and so he started fucking you slower.
“Woah, hold your horses there, I ain’t done with ya jus’ yet,” he said, clicking his tongue in disapproval. “Didn’t think I’d give you those supplies so easy, did ya?”
“I-I don’t have all f-fucking day,” you bit out, unconsciously clinging to his arms. “What if someone sees us?”
He shrugged, unbothered. “Then they’re in for a good show. Cute gal like yourself all worked up for a scary ghoul like me… Well that ain’t somethin’ you see every day.”
There was a fuck off on the tip of your tongue, but you bit back the retort lest he stop altogether. It was an unfortunate thing that his humiliating words had you dripping onto the sand.
You tilted your head to one side as he leaned closer, his face nuzzling your throat. His tongue traced up to your jaw, making you exhale sharply, and then he lightly nipped your earlobe.
“And y’know what the best part is? I know jus’ how hard I can make you cum,” he husked. “This pretty pussy is just begging me to play with it.”
He pulled back to tug one of his gloves off, tucking it in his back pocket. He held your gaze as he licked his fingers and you swallowed hard, your spiteful frown wavering for a moment.
He reached between you until his fingers found purchase, your puffy, sensitive clit making you jerk against him. He smirked even as you gripped his wrist in an attempt to hold him back from overstimulating you. His deft fingers drew lazy circles around your clit, watching your every reaction closely.
He groaned as he felt you squeezing against him, your mouth slack with pleasure. Your eyes shiny with lust even as you looked at him almost accusingly — or perhaps pleadingly.
“Oh-oh fuck…” you squeaked, the coil tightening in your belly rapidly.
“Just say the word, darlin’, and I’ll get ya there.”
You internally warred between caving in and holding back, shaking your head stubbornly. Still, you bit your lip hard, beginning to lose yourself as he held you aloft.
He chuckled, slapping one of your breasts with his free hand before gripping it, thumb brushing over your hardened nipple.
“Go on, say it.”
“I-I wanna cum,” you panted, already on the verge and way beyond saving yourself. “Please make me cum.”
He growled in his throat, satisfied. “That’s what I like to hear.”
His hips canted faster, spearing deeper inside of you and hitting a spot that made you feel like you’d turn into a pillar of flame. His fingers followed in tempo and it was all too much to bear. You fell over the edge violently, with no further warning, letting out a keening wail as you clung to him.
He kept himself sheathed deep inside and you felt the heat of his own orgasm flooding you. Throughout the aftershocks, he fucked you shallowly, making sure no drop was wasted. When your consciousness was flung back into your body, you were breathing hard, your heart thundering in your chest.
He pulled out of you without much ceremony, leaving you on your feet. He tucked himself back into his underwear and pulled his pants back up, huffing in amusement as he took in the state he’d left you in.
Even as you swayed where you stood and your mind was still in a daze, he tossed the supplies at you. You caught some of them, but you had to bend down to gather the rest, legs shaking.
“There, gave you some extra stuff, so don’t say I ain’t a generous fella,” he said as he buckled his belt.
“Fuck you,” you spat, glaring at him as you redressed yourself to the best of your abilities.
“Pleasure doin’ business with you, too, sweetheart,” he said, smiling roguishly as he tipped his hat. “Let’s hope our paths cross again sometime.”
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#cooper howard x reader#the ghoul x reader#cooper howard x you#the ghoul x you#cooper howard smut#the ghoul smut#fallout fanfiction#fallout smut#cooper howard#the ghoul#minors dni
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I normally bind with sports bras, bc they aren’t as restrictive and I can do more intense physical activities (if ofc my body isn’t feeling like shit and I can actually walk more than 10 feet without being in immense pain), but recently they’ve been actually doing more harm than good.
I don’t have too much in the way of boobs to begin with, so there’s not much to compress. But I do feel way more dysphoric when I wear regular bras as opposed to my pseudo-binding alternative.
but recently I’ve been getting (even worse) rib pain, red marks under my breast and across my upper torso, really bad back aches, and if I’ve been wearing a sports bra too long and it gets really compress-y, I have to eat in smaller portions so the food can even go down into my system to get digested (I also jsut have a weird stomach, but those two things combined do not help with my past ed problems and relapsing/recovery from it).
I’ve been thinking maybe I just need to buy new ones (mine are a few years old, and I think I may be a different size now bc of weight gain and loss in certain parts of my body.), but I’m fairly certain my mom just wants me to stop using them altogether and go back to regular ones (I’m nto out to her, and I’m sure that if I did come out, it would cause more problems for me than just being closeted).
my sister knows kinda how I feel about my boobs, mostly that I don’t like them but I haven’t fully come out to her nor actually said it’s dysphoria. She helps in the ways she can, i.e. gets me things like heat packs for the pain, helps me out wiht my day to day responsibilities if I’m in jsut too much pain, is helping me look into alternatives, etc. but she also just says I have to live wiht it, live with having boobs, since, in her words, they’re “just glorified meat sacks”. I’ve also asked her her opinion on if I were to be trans, and she said she would support me in transitioning, but also not to be too hasty in labeling since I’m still young, to give it a few more years.
but why didn’t anyone tell me that sports bras wouldn’t give these side effects? I only heard that this stuff happens with traditional binders. No one said that sports bras could be just as destructive.
yeah. no one talks about it. for a while, i would bind with sports bras but such there’s a lot of compression on the lower band, it would be tight where it wasn’t supposed to be. i had to stop binding for a good amount of time because it kind of messed me up.
there is no way to bind completely free of possible side effects. it can hurt. but you just have to listen to your body and stop when it tells you to stop.
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Forgiveness: A Hello Neighbor Fanfic
By JJ
Summary: An alternative ending to Puzzle Master.
Aaron opened the door to Enzo's bedroom, and saw him already sitting on the edge of his bed. A bowl full of cheese crackers and a couple of bottles of soda sat beside him on his bedside table.
"Hey, Enzo.", said Aaron. "You said you wanted to see me?", he asked.
Enzo nodded and patted the spot next to him. "Sit down.", he said.
Aaron went to the bed and sat next to him. It was quiet for a while before Enzo spoke up.
"I wanted to talk to you about that day.", he said.
Aaron nodded.
He didn't need to ask what day he was referring to, he already knew. The "Justice for Lucy" rally, the day where they exposed the Forest Protectors,...
The day where Enzo told him what his father said to his sister.
"He said he made Lucy fly. Just like an angel. He said he made her fly."
Aaron patiently waited for Enzo to continue.
"I felt kind of bad about lashing out at you that day.", he said. "I don't like talking about death, and I like to avoid the topic altogether."
Aaron nodded, understandably. Who does like talking about death? It's such a disturbing thing to talk about. "Why?", he asked.
Enzo took a deep breath, then he explained.
"You remember when I told you that my mom died when me and Maritza were very young, right?", he asked.
Aaron nodded.
"Well before she died, she used to be a real estate agent.", Enzo continued. "Her and Dad used to brag to others about how successful they were and how they would spoil us rotten. Back then, their jobs were the most important thing to them, considering how much money they made."
Aaron nodded along, "But what happened to your mother that made you hate talking about death so much?"
Enzo rubbed his temple like it hurt. He didn't want to talk about this, but he knew he had to get this off his chest.
"From what the police told us, a truck driver told them that he accidentally hit her with his bread truck. He wasn't looking where he was going at first, but when he finally looked up, he saw a raven grabbing her by her hair and pulling her into the road.", he said. "The doctors did everything they could do to save her, but she didn't make it. Dad was destroyed and was never the same after that. He tries to distract himself with work, but nothing ever seemed to be enough for him. But fortunately, he pushes through his grief so he can take care of us."
Aaron nodded.
"So I kinda freaked out when Maritza told me what your dad told her.", Enzo continued, trying not to choke up. "When she said that he made Lucy fly like an angel, I thought that he thought Lucy's death was intended, like he wanted it to happen. That reason, and the fact that he didn't even show up at the funeral was enough to make me hate him with all my heart, mind, body and soul."
Aaron put a hand on his friend's shoulder.
"Enzo...", he started, "I know you're upset about your mother dying, and I know you're upset about Lucy dying, but I can promise you that my dad never meant for any of this to happen.", he said. "We've actually had a lot of problems like this in the past. With everyone thinking that he made the ride unsafe on purpose, and thinking that Dad was a complete lunatic who kept making the same mistake again and again, and that he didn't care who got hurt."
Aaron looked at Enzo and smiled, "I know you didn't mean to lash out at me. I wish you'd just told me sooner, that way, I wouldn't have to feel like we were gonna stop being friends."
"I know...", said Enzo.
"But we can start again.", said Aaron. "We can start over and try to rebuild our friendship. Maybe if we do, we won't have to lash out at each other anymore."
Enzo small smiled at Aaron, "That would be nice."
Aaron pulled Enzo in for a hug, happy that he was still friends with Enzo.
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I have a moral dilemma. I really, really want to call myself vegan and I stand for veganism and talk in favour of it whenever I can. However, I'm severely autistic and suffer from severe depression, CPTSD and constantly irritated guts... and dairy is genuinely one of the only things which gives me a feeling of being soothed and filled. I tried going without it for a while multiple times, I just can't do it... at least not without feeling physically terrible. The dairy alternatives also don't do it for me. That said, I do not drink animal milk (that's really nasty), and it's not like my diet is crammed full with dairy either - mostly it's just me eating a cup of cottage cheese now and then. Cottage cheese is absolutely comforting for me and seems to be one of the very few things which make my gut feel not irritated and just nicely satisfied. I tried other stuff, really, nothing else has the same effect. I'm sad, but I'm afraid I have to keep going like this... however, if I ever find an alternative that does exactly the same for me as cottage cheese, I will switch. I do not want to support the treatment of cows as milk machines. I feel so bad about it. Sorry for the long message, I honestly just want to hear some comforting words, I do not dare to talk about this off anon either, I feel like I'll get attacked for my "cottage cheese addiction" or whatever. Maybe some suggestions could also help me reduce the amount of dairy I eat, but vegan cheese really isn't it :(
I'm sorry you're having a rough time of it, anon. I think that if you keep just trying to give it up without any new additions, you'll fall short over and over, you'll beat yourself up, seek comfort in food and it's just a vicious cycle.
It sounds to me like you need to focus on getting to a place where you are enjoying other options besides cottage cheese, whether that's a vegan alternative or just a completely different snack altogether. Until you have other options that you're enjoying, you'll just be losing something so it'll always feel like a negative thing. But veganism doesn't have to be like that, it's a hugely positive decision that can reframe your eating choices as positive decisions, you just need to approach it in the right way.
For now, I'd advise that you focus on adding to your diet rather than taking away, and focus on shifting away from your comfort snacks later, if you get to a place where you can. Keep trying, but stop beating yourself up, it sounds like you're doing what you can at this stage and nobody can really ask more of you than that.
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with this Teach Me Tonight discussion i’m suddenly wondering how the events of the show would have been different if jess had stayed! it definitely makes the most sense for his character to choose to leave but i can’t stop imagining the alternative now. obviously the town would hate him even more, dean probably would have confronted him, maybe lorelai too unless she was chagrined enough by what luke said to her…but most importantly how would it have affected jess and rory! i’ve never seen this possibility discussed or in fic and it’ll definitely consume my brain for the foreseeable future lol
Oh man. Well, I don't think Lorelai was chagrined, haha. 😬 Not with her "I get to hate him, forever!" bit with Rory. But man-oh-man, poor Jess! The only way I can picture him staying is if Rory asked- maybe even ORDERED him not to leave her. (Oh MAN, can you imagine?!) But then the town would try to collectively punish him, and Rory would feel guilty and JESS would also feel guilty... I could see him either avoiding her altogether or trying to make up for the accident by trying to do things for her, haha. Except Lorelai probably wouldn't let him in the house, and she would probably try to forbid Rory from talking to him, which would lead to MORE fighting, and (I fully admit I might be getting self-indulgent at this point, haha) possibly even secret phone calls and secret rendezvous at the bridge or something (And Rory sneaking out her bedroom window in the middle of the night??? Ok, calm down, Stella. 😂). Rory fighting EVERYONE, the way she did on the show, but MORE this time, because he'd actually be there being mistreated. Dean might have actually punched him, and Rory would be MAD. I think it might even be possible they could have broken up over it, and then what if all of THAT was what led to Rory and Jess's end-of-season kiss? Honestly, that MIGHT have made for a better relationship for them, actually, between Rory being broken up with Dean already and that "us against the world" mentality that might foster trust between them. Even moreso if they decided to keep it on the down-low at first, secretly writing to each other while Rory is in Washington, to give Lorelai "time to cool off." Luke would be their only ally, their Friar Lawrence... (OMG! Calm DOWN, Stella! 😂)
I mean, is all of that just embarrassingly melodramatic and self-indulgent romantic nonsense? Maybe... 😂 But anyway... Thanks a lot. Look what you did! Hahaha!
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Would Rocky and/or Zuma be VSCO pups? Also also, are the pups' and Ryder's vehicles green vehicles(eco-friendly vehicles)?
I never heard about VSCO before in my life. Had to look it up. I'm guessing you mean an app where the users take photos, edit and publish them? Where I live, the popular app for this was Instagram and for a short while, Snapshot.
I'm guessing maybe Zuma might be into taking photographs, he's got plenty free time to do whatever he wants and he's one of the few pups who's shown to go out on their own, to mind their own business pretty often, like how he goes windsurfing regularly without necessarily bringing anyone else with him. I can see him seeing something, taking a picture, publishing it. He would like to share his world as he sees it, he's the type who loves nature and wants to share his experiences.
As for their vehicles, sad to disappoint but they're almost all fuel-driven. It's clear none of them is electric or whatever just by their engine noise. The most I can say for that is that maybe they use alternative fuel, like maybe corn-based or soy-based fuel. Maybe diesel, Idk. Ryder and Rocky may have adapted a bunch of filters and stuff to make sure they'd pollute less, but it doesn't change the fact they're run by regular fuel.
I'm putting the rest under the cut, first because this post got long AGAIN, secondly because I have a dear friend who didn't watch the Mighty Movie yet and I'll talk a bit about something from the movie with screenshots too soooooo I don't wanna spoil their fun 💜
The exceptions are the Mighty Vehicles. Those are fueled by the pups' own energy once they're powered up with the Meteor energy. I imagine this would maybe drain the pup's strength at some point if they spend their energy to drive those vehicles for too long, but neither the show nor the Mighty Movie had anything about that.
Also it's important to note: In the show, their Mighty vehicles won't work once they run out of power. They stop glowing, they stop hovering, they just stop working altogether, meaning they don't have an alternative engine/fuel to work without the Meteor power up. You can see it happening in the episode when the Copycat steals the Meteor from their tower while they're out on a rescue mission.
In the Mighty Movie, however, Ryder apparently accounted for the possibility of that being an issue and had engines installed with emergency fuel from beginning, so they can still be driven normally even when not powered up - they only lose ability to use the weapons/tools that are to be energized by their powers. The best way to notice that is if you look at Zuma's hovercraft: It doesn't have propellers! Instead, it's the Meteor's power swirling where the propellers would have been that gives the Hovercraft the impulse it needs to move. Once the power is out, though, you can clearly spot a motherfucking turbine just between them-- Ryder, my man, that's ONE WAY to make a Hovercraft move for sure XD
The good news is that Zuma's hovercrafts in general are literally NEARLY 100% green and the most eco-friendly a vehicle could ever be and that's simply because it's a hovercraft! These vehicles have little to no friction against surfaces when moving, barely any contact at all, be it over water, over grass, over a road, over a swamp, whatever. No friction against surfaces means that the engine doesn't need to produce much strength/power to make the vehicle move in the first place, which in turn means way less consumption of fuel and energy. A full tank will make those orange bad boys go daily for months, while the others will need to refill their gas every other week XD
#Thanks for the ask!!#Paw Patrol#Paw Patrol Mighty Pups#Paw Patrol The Mighty Movie#Paw Patrol Headcanons#Zuma#Paw Patrol Zuma#Hovercraft
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crawls into your ask box like the girl from the ring. so i noticed you made a post about death stranding and what it says (or does not say/is not able to say) about labor and i haven't been able to stop thinking about that subject all during my playthrough but i don't have the vocabulary for it and was wondering if you had any other thoughts
Hi I have way too many thoughts about this but I tried to keep it short. I am assuming you’re referring to my joke about Drone Syndrome and Marx’s alienation theory.
We have no information as to what happened to the delivery workers pre-Stranding when drones took their jobs. Was there mass unemployment? Did people lose their homes? Did the government give them universal basic income and pay them to stay home or pursue passions (probably not)? Did they get retrained for a new field? All we know is that they developed Drone Syndrome which seems analogous to the theory of alienation.
But Death Stranding takes the alienation of labor further. It isn’t about people seeing little value in their exploited labor but people having no value because the have no labor and becoming depressed and developing hormonal imbalances. Without any labor to do at all, the delivery workers became miserable in the same way workers are when being alienated from their labor when they’re being exploited in industrialized work owned by someone else. There’s no choice, no sense of fulfillment, no sense of value, no connection. The game lore calls putting the delivery workers back in the process a step back from progress but for whatever reason doesn’t offer an alternative for what those workers could have been doing. Robots freeing people from drudgery could be good but only if those workers are able to transition into different work, or are supported without working, and not be financially ruined. We don’t know what mechanisms existed for this suddenly extinct labor field in universe. Not to mention how restless and bored many people irl get when they aren’t at work or doing basic household tasks. People want to contribute to things, people want to feel important, needed, like what they’re doing has value or impact.
There is another omission in the lore that’s interesting as well. Is there money post-Stranding? Many games have a pseudo-economy in them as a way to upgrade your abilities or gear. But in Death Stranding you get better gear by increasing your connection level with different facilities. Sam never gets paid, and no one talks about money. Igor never says “y’know corpse disposal is a dangerous job but it pays well”. Everyone seems to be motivated either out of a desire to help other humans or for personal reasons, nothing financial at all.
Post-Stranding, it was impossible to use autonomous delivery drones or planes anymore and the delivery workers who became porters were literally the most essential of essential workers so preppers and people living in cities did not die from lack of medicine or food. This sudden increase in the value of their labor caused some some of them swing the complete opposite way—developing Delivery Dependence Syndrome, becoming MULEs, contaminated by Chiralium. Literally a different class of human beings altogether, homo gestalts. The fact that they want the cargo itself simply to hoard and no longer care about delivering it to who needs it is important. That’s the breakdown. It’s no longer about helping people but simply getting things. They don’t even sell the cargo, they just keep it.
Lore-wise, the best way for porters to mitigate DDS caused by chiralium contamination was to join an organization like Fragile Express or Bridges, where the organization’s leadership, structure, support, and resources could alleviate the symptoms by increasing oxytocin production through human interaction or with smartdrugs.
Considering how anti-isolationist and anti-rugged individualism the game in, it’s clear Death Stranding is telling us being a part of a community is far better than doing it alone, and it isn’t trying to shit on self-employed labor or uplift corporatized mass organized labor, especially since there seems to be no profit motivation behind Fragile Express or Bridges. Porters are simply middle-men, filling a vital role in the post-Stranding society.
People go by nicknames based on their labor. Craftsman, Engineer, Roboticist, Novelist, etc. Sam’s name changes from Sam Strand (family) to just Sam (no family no connections) to Porter Bridges (labor and connection). Identity has become inextricably linked to labor that has once again become fulfilling. Everyone seems aware how vital their role is in the survival of humanity. Medicine and weapons aren’t all we deliver, but books and art, too. Although Sam himself is disillusioned with his labor and the world, but that’s a different topic.
Porters (and preppers) are the opposite of alienated from their labor. They know their labor is crucial to the survival of other human beings. Porters can choose the routes to deliver packages, can rest whenever they want, and aren’t doing it to make someone who owns the means of production richer. Preppers provide Sam with mutually-rewarding upgrades to his equipment, increasing his chance of survival, and humanity’s. They may not even get a wage from it, but do it because it is fulfilling, because they know other human beings depend on them. Their labor has objective value and is highly prized in the post-Stranding society. There’s no enriching shareholder value and, presumably, no money. Porters leave ladders, ropes, structures, and post-boxes filled with items for other porters simply to help each other out.
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Coveted Confessions (Turtle Tots: Before the Rise)
@flufftober Day 8- Alt Prompt 8- Written But Never Sent
Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles
Chapter Summary: Raph has never once heard Donnie say “I'm sorry.” But that doesn't mean he hasn't apologized.
Duo: Brains and Brawn
A/N: This was another 'Make It Fluffy' alternate prompt and also falls very hard in the hurt/comfort side of things <3
Also I will be skipping ahead a few days for Halloween as there was a prompt I really wanted to get done for the holiday!! Okay enjoy!!
Disclaimer: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles belongs to Andy Suriano, Ant Ward, and Nickelodeon. All rights belong to them.
“Apologize,” Raph demanded sternly, arms crossed. All serious. Donnie had his back to him, purposely ignoring him as he angrily fiddled with a rubix cube. Raph felt his temper flare to life but fought hard to keep it in check. Getting mad would only make things worse. “I said apologize,” Raph tried again, stepping closer.
Still no answer, but Donnie’s movements were getting sharper and more aggressive as the cube rotated around and around in his hands.
“Donnie,” Raph scolded, his tone warning his brother that he was on his last strike here.
He heard a hiss and Donnie was now violently shoving the blocks of color into place.
“I know you can hear me,” Raph said, leaning down so his shadow fell over his little brother. “Apologize. Now.”
Donnie’s shoulders rose as high as they would go. “No,” he whispered in a voice that said he was about to stop talking altogether if he was pushed. That or bite somebody.
Raph sucked in the biggest breath he could, forcing himself to stay calm, even as his body trembled in pent-up frustration. “Donnie, you know what you did was wrong.”
If Donnie felt any regret or guilt he didn't show it, just continuing to fiddle with his rubix cube. Raph slid a hand down his face, exasperated with his brother and this entire stupid conversation. He wasn’t asking for much, just two simple words, ‘I’m sorry’ why did that have to be so hard? Raph felt his patience wavering to a thin thread. If he didn’t make some progress soon, he was absolutely going to lose it and that was the exact opposite of what he wanted to happen here.
So in the calmest tone he could muster, he asked, “Can you please just give me some kind of answer? I’m really trying here.”
Something in his tone must have gotten through because Donnie did reply, setting his rubix cube down and signing, ‘Not my fault.’
“Yes, it was,” Raph replied, stern. He couldn’t believe the gall on this kid sometimes. “You completely wrecked the kitchen. Mikey is gonna be cleaning cranberry sauce out of the dishes for the next year! Leo looks like a fruit threw up all over him!”
‘It was an experiment,’ Donnie signed back, sharp.
“And one I told you not to do!” Raph shot back, temper boiling over just enough to make him growl. “Which is why you need to apologize. If not to the others, then to me for not listening!”
Donnie’s hands stayed decidedly still at his sides, refusing to answer him in sign. It seemed he’d chosen stubbornly refusing till he died. A typical Donnie response, honestly. Raph didn’t think he’d ever got his genius brother to actually apologize to anyone.
That left Raph with no other option. He hated to do it, easily his least favorite part of being a big brother, but if Donnie was gonna be like this…
“Fine, then you can go to your room and think about what you did.” Ugh, Raph really hated grounding them. It made him feel like the bad guy.
Especially when Donnie finally turned around only to give him a very annoyed glare.
“Unless you want to say something to me first,” Raph continues, hoping Donnie would just listen for once and actually say it.
Instead Donnie’s gaze goes flat and he stands up and walks to his room, fists clenched tight to sides.
Raph sighs and goes to try and clean the mess in the kitchen.
…
It was hours later and Donnie still hadn’t come out of his room to apologize. Raph should have expected it- since his little brother was one of the most stubborn kids alive- but it was still a huge disappointment when there was no offer whatsoever to make amends. Usually there was something after Donnie had time to cool off but today it seemed Donnie was sticking to his guns on the whole ‘being innocent’ thing.
So Raph, being the bigger turtle it seemed, decided to take the initiative and bring Donnie his dinner. Not just because leaving his little brother to starve was something he would absolutely not do no matter how much trouble he was in but also because he hoped round two of talking things out might breed better results. Probably not but a turtle could dream, couldn’t he?
He paused at the threshold, knocking once on the wall to see if he’d get a response. He counted to twenty before silently peeking through the curtain to see if Donnie was actually inside or just giving him the silent treatment.
Turns out it was neither, Donnie instead passed out on his bed, back propped against the wall and head slumped to the side. There was a pile of index cards scattered all over his lap, bed, and floor, so he must have dozed off in the middle of whatever project he was working on.
A small smile playing on his lips, Raph brushed past the curtain and over to his brother on light tip-toe steps. He set the plate down on Don's nightstand for later and gently pulled off his glasses. Setting those aside as well, Raph carefully cupped the back of Donnie's head and guided him down to the soft pillow. The moment his skin touches the silky texture, Donnie sinks deep down into them and sighs in contentment, the snapper watching with an amused expression.
Raph pulls a blanket over him next, making bits of paper flutter to the floor, tucking it just under his chin and Donnie grumbles something in his sleep, rolling over. Afraid he's going to wake the young genius, he begins rubbing soft circles on Donnie's forehead, letting out the quietest rumble he can. Deep sleep takes the softshell quickly and he melts impossibly further into his sleep-warm bed with a slight snore.
Raph’s grin widens and once he’s sure he can remove his hand without waking Donnie, he starts clearing the mess off the bed. He doesn’t bother organizing them, because that’s Donnie’s specialty, but he stacks them as neatly as he can on the nightstand, right next to his bro’s glasses and cold dinner. He does it absently, not really paying attention to what’s written on the index cards- he doubts he’d understand it anyways- but then… one catches his eye.
His name is on it and before he even realizes what he’s doing, Raph’s already reading it.
To Raph,
I’m sorry for tearing your favorite teddy
-Donnie
Raph chokes on air.
The penmanship is crooked and awkward in the way a little kid would write it- how Donnie used to write before he’d learned how to properly hold a pencil- and there’s a little date at the top of the card. And though Raph isn’t great at those, he does remember the incident from years ago.
Donnie and Leo were fighting over Raph’s toys because he’d said they could each have one to sleep with for the night, and once it turned into an all-out tug-of-war, Beary Bearington’s arm had ripped completely off. Raph had cried and Leo had quickly apologized but Donnie had just gone silent and slunk off to his room with what remained of Raph’s precious teddy. A little while later Donnie had returned and silently handed back Beary Bearington, who’s arm had been taped back together. Raph had hugged his little brother so tight Donnie’s feet had come off the ground.
Raph… Raph had no idea Donnie had-
Had he written this back then and just… never given it to him. Had he really kept it all this time?
Raph shuddered just thinking about it. He looked back at the many, many index cards scattered all over the floor and piled on the nightstand and shuddered harder. With dread pooling in his stomach, he picked up another card and anxiously read it.
To Mikey,
I’m sorry for accidentally spilling all your paint and ruining your drawing.
-Donnie
The writing was much cleaner than the last, the date nearly two years later. Raph remembered this incident too, though not as clearly. He remembered hearing his baby brother crying and finding a floor covered in wet paint with Mikey standing in a puddle of it and bawling, a nearly complete drawing now stained with reds and greens. Donnie had just stood there wringing his hands together and not reacting. He’d tried to get Donnie to help clean up the mess but he’d just shook his head and run off to his room again.
Mikey had gone in there later and they’d “hugged it out” according to him so Raph had let the incident go.
Now he was thinking maybe he shouldn't have because apparently neither had Donnie.
Had he shown Mikey the index card or had he hidden it from him like he’d hid the one for Raph?
Raph swallowed hard, he really didn't like where this was going.
He continued sifting through another few cards before he found one detailing an event he recognized.
To Leo,
I’m sorry for calling you the dumbest person on the entire planet. You are at least marginally less dumb than others.
-Donnie
Raph was used to breaking up arguments that got out of hand between his younger twin brothers but this one had been one of the worst. Leo had done really bad at the math sheet Pop’s had given them for school and Donnie had made a joke at Leo’s expense. Only it had actually hurt Leo’s feelings, which left Donnie a scattered mess when the slider yelled something mean and ran off crying. Splinter had gone after Leo which left Raph and Mikey with Donnie. They tried to encourage him to go say he was sorry but Donnie had refused, eventually snapping at them to leave him alone and running off too.
Raph found them a few hours later, cuddling on a large beanbag together and watching cartoons, Leo flipping through one of Donnie’s favorite comic books while Donnie fiddled with the Jupiter Jim action figure that Leo never let anyone play with. They were chattering and laughing and teasing like everything was normal so they must have made up.
So why had Donnie kept this?! Why was he holding onto an age old argument that had already been resolved?
That question lingered as Raph kept flipping and flipping and flipping through the cards, his stomach in painful knots as he read over each one carefully. It seemed like every mistake Donnie had ever made was written there, even pointlessly silly things like eating the last cookie after Mikey called dibs or taking apart the toaster and putting it back together without anyone noticing. It was so sad and unnecessary.
Because even when Donnie didn’t say he was sorry, he always showed it. By repairing what he broke or offering one of his toys for them to play with or making something cool and new just for them. Or, in Raph’s case, just sadly laying his head against his big brother’s chest and letting Raph squeeze and squeeze until he was good and satisfied.
That was a Donnie apology, never said but always known and always felt by the people who loved him.
And didn't he know that was enough?! Didn't he know Raph and his brothers always forgave Donnie? Because of course they did, they were brothers! They could never stay mad at Donnie forever! Raph knew he certainly couldn’t. So why did it seem like maybe Donnie was staying mad at himself by holding onto letters he’d never actually sent?
Finally Raph reached the very last card and he recognized the date scrawled in the corner as today. He almost didn't want to read it but he couldn't stop now that he'd come this far. So plunging ahead, he read the note as fast as possible before he could second guess himself.
To Raph,
It seemed Donnie had scribbled out multiple false starts before settling on:
I'm sorry I didn't say it.
Raph felt his heart plummet to his toes, a deep regret wedging itself tight in his throat, making it hard to breathe.
That was it. That was all it said. It wasn't even signed like the others.
That wasn't at all the apology Raoh had been expecting. He'd thought Don's guilt would be from wrecking the kitchen not… not…
Raph’s breath hitched, the index card crumpling in his hands until it was completely illegible.
Good! He didn't ever want to read those words again. It was painful enough knowing Donnie actually felt that way!
And the only reason he did was because… because…
Raph’s words came flying back at him, sticking to him like tiny needles in the brain.
Just tell him you're sorry.
If you say sorry I'm sure Leo will forgive you.
Hey, hey, it's okay, just tell him you didn't mean it.
Unless you want to say something to me first.
But that- that wasn't at all what Raph had meant. He'd just wanted an apology, any apology, that's all. He didn't think Donnie would take it so literally!
But of course he did, this was Donnie he was talking about! His genius brother was never good at reading between the lines. No wonder he'd kept all these apologies hidden under lock and key. He probably didn't even think he was forgiven!
Raph abruptly scooped all the cards into his hands- completely done with the vile things hurting his little brother- and marched straight over to the little trash can Donnie kept in the corner of his room. He was just about to chunk them when a thought occurred to him.
Would that really help Donnie? Yeah he wouldn't have such an easy way to constantly guilt trip himself- and it would be so insanely satisfying for Raph- but…
It wouldn't change how Donnie felt.
And it wouldn't fix Raph’s mistake.
Raph glanced over at his sleeping brother then back to the pile of paper in his arms before making his decision. It took more than a little mental willpower but he finally managed to open his arms wide, letting the cards flutter to the ground instead of the trash can.
Right, if he was going to fix this he needed a better plan than just destroying evidence.
Admittedly, Raph wasn't very good with plans but he was good at cheering up his little brothers. He could do this. He could make things right.
…
It was several hours later when Donnie started to blink awake, groaning and grumbling as he shifted around under the warm sheets. Reaching one hand out of his ridiculously cozy cocoon, Donnie sluggishly felt around the nightstand for his glasses, nearly knocking them to the floor when he did stumble across them. He slipped them on with one hand while using the other to push himself up to a sitting position-
Then jolted back in shock when he spotted Raph sitting on the edge of his bed, utterly silent.
Raph gave the softshell a sheepish smile as he watched Donnie calm back down from the unintentional jumpscare, hand over heart and breath come out in rapid pants. He was glaring, too, in that very annoyed Donnie way, eyebrows raised in silent question but Raph wasn’t sure what the question was just yet so he didn’t answer.
Instead he waited on pins and needles as Donnie’s searching eyes eventually glanced downwards, landing on the small pile of index cards in Raph's lap.
Donnie’s eyes went wide, his pupils barely pinpricks as they flicked over his big brother’s face nervously. His whole body seemed to tense up at once, back going straight as a line, shoulders stiff, hands clenched into fists, just watching Raph with the uneasiest of looks. Raph heard the hard swallow, like Donnie was dreading something horrible to come and it made Raph’s stomach twist in knots.
There was no move to speak or act, instead it seemed the softshell was waiting for Raph to make the first move. So he did, giving Donnie the gentlest smile he could and offering one of the index cards for his little brother to take.
Donnie’s eyes flashed down to it in surprise before darting back up to Raph, eyebrows creasing in confusion. But Raph just continued to grin, waiting with held breath for Donnie to take it. The softshell looked unsure, but eventually the weary expression turned more trusting and he reached out and took the little card from Raph’s hands.
Raph breathed a little sigh of relief even as he felt his smile grow wider and more real, watching as Donnie’s critical eye scanned the card. It was the first card Raph had read, only now there was a new message written at the bottom in bright red ink.
I’m sorry for tearing up your favorite teddy
It’s okay. I forgive you
There was a long moment of silence, Donnie reading and rereading the note again and again and again, Raph waiting with a stomach full of butterflies. He could smell the fear stink wafting off his scales but made sure his face stayed warm and gentle.
The tense expression melted into something softer and Donnie turned that look onto his big brother. Raph smiled once more before holding out the rest of the stack for him to take.
The softshell latched onto these much faster, reading through them at his typical lightning fast pace, Raph following along through memory, each rebuttal perfectly captured in his mind.
Leo forgives you
Mikey forgives you
Dad forgives you
We all forgive you
We will always forgive you, no matter what
Please try and forgive yourself
And then the very last card, the one Raph had spent the most time considering, trying to think of a response that would do the most good for Donnie right now.
The card was still crumpled in a lot of places but Raph had managed to smooth it out enough that the words were loud and clear.
I'm sorry I didn't say it.
That's okay, you don't have to. I'm sorry for making you think you did.
Donnie gasped, the first sound he'd made in minutes, and Raph saw something wet drip from his eyes. So Raph scooted closer, putting a tender hand on Donnie's back. “And I mean that, bud. I'm sorry for putting so much pressure on you. You don't gotta do anything you don't wanna do.”
Donnie made a strangled sound and furiously shook his head, curling up into a little ball on the bed.
“No?” Raph questioned calmly.
Donnie dropped the card so he could sign his reply, keeping his head bowed. ‘Aren't you expecting an apology?’
“This is your apology,” Raph assured, tapping the card. “And you apologized all the other times, too. Just in your own Donnie way. We don't expect any different than that.”
Donnie was starting to tremble now, Raph seeing a few fat tears plop onto his lap. ‘How do you know I'm really forgiven?’
“Because big brothers know everything, duh.” Raph puffed out his chest in pride.
Donnie snorted, headbutting Raph's plastron before fingerspelling, ‘factually incorrect.’
Raph didn't know what either of those words meant which probably only proved Donnie’s point. The snapper draped both arms over his brother's back, not quite hugging him but enough pressure that Donnie knew the intent. “And also because you're our brother and we love you, so of course we're always gonna forgive you. No matter what your apology looks like, I promise you we'll know and forgive you.”
Donnie shuddered through a breath, using his shoulder blade to try and indiscreetly wipe away the tears, before sitting up straight and finally meeting Raph's eyes with piercing determination, the snapper nearly stumbling back from the intensity of it. But Donnie doesn't break eye contact even as Raph's drifts downward to read his brother's signs. ‘I'm sorry for destroying the kitchen.’
Raph smiles, big and bright, and raises his hands to sign back, ‘I know. I forgive you.’
…
Three weeks later Raph and Donnie get into a big fight about using a blowtorch without supervision. There is a lot of shouting and accusing before they both eventually split off to their rooms to cool down.
Raph is about to go apologize but is taken aback when he finds an index card carefully slipped underneath his curtain.
A/N: Another Donnie centered chapter, complete with Donnie headcanon! It's almost like he's my favorite character or something ;)
Seriously though this is a favorite headcanon of mine and will admit the inspiration came a lot from reading Ghost in the Shell by @amevello-blue where Donnie does something similar. Give it a read you will not be disappointed!!
#flufftober2024#day 8#alt 8#my writing#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles#rottmnt#save rottmnt#unpause rottmnt#rottmnt fanfiction#turtle tots#raphael hamato#donatello hamato#brain and brawn
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A non-comphrensive list of rewrite ideas for DA:2's ending
So, I've talked about DA:2's ending, and while how it just manages to make sense from an in-universe perspective, it absolutely doesn't from a writer's. And part of me suspects that the reason for that is because DA:2 was a very rushed product. One that, in my opinion, could have benefited from a little more time in the metaphorical oven. Here is a list of things I would do differently regarding the ending. This is more of a brainstorm than anything; not all of these ideas are going to go together.
First and simplest: get rid of the Chantry explosion altogether. It's a waste of animation. It requires the audience to buy the absurd notion that a man who CHOOSES to provide free medical care to the homeless-and it was expressly HIS idea to do so-would just shrug off the deaths of multiple civilians.
A better idea would be to focus Act 3 on Meredith Stannard. As a tyrannical military leader with extreme views and NO respect for civil authority, she is the PERFECT antagonist.
Perhaps Meredith feels that Elthina is an obstacle to her gaining power. Maybe she believes that Elthina's "moderate" views equate to being under the control of blood mages. Maybe she's decided that would be a very convenient narrative to spin.
Either way, it is time for Elthina to go. So, step one, she kidnaps Anders. As an apostate, he can serve both as hit man AND fall guy.
Except in this scenario, Anders does not actually want to assassinate Elthina. Mainly because he believes that doing so will only make mages look bad. (We are ignoring what Justice feels).
Now, owing to player agency, what goes down can vary. The player should have the choice of whether or not to rescue Anders, and, if they choose to rescue him, dialogue options should given them a number of choices on HOW, exactly, they wish to intervene.
But the gist of the situation is: thanks to Anders's refusal, Meredith ends up killing the Grand Cleric herself.
This ends up creating commentary on how reactionaries, ironically, end up attacking the very systems that privilege them, if they believe it helps them maintain that privilege.
But if we MUST keep the Chantry explosion for some reason, then under no circumstances should Anders be responsible.
We could tie it to the previous idea and, thanks to a certain combination of player choices, have Meredith be responsible.
Or the Chantry explosion is simply an accident. Maybe it is the result of an attempt to STOP Meredith; a tragic consequence of the fighting.
But again, I am not a fan of the explosion. So, going back to an ending WITHOUT the explosion, perhaps we switch tactics and make ELTHINA the Act 3 antagonist.
Not very orthodox, no. But there is a growing, very popular alternative interpretation of Elthina as a calculating, manipulative politician.
One that could serve to make her an excellent twist villain. Perhaps Elthina grows tired of Meredith's antics. Maybe Meredith is too much of an embarrassment, makes Elthina look weak to the other Chantry leaders.
So Elthina decides it's time to kill Meredith. After which Meredith is replaced with a more compliant knight-commander, one who will not stir the pot so much. Thus, restoring the status quo.
But the problem is, Mother Petrice, like a cockroach, has managed to survive the incident with the Qunari. And she can't leave well enough alone.
So SHE decides to kidnap Anders, and frame him for Meredith's murder. Only problem is, Mother Petrice's frame-up is so laughable it ends up exonerating Anders to anyone with two brain cells.
Thus, the players are forced to choose between three factions: Mother Petrice's faction of fanatical templars (who obviously lack the necessary brain cells), Orsino and Elthina's "moderate" faction, or a third faction, one belonging to Anders and the mage rights' activists.
These are just my ideas. Feel free to chime in with your own. So long as they don't involve Anders blowing up the chantry.
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so last night i said i was gonna analyze how fish is made because i think its important to understanding mouthwashing's themes a little better.. anyways here it is lol
tl;dr: how fish is made is about the illusion of choice that comes with considering a career path, and how capitalism & society take advantage of it.
analysis under the cut!!
The whole game takes place in a factory where... well, fish is made. Do I need to say anything more than that? Classic industrial horror.
The fish at the beginning who almost immediately asks you "are you going up or down?" states that "you have to make up your mind by the end of this". This seems reminiscent of how, almost immediately upon entering the world, people are pressured to choose a career (i.e., "what do you want to be when you grow up?").
"Where am I going? Don't worry about it." is a strange line; almost as if the entryway fish is trying to seem assured of its choice. It makes me think of a parent or older sibling comforting a young child regarding the uncertainty of adulthood and career choice; like a non-committal "you can always change your mind" (which, strangely, contradicts the former statement of "you'll have to make up your mind").
The speech patterns of the first fish seem to mimic an adult giggling at a child's aspirations for the future ("ha ha, are you sure?").
"The machine can't talk to you, so don't talk to it" seems like a repackaging of "life isn't fair", or the sentiment that you should just settle for what you can get (which could tie into the DLC, "The Last One and Then Another").
The fish determined to go up seems like a representation of young aspiring entrepreneurs: people who want to "make it big" and believe what's promised to them by society, and refuse to hear what anyone else has to say about corporate corruption ("I've never asked, I've never changed, I've never lied!").
"Will it hurt? Will it stop?" Seems to be Up-Fish first being angry at player fish, then doubting its choice, and then brushing off that self-doubt by simply going "oh well!"
The fish on the "Throne of Inspiration" seems to parody the contrarian, angsty artist archetype: someone who does the opposite of what they believe the "mainstream" is doing out of some illusion of "superior intelligence" (which they oftentimes treat as a "curse"), and thus ends up in the garbage (hence why it's stuck in plastic).
The scared fish seems to represent someone who's being pressured by two different parties to go two different ways (the "family" pressuring it to be more successful, whereas the "friend" pressures it to follow its passions). It's someone who's afraid of failure, or the idea that they'll make the "wrong" choice, therefore it needs someone else to make the choice for them. Alternatively, it's someone who doesn't want to choose altogether, since both choices seem to be detrimental according to it (which, ironically, is the correct assumption).
The whole sequence with the pious fish could reflect the fact that religious titles are also job titles (i.e., priest, pastor, preacher, etc.) and religion is commonly capitalized off of (ex. televangelism) or used as marketing.
The fish in the gears stating that its entrapment is a result of its rebellion seems reminiscent of the price people pay for either not working or refusing to allow themselves to be treated as "cogs in the machine". The fact that you have to press the red button in order to progress is representative of the fact that society heavily penalizes anyone who refuses to participate in the capitalist system, as "working to live" is the assumed requirement.
This could also represent a workplace accident, or "working oneself to death".
The PA system is self explanatory here: it's a common implement in factories and other industrial buildings.
The parasite and its musical number represent the romanticization of the working life: you get to feel accomplished! Buy a house and car! Provide for your wife and kids! Get money! Be successful! It's something that worms its way into you the longer you're part of the workforce, and eventually puts others' words in your mouth (which are themes further explored in The Last One and Then Another).
The placement of the room full of dead fish after the parasite sequence feels like a warning to the player, specifically if they chose "up": the pile of fish in this room seems eerily similar to the pile of fish we see in the "up" ending. Being "successful" here won't lead to a better outcome.
The "why do you deserve it" monologue seems to be about choice; as in, why does anyone deserve a choice if they're always going to be indecisive about it? "Will you be able to live with it?" and the imagery of trying again ad infinitum seems to back this up. Additionally, the imagery of "double action hinges" coupled with "coming back" and "going looking" seem to line up with the idea of changing career paths and exploring possibilities, both of which are looked down upon as "weak" here.
The eye-holes are the idea of being watched, and the anticipation of the decision you're going to make regarding career choice. They're the manifestation of the pressure the player feels to choose "up or down" the entire game.
The fish you meet at the end of the catwalk is the capitalist system itself: it reveals to you that there is no real choice, calls you "worthless", states that the outcome will not reward you for making a choice, and essentially brags that it made you think that there was a choice to begin with & asks you if you also successfully made people think there was a choice... before making itself seem innocuous again; just "a fish in an imposing room", like how corporations try to make themselves approachable.
The big fish at the end represents uneducated people who only make decisions based off of what other people tell them (hence the reference to the parasite or the Up-Fish from earlier in the game, the fact that it tallies how many fish went in either direction, and the fact that it blindly rushes to whichever direction you tell it to).
The color switch-up for up and down is interesting here, especially since the most popular choice up until this point has been up. Red and blue, in this context, seem to denote popular and unpopular, respectively. Since down is the actual most popular choice, it becomes red, and up becomes blue. "Hot and cold". They're switched back again when you go down the path at the end.
The ending blurb about the disdain for being told that others relate to your pain is actually disdain for how people recruit others to work. "USP" stands for "unique selling point", and is used to refer to the sentiment that "you aren't alone" in your suffering. This text blurb is about how vulnerable people, often financially unstable or insecure regarding career choice, are preyed upon by corporations (which also lines up with The Last One and Then Another).
"Down" represents following one's passion, i.e., the arts. Your presentation is aesthetically pleasing, but you've been eaten by those "bigger" and "more successful" than you. This may also be a pun on the term "starving artist", since the fish becomes food in this ending, but I feel it represents how artists are only sold well after they're dead.
"Up" represents chasing success: you end up somewhere with tons of others hoping to make it big, forming a tower, but eventually you all crush each other and end up slowly dying as a result while under the impression that you'll be "bigger" and "higher up" any second now. The description of the pile reflects the apparent misery of corporate jobs, referring to the experience as one of constant conflict, excessive waste, and pointless endeavors that strip you of your sense of self for the sake of growing larger.
"Oily" seems to mean "smart". It's how the Down-Fish in the beginning refers to itself, it's how the big fish at the end refers to both you and itself, and it's how the "down" ending refers to the sardines in the sandwich (which, if my theory that the "down" ending is a reference to the stereotypical art career is correct, means that these fish were smarter than the rest).
#scary crane rambles#dental hygiene videogame tag#only tangentially though because i feel like this game is kind of the precursor to mouthwashing?#and i think that playing it or watching a playthrough of it gives some much-needed context to the themes of mouthwashing#but yeah anyways. the last one and then another is next!!!!! hoping that one will be a little bit shorter LMAOO#also sorry for any typos; i wrote this super late at night and also firmly believe in ''no beta we die like men''
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TimTams
So I've been playing emulated games for a few years now. Loving it honestly. My pattern is playing a Pokemon Romhack and then a RPG that is not Pokemon.
Sometimes it's another monster tamer/collector but not always.
What it is, is constantly exciting and fun and there's no shortage of games to play. But that doesn't mean I'm not interested in adding more to the queue. One of these days I'll be able to afford the Steamdeck and when that happens I'll be playing some Monster Tamer games that Steam has on offer.
So I went shopping. I found the ones people mentioned during the Palworld toss up, Nexomon, Coromon, Monster Sanctuary.
I get to Temtem, and I see this.
What the heck happened???
I thought this game was good? A better alternative to play than Palworld which was a cheap knockoff that didn't deserve our time and attention?
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Did any of that sound familiar?
Those seem familiar too.
It almost seems like people make Monster Catcher games and if it's mildly popular it gets compared to Pokemon and is called a "Pokemon Clone" and after the hype dies down everyone goes back to playing the latest Pokemon game, they don't even bother playing any other Monster Catcher game unless some Youtuber asshole makes a video about it with the label "it's Pokemon but better!"
I made that article where I said Palworld was mask off Pokemon and I stand by it and I can stand by it because Palworld is basically everything Pokemon doesn't really want to be, but secretly was for the years the devs couldn't figure out just what should and shouldn't be canonical in the Pokemon world.
But I just want to make the PSA that you shouldn't call things the X killer. Because that basically never happens. Franchises kill themselves. They don't typically get killed by a competitor.
A competing brand does something that the standard is lacking but the leading brand is also delivering a low quality product that people are discontent with and willing to move on.
Not to get political but the Bud Light effect that conservatives wear on themselves as a badge of honor is really more about how beer sales in general have been on the decline
Don't believe me? Here's an article from 2019 that more or less says that Domestic Beer sales were starting to slip.
People still drink beer though. In doing this research I noticed a rise in Craft beers so what's really happening is that leading beer brands that were the face of cheap, shitty beer that everyone drank because it was ubiquitous were now being reconsidered and the end result was that Bud Light was already a beer that people didn't like, they just used the boycott as an excuse to stop drinking beer, drink different leading beers (and liking it more than Bud Light!), or indulging in craft or different types of alcohol altogether.
So if we circle back to the beginning where we talked about "Pokemon Killers" the reality is that Pokemon can only kill itself and it will kill itself once there are poor sales resulting from being the face of mediocrity that everyone is willing to jump ship from.
The problem being is that even with Pokemon being mediocre it's not bad enough for people to rebel from the brand.
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Look at the people in the comment section of that video. Does that look like an audience of people who are ready to stop drinking Bud Light?
I don't think so!
Really think about that trailer, no game play so it's worthless beyond telling us what the setting will be, Mega evolution will probably return but Mega Evolution is a controversial power up given that depending on the Pokemon, you could be subjecting them to an immense amount of pain just to win a fight (and competitively only a couple of Mega Evolutions really matter and you never need Mega Evolutions to win a fight in the campaign).
And lets be honest. If its just the same turn based system with very little else added on the side for flavor, you won't be getting out of this new game that you wouldn't get from a Pokemon Romhack (That includes Mega Evolutions).
Except, ya know. The Romhack is free. If you're a poke-maniac you own physical copies of gen 1-5 so you have the legal right to dump your game and patch it however you like.
You can do that or maybe even buy Palworld, or Nexomon, or Digimon, or TemT- Wait. Maybe not TemTem.
I mean that Magnakamen video does a decent job at explaining why a poke-maniac will never abandon Bud Light, but how about me?
What do I think?
Well, I don't play MMOs and given that this game came out as an MMO at around 2020 is ridiculous, because by 2020 it was already evident that MMO is a reaper genre. Most games in that genre die, forever.
Hey, you came up with a really cool idea for a Four Swords style game. You made it an MMO? DEAD FOREVER.
Hey, you came up with a really cool idea for a snowboarding game. You made it an MMO? DEAD FOREVER.
Hey, you came up with a really cool RPG that is like WoW but with a bunch of quality of life stuff in it. Wait, it's a WoW killer? DEAD FOREVER.
When you make an always online game that needs to have other people playing it for it to be fun you are asking for the game to die forever someday.
Ross Scott is going to court over this but that's a subject for another time, but the fact that the Temtem devs made a Monster Tamer MMO is actually quite dumb.
I get why they wanted to do that though they wanted to make a balanced competitive scene. Competitive Pokemon but not rife with cheaters and overburdened with hundreds of Pokemon that are unplayable in anything above RU, but making a game that is designed with competitive players primarily in mind is like making healthy cereal.
Just eat an apple forehead.
If you make a game with competent AI or possibly AI that can be modified by the player to suit their tastes, you don't need strong competition from some stranger who hacked their team together. You would play competitive for fun. You'd get your favorite creatures and then you'd pit them against your friend and his favorite creatures. Not a stranger, someone you know. When you play a competitive game with friends that's when those games are fun.
When you play competitive games with strangers. You become Tyler1.
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That looks like fun right? Just sweating profusely over every little thing someone is doing in a competitive match and just ranting about the game balance and how the game is being ruined by the players, the devs, or both? And then if we aren't having this eternal struggle about how the game is being balanced the game is just dead?
Yeah, that's what really did TemTem in. Not the semantic bullshit that Mangakamen was complaining about that only someone who isn't ready to give up drinking Bud Light would come up.
What really killed TemTem was that making an MMO is a bad idea and making a game based around fostering a competitive environment is also bad.
It's okay though! TemTem is also becoming Vampire Survivors with TemTem Swarm. Not making a good single player TemTem, just making a spinoff TemTem.
Hm, we won't be adding TemTem to the queue.
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Tell Me That You Hate Me (Most Ardently)
read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54431317 by Murphys_Law1111 “Does the young lady know the Viscount Bridgerton?” “Only a little.” “Do you not think him handsome then, miss? “Yes. Yes, I dare say he is.” or With the untimely passing of her elder sister, Josephine, and the sudden appearance of a long-lost cousin poised to claim her late father's title, Diana's world teetered on uncertainty. Still grappling with the aftermath of her own debut season and the pressures of society's expectations, Diana makes a bold decision: to forsake the notion of love and marriage altogether and focus on her younger sister. With her sister Georgiana’s rising acclaim as the season's foremost diamond, the arrival of Lord Bridgerton derails Diana's carefully laid plans. Despite his undeniable allure and impeccable reputation, Diana harbors a deep-seated disdain for the suitor, convinced that no man, especially not Anthony Bridgerton, could ever be deemed suitable for her beloved sister. or Diana had learnt to never trust a Bridgerton. Anthony seemed intent on making her change her mind. If only she was more forgiving. If only he could remember. If only they could have a real conversation. Kissing does tend to make someone stop talking. Words: 8658, Chapters: 5/?, Language: English Fandoms: Bridgerton (TV), Bridgerton Series - Julia Quinn, Queen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story (TV) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: F/M, Gen, Multi, Other Characters: Anthony Bridgerton, Bridgerton Family (Bridgerton), Original Female Character(s) Relationships: Anthony Bridgerton/Original Female Character(s), Anthony Bridgerton/Original Character(s), Anthony Bridgerton & Violet Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton & Bridgerton Family, Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Penelope Featherington & Original Female Character(s), Bridgerton Siblings (Bridgerton) & Original Female Character(s), Benedict Bridgerton/Original Female Character(s), Anthony Bridgerton/Kate Sheffield | Kate Sharma, Anthony Bridgerton & Benedict Bridgerton & Colin Bridgerton & Eloise Bridgerton Additional Tags: Protective Anthony Bridgerton, Anthony Bridgerton Needs A Hug, Anthony Bridgerton Being an Idiot, Jealous Anthony Bridgerton, POV Anthony Bridgerton, POV Original Female Character, Inspired by Bridgerton (TV), Alternate Universe - Bridgerton (TV) Fusion, Pride and Prejudice References, Bridgerton Family Feels, Anthony Bridgerton Being a Gentleman, Unrequited Love, Not Actually Unrequited Love, the sharmas/sheffields do not exist, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn, sorta - Freeform, hopefully, we'll see, Violet Bridgerton Knows Everything, Scene: Fitzwilliam Darcy Hand Flex (Pride and Prejudice 2005), but anthony, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, you'll have to guess which one, or multiple, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining, Diana Thrombey hates Anthony Bridgerton, Georgiana is a ray of sunshine, Josephine is dead, like dead dead, yet still affecting plot from the grave, what an icon, Love Confessions, lots of miscommunication, love is real, they just deny deny deny, GET THESE GUYS SOME THERAPY MY GOSH read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54431317
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Happy STS!
I haven't gotten a chance to read what you've written so far, but I'm curious as to your process. What was the source of inspiration for your current WIP? Did you start with characters who wouldn't stop talking in your head? Flashes of moments? Images inspired by music? What do you fall back on when you need to be re-inspired?
Happy STS and thanks for the ask!
No worries, my ongoing WIP on Ao3 is over 100K posted words, so I by no means expect you to. 😂
Good Slaves Never Break the Rules is the long-time-coming perfect storm of three main influences.
First, I started writing it almost eight years ago to entertain myself on a transatlantic sea voyage (that's worth another whole post altogether), and some of the characters and early situations (I won't say specifically which ones!) were inspired by the unusual dynamics that pop up when strangers from vastly different origins and roles onboard are pressed together in a small space with no choice but to work and spend time together (very soon, my imagination wildly diverged from what actually happened however 😂).
Second, for a long time, I've been an avid reader of pretty much any and all slavefic (there's a lot on Ao3, both fanfic and original) and much of it is good. I always especially liked the alternate universe ones that had slavery transposed to a modern setting. But for all of that time, I could never find THE story I was looking for, the one that uses many of the common whumpy slavefic tropes (although this was long before I was in the whump community, that was just a happy accident) but is also a preferably M/F romance, using a very different type of male MC who, despite being a slave and the target of pretty much constant abuse of all kinds, has much more in common with conventional romance heroes than the perpetual helpless victims that slaves tend to be in fiction. And the female MC, rather than being some powerful dominatrix type who can do whatever she wants, is an ordinary girl who is also oppressed in a way by the society she lives in, is blind to its wrongs, and has to have her eyes opened to be brave enough to stand up for what's right. And though power dynamics are always at the forefront, the MCs come to see each other as equals. So this was also one of those "I guess I'll write it myself" moments.
Third (and I don't think I've ever had a chance to discuss this on this blog before, so thank you!), having studied the classics, for many years I've been enamored with the ancient Roman comedies of Plautus and Terence, who tended to use slaves as main characters -- and I do mean main characters. They're active, clever, funny, charming, often manipulative (but always for the right reasons), perpetually involved in zany plans and schemes, and they're anything but victims. I'd written a few things inspired by these plays previously (including a quasi-historical short story and my very first novel, also historical and of a writing quality typical for an 18-year-old, many years ago), but now that my writing skills are far more advanced, I thought it was time to try again, using a modern alt-history setting this time. Plus the plays themselves are just really fucking funny, and my story incorporates a lot of humor (and a lot of really dark stuff, too, but that's usually how it works with me).
As for getting re-inspired? I also had to do that quite recently after writing and posting a monster chapter and needing a break. What helped was rereading some of those earlier scenes that I was really excited about, and doing some tag games on Tumblr (including the Q&A I tagged you in) that allowed me to just have fun writing in my characters' voices and kind of re-re-discover them.
Thanks for a great ask!
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(o・_・)ノ”(ノ_<、)
28.02.2024 (1)
i've been having problems with sleeping again.. after years of recovering from my past sleeping difficulties T_T
i even took sleeping medication for over 1,5 years and eventually stopped, because the meds knocked me out to the point where i couldn't wake up in the morning (ノ_<。) i could have made the dosage smaller but i just stopped taking them altogether . . .(/ˍ・、)
my doctor told me i could take them again if i needed to, but i'd like looking into "plant-based" alternatives first (- 。-)y-゜゜
there is so much going on in my head, it's exhausting ( ̄_ ̄) i can't even distract myself with things i like doing because there's always something in my head telling me i could and should be doing something more productive than this . . .
it's so complicated but i have nobody to talk to that understands
(¯ ¯٥)
even writing this makes part of me angry, because i'm not doing something more productive T_T
i don't get it . . .
i'm so exhausted from being myself . . .
08:13
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