#and i’m not trying to contribute to that

[the-one-and-only-vic-lociraptor]

I try to do this on a regular basis with my family but they mostly scold me for asking questions repeatedly instead of actively contributing to the conversation or interrupting because I don’t get to chime in if I’m not fast enough :/

You ever been in a state where you physically have no energy, but you're bored and socially understimulated so you kind of wish you could just invite people to come over like this:

[faegoddessog]

Affirmations

Warnings: Explicitly Mature Content, 18+, angsty boy, microdosing, sex as therapy, Gentle Dom/subby boy, cunnilingus, felatio, untrotected PiV, (protect yourself out there loves!) established relationship.

Summary: You know all too well the erratic nature of his ego. How he has to hold the soft fragile parts of himself with the equal but opposite hardened bits. Both contribute to his being an incredible actor, but sometimes he just can't balance it all anymore. When it all comes crashing down, you are there. This time, though, you are ready with something a little different.

A/N: So after he finished his recent filming, I remembered how he's talked before about how it can feel like loss for him and triggers abandonment issues sometimes. Then this fic came barreling out. I mean, it's ONE way to get your affirmations in... rewrite that menal script... 😈😉

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“Hey sugar,” you said as he walked in the door. He was earlier than you  had expected. You stand to meet him, knowing he's gonna need a hug at the very least. His face is crumbling mask. “Are you ok? I know how hard a film wrapping is for you.” 

His shoulders slump slightly, grateful to not have to put on a brave face anymore. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he rubs the back of his neck, “I just…I don’t want to let go. It’s just bittersweet.” 

You know he’s talking about his character as much as the fleeting community inherent to filming. You’ve been watching him dig deep for the past few months. You gave him space to do so and had been supporting him in countless little ways. But you too, have been preparing for this day. 

“Well I'm here for you, for whatever you need, even if you just want to sit quietly," you offer.  You know that sometimes he just needs another person near, someone to anchor him a little. Other times, well, he needs more.

He nods to the floor, then looks up with unshed tears in his eyes. He pulls you in for a hug, burying his face in your shoulder. 

“I need a cuddle or something,” he sniffs. 

“Cry if you need to, I love you no matter what,” a gentle reminder. You gather him in and pull the both of you down on the couch.

All his defenses are swept away in those few words, in the simple act of love. He breaks down, sobbing into your shoulder as he begins to process the full weight of his stress, physical exhaustion and the emotional toll of the past few months.

You stroke his back in circles, whispering words and sounds of encouragement. You are fully present with him as he just lets it out. You are only a little surprised it happened so fast. Normally he needs a while to get to this point. Either it's really bad, or he's actually beginning to count on you. 

He sniffs, trying to compose himself, “I don’t know what I’d do without you. You are so patient and gentle with my messy emotions.” 

“Did you take your microdose today?” you ask, knowing the mushrooms help him deal with his depression. 

“Shit, no… not for like a week,” his eyes widen, “no wonder i feel like this,  fuck I’m an idiot!” 

“No you are not,” you say firmly, ” go take them now and I’ll draw you a bath."  He can be so hard on himself. 

“Can it be a bath for us?” his eyebrows raise in query.

“Of course,” you smile. Water is your element, and you love being in it with him. 

He comes into the bathroom a few minutes later, a spoon of dried, crushed ‘shrooms covered in honey in his mouth. It doesn’t take much to keep him balanced, just a sub perceptive a few tenths of a gram. But it helps best when he takes it regularly. 

You are standing in the oversized tub in the soft candlelight. The room smells of relaxing essential oils like lavender, chamomile and ylang ylang. 

His heart swells in appreciation and love for you. 

“Wow,” he stops in the doorway, “you look like the birth of Venus, only more gorgeous.” 

He places the spoon on the counter absentmindedly. 

You smile, blushing. You always feel just a bit self conscious when compliments flow so freely from his angelic face. He is the definition of stunning. Not that it really mattered to you anymore what he looked like. His true beauty is in the way he treated people, treated you, his presence, his unwavering gaze, his genuine interest in people. It all made him even more stunning on the inside. If only he'd treat himself the same way.  This is when an idea strikes you. 

You sit and beckon with your arms. 

“Yes my Goddess,” his clothes puddle on the ground and in seconds he slips with a hiss into the hot water. 

You breathe deep as he leans back against you, hoping to trigger a sympathetic down-regulation in his own breathing.

You pour oil into your hands and begin to work on the knots in his neck and shoulders. You try to ponder your idea, but having him between your legs in any fashion, a casual leg tossed over yours on the couch,  his hand warming between your knees in the car, is so distracting. 

He melts at your touch, surrendering himself little by little. 

“MM that feels incredible,” he murmurs after a few minutes.

“YOU are incredible, hunny. I’m so proud of you,” you are trying not to sound like some mock matron but also you know that he needs those words of affirmation.

He shakes his head and huffs out a derisive laugh, ���Praising me for just sitting here? Letting you take care of me?” 

“No, praising you because you are willing to be truly vulnerable with me, because you give so much to your craft, even though you know it can make you feel this way. Praising you because I love you exactly as you are and how you show up in the world.” 

His breath shakes and he wipes at an errant tear, “I don’t deserve you.” 

“Well that is bullshit,” you huff matter of fact, “of course you deserve me.”

“You make it sound so simple,” he manages a small watery smile, “like loving someone who is emotionally unavailable and broken isn’t a huge burden.” 

“Oh, I must respectfully disagree Sir,” you know this is part of his process and dig down for your patience, “you are quite emotionally available, more so than most. Heck you just sobbed in my arms! And we all feel messy and broken at times.” 

“That’s true,” he sighs. 

“Loving you is never a burden,” you assure him, “all I need is for you to be yourself. Plus, you take care of me too.”

“I don’t know about that,” he murmurs stubbornly. 

“Nonsense, you always go out of your way to make me smile when I’m having a hard day. You always make me feel important to you, even when you are deep into your work.”

“You ARE important to me,” he turns suddenly to face you in the tub. His eyes are serious, as though the mere thought of the implication is offensive. 

He pulls you onto his lap, water splashing. “You are my constant, knowing you are here…it... it...” 

He buries his head in your chest, arms wrapped around your torso, unable to finish his thought.   

“Can I ask you a question?” his voice is tentative, nearly a whisper against your skin.

“Always.” 

“Do you ever think that I’m too intense, too dramatic? Not like for work, but in real life?” 

Is this what’s been bothering him so much? You wonder. 

“No baby” your tone reassuring, ”I think you save that for the cameras.” 

“It’s just that sometimes,” he goes on, “ I worry that I’m too needy and sensitive. I don’t want you to get fed up with me, ok? You have to tell me if… if…. Cuz I’m not sure I could do this without you.”

He must have glimpsed some stupid thing online or overheard someone making a stupid comment. He was always listening around people. It’s one of the things that drew people to him, the way he listened. 

“I’m not, you’re definitely not,  and I’m not going anywhere,” you tilt his chin to look in your eyes, “you are allowed to ask for help when you need it and to accept it when offered. We were put on this planet together for a reason. None of us are supposed to do this alone.” 

He heaves a big sigh. After a few breaths, he looks up at you.

“Y’know, when you say things like that, I feel like I can conquer this feeling of not enough. Like maybe I’m not as weak or as broken as I tell myself I am sometimes.” 

“Baby, you are neither weak nor broken. You are human. If I could ask anything of you, it’d be that you are just as kind to yourself as you are to others."  

“Gods,” he pleads to the ceiling, “me too,  but it’s hard to break, hard to not believe it when it’s ME telling myself that I'm not good enough, too sensitive, too needy.” 

“Bah,” you guffaw, “fucking tapes babe, tapes in your head, words from someone else that wormed their way into you. Well I’m implanting new tapes.” You mimic pushing an old cassette into his forehead.  “These tapes that talk of your kindness, your empathy. Tapes that say how your sensitivity is your superpower and helps you to be the amazing actor that you are. Tapes that proclaim you are enough, just as you are.” You give him a knowing look as he blushes.  “You know it’s all true.” You move your legs and straddle his lap water sloshing over the side of the tub. “Do you know why I’m so willing to take care of you like this?” 

He shakes his head, heart racing from both your declarations and your intimate positioning in his lap.  

“Because I know that if I was having a hard day, you wouldn’t hesitate to do it for me. That’s partnership, that’s love.” 

You suspect that the neuroplasticity of the microdose may be starting to take effect. His eyes well up with tears again, this time with a smile.

“You know me so well.  Sometimes you are the only thing that makes sense,” he gathers you in his arms, “I love you, so much.” 

His pulling of your body rocks your hips into his, pushing the fact that he is indeed nestled between your thighs again to the forefront of your thoughts. 

“I love you too, so much,” you run your fingers through his hair, planting kisses on his neck. “I am the luckiest girl in the world.”

He shivers at your touch, at your kisses, his breath catching in his throat. 

“I’m sorry hunny, do you need me to stop? I don’t want to push you if you don’t want….” 

“No, please don’t stop,” he tightens his grip on your hips, pulling them deeper to him. “Your touch, it isn't just sexual, it’s comforting, it’s home. I love it so much. “

“Oh yeah,” your voice low and sultry, “how much.”

“Let’s uh…let’s get out of this tub,” he says all of a sudden. 

You reluctantly climb off him. As you both dry off, you wonder if he caught your offer. At the same time you don’t want to pressure him if he’s worn out.

He climbs into bed, pulls back the covers to his waist, and opens his arms, “Come here, I need to hold you.” Sometimes needs to be skin to skin like this without the sex. 

Seeing him naked in bed and not slipping those sheets down further, not mounting him like some kind of thoroughbred? It’s a hard pill to swallow right now. He’s been so focused on work and has hardly been home for more than just to sleep for a month. You found yourself missing the way his body feels on yours, in yours. It’s gonna be hard not to try and cajole him into sex, but this is what partners do for each other. 

You snuggle against him, trying to disregard the wetness making your inmost thighs slick. 

His arms wrap around you, fingertips trailing over your stomach.

“How much? How’s about I show you just how much,” his voice slides like butter, hot and silky over your ear, “Tell me, how wet are you?”  Apparently, he was picking up what you were putting down. His fingers splay out across your belly, holding you tight as he presses his suddenly hard cock against your backside. Who is tempting who now? 

The smile that tilts your lips is inevitable.

“You know I can’t help it, everything about you turns me on.” You try to sound apologetic, but just can’t. “It’s ok if you don’t want to do anything about it,” you try desperately to keep your voice nonchalant, convincing precisely no one. 

“Turn around,” his voice low with a hint of gravel.

You shrug in mock deference as you turn over in his arms ,  “I can just take care of it myself.”  You are fully aware of how much he likes to see you touch yourself and if that’s all you get out of this evening you are fine with that. But you might also be pushing very specific buttons to get him back between your thighs. 

His cock twitches and throbs against you. 

“As tempting as that is, maybe I want to be the one that makes you feel good,” his chest rumbles. 

A sly smile crosses my face. “I’m supposed to be making you feel good here.” You swing your leg up over him to settle on his upper belly. Your wetness smears in the hollow under his ribs. “I could just do it here, where you can see.” 

“You…. “ he breathes out. 

You reach down and tantalizingly pull your lips apart. A string of thick, wet juices stretch between them. 

“Oh god that is hot,” he says, eyes locked on your glistening flesh. “You know I can’t just… won’t be able to not…” 

“Poor baby boy, unable to finish…” your lips curl into a mock pout at the same time you reach back and wrap your hand around his swollen cock, “...his sentences.” 

“Oh I can,” he flexes his hips, pressing his cock into your fist. His tongue darts out to lick his beautiful lips. “Let me finish,” he whispers nearly to himself.

“Oh does Baby Boy need Ma’am’s little pussy in his mouth?” You toss out your gentle Dom/sub names to see if he's willing. You know that focusing on someone else can help stop his downward spiral.

“Y-yes, Ma’am, I do,”  he blushes deeply, biting his lip and dropping his eyes. Good lord he is so stunningly enticing when he submits like this.

“Would being my good boy make you feel better?” you want to be sure of his consent. 

He nods eagerly, and seriously. You see just how much he wants it, wants to be told what to do and just let his mind go with someone he trusts. 

You raise an eyebrow at him in mock warning. 

“Yes Ma’am,” he quickly says, “I’ll be a good boy.” 

“Just a good boy,” you nearly pout in mock disappointment. 

“Your good boy,” he can’t say fast enough, “I’m yours Ma’am.” 

“Mmm hmm that’s better. I’m going to sit on that gorgeous face now,” you move your body up, knees on either side of his head. 

“Can I push my tongue inside you? Taste you? Please?” his face is fully deep pink now, embarrassed at his boldness. 

“Of course, baby Boy, of course you can tongue fuck me,” you love how he tries not to be crass, but you practically insist on it. You lower yourself onto him slowly, his tongue out and reaching for your folds, flicking as it comes into contact with your wetness. It sinks in, searching for it’s slot.

“Yes, that’s it, tongue that sweet little hole for Ma’am,” you praise him soothingly. Now is not the time for forcing anything.  

He whimpers softly as you finger-comb his hair, the sensation on his sensitive scalp making him feel more submissive.  He burrows his face between your thighs and pushes inside you as far as he can, nose pressed up against the apex of your folds. 

“Good Boy,” you fist his hair and moan, you just barely keep your hips from pressing into his face. “Keep that up and you’ll earn a reward.” One hand reaches back and lightly brushes his hard shaft. 

His moan vibrates your pussy, notching you up just that much more.

“Do you know what others out there would give to ride this beautiful face? Or to suck this pretty cock? How many of them want you to be theirs?” You ask, voice still even and calm.

“No, and I don’t want to, Ma’am,” he mumbles against your wetness ,”I am yours, only yours.” 

His hands grip your cheeks, tilting your hips and  exposing more of you. He runs his tongue over your tight pucker and up over your labia, over and over in supplication.

“Oh fuck yes,” you moan, “ such a good boy, you’re gonna make Ma’am cum. Is that what you want?”

“Mm, hmmm,” he nods, refusing to use his tongue for anything other than pleasing you. His lips close in sucking kisses on your labia, 

One hand in his glorious hair, the other lightly grasping his cock. You give both a squeeze. 

The sensations make his whole body shake. He buries his face in your pussy, tongue thrusting inside.

You free his cock  and he whines and whimpers, humping his hips upward, desperate for attention. 

“Suck on that clit Baby Boy, you gotta make Ma’am cum if you want more.” 

With a desperate whine, he latches onto your clit. His hands grip your hips tightly as though nothing mattered more than worshiping your pussy. 

The sucking and flicking of his tongue sends waves of pleasure through you. His natural attention to detail and the ardor with which he does it, makes his pussy eating beyond heavenly. 

Within minutes you are shaking above him. His fingertips dig into the flesh of your hips, rocking you forcibly back and forth over his face. 

“So close baby,” your voice is little more than a panting whine. 

“Mmm hmmm” his hum vibrates against your abused bundle of nerves and you are gone. Spine jerking, hips grinding, toes curling. Your head is thrown back and your fingers press against his, trying to weave into his, trying anchor yourself somewhere. But his grip is tight to the round flesh of your cheeks.  He laps at you with long licks, prolonging, but not overstimulating. 

“Oh good boy, good fucking baby,” you moan as you look down at him. His eyes shine with eagerness, he loves when you praise him, loves being a good boy for you. 

You dismount the saddle of his messy face. His smile slides into need as your hand trails down his stomach, stopping a hairsbreadth from his quivering tip. 

“Oh darling boy, you more than earned your reward,” you plant the barest of kisses on his wet lips. “How do you want it, my hand or my mouth, sweetness?”

“Y-your mouth, Ma’am, please,” he stutters, little vertical lines of want forming between his eyebrows. 

“Tch, Baby Boy, you know how much I love your cock in my mouth,” you mockingly chide, one fingertip lightly petting his little weeping hole, “are you picking it to please me? Or do you actually want it?” 

“Yes, no, yes,” his head tries to agree with his words but ends up just drawing scribbles with his chin.

“Well, which is it?”

“Yes please, it’s what I want,” he breathes out.

“And you deserve what you want, don’t you Baby Boy.” 

He hesitates, mind balking at feeling worthy of what he wants. 

“Don’t you,” you insist, swiping this precum over his head with the pad of your thumb.

“Ok, yes, I deserve it,” he relents. 

“Mmmm, yes you do,” you move between his legs, “now reach back, grab the headboard with both hands and keep them there.” 

He immediately obeys, forearms popping in lines as he grips.  His legs spread wider, giving you room to do your work. He is so eager to have your mouth on him. 

His cock, leaking and hard, jumps and jerks in an attempt to get closer to your face.

“You’re gonna give me all your cum, right? Let Ma’am take care of you?” you ask just before your tongue reaches out to lap at his frenulum.

He trembles at your teasing lick, nodding frantically. 

“Y- y-yes Ma’am, I- I’ll give you everything,” his breath catches as you take his tip in your mouth, your tongue swirling. 

You slide up and down, covering him in your spit. Holding him upright with a light forefinger and thumb, you massage your soft palate with his tip. The deeper you take him, the lower his groans become.  His glutes flex and his balls tighten. 

You pull off to his whiny protest both in his voice and in the straining of his hips from the bed. 

“Who’s an amazing boy?” you ask, rubbing his tip over your lips like so much lipgloss. 

“Please Ma’am,” he whines. 

You give him the look, the one that says ‘answer the question asked’.

“I-I am, I’m amazing, I’ll be the best boy for you Ma’am, just please,” his need making a beggar out of him. 

“Yes you are,” you lower your mouth back down, engulfing him for two more minutes. The uninhibited sounds he makes are music to your ears; groans, huffs, deep shaky oh- hohs.

“And who is going to accept help when he needs it without feeling guilty?” you purr to him.

Your ears are met with a cacophony of his whimpering moans. 

“Me, I will, ask help, no guilt,” his words muddle together.

“Good boy,” you lightly rub up and down his shaft, “and who is deserving of my love?” 

“Me” his voice is strained with desire, “I deserve your love.” His hips buck into your hand.

“That’s right” you plunge his needy cock into your mouth and he’s back to sounds of pleasure. After five deep bobs of your head you come off with a pop. 

“Who’s sensitivity is his superpower?”

“Me, mine, my power” he is panting heavily now, body shuddering with unmet need. “Please Ma’am please let me cum.” 

You stop touching him all together. His arms are taut gripping the headboard as he stops from reaching down to jerk himself off. 

“Oh Baby Boy,” you softly rebuke, “I will, just keep doing as I say. Now tell me you love yourself and that you are worthy of love and recognition.” 

“I- l love myself,” his voice is laced equally with need, desperation and vulnerability, “I am worth loving” a tear escapes down his cheek. “I am worthy of recognition and appreciation.” 

He looks down at you, planted between his thighs.  His defenses are stipped away and there you are  forcing him to say things that he has never allowed himself the luxury of believing. 

“Now repeat it as I suck you off,” you lower your mouth to just out of reach, waiting for him to speak.

“I, oh fuck” he moans as you hover over him.  

“Let me hear you, or I’ll stop,” you warn.

“I love myself,” he begins, your warm mouth envelopes him, “Oh fuck yeah, I deserve love, your love. I’m worthy of being seen and appreciated. I’m enough.” 

Your hand pumps up and down under your mouth, strings of saliva drip onto his balls. 

“Oh fuck yes, I’m so fucking worthy,” his words like a floodgate as you work him. “I’m loved, I’m deserving, I’m your good boy, I deserve your love and my cumming, Oh god i’m so worthy and you love me just as I’m enough, I’m enough I’m so fucking enough. Oh god it’s so good. I love you, I love me, I’m gonna cum so fucking hard,” 

His hips buck up into your throat. A desperate guttural moan escapes his chest and he spills, thick and hot over your tongue.

You gulp and swallow every drop. 

“Keep it up,” you say, your double meaning all too clear as you straddle his hips and sink your dripping pussy over his throbbing cock. 

“Oh fuck,” his eyes roll back. 

You pull at his hand, pressing his thumb against your clit. 

“Say it,” you insist as you start to ride him. 

“I’m - I’m enough, I’m worthy” he chokes out each affirmation between gasps of over-stimmed pleasure. 

You grind into him, chasing your orgasm.

“I deserve you, your love ohgodohgodohgod I love you, to be fucked like this, pleasured like this, I am worthy, I  am loved, I am enough,”  his words are mantras, letting his stream of consciousness flow.

“Yes you fucking are,” you moan as you ride, “You glorious, magnificent man.” 

“I am worthy, I am loved, I am enough,” he says through gritted teeth. “Worthy, loved, enough, worthy, loved, enough. Oh god I’m gonna cum again.” 

Your movements become frantic as you force yourself into the abyss, dragging him with you.

Your hips tuck, your back rounds. His ass raises you, forcing himself deep inside. His words turn into a convulsing mishmash of hard G’s and open vowel sounds. The soundtrack to your own orgasm.  Your pussy floods with both your own release and  the cum his body is tensing to deliver. You lift and thrust and jerk in mind-wiping pleasure. His hands grip you, pleading for the stillness he can’t voice right now. 

Finally, you collapse, sweaty and spent, on top of his heaving chest.  His arms lock on to you as you both recover breath and sanity.

“Say,” he swallows, “say it again, please?”

You nuzzle his cheek with your own. “You are more than enough just as you are. You are an amazing human, Austin. Your sensitivity is your superpower. You are worthy of my love, of your own love. You deserve pleasure and joy.” You cup his face, staring into his ocean eyes. “I love you so much and nothing will ever change that.” 

His eyes well up with tears, emotion threatening to overwhelm him yet again. “I love you too. You are magic.”  He holds you close, the weight he walked in with happily lifted.

[scary-friend]

Me: *Has things I should be doing*

Also me: *Does nothing of value all day and stay up all night thinking about the stuff I should have done all day*

I can’t stop procrastinating, the things are even fun but I still don’t wanna do it for some reason. My brain wants to rot and I can’t stop it.

I just don’t have the motivation and I don’t know why…

I think it all stems from losing Koda, since then I just haven’t felt the same. I’ve had him since I was six and I keep trying to force myself to be okay when I’m not. He wasn’t just a dog he was my everything. I wanna contribute and do things, but I just can’t.

I wish my mind wasn’t so complicated.

I just wanna be okay again.

[azrielgreen]

Dear Az,

I wanted to take a moment to express my thoughts about Prism. First of all, thank you for continuing this incredible story. Your writing has always been captivating, and the world you’ve created means so much to so many of us.

That said, I hope you won’t mind me sharing some feelings as a reader who deeply loves Prism. I’ve noticed the pace of the story has recently sped up, and it feels like some of the plot’s richness is being lost in the process. Themes like Dissociative Identity Disorder/Age Regression, the rebuilding of the house, the wedding, Billy’s life in prison, and Steve’s past with Tommy—all of these are such intricate, layered elements. They deserve time to breathe and unfold, the way you and Brook masterfully handled the earlier parts of the story.

Another thing I’ve come to realize is how much the waiting between chapters contributed to Prism’s atmosphere. It allowed the tension to linger, making the story feel more intimate and immersive, which is so essential for a horror narrative. The suspense of waiting was part of the magic — it gave us time to sit with the fear and let it grow. Rushing the story risks losing that core essence.

Please don’t feel pressured to finish this story quickly. I know many readers, myself included, would wait as long as it takes to see the story develop at its own natural rhythm. I promise. I’m begging. The beauty of Prism lies in its depth and the careful build-up of tension, fear, and emotion. I know you’re capable of continuing that magic, and I truly believe in your vision.

Thank you for all the love and effort you’ve poured into this work. Your talent is undeniable, and I hope this note feels more like encouragement than criticism. I can’t wait to see what’s next for Prism.

Warmly,

One of Jack knives.

Hi, thank you for your insight and sharing thoughts. The last two chapters should really have been one massive chapter that I split for time reasons, hence the fast posting and i did intentionally write them to have this whirlwind "removed from reality" feeling where all else seems to fade. I would never ever rush Prism, and I'm writing as both Brooke and I intended, i.e., following the outline we devised together. It's also really hard to write this story without her for so many reasons, and though I'm doing everything i can, I know I should work harder to keep it at the level it was before. It's a huge adjustment for me, and believe it or not, I am trying my best, but i can always try harder and level up, so I'll work towards that during future chapters. I did really just want to do something nice by posting before the 24th and try to fully immerse myself in the story again. Writing it solo is really hard. I'll try harder going forward.

[transgender-mothman]

I didn’t say D&D alone has those features:

I said ANY ttrpg does. My first ttrpg systems and campaigns (in which I was a player) were fate, fantasy age, and d20 modern. Then I went into 3.5 as my first actual d&d game.

I also did mention using other systems:

And regarding contributing to a monopoly by continuing to play things I already own… this is ludicrous. I’m not running an actual play channel and promoting WotC, I’m playing a private game with my friends using books we already have, playing the way we want to that’s fun for us. If people want to get rid of things they already own/enjoy because the creators have been outed as problematic, that’s their choice to make. But I don’t think anything but wastefulness would come from me throwing out my 5e books, particularly when I still use them and am no longer financially supporting the company. I support indie games and other ttrpg devs actively by playing and buying their games when I can and when they are in my wheelhouse. I’m sorry that’s apparently not enough for you.

Ptba is definitely more straight forward than d&d, and many games are, I agree. But that doesn’t mean no one should play or enjoy 5e. I’m not equating all non-d&d games with being kooky weird arthouse by using my movie analogy, I’m talking about brand consciousness. If someone hasn’t ever heard of d&d, there’s low likelihood they’d know of pathfinder. Same as how if someone has never heard of Saw, they probably haven’t heard of, I don’t know, the Coffee Table. So if i show them Saw, which is easily accessible, and they like it, i can then show them other things similar from smaller creators. I am fundamentally saying the exact same thing as you with your example of Skinnamarink. I think if people start with 5e and like it, that’s a gateway to trying a ton of other things they might like as much if not more. The point is that without the more known brand, chances are that lots of people wouldn’t be swayed to try something else that is talked about less in the mainstream.

Ultimately, my main point still stands: people can do whatever they want with things they have, and play however they like to. No one needs to or should have to justify using homebrew or modifying the game to suit their needs. Playing a game with like minded people in a way that works for all of them, is not a moral or ethical or intellectual failing. It’s just people playing a private game for fun, and deciding to let a couple of rules slide or allowing some interesting play that bends a rule in-game is not a crime. Should more people try stuff that isn’t 5e? Absolutely they should. Are people who vocally refuse to play anything but 5e missing out? Yes. They are. But again, that’s their prerogative, even if it’s unfortunate that they’re closed minded.

I hope you find your audience. Developing games is a hard thing to do, and it’s increasingly an uphill battle to be noticed. Good luck.

I think an important part of the "D&D is easy to learn" argument is that a lot of those people don't actually know how to play D&D. They know they need to roll a d20 and add some numbers and sometimes they need to roll another type of die for damage. A part of it is the culture of basically fucking around and letting the GM sort it out. Players don't actually feel the need to learn the rules.

Now I don't think the above actually counts as knowing the rules. D&D is a relatively crunchy game that actually rewards system mastery and actually learning how to play D&D well, as in to make mechanically informed tactical decisions and utilizing the mechanics to your advantage, is actually a skill that needs to be learned and cultivated. None of that is to say that you need to be a perfectly tuned CharOp machine to know how to play D&D. But to actually start to make the sorts of decisions D&D as a game rewards you kind of need to know the rules.

And like, a lot of people don't seem to know the rules. They know how to play D&D in the most abstract sense of knowing that they need to say things and sometimes the person scowling at them from behind the screen will ask them to roll a die. But that's hardly engaging with the mechanics of the game, like the actual game part.

And to paraphrase @prokopetz this also contributes to the impression that other games are hard to learn: because a lot of other games don't have the same culture of play of D&D so like instead of letting new players coast by with a shallow understanding of the rules and letting the GM do all the work, they ask players to start making mechanically informed decisions right away. Sure, it can suck for onboarding, but learning from your mistakes can often be a great way to learn.

[amarara]

Hello... I have a bad news.

Hi, everyone! Do you remember the little kitten I rescued on December 28, 2023? His name is Cimit, and he’s grown into a healthy, playful, and beautiful cat. However, today, Cimit had to visit the vet and was diagnosed with FLUTD, a condition affecting his urinary system.

Cimit as a kitten.

Cimit now 💖.

Right now, Cimit needs special care, and I’m trying to raise funds for his treatment. To help with his medical expenses, I’ve opened a donation page on Ko-fi. As a thank-you, I’ll draw a personalized chibi headshot for every donor! 💖

Even the smallest contribution means the world to us and brings Cimit closer to recovery.

Donation link: [https://ko-fi.com/c/0381a91d5a]

Thank you so much for your kindness and support! 🙏💕

[Chibi head-shot sample.]

[starlightshadowsworld]

I'm curios on your thoughts on Rokuzo, he's a minor character, but seeing you post about him made me smile! Thanks for your contribution to the minor character space :)

Aw I’m glad.

I may adore characters like Atsushi and Kunikida but I’m always here for the minor characters.

And I find Rokuzo really interesting. I mean he’s the son of a man Kunikida couldn’t save that’s working at the Agency as a sassy lil hacker.

And has a giant fucking fish.

That’s quite the impression to have and the way he was incorporated into the events was so good.

Granted I have not read Dazai’s entrance exam yet so take that with a grain of salt.

Rokuzo’s such an important character. He’s the embodiment of Kunikida’s guilt. The what if my ideals can’t save everyone then what do I do?

I also think he could serve as a parallel to Kyouka. In the sense that Kunikida failed to save Rokuzo and now he’s telling Atsushi to be careful when trying to save Kyouka.

If that makes sense.

I think he’s fun, I like to think Katai gave him training and he would’ve been friends with Atsushi.

[hanzajesthanza]

geralt of rivia thoughts summarized

this city is too congested and loud

i don’t like the way my clothes feel

it’s super hot out right now but i’m gonna keep my outerwear on

i’m just gonna sit in the corner and do my thang

what’s wrong with me why do i feel emotions so strongly

people keep telling me i was made wrong

there are so many smells out here right now

i don’t like the way these clothes feel either

i don’t know how to break up with my girlfriend so i’m just going to leave i guess

wrong decision i’m going to apologize now. … by giving her some cool rocks

i kind of messed things up with my girlfriend again but i want to talk to her BUT i don’t know how to address her. we made passionate love many times. can i call her my… hmm… ummm… friend…?

i could piss in this flowerpot but… that wouldn’t be nice to the flowers

it’s time for a scathingly eloquent rant

never mind i forgot how to say words

i’m just going to tell you what happened straight up. no poetics from me

but let’s critique society

I HATE INJUSTICE AND UNFAIRNESS !!!

why are people so corrupt and evil. i don’t get it.

more importantly. WHY do i keep falling for it.

i am a relic of an older time. change is already here and i’m not ready

apart from my immediate family i’ve had one best friend for a decade and that’s my extent of socializing.

unless someone comes to me first with that. and we have shared interests. then we can roll together for a bit

i have not changed my sense of style or the type of clothes i wear since i was eighteen. i even tie my hair in the same way

[willthecleric]

Oh definitely. I mean I personally don’t get the appeal and never have. 💀 But they were a canon couple, and they were generally seen positively early on. And I know them being so young in S1 definitely contributed to people shipping it. I have seen Willel as well, and while fanon is one thing, I’ve seen people want it in show and absolutely not. Lmao. I just stay away from it because it’s wrong on so many levels imo. Lol.

Ikr?! Will’s done so much to try and help Mileven. He was truly selfless and did whatever he could to try and make Mike happy because he thought Mileven was in love. Most of these people know Mike is in love with Will and they try to paint him as a horrible person when he isn’t. And people can accuse him of coming between Mileven all they want, Mike knew Will a lot longer than he knew El. And Mike and Will loved each other before then too. If anything Mileven got between Byler because Mike felt pressured to conform.

Will is amazing. I will not have anyone shit talk him or Mike.

Lmao no worries! I’m the same way. I can talk about this all day lmao.

ah yes. byler spending like all of the season together after that bad ily monologue from mike to el and the romantically coded byler scenes, and mike will ask el to marry him and theyll have a baby at like 17? ah yes makes perfect sense💀💀

[camilleflyingrotten]

[itbemoonchild]

God I love watching people trying to do math

[st-hedge]

Timelapse for this painting I posted

[unfortunatelyilikebnha]

Thinking about the KaeyaJeanDiluc friendship where they grew up together and they were CLOSE & sure maybe Jean felt like Diluc & Kaeya were closer since they were brothers & sure maybe Kaeya felt like he had to keep secrets from the two of them bc they would never understand but they were like. A trio! A team!

& then Diluc’s 18th birthday comes around and everything goes to shit and Diluc LEAVES so they’re no longer KaeyaJeanDiluc but just Kaeya & Jean & in some ways Kaeya and Jean get closer because of it but there’s also a pronounced DISTANCE where Jean doesn’t know how to reach Kaeya anymore & Kaeya is even more determined not to tell Jean anything & they both lose themselves in their duties to Mondstadt while also missing Diluc and ALSO, despite everything, offering each other unconditional support

& then Diluc comes BACK & in addition to Kaeya & Jean there’s the shaky reestablishment of Jean & Diluc and Diluc & Kaeya but it’s not THE SAME. they’re no longer KaeyaJeanDiluc; Jean & Kaeya are knights and Diluc will never be a knight again & they all changed while Diluc was away & none of them know how to talk to each other anymore AND YET there’s still an undercurrent of trust!! Not fully, especially between Kaeya & Diluc, but Diluc still calls on Jean during the archon quest, trusting that she will keep their secrets even though as the acting grandmaster she should probably not. Jean says in her about Diluc voiceline that she understands why Diluc hates the knights & is working hard to make them an organization he can trust again. Kaeya covers for Diluc’s darknight hero escapades & fondly reminisces about their childhood in front of him. Diluc invited Kaeya to dinner at the winery & (afaik) never told anyone about Kaeya’s origins. Kaeya tells the traveler that they need to give Jean their full support and planned a birthday party for her. Jean left Kaeya in charge of Mondstadt when she went to the golden apple archipelago! On some level they recognize that their goals still align!! There’s still trust and love there but there’s also this gap between them that none of them know how to cross and I just!!!

[read-write-thrive]

platonic and romantic are not some sort of binary that relationships have to be divided into. they’re not even two ends of a linear spectrum. they’re fully just abstract concepts made up of culturally-dependant social behaviour and expectations that are continually forced upon people to reinforce religious, legal, and broader societal/cultural norms, often and repeatedly to the detriment of non-normative groups including, but not limited to, the queer community. and I am sick and tired of those norms being replicated in fucking fandom discourse, of all places

[agenderduck]

This is one of many posts I have planned on electricity. For this post specifically, I’m touching on the lack of autonomy the puppets have, and the unhealthy coping mechanisms and regression they fall into. If you listen closely, duck and red are talking about stain edwards, specifically how they had been used as a replacement for duck, in the background while yellow is preparing to climb the staircase. Considering the bigger boys actions later on in the episode, this feels more significant than just a joke or a piece of background dialogue (it probably is, just bear with me for the sake of over analysis). It’s a detail I don’t see brought up often, but an interesting one nonetheless. Not just because it’s funny, but because it serves as insight for what’s to come. This conversation is barely audible as yellow stares up into the black abyss above him. A divide between the trio is set up here, they are not on the same page. As yellow scales the staircase, base level red and duck fiddle with electricity. Theres a lack of care for the objects, or even living things around them showcasing that have that potential to do worse like the big and bigger boys. On a smaller scale, yes, but there’s a colder quality to the scene. Electracy warns them that what they’re doing is too much, but they are ignored. This ultimately leads to the power outage, spurred on by the two’s reckless over usage of electricity

The limited use of technology, and by contrast overconsumption is intentional, as it showcases a real lack of freedom. The puppets are stuck in a cycle regardless of what they do. They desperately want to feel in control of something even if it’s trivial. When they’re not doing that, the trio find themselves waiting for things like having access to a computer once a year. It’s worth noting that Colin is an older model of computer, as is pretty much every other piece of technology in the house. Interestingly, the trio do actually own a laptop, which is a lot more modern in appearance. They are never seen doing anything with it however. The few things that do take on a more modern appearance are either unusable or serve as a distraction. So the choice of duck having a hand held device in the void feels significant. It’s almost like a reminder to the audience that in theory, knowledge is right outside of their grip but they will never have it. Everything they do is limited.

The fridge scene is a rare moment where we see the puppets speak their genuine feelings, no strings attached. Not at all one sided or hollow. Duck and Red sit beside each other in the fridge scene knowing this is not something they’re allowed to have, but you can tell they want to scoot closer. They live in an unforgiving routine where the mere act of looking at each other feels like rebellion. They’re something more tangible and warm than their bigger counterparts, even if through skin made of cheap felt and faux fur. Compare this to the cold emptiness of the big and bigger boys and how duck and red seem to grow further apart despite always being paired together. Even if they’re sitting at a similar length in both rooms, the bigger boys seem to be magnetically pulled apart rather than together. The big boys sit side by side with their limbs tangled, in defiance maybe, but they don’t question their environment anymore and the walls have gotten smaller. The bigger boys live in a pseudo- futuristic prison. They have become the technology seen being fiddled with before. They play into each other’s antics, but lack any real emotion which greatly upsets yellow once he comes across them. He watches as they poke and prod at a suspiciously stain edwards shaped hunk of meat as their only source of entertainment, thinking that this is as good as it gets. Technology prodding at flesh. A parallel between Stain Edwards and the puppets can be drawn here.

Stain Edwards, in their initial appearance clearly craves more in life, but their sole purpose is to be moldable, to be shaped into anything the hands that grasp them want them to be. The trio are the same way, though they don’t know it. They’re obviously not aware of their true situation, but each of them have their own level of awareness, albeit in different areas, but that’s a different post for a different time. Red and duck comply and mold to their environments out of fear, a fear of losing that false sense of control. So, the bigger boys become the perpetrators of violence. They let bitterness consume them until they’re unrecognizable. Their egos get the better of them, fully encompassing them and leaving nothing but mechanical empty husks behind. Red and Duck are tricked into believing they’re in control, when in reality they’ve dug themselves into an even deeper hole than before. They expect yellow to join them, as this is just the way things are, and this horrifies him. Here before him are creatures that sound vaguely like his friends but in a completely unrecognizable form. Ultimately, no matter what form they take on, yellow’s urge to search for answers will always scare them. Yellow’s batteries means change, and change means bad things will happen. No more false sense of control. Yellow literally has his awareness stolen from him time and time again through his batteries. Without them, not only can’t he properly articulate himself, but he also can’t remember what happened before.

Yellow loves his friends, he knows that they’re flawed, and he can’t help but scale back down the staircase time and time again to help them. They’re all he has. He knows that they’re smart to an extent, but is that enough? Will they be able to handle it this time? I think he knows the answer to this already, though he desperately wants it not to be true. He knows that it’s not their fault that they get like this, but also maybe it is. Because truthfully the two like to let it get worse. Yellow sees the good in Duck and red and he wants them to do better, even if his efforts are in vain. Because the puppets do not have autonomy. He shreds the book because he can’t bear a reality where his friends don’t love him, but also because that’s where his strings are pulling him to begin with. He looks to duck as he does so knowing it will make him happy, as if to say he’s not wrong anymore. All he ever wants is to please him. Truthfully, that book had nothing that could truly help them , as such a thing doesn’t exist. Still there’s that small thought in the back of his mind that it could, and ultimately he chooses his friends over knowledge every time. It was never his choice to begin with. It was inevitably going to end this way, and a small part of yellow knows that, even if he can’t express it. The puppets are prisoners here, prisoners to another prisoner. She too participates in the same routines everyday, she too has strings that hold her back, but that’s a post for another day.

[mykelneedssleep]

We’ve been talking about it the fact that Jacobi definitely wears glasses recently but as a person with absolutely terrible depth perception I feel like we don’t talk about that part of his canon enough

Like give me fics of him just straight up walking into shit because it seems father away than it is, or going to pick something up and just completely missing. Give me fics of him struggling to drive and getting headaches when trying to look at stuff at a distance for too long. Bad depth perception Jacobi stans rise for this cause with me