#but the slog was real

[lonely-ghost-girl]

I wish it was easier to start new islands on acnh, or at least they let you change the name. How do ppl who make lots of different themed islands do iiiit. The grind to 3 stars & terraforming gets so boring and tedious when youve done it more than a few times

[hinamie]

alongside someone like you

[dollypopup]

I can't stop thinking about Colin on his travels. Colin, alone, on a journey to 17 different cities, across several countries. Colin on his own.

Colin who writes letter after letter, to his family, to his friends, and barely gets a response back. How long before he understands that they didn't get lost in the mail? How long until he realizes that, just like when he was a boy, no one has the time for him? The space for him? How many letters unanswered before he lets it finally take root and fester in his mind?

He could have died on that tour.

Would they even notice? Would they see when the letters slow until they cease? Would they wonder why? His mum, surely (maybe, possibly, but she has enough on her hands, besides, and he's never been a concern, in need of her assistance, before), but anyone else? Anthony on his honeymoon, Eloise a stormcloud personified, Benedict taking on the familial responsibilities, Fran preparing for the marriage mart and in Bath, regardless. Daphne, his closest sister, a mum running her own estate.

Greg and Hyacinth who enjoy his stories, but are children.

Pen who ignores him. No explanation, no goodbye.

Colin who has no one in his corner. Colin who travels city to city, putting on personas. Will they like me? What about now? Colin who has hardly anything to read from the people he loves. Who do not think of him.

And yet he thinks of them. Brings them back gifts, writes his recollections for them until it hits him that, oh, they don't care. They don't care what he's doing, how he's doing. They didn't want to hear it before, when he was there with them, and they do not want to hear it now, either. Did they even open those envelopes? Did they see them come through the post, just as proof he's alive, and shrug off the contents? Did they look? Once, Colin sends an empty page. No one notices. Easier, then, to send just the outsides. People only ever care about the outsides. Pretty and prim in neat packages, uncaring of what lies beneath. Sea sick on the rocking boats, staring up at stars on the continent, Colin grows aware, but not bitter. Sad, but resigned.

He loves his family, he loves Pen, loves them to grace, loves them to it's okay. It was him, he determines. Too chatty, his letters too long, uninteresting, his passions dull or droll, or else, worse, he's displeased them in some way. Colin who takes refuge in stranger's arms and homes, who dreams and tries to sate his curiosity. Colin who pretends, because anyone, anyone but him would be received better, he's sure of it. Colin who must talk too much, surely, and with no one to listen. Colin who learns to hush.

Yes. Remarkable- as in, I have many remarks about it.

How many times did he go to excitedly write of what he did that week, and stopped himself, knowing it was a waste? How many times did he write and throw into the fire a letter asking Why don't you see me? Why don't you care?

If he didn't make it, how long would it take for anyone to notice? A month? Two? A year? Would they wave it off as his frivolity, denounce him as a flake and fume about the funds? Would they wonder where it was he had lost himself off at?

He cannot fall into that, so, he writes in his journal, instead. Of the ache of it, of how he longs for connection, for understanding, for someone to take him seriously. He keeps it with him, this log of his discontent, of his folly and felicity, of his pitfalls and pains.

If he didn't make it, would they realize all that's left of him is what he sent them, not even a body to bury? Did he look over the side of a bow of a boat and look at the churn of the ocean and think of how many bones it held? Did he tip his face to the sun? How many new scars did he earn? Who did he befriend?

Who did he become?

Somewhere along the line, Colin learned. He learned the real him wasn't wanted.

Somewhere along the line, somewhere between Patmos and Paris, Colin left Colin behind.

And, somewhere along the line, Colin laid face to face with loneliness in his bed, and it wrapped its arms around him.

[utilitycaster]

The thing about Otohan is that she had an awesome mechanical build and she served a narrative purpose in that the party lived in fear of her for nearly 60 episodes but she truly did die as she lived, with a personality replaced by frogs and murderous intent. And the thing is I suspect there's plenty of interesting stuff about there. I've been there as a DM, having built a super cool NPC with worldbuiding ties that the party simply did not give a shit about, and I think that's the same situation here.

Legend of the Peaks isn't particularly meaningful since only two party members have any recollection of the Apex War and neither show the slightest interest in the politics thereof and they haven't really been relevant to the story. We don't know why she worshiped the Raven Queen once nor what happened to make her stop while still using that symbol...and it hasn't really been relevant to the story. We don't know if the backpack came from her or was from Ludinus...but it's not really relevant to the story other than tracing the potions of possibility back through Treshi and Jiana. We don't know what specifically drove her towards the Vanguard other than lacking answers as a Ruidusborn - which may have simply been enough - but again. Not relevant. We have Liliana to represent the perspective of a Ruidusborn who went through the Omen Archive study and whose motivations warped and twisted from a place of genuine worry and fear, and we have Ludinus to represent the centuries-long architect of this entire plan (plus he can't stop monologuing about his motivations, and that is a compliment). That's plenty.

And so Otohan consistently fails the Sexy Lamp With A Gun Attached Test, and it doesn't really matter, and I'm sure there was a backstory there but there's quite literally been no reason to care about it at any point, and I think most people do not. Her entire purpose within the narrative was that of a sentient evil Jersey Barrier that ultimately had to be blown up. I'm infinitely more interested in the loot drop that resulted from her death (and obviously the emotional ramifications of FCG's sacrifice) than any of her repetitive zealot bullshit.

[littlebunnysander]

Screenshotting my original post so my addition shows up in the tags.

Two-siding a genocide in your ongoing podcast while an actual real world genocide is going on is WILD.

The humans have been confirmed to be colonizers of land originally inhabited by monsters. They have carried out multiple genocides and forced the monsters out of their homes and into cities on the fringes of the world. Then more human invaders show up to destroy those cities (also the monster cultural centers).

We have confirmation that the city they hit first has been leveled entirely now. The city that Olala was seeking because it contained so much information and history about monster kind.

We've also got political leaders refusing to get involved unless the bombing comes to them, and the monsters being treated as primitive and ineffective against the advanced tech of the off-world humans. This is a really uncomfortable if unintentionally a parallel and actually awful if it is intentional. Best case scenario, it's trying to make a connection between fictional monsters and real life people in a way that's both othering and pretty racist. Worst case, the writers actually believe this is a two side issue and that any attempt to stop Israel is "just as bad" as an ongoing genocide.

Does anyone know if anyone has made any statements? I'm not expecting every creative to do so, but when your work is hitting this close to real world situations, it might be necessary.

[unanswered-stars]

Sneak peak of my one shot for @gwynweekofficial below

Currently sitting at 4.2k words but I have a touch more to add before I’m ready to wrap it up. This is for the day one prompt but it’s going to be a beast to edit because I basically wrote this while half asleep so not sure it will be up in time. (I know it will not be up in time).

In the mean time enjoy

🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁

Her cool fingers brushed against his as she took back the blade, the feeling of sparks on skin left in their absence.

There was something odd about this female. It felt like a secret that he should know only he couldn’t remember.

“What is your name girl?”

Those teal eyes met his again but this time he saw more than the blue of her eyes. There, woven throughout every strand of blue was the bright burn of flame, like rays of sunlight under the surface of the ocean, illuminating and brightening the blue of the water.

“I…” She looked almost as startled as he felt in that moment.

Not possible, he thought to himself.

[clawsextended]

in my perfect world everyone makes so many lesbian muses the men then have to deal with the exact same behavior when every single post ever written isn’t about dick.

[subzeroparade]

Hello im darundik on ao3 and have been so slowly working through your works and am currently on The Feast We Promised and I am so IN LVOE with how you interpret canon events into practical terms. Like I always assumed that Maria entered the healing church after the cainhurst massacre, bc she hides her relationship to them, but of course this idea of cainhurst being allowed and THEN disappearing makes sense. And also the whole thing of gherman being a designer first and foremost and being the hardest hitter, the fact that there’s a difference between academics and prospectors — LOVE THIS. The moment where you said “Maria joined the church as a botanist” — of course. Of fuxking course. The term “hunter” now means “just a person who wacks beasts” but it doesn’t necessary only mean that — as evidenced by the choir members in-game, who definitely don’t hunt, but ar hunter-type enemies. I’m just. Tearing my hair out. I love this so much. I’m reading SO slowly but enjoying it SO much.

Thank you so much, the engagement with my work means a lot :') Especially Feast, because so much went into it.

Please have this Maria sketch I have been noodling for part of the day as thanks.

[slog-the-book]

me telling people im bisexual because im too scared to be aroace. be honest ​is it an aroace thing to only want to get in a relationship not bcuz u necessarily want it but bcuz you want to see if it WorksTM on you…

[on-leatheredwings]

patiently waiting for my libido to come out of jail

[vendarkoe]

one of the funny bits of fujieda's route in slow damage is that towa has absolutely no room in his head to deal with madarame coming back from the dead so when he does see him face to face hes just like hah?? the fuck??? and fujieda asks him hey that was ur ex right? and towa looks at him like he's stupid

[gay-yosuke]

okay, i've finished hero story, and it took me about 4 and a half hours. my takes so far are; the game is worse in almost every way to sa1. and i only say "almost" because i havent played dark story yet and cant come to a full conclusion on that.

the story feels disjointed, the levels are repetitive, and most are not fun in the slightest. controls are still as ass as sa1 but with the added jankiness of levels with way less leeway than sa1.

swapping between sonic, tails and knuckles is not enjoyable in the slightest. you start getting the hang on one of their controls and suddenly youre playing a different one. the fact that there are 2 action buttons but you have to purposefully change which action youre doing with a THIRD button feels superfluous.

the camera is trying to do its entirely own thing while im trying to play the game, and it's not fun. i died multiple times because the camera suddenly moved and i was then moving in an entirely different direction.

the story is near impossible to follow. it's all hopping around here and there, parts that feel unrelated happening inbetween, and it all happens so fucking FAST. its all "oh suddenly we're over here with knuckles" and just generally doesnt feel like the pacing is right.

as for repetitive levels, i know some people like to say "oh well at least they didnt REUSE levels like in sa1!!" but the thing is. i think the way sa1 reuses level parts actually ties the environments together. like sonic and amy go through different parts of twinkle park and share small parts of it, but in tails' desert level, they use the same "square area with pulleys to bring you upwards, and there's enemies at the top" setpiece THREE seperate times in the level. i also feel like sa2 doesn't incentivise exploration enough.

there were 3 points in the game where i actually felt like i was enjoying myself, and that was tails' kart section (which, if i wanted to play a GOOD kart game, i could easily go and play srb2k or RR), omochao getting crushed by a trap (though he warned me once i was under the trap that it was there, and im glad it wasn't an instakill on me), and sonic's final level (because it actually felt like a fucking sonic level i could enjoy)

main reason for that last note that it's the "only sonic level i could enjoy", that mostly comes from the fact that im not being janked around by the controls. most of the time you're on the rails and gaining speed, which i found pretty fun! it was nice having to think on the fly for certain sections. unfortunately, snapping to the rail is not exactly the easiest, and i DID die, but i didnt feel like i was going to suffer playing through the level again like i did on crazy gadget.

all in all? i know dark story won't be better, but i'll get to it soon

[cosmic-toffee]

🎶 32 ominous stakes in the ground, 32 ominous stakes~

you take one out, crumble it down, 31 ominous stakes in the ground 🎶

[coldflasher]

look i don't usually go here but in honour of interview with the vampire season 2 and the recent uptick in vampire/buffy-inspired AUs i've seen floating around on my dash... eobarry interview with the vampire AU?? 👀

eobard is lestat, as if that doesn't go without saying

[anthro-cat]

i feel kinda lonely

[gatheredfates]

what is the river? to carve the land or drown in? | azuma yumishi

Do you want to read all of my FFXIVWrite prompts? You can do that here!

FISH OUT OF WATER a person who feels awkward or unhappy because they are in a situation that is not familiar or because they are different from the people around them. Mentions of behaviour directly related to PTSD. The drabble doesn’t reference it as such, but you can get the implication. Also mentions of racism/terrorism/war crimes/etc. as it pertains to the Garlean empire and their treatment of their occupants.

A sense of helplessness was what possessed Azuma to wonder if the accident had affected her brain as well as her legs. She had always thought herself relatively adaptable; she was able to live a blended life as a second-generation Doman — one foot on land, the other deep in Sui-no-Sato — and when the Garlean’s invaded she was able to pantomime their desires enough they believed she might have the chance of assimilation. Her entire life had been a series of adaptations; the loss of her mother, her homeland, her father —

Then, just as suddenly as her adaptability started, it stopped. 

She could barely think about the death of her father. It was as if a serpent had woven its way around her heart, its body constricting the muscle until she couldn’t breathe, and she swore she was dying anew. The first time it happened the chirurgeon thought it a product of her injury, and she dared not choke out the panic of seeing spots of black as they whisked her back to bed.

She did not think about what might have become of her best friend. The thought that Siyoh could be dead, or worse — worse, more than anything, knowing the Garlean empire — had her lying in bed for days, panicked and catatonic in one. What if she was conscripted to some far-off land or forced to warm their bed? What if she was alone? What if she was afraid?

Then there was the torment of trying to adapt to Eorzea. It was the angst of knowing she should be grateful for everything they offered her, knowing she could give them naught, and she did her best to convey it whilst also feeling so alien she felt as though she were merely the audience to her own story. 

She listened to strangers converse in a language she could barely understand, so used to Siyoh’s patience as she tried to translate, and her concentration so often ebbed before her body did.

The bed she laid in was not her own. Only in the deepest of sleep did she feel like she was home, until open eyes to an elevated perch made her feel as though she were falling. Some of her countrymen had come to bed on the floor, but it wasn’t like she could get there now, could she?

A few of the able bodied had come to making their own food, but the ingredients were different and lacked many of the usual spices. It wasn’t bad, she had to remind herself of that, but it wasn’t the same.

Everything was different, different, different. She wanted to scream — why couldn’t she manage with one thing? Why did it feel like that one thing was the tipping point that threatened to sent her over the edge?

Her father had always commending her on weaving like the river, able to carve the land to suit her. Now, Azuma felt as if she were drowning in it.