#and tolerating my little stories

[thethirdamell]

The upcoming launch of Veilguard definitely seems to have reinvigorated the Dragon Age fandom and garnered me a handful of new readers, and maybe I'm just old and exhausted, but it feels like comment etiquette has evaporated / people have forgotten the "if you have nothing nice to say-" adage, because a non-zero number of these folks apparently felt compelled to inform me that they don't care for the abuse in the dark horror story about recovering from abuse.

[ratatatastic]

IM SORRY. REINO ATE THAI FOOD. IN FINLAND????? YOU ARE IN FINLAND????? AND YOU DECIDED TO EAT THAI FOOD????????

[toytulini]

me, stupidly and weirdly resistant to listening to audio books vs reading a physical book for no real reason: man i wish there was a way to like, read a book while i crochet like i do with tv shows and movies and podcasts

[liquidstar]

a friend who'd wait :)

[svtskneecaps]

personally i think the best way to look at this election in terms of "who am i (as a viewer) going to vote for" is that first and foremost, for us, this is a STORY. we are watching a story (and also a fun game and funny people doing funnies together, but for election purposes we'll say that)

therefore our goal should not be "which candidate has the best policies" or "which candidate is best for the island". we don't CARE. that's not our business.

we don't care what's good for the islanders. THAT'S NOT OUR BUSINESS. we're not islanders nor are we players. we are the guy in the bar watching the Truman show. our business is "what story do we want to see?"

each candidate offers something different.

(note: i don't claim to understand their platforms, for personal reasons i haven't followed it closely bc i kinda suspected there was gonna be drama and didn't feel like stressing myself over minecraft politics; my local elections freak me out enough lol)

for a rough example:

elquackity: obvious federation plant, clear enemy for the rest of the server. man-vs-government arc.

forever: did you like cellbit's infiltration arc? i could predict something like that following in forever's footsteps (forever sneaks around the federation, learns a few secrets, continues to make his changes to the server but does perhaps experience horrors, most likely a slower burn than cellbit's arc but certainly a lot of espionage and theorycrafting)

gegg: gegg chamg e world

those of y'all with a sounder grasp on candidates, sound off in the notes on what we can expect FROM A STORY PERSPECTIVE; i actively ignore the debates (they make me want to cry lmfao). i don't care what their platform is exactly, where will it take the story?

and i'll repossess your liver if i see any goddamn cc hate or harassment in there. this is more than not a safe space for that, this is an active danger zone. watch yourselves. <3

[compacflt]

for todays wip wednesday i thought it would be kind of fun to do a little wips vs final drafts post just to kind of illustrate how far back first drafts can really start. so following the famous 5+1 fanfic format (4+1 cause u can only post 10 pics on mobile)—four wips (left) & their related final drafts (right) + one that is still a wip (bottom two)

[aprillikesthings]

ofmd spoilers ahoy but

AHHHH

so glad they let Ed say that one line back at Stede, I literally had to pause it and roll around yelling

lol their awkwardness as they move so so so so torturously slowly back towards each other is so painfully familiar

oh my god the tension is so painfully well done that I am about to dive into their ao3 tag (and I've had about 0 interest in m/m fic for multiple years at this point) because I have, like, some equivalent to blue balls, fucking CHRIST

really enjoyed the mlm/wlw solidarity of Mary and Ed chatting and smoking weed

BAHAHAHA Anne and Mary's kinky relationship is so great, plus the degree to which they made fun of Ed and Stede

(as a 43-year-old woman thank you, THANK YOU, that they're not in their 20's)

unrelated to all the previous notes but I just want to be pleased that rather than the < .speaking Spanish. > bullshit they CAPTIONED THE GOD DAMNED SPANISH

if Ed and Stede don't bang soon I WILL PERSONALLY LOSE MY SHIT

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

If there is at least one thing I can credit FE for doing better than Tales in localization, it's not trying to actively go out of their way for an entire game to avoid subtext or direct text between two men that is romantic or implied romantic. Funny when it's so present that the attempt doesn't even work; infuriating that it was attempted to begin with.

So as much as I often have issues with some of FE's localizations, at least they have a leg up on loc Tales for that.

[thecorvidcurio]

So, I may occasionally throw out little rambles about the process and progress of writing this story. I'll tag these as "[game title] behind the curtain" for any given game it's for, and the bulk will be under a readmore in case anyone isn't into that or wants to avoid such things until after they've gotten to read the content it's about first. This first one is going to be rambles about chapter 2 edits in regards to Abby, tho I have some similar posts to share in time about writing the other characters as well.

Writing Abby is really hard and so much different from any other character I've ever written but not in the way of actually finding the words. The writing itself is easy, but afterward? Ho boy. Part of why the chapter 2 edits have taken this long is that I can't stop overthinking his and Marina's part. I'm just reading it over and over again, caught between the people-pleasing urge to make him more palettable and the knowledge that the very core of his character and the intention when I made him was that he'd be distinctly UNpalettable.

He isn’t supposed to be palettable. If he's perfectly palettable to most readers, then I haven't succeeded in writing him as intended. His very nature is supposed to be so diametrically opposed to humanity that it's clear most humans would have a negative reaction to him. He's supposed to come off like a walking headache. He's supposed to be ill-fitting, he's supposed to Not Belong Among People, he's supposed to be Incompatible With Humanity.

It's hard to break the mindset of writing a character people will like, though. It's hard to shake the feeling that it's a failure that many will dislike him, despite the fact that being dislikable was one of the first traits I started with when designing him. It was baked in from the start. My concept for his character at his inception was "creature who dresses like a rainbow drank straight neon until it got sick and is a personified concentration of chaos and dissonance, way more than even most other supernatural creatures are willing to put up with."

If I make him more appealing, he won't be Abby anymore. But still, the whole time I'm editing his bits there's an urge to scrap the original intent entirely for the sake of making him more broadly appealing.

[sheyri]

Being forced to come out sucks

I'm home with mum and brother this weekend, neither of who knew I'm aroace. Naturally, since it's still Pride season in Germany, I searched for one in the area, found one, and planned to go there today.

So I packed my aro sign and my aroace flag. Then my mum texted "when we're in [city] tomorrow..." and I'm like, well, fuck. No way to hide my identity from them under those circumstances. So yesterday I quickly had to get comfortable with the knowledge that I would out myself to them today.

It went about as I expected. I wouldn't say well, but not bad either. But it wasn't on my terms and that sucks!

It was a good Pride, but I didn't enjoy it much. I didn't hold my sign as high and was constantly aware that they were just a few steps behind me. I was the most relaxed when I thought I'd lost them in the crowd.

I'm sad and a little frustrated (I guess), but mostly because this wasn't what I wanted. I wasn't ready.

If it had just been my brother, it would've been better. I probably would've asked him if he wanted to come along anyway. But I hadn't expected my mum to be interested in going to Pride (she walked through one last year and didn't like it, only said negative things). I was just caught off guard when she texted that yesterday.

So, yeah. This sucks.

[movedtodykedvonte]

UR TAGS EXACTLY!!!!!!!!!!! CRYING. YEAH. [STRTS CRYING]

You don’t understand how much I love role reversal of popular tropes. Cute designed characters that are all doom and gloom, jocks who like hello kitty and just happened to be ripped. The idea of this old guy who has been relentlessly tormented by his world having this child like wonder for the world that has taken that wonder from an actual kid.

Like the idea of Spamton finding something kids should like and bringing to Kris cause they deserve something to help them forget or let them be a kid while they refuse out of not wanting their guard lowered and hope raised. Spamton acting like Kris is incapable of simple tasks not out of cockiness but because a kid shouldn’t have to be siphoning water or hunting things so they can just fuck around and be young, get that sparkle back in their eye. The idea of Kris playing along cause even if they don’t believe in the wonders of the world anymore, why take away the happiness Spamton just found? Kris getting way into the play part and it becoming just like a kid and his weird uncle learning to make something fun out of the end.

It’s good, it’s so fucking sweet and so good.

[cptnbeefheart]

i think i gotta pl;ay fallout 4 ..

[miniscule-meow]

Something Unexpected (22)

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: !!!Mentions of Non-Con Touch!!!, angst, hurt/comfort

Masterpost

First Part | Last Part | Next Part

~*~

Today has to hold the record for being the longest day of her life. To think, it was just this morning her hair was being elaborately twisted up for her, and she was wearing a luxurious ballgown in a castle. Of course, she could romanticize it, but then there was everything that had happened afterwards.

She's finally able to settle into the soft pillow that acts as her bed. Her body aches, and she just wants to fall asleep. The trouble is, when she closes her eyes in the silence of the room, her mind just replays all of the worst events of the day on repeat. She doesn't even have a chance to fall asleep and have a nightmare. Her mind is moving too fast to let any sort of sleep to occur, peaceful or restless.

She see's herself being pinned to a lapel and taken to that dreadful excuse for a party. The Prince had actually laughed at her when she asked if he wanted to dance. Then, there was being the subject of attention of all of the giants in attendance. Some sneered at her from across the room, others observed her with awe and disgust like she was an exotic bug, others would lean in and coo over her saying she was so little and adorable. She hasn’t decided which reaction she hates the most.

Then of course, another unfortunate highlight of the evening was being snatched up in a fist by the prince. The chain around her ankle snagging roughly as he tried to whisk her out of the way of a carelessly tipped over wine glass. There was Lady Natalia calling her an insect, wrapped up in a scandalous embrace with the prince, right in the middle of the hallway.

Then the scene in the tavern.

The small crowd of giants were not bound by any high-society social construct. At least at the palace, no one touched her. No one dared. Except for Prince Oliver, but he spent most of his time trying to pretend that she didn’t exist. In the tavern, it was all touch. Gigantic fingers, pinching her roughly, bruising her ribs and uncomfortably pinning her wings against her. She was easily overpowered with one hand, leaving the other hand free to explore her however they saw fit. Calloused fingers tracing greedily up her legs, ripping her skirts away, forcing her legs apart. She shudders, pulling the kerchief blanket around her more tightly. She supposes she should feel lucky that they weren’t more interested in breaking her wings, but she feels too violated to celebrate that victory.

She can’t stand the thoughts, the memories playing over and over in her mind. She tries to redirect them, to focus on something good or at least something neutral, but she doesn’t have any luck. The horrid memories keep pressing themselves to the forefront of her mind. She vividly relives being passed around the table, each giant taking their turn to hold her, to feel her.

Suddenly, she sits up on the plush surface of the pillow and looks over to Deckard on his bed.

“Magic, huh?” She asks into the quiet room, before she can talk herself out of it.

“Hm?” Deckard responds sleepily, turning his head to look over at her.

“You… you know magic tricks?” She hopes he doesn’t catch the waiver in her voice.

“Yeah.” He huffs a laugh, “as you saw, it comes in handy.” He’s quiet for a moment before adding, “y’know, one of them had a pocket watch.” He swipes it from his nightstand, lifting up his arm and dangling the watch over his head.

“Of course you stole his watch, dirty rogue.” Her insult has no bite.

“Of course.” He agrees, sounding rather pleased with himself. Smug bastard, she thinks. He deposits the watch back on the nightstand and lets his arm flop back down with a sigh. He falls back into a comfortable silence, his breath evening out once more. She shifts awkwardly on the pillow, that conversation was more short lived than she had hoped it would be.

“When did you learn your magic tricks?” She pierces the silence once more.

“You are awfully chatty for someone who doesn’t like talking to me,” he observes.

“I’m just curious.” She says, maybe too quickly. He’s quiet for a moment, she’s afraid he’s fallen back asleep. But then he speaks up.

“It was just something I picked up when I was a kid and never put down. I would practice card tricks all the time. I figured, one day it would help me impress the ladies.”

“Oh yeah," she huffs. "Did that ever work out for you?”

“I mean, you seemed pretty impressed.” He shifts, propping himself up on his elbow, his eyes glinting in the dim light.

“You’re giving yourself too much credit. I was just happy I didn’t drown,"

“Yeah, thanks to me doing magic tricks. So… same thing, I think.” His sly grin stretches crookedly across his face.

“Are you always this full of yourself?” She asks, rolling her eyes.

“Usually, yeah.” He says simply. She just shakes her head. He gives another short chuckle and goes to lay back down.

“H-hey, how did that play end?” She asks quickly.

“Hm?” He hums sleepily, settling back into bed.

“The play you performed at the engagement party?” She ask, not wanting to be left alone with her thoughts.

“What about it?” He mumbles, slurring through his words, she's quickly losing him to sleep.

“How did it end?” The silence hangs heavy in the air. The only sound in the room is his slow, deep breaths. “Deckard?” Nothing. “Deckard!”

“Hm! What?” He jolts awake, sitting up and quickly looking over to her, concerned.

“How did the play end?” She asks again.

“Princess,” he sighs, flopping back down heavily. “Is that really important right now? I’ll tell you in the morning, get some sleep.”

“But it’s just that—”

“In the morning.” He grumbles, cutting her off.

Fine. She doesn't need him. She can do this. Lark lays back down on her pillow with a huff, staring wide eyed into the dark room only illuminated by the streetlamp filtering in through the window. She tries to go to sleep, focusing on the sound of Deckard’s even breathing.

Her mind is flooded again with the scene in the tavern. All of the gigantic faces crowding around her, the overwhelming smell of alcohol. All of them were laughing at her while she tried to struggle. Each new set of hands pulling her roughly, each wanting a turn of their own. Their calloused fingers ripping her skirts- She can’t do this.

“Deckard.” She says quickly, sitting up again.

“Lark. I swear if you ask me about that damn play again,” he groans.

“No, no, no. I’m uh. I…” She fumbles, trying to find something to say, anything that would warrant waking him up again. “I can’t sleep,” she admits lamely.

“Yeah, I gathered that much. And because of that, it seems as though I don’t get to sleep either, hm?”

“Sorry,” she mumbles.

“You know..." mischief seeps into his tone, "You could always come over here if you get lonely,” he teases her. Chuckling as he hears her make a small, frustrated squeak.

“You- You are a terrible, boorish scoundrel, you know that?” She says with a huff.

“I just wanted to let you know, the offers on the table. I don’t think I move in my sleep if you wanted to snuggle—”

“Never mind! Never mind. Trying to talk to you was obviously a mistake. Never mind. Go back to sleep,” she says quickly.

“Alright, if you insist. Goodnight, princess,” he snickers.

That takes care of that. Finally, he gets silence.

Deckard begins drifting off to sleep once more, when he’s interrupted yet again by her small voice.

“It’s just… It’s just that, um—” she begins.  

“Alright!” He sits up fully. “It would appear as though I am not going to be able to get any sleep until we get to the bottom of this. So, what’s going on? Are you alright?” He rubs his face in his hands before blinking at her through the darkness.

“A-Alright? I’m—” she isn’t alright, is she? “Um.” She doesn’t want to admit that to him. He’d probably just laugh at her, tell her she’s being ridiculous. Or he’d use her asking for help as some way to stroke his own ego. But if she tells him she’s fine, he might just roll over and go back to sleep. She would be left alone with her thoughts, which has proven to be an incredibly unsavory option. “What if I said no?” She asks quietly.

“What if you said no...” He repeats with a sigh. He swings his legs over the edge of the bed, “I guess, if you said no, then I would be forced to entertain you,” he says, lighting the lantern on his nightstand. She blinks, her eyes adjusting to the light. “What’s wrong.” It's more of a command than a question. He raises an eyebrow her way, his elbows resting against his knees.

“I’m sorry. I just—” before she can stop herself, the words are just spilling out of her. She isn't sure she's making any sense, or forming coherent thoughts. “I don’t know how to fix it! Every time I close my eyes, all I can think about is being back at the tavern and… and all those giants just, just touching me. All of them. And they were, they were laughing when I- when I tried to push them off because I couldn’t! I couldn’t do anything. They just laughed. And they- they- they ripped my skirt nearly completely off and then just, they just, t-they –” She shakes her head, unable to bring herself to say anymore.  “I’m sorry,” she says, her voice tight with panic. She suddenly finds herself crying into her knees for the second time tonight.

“Princess," Deckard hesitates, his grumpiness fading away as he realizes the gravity of this situation. "If I had thought that it was that bad, I would have- I would have come over sooner. I- I am so sorry.” He frowns, his brow knitting together pensively. He had recognized her as soon as he saw her in the tavern, and he didn’t march right over and save her. What did he do? He ordered another drink. He sat across the room and just tried not to watch.

He watches her now, her small body wracking with sobs. It feels like someone’s stabbed him in the heart, and they’re twisting the knife. Sure, he was frustrated with her, but this extends beyond being petty. She might be literally traumatized now, and that’s because he sat aside and let all that happen. Of course, he couldn’t tell exactly what was happening from the bar. He just knew they were drunk, laughing, passing her around.

He tries to redeem himself; he stepped in eventually. He saved her from drowning, she thanked him for that. And besides, it would have gone poorly if he had tried to brute force the situation. He waited for an appropriate opportunity, that’s all. It was strategic. He can’t take the blame for all of this. She’s the one that left in the first place. She’s lucky he even decided to go out to the tavern this evening. Who knows where she might be had he stayed home.

No.

He can’t blame her, not while she’s curled up and crying in front of him. No matter how he looks at it, this is his fault, isn’t it? He sat by, doing nothing. He opened the window to let her go. He kidnapped her from the safety of the castle walls. He turned her into the castle in the first place. He really is the villain here, isn’t he.

“Well? Go ahead. Gloat, or laugh at me. Rub it in," she says, her voice trembling, breaking him from his self-deprecating spiral. Even now, he was just thinking about himself. "I think you’ve seen me cry more than anyone I know. My Stars, you must think I’m pathetic," she says choking on another sob.  

“Hey. I know you’re not my biggest fan but cut me some slack here, princess.” He stands, clearing the distance between them in just two steps. He leans down, resting his elbows on the dresser and lowering himself down to rest his cheek on his arm. “I don’t think you’re pathetic,” she didn’t think he was capable of sounding so gentle. She lifts her head, looking at him for a moment through her tears. She doesn’t believe him for a second, but he is a beautiful liar.

“Here. C’mere.” Something about her sitting there, crying, makes him want to hold her. Like, if he could just give her a big hug, he would be able to take all of her pain away. As soon as he says that, she stiffens. He is not ignorant to how her head snaps up to look at him. She curls in on herself, tension pulling through her shoulders, her wings twitching nervously as she watches him shift to collect her in his hands. He moves slowly, giving her time to process what’s happening, giving her time to tell him to stop, though he wishes she wouldn’t. “I’m going to pick you up, is that alright?”

She freezes like a stunned deer. Her eyes dart from looking up at his face to looking at his hands around her.

“w-what I-if I say no…” She says, literally cringing away from his hands.

Well, you see Princess, fortunately for me, I don’t really need you to trust me – he said that to her earlier that day. No wonder she's cringing away from him. Furthermore, she had just finished telling him her problem was giants touching her. Why would he think that he could help her by holding her? Why would he think that she would find comfort in his presence when she has told him multiple times that she doesn’t want anything to do with him.  He knows that the only reason she’s even here right now is because she’s decided that whatever is out in the city is worse than him. That doesn’t mean that she likes being with him. She’s stuck with him, and he’s antagonizing her.

Immediately, he pulls his hands away. “Easy. Nothing happens.” He withdraws, settles back down and resting his cheek on his arms. “Sorry,” he mumbles. Lark visibly relaxes as he pulls away, but she continues to eye him warily.

“You… you can’t be comfortable like that,” she points out, changing the subject. He’s leaning awkwardly against the dresser trying to keep himself on her level.

“I’m not,” he says, huffing a laugh. “But that’s okay, don’t you worry about me.” He flashes her a lopsided grin, and even goes so far as to wink at her. She huffs, he isn’t sure if it’s a laugh or if she’s just annoyed with him. Either way, if he can get her mind off of how afraid she is, that’s a positive mark in his book. “I’m honestly more concerned about you.” His eyes search her for a moment. She wants you to back off, dumbass, you're in her space. “I’m just not sure I know how to help you,” he talks as he stands, casually. He stretches up tall, before going back to his bed. Smooth. “What would you have me do, princess?” He asks, taking a seat.

“Talking helps.” She replies after a moment.

“You want me to tell you how that play ends, don’t you.”

“That would be nice.”

[finnickodaiir]

Cold as You is the teen version of Tolerate It

[clueless1995]

what if i wrote a romance novel. what then

[theexorcistiii]

Ugghh I want (mostly p tame but still) body modssssss but I’m such a little bitch about pain & also my like skin hates every thing