#but isn't it just so satisfying to get to tame that force of nature and bend her to your will from time to time? 🥰🥰🥰

[hide-in-imagination]

Hi, I just wanted to thank you for writing Simon being dominant/a switch, because damn, he's a puppy but with the right encouragement he totally would get wild. And Ambar certainly needs someone to take over control from time to time. 5 stars.

Thank YOU for appreciating the fine arts- Dominant Simón is what we all need!!! (Ámbar especially, just as you said. This poor girl has been forced to have everything under control her whole life- She deserves to be taken care of, she deserves to let loose and have fun!!)

I give YOU all the stars for having amazing taste, take them all, the praise is all yours ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

[quigzahhutt]

woahhhh a wild fic snippet !

Logan/Alex omegaverse project I've been working on - featuring omega Logan, alpha Alex, fake dating, fake MATING and more :)

so please, enjoy the mating scene oooooo

read below the cut!

It feels– electric, when Alex finally reaches down and wraps two fingers against Logan's wrist, rubbing the tips against the tender flesh of the scent glands there. He can hear Logan’s story taper off, his breathing slow to his left as he twitches against Alex where they're plastered to each other.

His fingers move carefully against the skin, a calculated circling as if taming a dog, shaking a treat in their face in hopes of befriending it, earning a lick to your fingers instead of nipping teeth.

It only feels natural, after that, to drag Logan's wrist up against his own scent gland– the one on his neck, the most sensitive part of him, in a way– simmering as he brushes soft skin against soft skin.

Their scents dance around each other as if it can sense the apprehension in the air, until Logan fully relaxes into his side, his temple making solid pressure against Alex's shoulder– it seems to catch on after that; lacing together like fingers between lovers.

A caramel latte, extra espresso; fresh grounds, room for cream– Alex’s own eyes flutter, saliva becoming tacky beneath his heavy tongue.

He's not entirely sure why he does it, only that it feels… right. Alex has never been one for instincts– he never really got the alphas who would growl and rumble for their omegas, protective and overzealous– he always thought of himself as a bad alpha because of it; he just never caught on– he never felt the need to.

But the feeling of Logan's prickly flesh against the soft glands on his neck makes a deep sound force itself out from his chest– a rolling rumble, beastial and resonant.

It catches him off guard, the sound sneaking out before he knew it– embarrassment quickly making itself comfortable underneath the surface layer of his skin, but the intimate sigh he gets in response soothes it immediately.

Because Logan was comfortable, he was content– an omega, close to him, happily letting himself be scented– 

Alex shakes himself with a jolt because wow, he has never had a thought like that before– it kind of freaked him out.

Because this wasn't just an omega, this was Logan, who was doing this all simply for the convenience of his job, and Alex was getting all weird and… alpha-y over it. Gross.

“Sorry– you probably just want me to get this over with,” Alex mumbles, and his voice sounds… odd. Not unlike himself, but it's– different, stilted and raspy. Despite the apology, he doesn't let go of Logan's hand,

“S’okay, I’m– I like this,” Logan practically whispers in response, wiggling his wrist in Alex's grasp, rubbing it further against the skin of his neck.

Alex slips his eyes shut at the sensation. It's not really a satisfying or relaxing feeling but it's… intimate. Comfortable, a story read to you before bed, a tale about a princess and a knight.

“Can I– move?” Logan asks, his tone strangely… affected? It isn't asked hesitantly, but he sounds pitchier, less drowsy than he normally does.

Alex doesn't think he even responds but before he knows it, Logan is sitting on his lap, legs bracketing Alex's own in a tender imitation of something heinously sexual that flashes in Alex's imagination.

Logan has resumed stroking his wrist against Alex's neck, although this time on the opposite side. Alex feels– weird, like he can't keep track of his own limbs as they make decisions he didn't approve of.

Because now, he has his fingers pressed against Logan's pulse point, and he has no idea when or how they got there, but he does know that Logan has his eyes slipped barely open, the small slit of them laser focused on where his wrist meets Alex's neck. His head is tipped minutely to the side as he soaks up the warmth radiating from Alex's fingertips.

It's all touch and instincts– far away yet familiar, unearthed from a part of Alex's core he never knew existed.

Before he knew it, Alex had replaced his fingers with his lips, resting against Logan's sluggish heart rate where it's snuggled between his jaw and throat. The soft beating, Logan's life sitting so deep in his chest making itself alive and aware against Alex's lips.

Alex begins shifting down, feather light touches against Logan's throat, teeth so close, yet sheathed safely behind a facade of sanity.

Because right now, Alex feels wild. Enraptured and unethical; everything he never knew he wanted, sat nicely in his lap right at this very moment. 

Logan makes a bizarre noise the moment Alex's lips reach the primary glands there– the sensitive, gummy flesh tucked into the junction of his neck– and he starts squirming, sounding a glacial whine from the lower portion of his sternum.

Alex can practically taste when Logan starts desiring– a blooming, sugar-sweet begins oozing from his glands– and Alex's tongue is darting out before he can think to stop himself.

The last sensible voice in his conscience tells him that it won't do anything; all Alex will be able to taste is Logan's tacky skin, wilting where he'd been anticipating this for days; scent does not translate to taste.

It doesn't stop him though. Each kittenlick against the salt fresh skin causes more of that rich smell to permeate his nostrils, bursting from the glands like a dropped egg each time Alex's breath ghosts against the surface. 

He scrapes his teeth against the spongy skin; drawing inside the lines before breaking the rules, dragging past the glands and teasing the tips of his teeth against Logan's collarbone. 

The textural difference is bizarre. Mentally, Alex knows the skin pillowing your scent glands tends to be softer, spongier and more forgiving; appropriately weak for the most vulnerable part of yourself.

But he had never actually paid attention to it on himself, and he doesn't dare go near someone's neck when he's hooking up with anyone, too anxious about accidentally losing himself and mating someone he doesn't care about– do something stupid that would ruin his career in a heartbeat.

But now, Alex rests his two front teeth against the middle of the flesh, the soft center of the glands, and he can feel Logan's whole body tense up as a completely new smell suddenly overwhelms Alex's senses– desire, impatience, anticipation–

He presses his teeth more permanently into the skin– not biting, nowhere close– but just enough so he leaves behind two small indentations in the crested shape.

He can feel Logan's blood thrumming beneath his skin and veins through his teeth; a furious colony of ants marching urgently, churning every cell to keep him alive.

Logan is pressing two insistent fingers against Alex's own scent glands on his neck, fingerprints tattooed into his skin with how hard he's pushing– urging Alex to just finish the job, make him bloody and bitten and his.

Alex presses a disgustingly open mouthed kiss against his neck, claiming the spot in a shiny sheen, warming the flesh with his breath.

“Are you ready?” Alex asks against Logan's throat, placing another sloppy kiss there, adding more layers of saliva on his skin, pooling in the junction of his collarbone,

“God, yeah– please,” Logan breathes, sounding nothing like himself.His voice is airy and light, laced with honeysuckle and sugar– an open window in his mother's kitchen, busy with work– refreshingly sweet as opposed to his typical growl; his usual feistiness nowhere to be seen, replaced clumsily by garish want.

Alex slurps against Logan's throat, swallowing down the saliva he had left there earlier, before finally, finally sinking his teeth methodically into Logan's scent glands.

---

a longer snippet than I'd normally post but I was feeling generous :) and also I'm ridiculously happy with this portion of the fic. my baby ...

of course, this is for @cunty-pink-porsche @twivez @escapentropy @colors-of-feeling thank u guys for being excited about this I appreciate the support endlessly <3 u guys r so cool ...

[slightlyunconventional]

ack this wouldn't post the first five times but (hopefully) i solved the problem

here's some extremely self-indulgent k/az x kink!i/nej ramblings that started as simply an Idea in my notes but turned into whatever this is, enjoy:

kaz inducing himself to indulge kink!inej,,,,, intimacy without the touch type beat omg. she'll either just sit and watch in awe or command him around and force him to hold back and stuff depending on how she feels. she definitely especially loves watching him hold back because she loves his loss of control and his FACE while he does it is just so gorgeously desperate, and she practically bathes in the way his breaths slowly get more rapid and his chest heaves more and more until he takes one final, deep gasp and pitches forward with sneeze after sneeze after sneeze. inej probably also induces Him sometimes and she likes to experiment with different allergens,,, she'll start tame with some flowers since she knows he's allergic to those,, then she'll progress onto further irritants that are sure to leave him sneezing uncontrollably, like blends of particularly potent suli spices, or a strongly scented perfume or air freshener that she'll spray practically everywhere until it's the only thing he can smell.

also thinking about the classic inducing method of Something In There like a q tip or rolled up tissue or feather,,,,, they'd try that one day and probably not expect much result but to both of their surprise (even though it took quite a while to actually tease a sneeze out of him) it's very effective and also ends up producing some very itchy fits littered with those little half-sneezes,,,, this method also allows inej to find kaz's sensitive spot - right on the wall of his left nostril, not too far in, and right as her inducing tool even slightly brushes that spot, his breath hitches rapidly in tiny vocal inhales, too irritated to form a full gasp, she just *knows* she's found the spot. he doesn't sneeze yet, though, he's holding off to at least try and avoid sneezing all over inej's hand,,, so naturally she guides the tool back over to his newly discovered sensitive spot and drags it over the area on the inner wall of his nostril, ever so gently, and his breath stutters again, this time much more desperately, in those tiny staggered gasps.

she leaves the tool where it is, allowing herself to gaze at kaz's face as it gradually slackens against the building irritation. she can tell he's trying his best not to sneeze - either that or the sensation just isn't *quite* enough to push him over the edge,,,, so she gently pulls the tool from his nose, deliberately tracing the inside of his nostril as she removes it. almost instantly he gasps in utter desperation, notes of his voice catching on the intake of breath making it vocal and somewhat akin to a moan. he doesn't even try to hold it off anymore since he just craves the relief of release so he lifts a hand, weak and shaky, and lets it hover an inch or two from his face as his expression truly crumbles and he gives in to his twitching, sensitive nose. he folds in on himself with a fittish burst of itchy sneezes; "hihh'hhishhu! 'ihschh!-hh'ishhsh! 'ihshhuh!-sshhu!-heh'kissh! hhaahh'hiih-?" those tiny, ticklish expulsions are doing nothing to relieve his nose (even though inej stopped inducing him, that sensitive spot in his left nostril still burns with a sharp tickle that makes his eyes well up), so he pushes a gloved knuckle up to his nose in order to hold off the next fit of itchy half-sneezes so as to let his nose gear up for something a little more... full. his head is tipped back, his eyes flutter, and his nostrils flare with deep irritation.

"hh'hihh-haAH-hhaAHDt-!!" three deep, staggered gasps escape him, his chest stutters. his nose is practically twitching against his hand now, just begging for release, nostrils flared to their widest but still straining to flare even more. once kaz's satisfied that his nose won't retaliate with any more of those itchy, kittenish sneezes, he tentatively removes his knuckle from his nose and allows the burning tickle to take over him. the result is instantaneous - he pitches forward with a harsh pair of sneezes, exactly the relief he needs from that dreadful itch settled in his nose. "hhAH'ESCHHh! 'hhk-haAH'EHSCHHhiew!" he slumps back in his chair, winded. inej is staring at him in fascination. she breathes out a quiet laugh. "wow," she says quietly, "bless you." she's never seen him more disheveled - hair fallen out of place, the dark strands hanging over his forehead, eyes watering, nose flushed scarlet - she thinks it's gorgeous. she watches as he closes his eyes, still panting as he recovers from the two vicious sneezes, and shifts slightly in her seat. part of what she feels, she knows, is the raw excitement of seeing someone so put-together lose control so quickly, and in a scenario like this, it's all the better. she wants nothing more than to restart the cycle, teasing his nose once more, maybe even bringing in that perfume she knows he's dreadfully allergic to, just to watch him fall apart again and explode with sneeze after desperate sneeze before her very eyes - and she might do just that.

[themsource]

This is a Sans centered glimpse for my story Cupcake. Given some of the themes I don't recommend checking it out if you're sensitive to certain topics. While this post could be considered tame or mild, the main story certainly isn't so please do NOT force yourself to engage if that's a possibility.

For those that do follow the story and have an interest behind some of Sans' thought processes this is for you! I posted this in the comments on the fic (which is where I'll be posting them first and always in order to keep it all together) but I know not everyone reads those so I'm also sharing it here again. I hope this satisfies some curiosities as well as peaks them ^^

Takes place during Ch. 12 during the later half so spoilers warning.

Word Count: 1,251 Rating: M TWs: Mentions of Death/Murder, Foul Language, Awfulness

Sans isn’t a monster of pride. He never considered himself talented at any one particular thing or skilled enough to consider boasting of what he could or couldn’t do, even before the head wound.

Before everything went to literal hell.

However, he did like to think he was, at the very least, perceptive.

When Asgore was still around—standing tall and proud (albeit a little downtrodden) upon his throne, Sans did more than his fair share contributing to the kingdom. Aside from his many jobs and countless attempts at keeping up the moral of his fellow monsters just as his brother did, there was only one role Sans had been required to fill.

The Judge.

He had been the final line between salvation and the eradication of their world. A barrier against an unknown threat, an anomaly. Something that Asgore and Alphys both had been just as aware of as he had. 

The three of them knew of what could happen, what could go so very wrong, even if they didn’t retain memories and only a very vivid, visceral, sense of deja vu (something that Sans hated, and even to this day hated all the more for how foggy his memory could get when hungered, how deranged and near paracusic he turned). 

An anomaly could alter and erase time.

Erase them.

Together they concluded that this anomaly would have to be of human origins. The deja vu and the printouts from their machines only ever became sporadic when a human fell, and the rise of DT levels throughout the underground during their attempted passages correlated.

So Alphys set up the cameras: to watch.

Asgore wandered the kingdom: to hunt (before the guilt became too much and he hid away in his garden).

And Sans stood at the end of the hall: to guard.

Because he was so perceptive, he was to measure and compare DT to LV, to find the anomaly and weigh it as a threat, read its intentions all while allowing it to play ‘the game’ as it pleased. So long as it never stepped out of line.

Suffice to say all of that stopped mattering eventually. Became forgotten in the face of betrayal, death, and thirst.

But Sans had never stopped being The Judge. 

He might’ve lost some of that sharpness that made him somewhat qualified for the job due to the famine, sure—frustratingly true to admit—but he still was able to read and deduce in a more than normal capacity.

Which is why as he glances down at your hunched shoulders he has to take a moment.

Sans has to physically stop himself from reacting at seeing how dim your soul is when a second before it had been shining that bright solar illumination that he always has to take a mental step back from in fear of how consuming it is.

Souls were naturally bright. 

The magic, intentions, and emotions that composed them always gave them an ethereal glow that could flare vibrant depending on how high those emotions were stoked, or simmer down low if impacted in an ill received way that made the coloration and overall appearance look crystalline and faded.

Your soul however…

Flares the brightest that Sans has ever seen.

Especially when interacting with him. He wouldn’t deny it was a bit of an ego boost how strong your inner light would become simply because he held you during a show or smiled at you. 

It was mesmerizing, really.

Enthralling.

To see how his dodge of kissing you has affected you so strikes him in a way he doesn’t expect.

Greed

Thirst

Hunger

Where was the light?

The longer Sans stares, caught between fulfilling his promise to Aliza—to be good, he promised to be good for her—and giving into the sudden, undeniable urge to return that glow to its former glory, his soul quakes.

There’s static, a glitching malformation appearing where once his perception used to hold the inner workings and dialogue of the soul. He hasn’t been able to see words in a long…long time.

And there’s only one; just as broken and scattered as he is.

* f ͬ ͣg ͥl ͤ

He struggles, tries to joke and reason with you, and all it does is make your soul darker and darker.

The word vanishes.

You tremble, as if afraid and about to break.

…And who was he really? Trying to pretend he doesn’t want to kiss you just as bad. Doesn’t want to take and feel that warmth behind your ribs that burns so wonderfully as if only for him. He’s already crossed lines, gotten so close to feeling it so many times but choosing instead to linger in the wisps of its fringes.

A hand on your shoulder, his teeth by your ear…

He’s technically already felt it once, when you’d been pulled close to his chest upon waking (from a rather dirty dream) and it’d stunned the embarrassment, shame, and anger right out of him. He’d felt a soul warm for him before, many times, enjoyed its heat. Compared to yours, they were nothing. Your soul scorched, was painful enough it turned to a deranged pleasure.

Sans has tried to forget.

But he doesn’t really want to.

Because on top of that you were smart, funny. Cute in a very endearing way with how you cluttered the table with literary texts and inquired about things in a genuine attempt to understand how something functioned. You were a thinker, an eager learner. Adorable in how you reminded him of Pap by asking for a bedtime story and bathed him in nostalgia as he read to you in colorful voices.

Sometimes…you made him forget who he was now.

Sometimes…you made him feel like how he used to be.

A darkness sits heavy in his ribs. That last thought isn’t true and he knows it. If he truly felt that way he wouldn’t be so much as stalling on how to handle this situation. He’d reject you, pat you on the head, and walk away.

He’d wait.

To see if that was even a possibility down the line and if he would still be interested.

Just as you’re still waiting now, shaking.

…so dim, so dark…

Fragile.

...waiting has only ever fucked him over.

He waited for the anomaly to make a move. He waited for Toriel to come to her senses and rule the kingdom again. He waited for Alphys and the others to try helping him find a solution to the CORE. He waited to kill until monsters started dusting left and right, until he feared even his brother would share their fate. He waited to eat until an alternative was found to human meat. He waited, and waited, for something, anybody. 

He waited for seven goddamn years.

Sans’ soul goes rampant, begs to be fed.

Just one kiss, just a taste.

His promise to Aliza goes right out the proverbial window, forgotten just as is his morals.

He reasons: why should he subject you to the pain of waiting?

“...just one kiss, got it?"

The gradual build of your soul as it shines like a dying star before erupting into phantasmal wonder is enough that Sans feels floored, like his knees are about to give out as his soul pounds in his skull with the deadly beat of a hunter’s gait upon the forest floor. 

It’s automatic how he returns your smile, outlined in the glow of your soul, with his own.

"k, let's go somewhere more private."

[antianakin]

I mean, here's the thing with Ahsoka, though.

They've spent like a DECADE building her up to the point of "tames an apex predator as a baby" kind of sainthood. It's not really about skills at this point so much as the MESSAGE they are sending about Ahsoka. I don't actually find it implausible that a Force Sensitive baby could potentially connect with an animal on pure instinct. If they can levitate shit as babies, it's no less realistic that they might reach out with the Force and connect to an animal, especially in a stressful situation.

So making her into what you're terming a "Mary Sue" seems to have at least partly been done because fans reacted BADLY to a more nuanced version of her first. They don't consider Ahsoka a Mary Sue because her transformation in that direction has been very gradual. She also has the distinction of being the first main female Jedi character in mainstream Star Wars, which gives her tons of nostalgia points that Rey just didn't end up getting. And she has the benefit of being in a show many laud as being the thing that saved the Prequels, of being supremely well-written, etc etc. So while they can see that Ahsoka is written as this saintly character, it's not seen as a Mary Sue problem because, to them, it's just the natural progression of her character. She grew up and became a wise Jedi Master, that's how it works.

Rey on the other hand had the unfortunate distinction of being in one of the most controversial pieces of Star Wars media. And because she got put into a big budget major franchise trilogy rather than a cartoon show, she was seen by a lot more people who would be inclined towards being EVEN MORE critical of her very existence.

She's not a bad character, and yeah, there's plenty of fairly plausible reasons for why she can do the things she can do, but she's starting with a disadvantage to begin with and the trilogy she's a part of has aged like milk so far (and let's be honest, it's kind-of been rancid since TLJ anyway). Everyone liked Ahsoka better over time, they liked TCW better over time, so Ahsoka can keep coming back more wise and angelic than before without anyone feeling like this is out of character. Rey somehow ends up a Knight by the end of her trilogy in one of the least satisfying character arcs of the entire franchise (matched only by the arcs of all the other characters in the Sequel Trilogy that got butchered to hell by the end) and no one can figure out how the fuck she even got there.

I couldn't tell you who Rey is as a character, what her strengths and weaknesses are, what impact her relationships with the other characters have on her journey, or what her fatal flaw is that she has to overcome at the end of the story in order to beat the bad guy. I imagine this is because the people who wrote her didn't know this either, or they disagreed on it so hard that as an audience member it's impossible to figure out. I may not like some of the directions they've taken Ahsoka in as a character, but at least I can SEE the direction they've gone enough to critique it. And I imagine that that obvious journey Ahsoka's gone on (regardless of how well executed I personally think it is) makes it a lot easier to appreciate her than it is to appreciate Rey who just kind of flops around from one motivation to another as the plot demands from film to film.

But hey. The Prequels got their renaissance eventually when the kids who loved them grew up enough to defend them. I was one of them! So maybe you'll get to see a Sequels renaissance when the kids whose first Star Wars hero was Rey start getting old enough to adequately defend her and her films. For now, Ahsoka's the one whose story is in its renaissance, its revival, so she's pulling in more fans who are a lot more visible online.

The problem I have with "she tamed a space tiger before she could walk" isn't actually that she tamed a space tiger before she could walk, but that it's just the latest in a pattern of putting Ahsoka up as better than everyone around her, worthy of being spotlighted in place of any other Jedi in a show called Tales of the Jedi. The problem I have with this scene is the larger narrative structure it's a part of, not that scene itself. Ahsoka being able to tame an apex predator as a baby is just as realistic for me as anything Rey is capable of doing, they're space wizards, the sky is the limit. But I resent that that scene is a part of a larger agenda to lift up Ahsoka as better than everyone else rather than giving her any kind of real character development.

Unpopular opinion: I think Ahsoka is at her best and most interesting in the first two seasons of TCW and has only gotten progressively less nuanced as the years have gone by.

Ahsoka in TCW intentionally has flaws. They're pointed out more than once, there's ENTIRE EPISODES dedicated to Ahsoka having to fix her mistakes or being punished for disobeying orders or having to learn how to be better after she messes up and hurts people. Ahsoka has to keep learning lessons from Tera Sinube, and Aayla, and Luminara, and Padme, and Yoda.

But by the time you hit around season 4, Ahsoka starts being PERFECT. She is suddenly FLAWLESS as far as the narrative seems to see it. Even if she's doing the wrong thing, you're supposed to recognize that she is doing it for the right reasons. She's constantly level-headed, wise, and often treated as though she's practically an adult Jedi by the other Jedi around her despite having been young to be a Padawan at all and with only 2 years of training tops. It's no wonder so many people were so ready to believe that the Jedi were ready to Knight her at the end of the Wrong Jedi arc, Ahsoka's being written as though she's suddenly 25 years old with a decade of training, similar to how we see Obi-Wan acting in TPM instead of the barely trained child she should still be.

And then you hit Rebels and she's literally making entrances BATHED IN LIGHT LIKE AN ANGEL, incapable of being beaten by anyone except Darth Vader himself, she's got lightsabers of PURE WHITE LIGHT, and the other two Jedi characters treat her like a Master. And then she dies, walks off into the shadows, and comes back swathed in white robes and with a white staff, haloed in light like a wise shaman of some kind.

At least Din manages to push back against her choices in The Mandalorian, it's probably the first time we've seen Ahsoka have an opinion that someone else disagreed with and that the narrative explicitly treats as WRONG, forcing her to reconsider and make a different decision.

But by The Book of Boba Fett, she's schooling Din now, back to being the wise shaman who knows everything and can do no wrong.

In Tales of the Jedi, Ahsoka is practically perfection incarnate: more skilled than any other Jedi, more compassionate and connected to the galaxy than anyone else, someone who tamed and rode on the back of an apex predator before she could walk.

I want Ahsoka to have FLAWS again, I want the narrative to let her be WRONG and reap the consequences of that, I want to see Ahsoka LEARN SOMETHING again, I want to see her GROW as a character for the first time in over a decade.

[dimdiamond]

Finally got the chance to draw Ange properly and I am satisfied with the result!

I would love to see your versions of them (not necessarily this pose) so see it as a DIY with no deadline and if anyone wants to try it feel free❣

Character info follows under the cut:

Ange Haddock has been using they/them since their teenage years.

They were born on Friday, 13 May. If you ask Ange this explains their clumsiness and bad luck that leads to dangers and misadventures. If you ask Nestor is the genes' fault.

Even as an adult, Ange continues calling Tintin Papa and Haddock Daddy. Calculus is still their dearest uncle and godfather and Nestor is just Nestor.

Affected by Papa's journalism and fascinated by new technological advances but not letting their artistic nature fall behind, they aspire to be a documentarist.

After art school, they travel the world searching for topics for their documentaries.

Ange loves all animals but especially hedgehogs, hamsters, and guinea pigs. They never get another dog or cat as they could never replace Milou and Chatton.

The standing-up quiff is Papa's work as his effort to tame Ange's unruled hair since a baby. Ange continues to do it by force of habit later in life.

The beanie is a favourite accessory for them; they haven't stopped wearing it since their teenage years. Before that, it was a variety of hats (baseball caps, floppy hats, berets, etc.).

They're really kind and well-mannered but, most of the time unintentionally, use Daddy's special swearing words. Despite everyone's efforts, Ange could never stop this habit. The least to say is Daddy is proud.

They try to keep in touch with all their family (all the uncles and aunts) but writing, in general, isn't their best skill so, despite a few letters, they prefer calls and, if they get the chance, visits.

Ange's home will always be Marlinspike Mansion and after every trip, they return there.

I have many ideas for Ange, their life and their adventures, and even their own friends! If you're interested I could share more and maybe someday I could show Ange's stories properly, who knows?

[retphienix]

There are so many fucking games I want to play for the blog and I hypothetically have the time, but the energy, the attention span, the drive?

In more positive terms here are some various titles I plan to give a shot for the blog.

Let's do a 5am state of the blog kind of thing to clear some thoughts, eh?

Morrowind (Current Game ramble)

For the moment the blog is more or less on break with me playing Morrowind ""For the blog"" but mostly for me, because that's just a game I've wanted to explore. Not that every other game on the blog isn't that, just that I looked at Morrowind and said "That'll be a terrible game to present naturally. That's a stream game, or a condensed video, not a liveblog" and then did it anyway.

I'm loving Morrowind! Honestly the sense of mystery, fantasy, and adventure is just chef kiss levels of perfect to me.

But it's terrible in a photoset, I'm not particularly interested in doing another format for the game, and it's a game with less 'intense narrative themes!' and more 'Incredibly different game design compared to modern Bethesda' in terms of discussion material and let's all be real here:

We're all fucking tired of that conversation lol.

So there ain't much to talk on in depth, it's more of a "Here's a newbie seeing new things!" playthrough with nothing to talk about after the fact, which ain't a strong point for the blog- again- that's a stream/video kind of thing.

ANYWHO- Morrowind fun, about the only news I can offer on that series is that it might abruptly end and become a 'for me' series because I'm not particularly interested in beating the game nearly as much as I'm interested in exploring aimlessly and seeing what happens.

I'm not playing Morrowind for the end goal of beating the main quest, or beating the DLCs. I'm playing it to wander into caves and find new pants, so if I reach a point where I'm satisfied with what I've shared and my motivation has not borne a new end goal then I'll end the live blog and move on to a new game :P

Backlog

The short statement I'll make is that this blog is a hell for my backlog.

Even without infinite money on hand I've ended up with so many physical and digital games just sitting here waiting to be played either because they caught my eye or because of recommendations by various people over the years.

I keep sitting down, cataloguing my backlog, realizing it's pointless to catalog, deleting it all, and then starting over yet again.

The fact is, if anyone recommended it it's probably still sitting in a text document somewhere, or physically on my shelf, and I don't remotely know when I'll get to it.

I've yet to hit the point where I decide to turn this blog into work, so I have never sat down and gone "Well, Retphienix NEEDS to post! Sit down, 8-12 hours minimum, let's play the next game!"

And part of me wishes I'd do that, but the fact is this isn't a job. There's no money here, there's the opposite even! I don't remotely see it that way, but if you squint and tilt your head I've spent a lot of money on this blog over the years.

Capture devices (a lot of them!), consoles specifically bought for the blog, controllers out the wazoo, I've gone through multiple computers for this thing, and the games, my lord the games- so many games.

And that's fiscally, what about manpower? So many hours have gone into this blog, so many hours poured into the background of making all this work, researching shit, putting my all into formulating my opinions clearly for posts, writing, hell video shit even though it's mostly clips as my one step into edited content became an impromptu awkward hiatus from doing more lol.

What was I on about.

Despite all that nonsense, Retphienix is a passion project. Not a job.

If I lack the passion in some sense then the work doesn't get done "just for the sake of the work". And I don't mean lost passion as much as "No motivation on x day; tired on y day; interested in doing something else on z day" etc.

If things aren't clickin' I don't force it, so the blog has all this backlog and isn't put together in a way that facilitates burning through it quickly.

I do sometimes wish things were different though, I know I'd still enjoy such a playstyle, but I can't justify "faking it til you make it" in a format that literally isn't built to pay and was never intended to.

I can't work myself for nothin'.

Hypothetical "Next" games

While the backlog is a wild wasteland of titles, there are some that just kinda guarantee their spots sooner rather than later.

Yakuza 6 and 7 along with Judgment, obviously. The series is one of my all time favorites and I generally have some of my absolute most fun on the blog side of things with those games, so it's a winner on two fronts. It's just fun to react to, post out of context things for, and talk with other fans about and for whatever reason tumblr has a healthy enough fanbase for the series that my meager blog gets some attention there.

Dragon Quest has a strangely weighted chance all things considered. DQ has many of the same advantages as Yakuza- it's a series I adore, it's fun to talk about in this format, and the fandom is big enough to occasionally spill my way making the blogging experience a bit more fun. It's also a series where I don't know what'd come next to be fair. Probably DQ4? I mean, might as well continue on from that point since I have 1-3 done. I can't exactly justify replaying the entirety of DQ11 no matter how much I want to! Turning on the games above gave me DQ goosebumps which kinda settled how likely it is to show up sooner rather than later, lol.

Jeez. I looked at one of my surviving lists and that's like all that's popping out at me.

Other series feel like giant leaps with no gas in the tank, like do I want to start playing Kingdom Hearts? Not really, not right now. Do I finally play Lisa? Eeeeeeh. Persona? Hmmmm.

I haven't the fuzziest. There are so many one off interesting titles, but if the drive ain't there they might as well be textbooks.

Perhaps instead of any major next game I'll just do some afternoons exploring random titles for a bit here and there with no intention of beating em.

The idea is enticing as hell, but the feeling of not giving the game's a "real shake" feels bad.

We'll see. The only certainties seem to be Yakuza and DQ, as much as I'd prefer far more.

Side project hypotheticals

Outside of the basic live blog stuff I'm still interested in exploring scripted stuff. Mostly to prove to myself that I can overcome some anxieties and break from the meandering pace the last effort gave- I can write! That much I know! So just gotta trick myself into writing for a video and then make the video after the fact lol.

Current thoughts are on a video exploring the monster taming sub-genre. It's a genre near and dear to my heart, and one I know some weird things about as is- but mostly it's a genre I KNOW I know very little about despite that, so I'd like to give it an overall look, or perhaps just explore some random entries, I haven't a clue lol. I'd mostly like an opportunity to talk about some interesting entries in the genre, things like explaining my adoration for DWM while explaining how the flaws make it really rough today, or the interesting mash of genres that is Lost Magic, or the more modern take that mashes idle-like mechanics with Siralim Ultimate.

Won't lie, playing the demo for Monster Hunter Stories 2 threw a wrench in that plan because it made me want to talk about it and how the genre might have a new breath of life after really grinding to a halt as pokemon became what it is today, but all to be seen or not lol.

As far as other things like streams? Not really.

The concept of writing a bit more on games is tickling the back of my head lately, but that mostly just means "more posts that aren't live-blogging" as I haven't the fuzziest where I'd share such nonsense.

Really it's all up in the air as far as retphienix content is concerned, beyond the live blogging obviously.

5am closing

It's fun to explore what games have to offer, both on the individual level, the personal level, and as a whole- as a medium.

So I like Retphienix.

And I like all I've made here.

I hope to continue for a long, long time- no matter what future formats might look like.