#fix the system or lower your expectations… a lot

[sleepydrabbles]

My frustration with most criticism leveled at manga artists and authors is that people end up addressing symptoms and not causes.

When I was 11 or 12, I wanted to be a manga artist. Part of this particular fixation meant reading a lot of manga and trying to imitate the styles— something you can still see in my art. I came across a manga called Bakuman that I would really recommend, because it gave me a better understanding of why manga has a bigger tendency to have huge plot holes, fucked up character development, and flat characters when compared to, say… published novels. I’ll need to dig it up sometime so I can show y’all specific stuff but for now I’ll work from memory… I need to get these thoughts down.

Most manga are published through weekly magazines, and the artists are expected to come up with a chapter a week. I’ve seen some shifts lately due to the work-related stress and injuries that have abounded as a consequence but that is where things started, and that meant manga artists had to come up with SOMETHING on a schedule, no matter how good or bad it was. (So yeah, that terrible pandering filler chapter/arc was probably a mangaka with a hell of a block.)

Then, within the magazine, there are frequent checks and polls to measure popularity— if a manga isn’t popular enough, it gets cut, whether or not it was finished. (Yeah, that manga you loved that had a really sudden and terrible ending? Probably more niche than you realized.)

Contrast this with traditional publishing (as I saw someone here doing, comparing Harry Potter to My Hero Academia): authors take years to write, and then they have to find an editor, and even if the whole story is published in segments they have at least a year between those segments to plan, write, and edit. NaNoWriMo winners have demonstrated that the writing phase can be finished in a month or two— the rest of the effort goes to editing.

Manga artists have an editor, sure, but that editor is on the same deadline. Worst-case scenario they get a day or two to read over the chapter.

Novels also tend to remain popular enough not to have to deal with getting cut— and most novelists will just finish in self-publishing if their publisher decides to terminate their contract. Manga artists simply move to the next idea, from what I’ve seen.

This leads to a system where, I kid you not, most artists are just throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks. They get an idea, it gets dashed out, and then they see what happens. I can’t tell you how many artists I’ve seen express genuine surprise at the popularity of their ideas, and I think it’s just because that idea was one in maybe five or six that got submitted to the magazine that round. They have to figure it out as they go, and what does that mean? Plot holes.

And if a manga is popular enough, the expectation is that the manga artist will continue to make it… and make it… and make it. My dad joked once that you’ll always find another villain behind the latest big bad with these types of series, because the goal is not to create a cohesive story but to maintain audience attention as long as possible. My Hero may be in the middle of a final battle, but who knows whether AFO will actually turn out to be the ultimate villain— while Voldemort was clearly the problem and remained the problem for the entire Harry Potter series. (I’m working with the comparison I saw— I have some personal issues with JKR as an artist and a person that I won’t get into here.)

You see where I’m going with this, right? I sure hope so.

Learning that, as a manga artist, I would be expected to continue creating what gets popular no matter how I felt about it— that was what tanked my desire to become a manga artist. And I love manga to death, but I’ve also learned not to expect much of it because the system itself is designed in such a way that only the most batshit insane series with wild twists and turns and crazy unrealistic characters will succeed. Think about Naruto, Bleach, My Hero, ONE PIECE, etc. it’s a miracle there’s a plot line there at all.

Unfortunately, some people hold these manga to the same standard as Harry Potter, Percy Jackson, Steelheart, Mistborn, etc. And as long as they do so, they’re going to be disappointed, because the manga publishing world is basically a reflection of the internet influencer world— “create till you drop and everyone forgets your name” is the goal of the game. Until we see some kickback against that system, you’re not going to see well-developed manga that are also popular.

If you do find one, congratulations! Cherish it. The mangaka probably had to kick a few shins to keep it true to their vision.

[dallasgallant]

“Ain’t nobody call the Fuzz in this neighborhood cause they know better!”

This line sits with me as a very telling one that often goes overlooked, as it’s lost in the blur of energy before the rumble. Now most of this is going to be from existing knowledge but it did prompt me to dig into poor communities a bit more. The line is said differently between the Book and the movie but both are said within the idea of pride and community— when they’re caught up in the high of before a rumble, all the energy close to bursting out of them- repping their kind and going on this spree of yelling stereotypes and taking ownership. In the movie Steve’s much more happy and hyped as he yells it— in the book he also says it to correct Darry but in a more exact tone.

In a surprise to no one cops aren’t friends to poor communities. Economically poor, crime heavy communities tend to be over policed and often met with force, brutality etc. We know the boys get hauled in a lot, sometimes just for the assumption they did something. Cops pick out, they stereotype and often target within the neighborhood.

There’s a social aspect as well that’s not so direct to do with police action and that is the social isolation. Lack of resources, mistreatment and disapproval from those outside creates strong communities that further isolate. In a lot of ways it’s a helpful thing, mitigating the effects of poverty by having a social net and trust. A detail I like is that Darry seems to be a part of a phone tree when Pony was late the first time (not exclusive to poor areas but a great example of having networks.) People help each other out “help their own” building networks. A lot of work is under the table or can be barter based - questionable legality of work, building/fixing things, way of general running of life. Perception of law is different.

This isn’t to say everyone in the neighborhood has broken the law at some point but it’s likely a lot have at least something of questionable legality or more likely have family members who are greasers, criminals etc but will protect them. All of the guys instantly flock to go help Dally after he robbed the store and have been stated to hide and protect the guys whenever they do something like this. It comes back to the “help/protect your own” … no one in the neighborhood is calling the cops because they know what will happen if they do. A family member or friend might be taken in, potential brutality, people coming in and uprooting the way you live your life because it’s “abnormal” etc etc etc.

If someone does call the cops who do you think they’re going to help? A bunch of no good, greasy hoods or the nice boys from the other side of town with their khakis and new cars and clothes? It was probably a greaser who threw the first punch too… doesn’t matter their side of town or what its over, or if some Soc is standing over some bleeding greaser kid. It’s systemic. (An aside but this is also why it drives me nuts people would assume the boys to be bigots because they’re … lower class in the 60s… let’s do some introspection there. Added to the fact that, there’s a lot of overlap with racial issues, their community would likely be FAR more integrated than the west or even rest of the town. Not that their wouldn’t be ignorance but the assumption— that’s not the point of this post but a pet peeve of mine)

Anyways, the Outsiders often gets reduced to a simplistic “use vs them” of just Greaser vs prep like it’s one of the beach movies they watch. When in reality it’s actually a lot to do with class and societal expectations/conditioning.

—

Papers if interested Here and here

Either for general interest or potentially helping with writing. Ones an older study (which skimming and certain sections I found interesting), the other IS Wikipedia but it’s for the general idea

[charmandabear]

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Leather and Lace

Summary

Lady Estelle wasn't expecting to fall for her tailor, of all people. But with everything under her control during the day, she's more than content to cede control to him at night.

Pairing: Astarion/F!OC Rating: E Word Count: 5.7k Tags/Warnings: unprotected sex, orgasm denial, safeword discussion, light bondage, d/s dynamic, p in v sex, vampire sex, biting, vampire bites, blood drinking, sexual tension, casual classism, AU, (sorta, you can make an argument), praise kink

Read on AO3

Something in me turned feral when I saw Hamrikaa's tailor!Astarion art and I needed to get this out of my system. It doesn't help that I work with costumes irl and I suddenly got a lot of opinions about Astarion and sewing.

I have more thoughts on this relationship, particularly with the class difference and power dynamics. I also really want a story with a plus size protag since I'm really tired of feeling like the implication is that all Tavs/OCs are the type 1 body. So let me know if that's something that appeals to you, or if you're interested in a longer version with more than just sexual tension and smut, lol.

Fucking Arfur.

It’s sundown on a Saturday and Lady Estelle Rosewinter is traipsing through the Lower City looking for a tailor. Arfur Gregorio had shown up to her masquerade several hours early already intoxicated. While trying to shoo him off the grounds, he had stepped on her gown, ripping the seam of the thigh high slit to a nearly obscene height. Now, as guests are beginning to arrive, she isn’t there to greet them and is rather passing shop after shop putting up their closing signs. 

She could have just chosen a different gown as her handmaiden Celia had suggested, except that it took her so long to get into the damn thing. She thought that getting it fixed would take but a minute. It did not occur to her that, given the hour, finding an available tailor would prove so difficult.

Estelle is about to give up when she sees a dim little shop out of the corner of her eye. It’s not on the main drag, but rather up a quiet alleyway. But there’s no mistaking the sign.

Threads of Starlight

The door to the shop is clearly open, so she rushes in, desperate to speak with the proprietor.

“My apologies, I know you’re probably about to close, but I have an emergency, and I promise that I’ll pay handsomely for the inconvenience–” she cuts herself off as the tailor walks out from the back. He’s so much more attractive than she would’ve expected from someone of his station. His clothes are humble but understandably incredibly well-fitting, his trousers gently hugging his lean legs and the sleeves of his light linen top rolled up above his elbows, revealing pale, slender forearms. His silvery hair looks windswept and effortless, although Estelle knows it takes a practiced hand to get one’s hair just right like that. There’s a measuring tape slung around his neck and he looks briefly startled by her appearance before a practiced charm takes over.

“No need for apologies, Lady…” he leaves a gap in his speech for her to tell him her name. His voice is melodic.

“Estelle. Lady Estelle.” She tries to match his honeyed tone but her mouth has suddenly gone dry. He takes her hand and gently presses his lips to her knuckles.

“Lady Estelle. The pleasure is all mine,” he coos and a shiver goes up her spine. What on earth would a tailor need with this much charisma? Without letting go of her hand, he gracefully leads her up onto the fitting stand in the middle of the shop. She has danced with the finest nobility in Baldur’s Gate, and none of them were even half this elegant.

“Now please, tell me what I can do for you. I hope there’s nothing wrong with this beautiful gown of yours. Is it one of Galwen’s?” The way he looks at her makes her feel exposed, almost naked, despite the conversation literally being about her clothes. She clears her throat in an attempt to regain some composure.

“Yes, I’ve been going to her for years, but she’s tragically unavailable this evening.” Not that Estelle didn’t try. She sent three messengers and finally went to Galwen’s door herself, but she refused to open back up. Pity, since it looks like she’s lost Estelle’s business for good, especially if this one turns out to be as good as he looks. And gods does he look good.

“All the more fortunate for me that I stay open late,” he says in a low tone, and gooseflesh breaks out over Estelle’s arms. “Now, tell me darling,” he coughs at letting the casual pet name slip out, “pardon me, my Lady, how can I be your gown’s savior this evening?” Estelle hadn’t heard the rest of his sentence because her ears started ringing at the “darling.” Normally she would not take too kindly to someone in the working class speaking so informally to her. She’s beginning to feel lightheaded. Has she been hexed? Does this happen to any who cross his threshold?

“It’s torn,” she says in an uncharacteristically small voice. “Right here.” She lifts her skirt at the thigh slit, threads popping out of the seam. In an instant the tailor is on one knee, examining it closely. With him suddenly this close, all of her symptoms dissipate and are replaced by just one: desire.

She tries to shake herself out of it. Not only would anything of the sort be wildly inappropriate - given her status in Baldur’s Gate, an affair with a lowly tailor would be splashed all over Baldur’s Mouth within hours - this man is a consummate professional, and she’s certain that he would never return her affections. He must look beneath dozens of hems a day, this is nothing out of the ordinary for him. 

He touches the fabric as he studies it, cool fingers lightly grazing Estelle’s skin. She gasps at the sensation, and he looks up at her sheepishly.

“I’m terribly sorry, I have poor circulation. My touch is always something nasty, I’m afraid.” Estelle shakes her head and finds anywhere to look but into those piercing red eyes. 

“It’s fine, really. I have an important evening planned, so I’m a bit jumpy,” she lies through her teeth. He steps away to pick up a needle and thread from behind the counter. While his back is turned, Estelle takes the time alone to wipe sweat off her brow. This man is making her burn up inside and out.

“Oh really?” he sings as he’s back down on his knees, dangerously close to her upper thigh once again. “And pray forgive me, but I must reach up slightly in order to make this repair, if that’s alright. I promise, I’ll be the picture of a gentleman.” He looks up at her, waiting for her consent before touching her further. Estelle, worried what might come out if she opened her mouth, just nods. 

He slides his hand between the fabric and her leg, pulling it out slightly so he can tuck his needle into the underside of the seam. Estelle bites down on her tongue to keep from moaning. She knows that she’s touch-starved, it’s been far too long since anyone has warmed her bedsheets. Between running a household, meeting with politicians and nobility alike, and her position in the Baldur’s Gate arts council, she hardly has the time. But this is ridiculous. A gentle caress from a man should not elicit this much heat between her thighs, and yet here she is, keeping them pressed together tight, the slight pressure her only relief. 

His fingers move deftly, pulling the needle through the fabric with ease. He’s focusing on his work so intently, and Estelle watches him almost like he’s a dream. He begins tying off the thread, and before he’s complete, his eyes flick upward to meet Estelle’s.

“All finis-” he begins, but Estelle is so startled by the intensity of his gaze that she jumps, causing him to prick his finger with the needle. A tiny droplet of blood lands on the pale pink silk. The tailor jumps back, horrified, and immediately starts apologizing profusely.

“Oh gods, Lady Estelle, I’m so terribly sorry, look at what a clumsy little fool I am, gods on such a beautiful dress, too,” his words tumble out of him, all composure that was once there, now gone. She’s finding this flustered side of him possibly even more appealing than the cool and collected version. Her lady-of-the-house instincts kick in, and she addresses him like a new maid who has accidentally broken china while transporting it to the kitchen. 

“Darling,” she breathes and lifts his chin with a finger. She can finally look into those crimson eyes, feeling herself regain the poise she’s accustomed to. “It’s nothing to worry about. Just a speck.” She swears she can hear his breath catch, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking because he recovers quickly.

“Perhaps, but I still feel terrible. This mend is on the house, as well as any alteration you might need done on another garment. And, ah. How to say this.” He looks flushed again, despite the paleness of his skin. “There is a foolproof way of getting one’s blood out of fabric, but it’s not the most, er, refined shall I say.” This piques Estelle’s intrigue.

“Really? And what way is that?”

The tailor shifts nervously, and she positively relishes in the trade in demeanors. 

“This only works if it’s the one the blood belongs to, but if you can catch it straight away, then, erm, saliva will do the trick,” he says with a chagrined smile. Whatever Estelle was expecting, this is not it. 

“Oh,” she responds, and suddenly she’s back to that lightheaded feeling. What is he proposing exactly? Whatever it may be, she’s certain it will involve his mouth in some way and she’s not sure how she’ll handle that.

“The next five alterations are free, I’m so very sorry, this is very uncommon while working on a garment. At least, I’m usually better at catching myself,” he adds with embarrassment. 

“Uh, yes, whatever- whatever needs to be done. Thank you.” She peers down at him, willing herself to find somewhere else to look but unable to tear her eyes away. He pops a thin, pale finger in his mouth and swirls his tongue around it. She swallows loudly as he takes his finger out and dabs it on the slit of her dress, still achingly close to her thigh. He rubs at the spot, but evidently it’s not enough, because he then brings his lips to her dress and lightly rubs his tongue on the silk. 

“Oh gods,” she can’t keep this moan from escaping her lips. If he can hear her, he doesn’t respond, blessedly. He pulls away from her, silver hair ever so slightly disheveled, and rubs at the spot with a handkerchief to dry it.

“Apologies again, my Lady,” he says with a frown, examining the spot for any remaining blood. Then he stands and they’re face to face, the few inches of pedestal putting their eyes at the same height. “I hope this doesn’t make you think any less of my skills as a tailor.” She briefly wonders what other skills he might possess before banishing the thought from her head. 

“Not at all, er,” she falters, realizing she never asked his name, which is unlike her, she usually tries to learn the names of all of the people she contracts to work for her.

“Astarion,” he says with a bow.

“Astarion, yes,” she repeats breathlessly. “Well, Astarion, you came to my aid in a time of desperation, and I suppose there was a blood price to be paid.” He lets out a startled laugh, clearly not expecting her to make such a joke.

“That’s very clever, Lady Estelle,” he says, his eyes sparkling. “You were a pleasure to have on my fitting platform, I do hope to see you again soon. At least to make up for my absolute buffoonery.” He’s back to the confidently poised man who first greeted her when she entered the shop, and he plants another light kiss on the back of her hand. 

“I assure you, the pleasure was all mine,” Estelle murmurs, almost hoping that he doesn’t hear her. “Oh, and Astarion?”

“Yes, my Lady?”

“Please. Call me Stella.

***

Several tenday have passed since Stella’s first meeting with Astarion, and she had visited his shop nearly every evening. It didn’t take long for her to admit her feelings; she couldn’t hide them even if she wanted to. Even when Astarion confessed his status as a vampire spawn, she wasn’t deterred. If anything, it aroused her all the more. Something happens to Astarion when he drinks her blood. The humble and subservient tailor disappears, and in his place is a self-assured and dominant man. Stella is more than happy to relinquish control over to him. She’s responsible for so much during the day, making decisions, telling people what to do, so there’s an appeal to having someone else take that role for once. 

The moment she walks into the shop she’s met with the graceful gentleman. No matter how many times she sees him, that wicked smile sets a small ember in her belly that quickly spreads. Each point of contact lights on fire despite his chilled skin. A spark in her fingers as he pulls her forward, a flame on her cheek as he strokes it gently. In an instant he shuts the door and flips around the open sign. With the darkened windows and the door now closed, they’re plunged into semi-darkness and Stella feels a chill go up her spine.

Astarion wastes no time in pushing her against the door and kissing her deeply. He presses his body up against hers and she gasps into his kiss as he pulls her in closer by her waist. He slides his knee between her legs and she lets out a whimper. Astarion chuckles in her ear.

“Eager, aren’t we?” he coos, lifting her slightly with his knee putting a delicious pressure on her mound. She clutches the back of his neck and hair, wrapping her leg around him to get even closer. He hikes up her skirt to her waist and scoops her up so both of her legs grip his midsection. Keeping his lips locked on hers as she continues to devour him, he carries her through the shop and to one of the adjacent rooms where there’s a bed and two untouched glasses of wine sitting on a side table. The tailor’s quarters. 

He throws her down on the bed and she looks up at him, cheeks and lips flushed, eyes glowing. Her typically neatly coiffed hair is mussed and strands splay out beneath her head like a halo. Astarion straddles her waist, pinning her in place, as he strokes her face.

“Tell me what you want,” he breathes, looking down at her with heavy lidded eyes. She grabs his shirt and pulls him in close.

“You know what I want,” she smirks, gaze flickering between his eyes and lips. He laces his fingers through her tousled hair and gently grazes his fangs over her neck, eliciting a sharp gasp.

“And you know I like to hear it,” he murmurs into her neck, and another full-body shiver goes through Stella. His breath feels chilling against her warm neck, blood pumping eagerly through her arteries. She grabs his face and forces him to look her in the eye – the last bit of control she has before she cedes it completely.

“Astarion,” she says slowly, measured and teasing, “I would enjoy it very much if you bit my neck, drank my blood, and then had your fucking way with me.” He chuckles darkly.

“Well,” he grins, a mischievous glint in his eye, “since you asked so nicely.” Stella lets out a moan as his fangs sink into her skin, the piercing pain soon giving way to a throbbing ache. His lips close around the wound, drinking in her delicious warmth, leaving her feeling blissfully lightheaded. She hums with pleasure as she curls her fingers into his silvery locks, hips unconsciously rolling into his, hungry for more contact. She can feel him growing stronger as her blood flows into him, his thighs tightly gripping her hips, keeping her locked into place. 

Astarion pulls away from her before going too far and Stella lets out a small whine at the loss of contact. He’s out of breath, chest heaving as he licks the last of her blood from his lips. He presses two fingers to the wound on her neck to stanch the bleeding as she looks up at him, pupils blown wide with lust. Once he can feel that the blood is no longer flowing freely, he takes his fingers away and hovers them centimeters above Stella’s lips.

“Open,” he commands, and she dutifully obeys. She takes his fingers into her mouth and sucks on them lasciviously, the metallic taste of her own blood filling her mouth. It’s one thing to prick her finger and to suck on it to make the bleeding stop. It’s quite another to lap her blood of Astarion’s fingers, languishing in the vulgarity of the taboo. She yearns to hear his breath hitch as she works her tongue over their length. 

He slides his fingers out of her mouth and grabs her chin, reversing the roles from moments before. He examines her face, turning it this way and that, like he’s inspecting a prized golden retriever at a dog show. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful,” he lets out in a low tone. “Trapped underneath me, open and wanton, ready to let me do whatever I want with you. To you,” he adds on with an impish grin, and Stella squirms with anticipation. He swings a leg over her and stands by the edge of the bed, towering over her.

“Up now, on your knees,” he instructs and she scrambles to sit on her knees, still looking up at Astarion with lust-filled eyes. He reaches behind her and fully releases her hair from its loose braid letting it fall down the length of her back. He runs his fingers through her hair, humming as he does, “Good girl.” Her chest swells with the intake of breath as she leans into his touch even more.

“Undress. Quickly,” he demands. Her skirt is already up around her waist so she peels the rest of her dress off in a fluid motion. The corset provides a little more resistance, but even with fumbling fingers she manages to untie the laces and undo the hooks, letting it fall behind her. The sudden exposure to air makes her nipples go hard. Astarion smirks and cups one of her breasts in his hand, stroking her tit with his thumb. Stella bites back a cry.

“Shh shh shh. Not a sound,” Astarion whispers as he puts his lips close to her ear, continuing to fondle her. “I don’t want to hear you make a single noise, understood? Not until I say so.” He pulls away and locks his crimson eyes on her brown ones. Stella trembles, but nods silently.

“Good,” he breathes and slides her forward so that she’s sitting on the edge of the bed with her toes lightly touching the floor. He then lowers himself to one knee between her legs. He kisses up her thigh until he reaches her panties. He looks up at her mischievously as he hooks a finger in either side of the waistband, and he slips them off in a single fluid motion. Stella shudders with anticipation for what he plans to do next. 

Astarion parts her legs and she can feel the cool air on the slickness between her thighs. He leans forward and takes her nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue lightly over the tip. She takes in a shaky breath, but she manages to keep any noise she might want to make under wraps. He looks up at her while continuing to work his tongue. She clenches the sheets as jolts of white hot electricity shoot through her body. He pushes her legs apart even further and leans in, the ties from his frilled shirt lightly brushing against her folds. She gasps and shifts her pelvis, simultaneously trying to get less and more contact. He grabs her waist forcefully to hold it in place. He snakes his way up so that they’re face to face, lips a hair’s breadth apart.

“Ah ah, no moving either. Are you going to be good for me? Will you be silent like I’ve asked?” he says in a light, sing-songy tone. Stella keeps her lips clamped together as she nods.

“And what will you give me if you can’t obey?” he purrs, brushing his lips against hers as he runs a thin, cool finger along her slit. 

“Ah-anything,” Stella moans, turning her pleasure sound into a response. Astarion lets a smug grin play on his lips.

“Either way, I’ll get what I want,” he intones, and mercifully pulls his face away from hers. She releases a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. But it’s still only the beginning.

He lowers himself onto both knees and places a delicate kiss on her labia. She squirms but remains silent.

“My, you could drown a small army down here,” he says with an amused smile, and Stella just continues to breathe heavily, her chest rising and falling as she gazes down at the head of white curls between her legs. He runs the tip of his tongue along her folds, hands pushing out on her thighs slightly as he does. As he parts her legs further he exposes more of her, letting his tongue explore the newly uncovered skin. A cry catches in Stella’s throat and she slaps a hand over her mouth. His scorching gaze fixes on her and she lets herself fall back on the bed. If she watches she’ll be done for. Then again, not being able to anticipate his next move might be even worse.

Not being one to let her escape his torment, Astarion grabs Stella beneath the legs and yanks her toward him, letting her legs fall onto his shoulders as he continues to lap up her sweetness. She chokes down a whine, her breath quickening as she desperately tries to control herself. His tongue plunges into her and she bites into her hand with a hiss. With her pelvis rolled up so that he can get the best angle, he continues fucking her with his tongue, getting deep enough that the tips of his fangs press into her ever so lightly. 

That’s what sets her over the edge. The smallest pinprick of pain along with all of the filthy things he’s doing to her with his tongue tears a scream from her throat, muffled by her hand. He stops and stands over her, backlit by the low lighting, her wetness reflecting off his devilish smile. He then grabs her by the throat, not enough to constrict her breathing, but just enough to pull her face up to his.

“What was that, my sweet?” he growls dangerously. 

“N-nothing,” Stella stammers out, but Astarion just smiles.

“I don’t think it was ‘nothing,’ darling,” he breathes, acid in his voice. “I was very explicit in my instructions, was I not?” His hand tightens around Stella’s throat and she lets out a choked sound. It’s not a sound she usually makes. Astarion pulls his hand back slightly, concern creeping into his eyes. Stella looks up at him and nods.

Keep going.

They have a safe word for a reason, but if anything unexpected happens, Astarion still prefers to check in. He’s mentioned before that sometimes he’s worried that he’ll lose control, especially right after drinking her blood.

Stella finds the danger absolutely thrilling, but wants him to feel just as safe as she does.

Astarion drops her throat and pushes her down so her back is flat against the bed. Still between her legs, he pushes his pelvis against hers, pinning her wrists above her head. He’s still fully clothed, and the leather of his pants feels deliciously cool against her wet pussy. He puts one knee up on the bed, pushing her right leg up higher and spreading her even further. As unphased and indifferent as he seems, Stella can still feel his erection pressing into her, and she shifts to feel it more.

“You said you’d give me anything if you failed, correct?” he murmurs against her lips. 

“Yes,” the word escapes on a breath.

“Then hold still.” Astarion stands and the sudden loss of all contact elicits a small whine from Stella. He flashes her a playful smirk as he walks over to the bedside table and pulls out two long strips of cloth. He climbs on top of Stella again, straddling her hips and squeezing lightly with his thighs.

“Wrists, please,” he commands almost nonchalantly. Stella immediately puts her wrists together and holds them out to Astarion.

“Good girl,” he coos and the praise makes her lightheaded. He tenderly wraps her wrists up in the silk cloth, making sure it's tight enough to prevent escape but not enough to cause any lasting damage. He then takes the other strip of cloth, a sturdier cotton broadcloth, and holds it to her lips. He ties it tightly behind her neck, keeping her from being able to open her mouth at all.

“Since you can’t control yourself enough to stay quiet,” he purrs, low and dangerous, “maybe this will do it for you. And I think,” he stands and walks over to the bed stand. He looks over his shoulder and orders in an apathetic tone, “Up dear.” She scrambles to her knees, wrists falling limply in her lap. He continues, “I think you need one more thing to remind you to whom you belong.” He pulls out a fine leather collar with a silver O-ring in the middle. Stella’s excitement mingles with genuine admiration for the craftsmanship. He turns around and lovingly closes it around her neck. He then slips one slender finger through the ring and pulls it up so her head is tilted toward him.

“How does that feel, good?” he asks lightly, and she nods, still desperate to please. He lets go of the collar and strokes her jaw. “Good,” he breathes, and she can see the self-control in his eyes. He wants to fuck her just as much as she wants him to, and it’s taking everything in his power to hold out. He leans into her lips as though he’s about to kiss her but stops just short of making contact. 

“Now, before I decide precisely what I want to do with you,” he hums into her lips, “I want to make sure you can still tell me if I need to stop or slow down. If it ever becomes too much, I want you to snap your fingers, understood? Show me now.” Astarion keeps his lips achingly close to hers, but she does as he says. When he hears her snap, he grabs her face in his hands and kisses her roughly, sliding a dastardly knee between her legs once again. She longs to reach for him but keeps her bound wrists dutifully in her lap as his lips continue their assault on hers. 

Once he breaks the kiss, he remains close and slides his hands behind her head and into her hair. “Good girl,” the words rumble low in his throat and Stella is grateful for the cloth that muffles the obscene noise she makes. He steps away and she’s finally able to see all of him as he pulls off the tunic, revealing his porcelain chest. She yearns to run her fingers along it, tracing the outlines of his muscles, but instead she just grabs a fistful of sheets beneath her hands. He pulls down his trousers, letting his already hardened cock free, and her pussy twitches in anticipation. 

Astarion saunters back up to her and touches the front of her gag where a small wet spot is forming with her desire for him. He smirks and pulls her face down to his cock, running the tip of it along the broadcloth. She can feel it brush against her lips, and she again moans in anticipation. 

“Don’t you wish you could take me in your mouth?” he breathes, and Stella presses her tongue against the inside of the gag, trying to make even minimal contact. He laughs cruelly. “Gods, you’re desperate,” he scoffs. “It’s a shame, because if you had been able to follow my instructions, I may have even let you ride me on top.” He pushes the tip of his dick into the gag one more time before pulling away, leaving Stella to squirm achingly. 

“But instead,” he forcefully pushes her back so that she’s once again lying on the bed with her legs spread open for him. He crawls on top of her and teases her opening with his tip. She mewls in desperation. “You’ll have to contend with me doing whatever I want to this beautiful body of yours. I can slide in,” and he pushes into her, wrenching a gasp and whine from her mouth, before pulling out and letting his tip tease her again, “and pull out on a whim. You said I could do whatever I want.”

Stella is beside herself with lust. Unable to move her hands, she writhes her pelvis, trying to get even the slightest bit of contact. Her pussy is starting to burn from the pent up desire and she’s genuinely unsure of how much longer she can last like this. Astarion grins widely and his fangs sparkle in the low lighting. 

“Shall I give you what you want, darling? What you so fiercely crave?” His slick tip is still dancing around her cunt and tears are starting to form in her eyes as she nods. He thrusts into her again and rips the cloth from her lips before whispering sharply into her ear.

“Then I want to hear it all,” he hisses. “I want you screaming my name as I fuck you.” With his permission, she cries out, all of her stifled energy finally releasing.

“Oh gods, Astarion, fuck me please,” the words spill from her mouth uncontrollably. He starts pounding into her and she knows after all that time teasing her, she won’t last long. The heat of him sliding in and out, the stretch with each thrust, fills her with a fire that threatens to turn into an explosion. 

“Fuck, Astarion, please,” she whines, moments away from climax. She wraps her legs around his waist to get him in deeper, and now it’s his turn to let out a low moan. He continues to slam into her, the sounds of their mutual pleasure mounting.

“Look at me,” he growls, and she struggles to keep her gaze locked onto his crimson eyes. He looks so beautiful above her, silvery hair getting slick with sweat, panting as he continues his smooth rhythm. She can feel her orgasm building as her cries grow louder. He knows she’s close, too, and once again he flashes a fang-bearing smile.

“Come for me, darling,” he groans, and that sends her toppling over the edge.

“Gods, Astarion, yes!” she screams as she comes, and his follows shortly after. With a final thrust, he releases into her, his cock pulsing exquisitely. He looks down at her with an uncharacteristically shy smile and kisses her as he pulls out.

Both of them are out of breath as he collapses onto the bed next to her. Stella’s limbs feel light as though she just downed an entire bottle of dream mist. She rolls onto her side to look at Astarion, who appears to be equally intoxicated. Without a word she holds her wrists up, and he laughs lightly.

“Ah, yes, you might want those back,” he croons, and uses his teeth to pull out the knot, and the silk falls away in one fluid motion. Her hands are so close to his face that she cups his chin gently, just content to look at him.

“You’re so beautiful,” she whispers, and he turns a kiss into her palm. 

“I could say the same thing,” he purrs as he looks up at her through his lashes. “Tea?” He pulls up the plush blanket that had been folded neatly at the end of the bed and wraps it around Stella’s shoulders. She snuggles into it and pulls it closed around her, then nods. He plants a quick kiss on her forehead and walks over to fill the kettle hanging above the hearth. Stella admires his silhouette, backlit by the light of the fire. He’s lithe and sinewy, his sculpted muscles built for dexterity more than strength. Her eyes rake over his broad shoulders, the dip of his lower back, the curve of his bare ass. He turns his head to look at her over his shoulder.

“Yes?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at her.

“Nothing,” she hums, “just enjoying the view.” He smiles as he leans over the blanket cocoon she’s swathed herself in and kisses her lips softly, gently. He’s always particularly tender with her after a session like that, and Stella is grateful for it. She loves being able to see both of these sides of Astarion. The affable tailor eager to serve, and the dangerous dom claiming his power. Her fingers lightly dance on the collar he put on her. She likes the idea of belonging to him. A pity she couldn’t wear something as conspicuous as a leather collar in her daily life.

Astarion returns with a steaming mug, and as though reading her mind, pulls a long jewelry box from the drawer of the bedside table. 

“A companion piece to your collar, if you so wish,” he says in explanation. “You’re under no obligation to wear it, of course, but I thought you might like a little reminder of me everywhere you go.” She opens the box and nestled in the satin is a delicate silver chain with a small ring in the center. Her jaw drops slightly as she marvels at its beauty.

“Astarion, how did you–?” she begins, but he cuts her off.

“It pays to be a well-connected artisan, darling,” he says with a shrug. 

“Will you put it on me?” Stella asks in a light voice, and he looks delighted. She lifts up her hair so that he can unclasp the leather collar and replace it with the silver necklace. His fingers brush against her neck, lingering on the puncture mark he left earlier.

“Although perhaps you might want to sport high-collared dresses for a bit,” he admits with an apologetic grin. Stella turns and kisses him, cupping his face and gently running her thumb along his jaw.

“Well thank the gods I have a tailor who can make me new gowns in all the latest fashions,” she smirks. He climbs on top of her to kiss her more deeply, their naked bodies touching in a way that’s intimate, but not sexual. She could melt into his flesh, his kiss, his breath, and never want to change a thing.

[sol-consort]

Omg, I don't know if you remember, but that shepard cam girl/streamer au you did, I absolutely loved it!! I loved Shepard being so nonchalant about being tits-out in front of the crew, also them passing around the video and being embarrassed about making eye contact with Shep. You killed me!! That was so good

Oh god, this one? I wrote it while half asleep, didn't expect anyone to read it. I just checked it over again–damn the amount of typos. I fixed as much as I could rn. Hopefully, it reads smoother.

But yes! I still adore the concept and would love to expand upon it.

The army life + staying on a ship in the middle of the galaxy and sharing space with your crew has got to result in a lot of accidental nudity and flashing situations. Someone new on warships–like Tali or Liara might find it surprising, feel a bit more shy, while someone like Shepard, who was the Normandy second in command during Captian Anderson days got used to it by now.

Or maybe it's a human army thing? Quarians can't strip for first aid because it will only worsen the situation, Krogans have their thick skin and shells, and Turian skin has metal outer plating.

Only humans are this squishy, easily injured, easy to tear into. Mix that with the fact that we have a pretty good immunity system that gives us high tolerance to different microbiomes and the most genetically diverse genes in the Mass Effect canon–Mordin mentions it in ME2—it's not hard to understand why a human soldier would nonchalantly strip on an alien planet, in the middle of the battlefield, just to ensure the wound is treated properly.

But it's still hot—Shepard's total disregard to having your tits out on full display, chest heaving with every breath. Your crew desperately trying to maintain eye contact and not get distracted by the way your bare tits bounce with every powerful command and order you bark at them.

Biotics grant people healing abilities, at least ingame. It's not strange for someone like Kaidan or Liara to act as an emergency medic while on the battlefield.

Kaidan attempts to stay professional, stuttering more than usual as the raspiness in his voice becomes more apparent courtesy of his dry throat.

The tips of his ears reddish, summoning all of his will to keep his finger study as he pressed against your wound with the disinfected pad. Having to lower himself into your naked form, his clothed chest almost fully pressing against your own. The hiss you let out as your nipples touch the cold metal surface of his armour—it almost makes his heart jump out from his ribcage–barely remaining collected by the end of it.

Sneaking one lustful glance at your still exposed chest on the shuffle ride back to the Normandy before forcing himself to look away, feeling ashamed of his actions, excusing himself to his own sleeping pod the second the crew is back on board.

-

Anyway, so streamer Shepard hmm.

Miranda would quickly catch wind of this open secret and become your number one patron under a fake pseudo name. She keeps toning in each stream, even if she's working, simply setting the tablet on the table while she files the papers away. Dropping big stacks occasionally whenever you do something she likes, using the carrot method to subtly get you to act more and more slutty, exactly how she likes it.

Samara convinced herself that as long as she only watches—no touching herself, no writing a comment, no sending any money–then it's basically okay and doesn't break her code. She does, however, pay attention to your frequent commenters, checking their profiles, tracking their other socials... just in case one of them crosses the line. It is her job to make this world a safer place for everyone, right?

Thane–oh god, poor Thane. His own Siha...? Humans sure are uh... more adventurous than he thought they were. Drells are moved by emotions and romantic feelings more than sexual ones. He has very little interest in pornagrophy in any form of media because he just can't get off to a stranger, someone he doesn't love. But once he discovers that it is you in those videos, his commander Shepard, his siha. A flood of emotions wash over him. It becomes a boderline addiction.

Thane especially knows about the common human prono trope of fucking a drell because of the skin acting as both a stim and an aphrodisiac. He wonders if you'd be open to...having him on the stream for that? Just to boost your views...no other reason :) Definitely not to sate some deep primal instinct within him, the need to state his claim by fucking you in front of all of your adoring fans, he is such a tender gentle soul, he would never have those possessive thoughts, right?....right?

The poor guy almost voices this suggestion out each time you come over for a little chat.

Jack would be your top commenter, not even under a fake profile or a different name. Straight up Jack with her own profile picture to boost. Spewing filth and ordering you around like her own personal whore. Of course you don't pay her any mind and only oblige her requests after you make her beg.

Garrus wants to join you so badly. Picture this, the first ever human/turian streamers ever since the war! It will be a hit with both planets. Your profile will skyrocket in popularity. Especially if this is in ME1 where the human-turian intergalactic relationship was still strained and tense. Meditate the tension between your civilisations by letting him stuff you full with his gaint blue glowing cock <3 huh huh!? A million credit worth idea right?

[timetravellingkitty]

Hi. I'm desi but I live outside Asia and have no idea what a caste is. (I swear I'm not whitewashed; my parents just never bring up this caste thing in particular.) Why does is sound like some weird hierarchy situation?

Also how do I know if my last name is a caste name, so that I can change it or something

that's cause it IS a hierarchy situation. caste is a social group that is fixed, you are born into it is is within a system of social stratification. you are expected to follow a certain lifestyle or a certain occupation based on the caste you are born into (eg. brahmins are at the very top of the hierarchy and their occupation is priesthood). certain (read: lower) castes are considered impure and are subject to caste atrocities by upper castes, the practice of untouchability being one of them (so that they won't pollute the upper castes)

it is very likely that you belong to an oppressor caste honestly if you want to know what caste your surname belongs to just google it (do keep in mind that a lot of oppressed caste people change their surnames to caste neutral or upper caste surnames to escape discrimination)

to get started on learning about caste, I suggest the equality labs website (they are an anti-caste organisation led by oppressed caste individuals based in the usa) and this google doc on anti-caste resources complied with the help of panjabicommie on insta

[rileytwenty]

Her Price

(Geralt x OC)

!!!MINORS DNI!!!

Summary: Former brothel worker, Mary, is traveling with Geralt and Jaskier. In an attempt to contribute more to the group, she does something rash that forces a confession out of Geralt. Big angst.

TW: prostitution, rough/low-key abusive sex, bite marks/bruises/hickies left from said sex, dom! male, arguing, swearing

Mary had joined Geralt and Jaskier on their journey about a month ago. Since then, the trio had fallen into a nice rhythm. At each town they visited, Mary’s job was one she completed while the boys waited on the edge of town. First, she would go into the market and use her “charms” (breasts) to persuade the merchants to give her a discounted price for any supplies they needed.

Next up was the inn, where she would flirt her way into getting the innkeeper to give her and her “friends” a cheaper rate. Only then, once prices were negotiated low enough, would the boys come into town. This system worked without a hitch nine times out of ten.

Occasionally, the innkeep would be too upset by her friends turning out not to be a couple more pretty women –one of them was a Witcher, for fuck’s sake– and he’d kick them out. Though, this had only happened a few times, and Mary has become careful to use more vague language about her travel companions.

Geralt would go out and fulfill any contracts whilst Jaskier performed at the local inn or tavern. This is where they got their coin from.

Sometimes, Mary’s job would also include patching up Geralt after a bad run-in with a creature. She knew a fair bit about fixing injuries, seeing as her mother had been her town’s Healer growing up. Before she died, that is, and Mary was forced to join a brothel to keep off the streets.

As disgusted as people were about her profession, she didn’t mind it much. Sex never meant anything to her except for a steady income, and it was easy with most people. However, it has left her in unsafe situations at times, so she was glad to be avoiding those.

Ultimately, she was more grateful for the sense of adventure she received from traveling with the pair than she was for the opportunity to leave the brothel.

Just an hour ago, they’d arrived at a small town in Velen, and the usual plan was going swimmingly. Mary had gotten all necessary supplies with coin to spare, and had negotiated their stay at the inn for nearly half price! A new record for her. Excited to share the news, she went and retrieved Geralt and Jaskier from the outskirts of town.

“Good job! What did you do, sleep with him?” Jaskier joked, throwing an arm around her shoulders in celebration.

His statement made her slip away in a cloud of thought: did he silently want her to? Had that been his expectation all along? She could probably get the price even lower if she did sleep with the crooked-looking innkeeper. Truthfully, she didn’t do a whole lot of the heavy-lifting, and maybe this was Jaskier commending her for what he thought was her finally pulling her weight. However, she didn’t get a chance to be uncomfortable for more than a moment, because in typical Jakier fashion, he just kept talking.

“Damn, Mary. I think that’s your best bargain yet! You hear that Geralt? We have coin enough for all the ale we can drink! Mary, will you drink, too? You never do, and I find it quite strange. Of course, if you don’t want to…”

She had learned to tune out his ramblings after a week or so. He hardly ever sought a reply, and a simple humm sufficed when he did.

After tying up Roach, they finally meandered into the inn. The innkeeper merely laughed at the sight. “You’re one tricky lady, you know.”

“Oh, thank you, sir. I do try.” Mary took a small but dramatic bow.

The three of them all headed to their separate rooms to put away their belongings.

Geralt quickly headed off to fulfill a drowner contract, leaving Jaskier to make some coin downstairs.

Mary had no job left to do, and she was starting to feel useless; Jaskier’s joke had wedged itself into her thoughts.

How much did she contribute, really? Enough to not put a strain on the two? They had been awfully tired lately, the both of them.

Guilt overwhelmed her. Of course, they were too decent of men to actually ask her to sell her body, but perhaps it had been an expectation all along, or the reason they brought her along in the first place — the thought of more coin, and free inn visits. Had she been a burden, not using her skillset to provide for the group the way they did?

Geralt was always saying that he needed new armor, or supplies to upgrade what he had, but it was too far out of their price range. She considered the idea of him being able to better defend himself if only they had more money. Increased coin meant a decrease in his injuries.

Well, it was decided. She needed to start making as much coin as the other two did.

There was no brothel in this town, so no one would see her as competition if she went downstairs and did some business.

Most men in the town lived there and didn’t really travel, she had discovered through talking with a few. Some were married, but quite a few were single or waiting for a girl to reach maturity.

If they liked the young ones, she could accommodate. She knew how to look up through her lashes and act a little dumb.

After making her way around the room, swaying to Jaskier’s music, she finally spotted her target. He was looking at her almost predatorily, and his clothing quality told her he had the money she needed.

She approached, a sadness in her glossy eyes as she took a seat right beside him.

“Hello, missy.”

“Hi.” She made her voice nice and sweet and sent him a smile.

“You alright, there? Lookin’ awfully distraught.” He noted, turning in his chair to face her.

“Mm-hmm. ‘M fine.” She let a tear fall.

“Don’t give me that crap, sweetheart. Tell me the truth.” He was commanding it of her, his pupils large in satisfaction.

She sniffled. “It’s just… it’s… I don’t want to complain, I-“

“Honey, it’s okay. You can tell me.”

She stared at him with her big doe eyes before relenting.

“It’s my ma. She’s sick. I’ve been trying to make enough money for her medicine, but it’s so hard, trying to make coin in this region. I’m not strong enough to help on the farms, and I-“ She let her voice crack.

“Oh, it’s alright.” He rubbed her back, but it was awfully low to be comforting.

“I don’t know what to do.”

He paused to think while she wiped her eyes. “Well, I could help you out.”

“Really?” She shot her head up in excitement. “Thank you, I-“

“But not for free.”

Exactly as she foresaw, word for word.

“W-What do you mean? I don’t have anything to trade, I’m sorry.”

“Oh, we’ll come to an agreement, I’m sure. You have a room here?”

“Uh-huh.”

He tsked at her. “Use your words, now.” She wrote that in her brain for later, it would certainly come in handy.

“Yes. Yes, I do. The third one on the left is mine.”

“Good.” He placed his hand on her jaw in encouragement. “Let’s head up there, shall we?”

Faking her virginity had always been easy, especially when she was younger and could tell men who were passing through that it was her first day on the job. Now, she had to lie a little more complexly, but it still wasn't hard.

The man had surprising stamina, and they went for at least three hours. Long enough for Geralt to come back.

He and Jaskier shared their evening experiences as they trudged up to their rooms. The noises from down the hall stopped them both abruptly.

“Who’s in there with her?” Jaskier asked quietly.

“I don’t know. You’re the one who’s supposed to have been with her all evening!”

“I saw her flirting with quite a few of the men. However, I didn’t know she took one to bed.”

Geralt was shocked to hear this— Jask knew of his feelings for her.

His tone was piercing, “And you just let her?”

Jaskier turned to his companion with his brows raised. “Let her? She’s not a child, Geralt. She may sleep with whoever she pleases.”

“I-“

“And don’t you complain about those feelings of yours. You’ve had plenty of opportunity to express them, and you’ve been too chicken shit. These are the consequences.”

Jaskier was done with Geralt’s emotionally-constipated bullshit and slammed the door to his room.

Geralt’s hearing was superior to most, meaning that he could hear every sound escaping her lips.

So many times had he imagined those sounds, had he prayed that he’d get to hear them. Now that they rung upon his ears, he hated it.

He wanted to draw those beautiful moans out of her. Not some Velen low-life who would be too wrapped up in his own pleasure to truly care about hers.

He didn’t mean to keep listening, but he was frozen with indecision. Though, the more he did, he could hear the slight inflection in her tone that indicated the fakeness of these sounds. She was incredibly good at hiding it, but it was there.

Why was she in bed with this man if she was not enjoying herself? He had to remind himself of Jaskier’s words. If she wanted to stop it, she would.

He couldn’t take another minute of hearing their bodies collide, thus he stormed out of the inn. He couldn’t sleep next to that.

Instead, he found himself in the stables with Roach. She was giving him a look as though she knew the situation, and was judging him for it.

“Fuck off, I know.”

He couldn’t be mad at Mary, he really couldn’t. He had given her no inclination of his desire for her. She was completely unaware of the pain she was causing him. It was not her fault. The only person to blame here was himself.

He would tell her in the morning, he decided.

She would never sleep with anyone but him again. She would never feel the need to, he would make sure of that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning, Mary woke up sore and bruised. The man —whom she never learnt the name of, as he preferred “sir”— had been a rougher man than she’d taken him for. He liked to see her cry.

Nothing she couldn’t handle, but still draining. All in all, it was not one of her favorite nights.

However, she didn’t mind it so much after finding the large sack of coin on her nightstand, far more than she expected, and definitely enough for Geralt to buy new armor with.

She squealed in glee, dressing herself and packing up quickly. When she exited her room, Jaskier was just about to knock.

“Oh, Jask. Good morning!”

His eyes widened at the sight of her skin littered in marks. “Jesus, Mary! Did that man do that to you?”

She followed his line of vision down to her chest, arms and neck, only now noticing how bad it looked. “Oh, God. I look like the whoriest whore around.” She tugged on her coat, despite it being a humid, late-spring day.

“Doesn’t that hurt? Mary-“

“Please, Jask. This is nothing. I’ve had men do far worse. Anyway, where’s Geralt?”

Jaskier hesitated to respond, but eventually let her drop the subject.

“He left yesterday, haven’t seen him since.”

“Left? To go where?”

“Away, I’d guess. You were pretty loud last night.”

Mary scoffed. “Oh, please. I’ve seen him sleep in a roaring tavern before.”

Jaskier only shrugged, not finding anything to say that wouldn’t reveal what was Geralt’s to tell her.

She shoved past him to go find the witcher. With Jaskier in tow, she stepped outside. Where would he have gone? Not far, likely.

“Geralt?” She called.

It took him a minute to get to his feet, but he soon emerged from the stables.

“Mary, I have something to tell you-“

“No, Geralt, you listen! We spent coin on that room, and you decided not to sleep in it because of a little noise next door? I doubt it’s something you’ve never heard before, and now you’re going to be complaining about your back for days. Seriously, you couldn’t just cover your head with a pillow?”

He was astounded. “It… wasn’t the noise keeping me awake.”

“Whatever, it hardly matters now.” She was determined to get back on track with her joy. “Here,” she thrust the sack of money at him, “When I was out yesterday, I saw an armorer by the market. I stopped in to see if anything was cheap, and they had the supplies to upgrade your Griffin armor. Expensive, of course, but not a problem now! Or you could wait until the next town, see what they have. Up to you.”

Both Jaskier and Geralt were puzzled, but then in a moment it clicked.

“Mary… where did you get that?” Jaskier was walking on eggshells with the tension floating around.

She was growing offended by the expression they both wore and she scoffed. “I’ll give you one guess.”

No guesses were needed. They knew.

Geralt spoke. “Look, you’re welcome to sleep with whomever you please. It’s just-“ He was struggling, he always had trouble expressing things like this, “I want to be the only man in bed with you.”

Mary blinked. Once, twice. “What?”

He couldn’t look her in the eye. “I should have said something before. I lacked the courage, and that’s on me. If you don’t feel the same-“

“I do. Feel the same.” He didn't mind her interrupting this time.

“You do?”

“Mm-hmm.” She was smiling so widely she was at risk of her face cracking open.

Officially breaching a grin, he pulled her to him by the hips.

Cupping his face, she brought his lips down to hers. She was so indescribably happy to be held by him that she smiled through the kiss.

His arms roamed up her sides and back, and as his hand slid across a bite mark on her shoulder blade, she flinched.

Geralt pulled away, looking into her eyes for answers.

“It’s fine, sorry.” She dismissed, leaning in to return to the kiss, though he didn't allow it.

A glance at Jaskier’s concerned face confirmed to him that she was injured. “Mary, are you hurt?” He moved to take her coat off to get a better look, but she stepped back.

“It’s alright, nothing that won’t heal up in a few days.”

He looked to Jaskier, as Mary was clearly not going to discuss it.

“Jaskier, don’t you say a fucking word. It’s none of his business. None of yours, either.”

Geralt only had to glare at Jaskier for him to crack and jump behind the witcher. “Sorry, Mary, but he scares me more. When I walked into her room this morning I saw that she was covered with… marks, of all kinds, from her… erm, nighttime activities.”

“Marks? From- Mary, did he do something to you?”

“Nothing I didn’t agree to. The cruel ones are rare, but they always pay the best. Worth it, I’d say.”

Geralt shut his eyes for a moment, willing his feelings down. “Show me.”

She didn’t want to, for worry that he would think differently of her. “Why, so you can humiliate me? Call me a whore?”

“No. I just want to see.”

Sighing, she pulled off her coat. He was going to think of her what he was going to think of her. What everyone thinks of her.

Geralt was transfixed with every spot on her skin. Bruises in the shapes of hands, crescent shaped indents from fingernails, scrapes, teeth imprints. He gently grazed his hands over them.

“Why would you let him do this?” He was full of sorrow. She had allowed someone to hurt her, “For what? Coin? We had plenty.”

“I suppose it was foolish. I felt like I had to contribute something, to earn us money the way you two do, but sex is my only skill.”

“Mary.” So much emotion pushed into one word. Defeat, mostly. He’d failed to make her feel taken care of.

Geralt was too overcome with emotion, so Jaskier took over the speaking. “I wish you’d have spoken to one of us. We’re doing fine, you didn’t need to do this to yourself. You’re contributing perfectly well, getting us those bargains at the markets and inns. Saving coin is just as good as making it.”

Geralt’s eyes were still staring into space, but he spoke. “I’m so sorry, that you thought you had to accept that man’s abuse for money. In future, I’ll take more contracts.“

“No! No. The whole point of me wanting to buy that armor was that I wanted you as safe as possible. Which, with you being a witcher and all, I know isn’t much, but armor is crucial to your fighting style. Better armor means less injuries for you.”

“That’s not something you should be concerned about. Promise me, you’ll never let this happen to you again.”

She looked into his eyes, which still couldn’t focus on her, and saw the pain. The regret, the guilt.

“Okay, I promise.” She grabbed his hands in hers, drawing his attention back to her. “The only hands on me from now on will be yours.”

He wrapped his arms around her waist, lightly so as to not disturb her bruises. She looped hers around his neck.

Geralt was still distraught. “You won’t regret it, I swear.”

She wanted to lighten the mood. “Oh, you’re that good, huh?”

Geralt let her cheer him up. “Being a witcher does have its perks.”

[boggsart]

EXCUSE ME who told you you’re talking too much about your art?? Dude that’s the part I love most!! I like hearing about how you struggled to get it where you wanted, or how much the tools you’re working with frustrated you, but you got to a place you were happy with anyway.

I don’t know anything about 3d animation, and I know even less about game design. So it’s really important for me that you describe your process and how much work you had to do because it your work context. I’m sorry anybody made you feel like that wasn’t valuable. I’d argue that’s more valuable than the finished work itself!!

I always love seeing your posts pop up on my dash. And Wolffe and the 104th look absolutely fantastic in the newest one!! If you don’t mind me asking, what were some of the weird issues you ran into in the 104th’s one, and what makes them different issues from the ones you ran into before?

Thank you so much for all the kind words, but to be completely honest, they are kinda right. I think any artist can relate to the feeling of being too critical towards your own work. I tend to overexaggerate mistakes, or point out issues that aren't even really noticable to someone that knows little about this field. But at the same time, i always have a vision of how i'd like my current work to look like, and when i don't meet my own expectations (which i rarely do), that's when i start yapping. Well there were some minor ones, like noticing how some of the armors were not modeled accurately( like around the shoulder part of the chest piece, it's completely missing that part where it connects the front to the back, elbow pieces are way too big, helmets were also not modeled accurately, etc). I also completely messed up the rigging process, thus giving myself so much more work when animating. There are always certain body parts that just go into eachother (lower arm going into the upper arm when it's bent, feet going into the floor, hands going into the chest, etc) that could have been easily avoidable if i took the time to make a proper rig for my models.

There are also always some texturing mistakes, or wrongly placed focal points i notice once the final render is done. In this one, once all of the characters come up, and the camera starts zooming in on their faces, the focal point was placed too far, resulting in some parts of the helmets looking blurrier, than they should look. Since renders take a whole lot of time, i always try to fix this by putting the final renders into a 3rd party AI upscaling program, instead of going back to place it correctly, then re render it. That's probably a crappy workflow, but if this project wouldn't have a deadline that's approaching WAY TOO QUICKLY, and i wouldn't have a lot more stuff to model and animate, i would do the latter. At the same time, i probably should just pay more attention before hitting the render button lol. Also, the movements of the characters sometimes look way too stiff, and don't have that fluidity to them. I haven't been animating for long, so here's the reason for that, at the same time tho, i'm noticing some impovements when comparing the recent piece to my first animation. These are the problems i'm running into most of the time. In the recent one though, if you look closely, once Wolffe goes into his stance (after the commander Wolffe text disappeares) there's some weird black flickering going on around his chest/belly area, that for the love of God, i could not fix. Sometimes the particle system can cause some really interesting issues, that most of the time can be fixed by baking the dynamics. Since i did that (multiple times, deleting them, then re baking) and the issue persisted, i started to think either the shaders, or the particle system+volumetric fog combo was causing this problem. I also use a s*** ton of REALLY powerful lights, with the power constantly changing throughout the entire animation, that could also be causing this issue (i think?) I tried re-placing the cube that's making the volumetric fog, tried placing the lights and camera slightly elsewhere, but nothing worked, so i just decided to leave it as it is. The super slow mo parts are being made in the Non Linear Animation editor, which is... just as confusing as it sounds lol. Making the slow mo parts sometimes causes the blasters to disappear then reappear at the wrong time. The way grabbing the blasters then putting them away works is by having one blaster that's always parented to one hand, and one, that's always parented to the holster, and you change the visibility accordingly. (the moment the character pulls the blaster out of the holster, both blasters have to be perfectly alligned so the change in visibility doesn't have a weird jump in it) The visibility itself gets an action strip on its own, and it's hard to line them up correctly once you chopped up all your other strips and scaled them to make them slow motion. Because if the armature's action strip gets chopped up and scaled to make the movement slow motion, then everything else that has movement linked to it has to as well. So lights, the camera, the empty axes that the camera is parented to, and the blasters as well. This could be achieved by just placing the keyframes further apart from eachother, but i found this method to be somewhat simpler.

I'm probably doing this the wrong way though and could just place the keyframes accordingly without pushing the blaster action down to the NLA editor (cuz after all it's just visibility, not slow motion movement the blaster has). Though i have some really cool ideas with blasters in the upcoming animations, that would probably require to have them as NLA strips. Or maybe not, and everything i'm doing and talking about is bullshit, and isn't the way it should be done, and i really hope someone, that's in the industry doesn't read this and go "what the f is this woman talking about" lol. Basically everything about animating confuses the hell out of me, and i'm always doing stuff on the trial and error basis. So i hope one day i'll be able to learn it properly haha See, i'm yapping way too much after all. And i'm sorry for the long answer, but i'm really really passionate about this. And it actually feels so nice to know that there are people out there that care. 💖💖

[fantasyfantasygames]

Worst Contact

Worst Contact, Space Swabbie Games, 2014

Here's the setup: You are the crew of an interplanetary trading ship in the implausibly near future. Humanity has expanded across our solar system. You pushed the ship too hard on its trip through the asteroid belt, and a small impact left you off-course, floating slowly to your death in deep space, too low on fuel to ever make it back. You have enough food and air for months, maybe years, you just have to hope someone rescues you. And then this D'deridex-sized ship warps in near you and hails you, asking if you want a ride home with the first aliens anyone from Earth has ever encountered. You get to make first contact.

The catch: this game was heavily inspired by Redshirts (which was released a year or two before). Your ship is full of misfits and losers who would fit in well with The Lower Decks and the funnier parts of Firefly. Hilarity ensues.

Characters are primarily defined by their Profession and Motivations. Professions are what you'd expect: engineer, trader, commander, helm, explorer, scientist, security, plus a make-your-own system available that works nicely. Motivations are actually more locked down. You choose several from a set of 12, including things like "money", "fame", "entertainment", and "escape from the law". Those get ranked. You roll d10s based on Motivations and add bonuses from Professions. It's vaguely Silhouette-like, nothing new. Success chances are fairly high. You get more luck points by playing into your Motivations, so you'll have a lot of them, and they max out fairly quickly to encourage you to spend them.

The game's best mechanical innovation is the Mistake Spiral, where every failed roll looks like a success but puts a mistake (a written-down fact) on the table. Every mistake makes it more likely that another failed roll - especially one where you spend a Luck point - will cascade into a disaster, with badness proportional to the number of mistakes there were. Every failure after that point is a critical failure until the problem gets fixed, at which point you reset the spiral. I like that you all get to look competent until it all goes to hell. There are separate spirals for physical/mental rolls and social rolls.

Art is minimal, mostly starship renders on a level somewhat better than Babylon 5 but not fantastic. Setting details are mostly generated by random roll. There are 20 alien species described in brief detail. Your ship has one of 10 standard technical problems. The aliens have five words from this d100 table that they definitely do not understand the correct definition of. There's a d100 random-roll table to determine your weird cargo that will never be delivered. It's all small details. The game is mostly social, unless you get stuck in the chompers.

Worst Contact could be a one-shot, and is probably intended to be 2-4 sessions. There's no XP system. I feel like it still has a lot of potential for a 10-12 session campaign. Even after you deal with the actual contact with aliens, there's the matter of what happens when you get them back to civilization. I would totally play it, but I also have a soft spot for sci-fi games that commit to their premise.

Space Swabbie Games put out Worst Contact on USB stick, which has never worked out well. At least they open-licensed it, so if you get the PDF you're more than welcome to pass it around to others. Just watch out for the malware on the thumb drives.

[siflshonen]

I’m not here to complain lmao, I’m surprised Hori had the guts to do that! I figured the villain redemptions were almost a given, and sure, the whole “bittersweet” ending mentioned in an interview was on mind, a lot more people held up bnha being idealistic, but there was also the argument that every arc was a bittersweet victory so hm. I accepted long ago that this was going to be yet another series for the fix-it fic genre but OOP- 💀 been shaking my head in baffled astonishment like Hori has no idea what western fandom spaces are like. I like Hawks well enough but showing him chilling with chicken in his PSC fit and the Endeavor plush AND keeping the popularity system? Oh I just knew everybody was going to be ticked. Idly surprised that his “heroes have free time” thing is still kicking. I wrote a thing back in 2019 that it was going to low key haunt the narrative until it was answered at the very end and here we are. Maybe there IS some positive to it? I expect everybody to be raging but idk, is it like “employee of the month” but for all of Japan instead of Proheroes lol? Ngl sounds goofy, gonna need to see what VIZ says. Individual people getting competitive and your salary based on it aside (which I guess is where the issues arised) being “public” wasn’t necessarily the issue as it made heroes a friendly, known face to recognize to accept help from. So I can see where Hawks is coming from even if I’m shocked Mr. “I hate rankings I wanna be lower” did that. But hey! So is All Might! So Hori clearly knew what we’d be thinking. Everything else is the IzuOcha and Izuku pandering one would expect as the MC of the shounen genre so I am shrugging and moving on from that. There’s too many directions you can take this series and Hori could only do one. Someone was going to be left disappointed and that’s what fanfic is for. I think maybe some of us did have the whole “Shigaraki-like kid gets saved” on our bingo but NOT the same grandma redemption that was one crazy 😭 it’s been 15 years lady the heck…

That old woman really is the chekhov's gun of the series, Like, for real.

Dunno if the officials gave you or anyone else more or less insight or thoughts about this, but I agree that this kind of broad ending is what the tradition of fix-it fics are for.

Personally, I'm glad HK has cultural and geographical separation from the western fandom because we are the worst.

[ask-sibverse]

I Love Your Shattered Series So Far! I Hope You Continue It!

Planning to, lol. I'm semi developing a direction for this

It was strange. You'd lived alone for years. You'd only lived with Shattered a few months. And yet, it was kinda lonely when he left you at the hideout to investigate leads.

You ended up training a lot, mostly messing around with your magic. You hadn't used your fire long enough the first time, but it would set normal clothes on fire. Just slower than a regular fire would. So Shattered had gotten you clothes meant for fire elementals that you could use during training or when you went out with him. It's not like you were on fire other times.

You had a few reasons for wanting to be stronger, but the most important reason was so that Shattered could take you out of the hideout more often. Both to protect him and because you were starting to feel a bit stir crazy. Strange, you used to hate leaving the house for anything and now you hated being cooped up. You also wanted to kick Killer's ass for stabbing you like he did. You weren't really a vindictive person before meeting Shattered and you weren't sure why that changed, but it didn't bother you.

Regardless, you felt moderately more competent at using your magic by the time Shattered returned. He scolded you for overdoing it with magic usage when you'd just healed from an injury but to your credit, you were brand new at using magic and had no idea what overusing it felt like.

He sighed. "I suppose you have a point. Get ready to go, I found something that might be a solution to your situation."

"Already? That fast?"

"The fix itself will take time, you're not getting away from me that easily."

You snorted. "Fair." You left to get ready, putting on fireproof clothes just in case you'd need it.

Shattered took you to a "surface AU," one of the various classifications for AUs you'd been learning about in your spare time. This was probably at least a neutral AU, as Shattered had said he couldn't enter positive AUs anymore. You wondered what had changed, and why. But you didn't ask.

"The Sans of this AU managed to change their Frisk from a human to a monster," Shattered explained once you'd arrived. "Monsters are made of magic and don't have all the vital organs humans do, so if you became a monster it would mean you wouldn't have a pancreas and wouldn't need one."

Monsters didn't have a lot of the body systems that were damaged by having diabetes as long as you did, honestly. It might just seriously improve your life. But... Giving up your humanity? You weren't sure what to think about that.

"Let's actually talk to the Sans and Frisk here before you make a decision," Shattered said. "If you end up not liking this solution I can always look for another."

You nodded, following him through this universe's Ebott City to eventually end up at a particular house Shattered was looking for. A skeleton monster opened the door. "Oh, Shattered, yer back. That was faster than I expected."

"I work quickly." He stepped inside, you following behind him

The skeleton looked you over, seeming to analyze more than just your appearance although you weren't sure what exactly he was looking at. You shivered. "Is this the human?"

Shattered nodded, taking up a seat on the couch. "Yes, this is (Y/N)." He motioned for you to sit as well.

The skeleton- Sans- proceeded to ask about a million questions about your physical health and magic, even asking to see your SOUL at one point. You didn't even know SOULs could be removed safely, so seeing yours for the first time was a bit disconcerting.

Sans drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. "Well, it might be possible. Heck, the final stages would probably be easier than it was for Frisk, since ya have way lower DT than they did, and that's a massive barrier to fully shifting from human to monster. But we'll need to go a lot slower with the process in general, Frisk was a pretty healthy human and I'm not sure how yer medical issues would be effected."

"So what exactly would you be doing to me?"

"So there's kinda a spectrum, between fully human and fully monster. Yer already on that spectrum, given your magic. Probably had a fire monster of some kind in your ancestors, before the war probably. There's a sliding of how monster or human ya are, and the goal is to push ya along that scale until yer fully a monster."

"How the heck?"

"A combination of a serum and a machine." He drummed his fingers on the chair again. "We'll want to take it slow, at least at first. Treatments once a month to see how yer medical situation handles things. If they stay stable for at least three treatments we can increase the pace to once a week. Healthy or not, yer SOUL still needs to adjust to the changes."

"How many treatments will it take?"

"Dunno exactly, but it'll probably take at least a year or two. Once yer close enough to a monster, there will be a final procedure to shift yer SOUL from a human one to a monster. That's the most tricky part."

Shattered looked at you. "So, what do you think? Do you want to try it?"

You thought about it. Honestly, it kind of reminded you of different medical trials you'd participated in, but this one at least sounded like it would for sure actually work. "... Yeah sure, let's do this."

[qqueenofhades]

Question from a foreigner: do you have any idea where the brainbug that so many US voters seem to have that they should vote for congressmembers of the opposite party of the person they voted for president to 'balance things out' (as if that's anything but a recipe for legislative paralysis) comes from? Is it, like, suggested in school civics classes for some reason? Does it come from a flawed understanding of what the famous (and based on an external and possibly misinformed view of the last decade or so, seemingly overhyped) 'checks and balances' that we hear about in every piece of US media that even touches politics are? Sorry if this is a stupid question, but as someone from a country with a parliamentary system I just don't understand, and it seems a common enough thought it has to be coming from somewhere

There are a few reasons for this. First, the US very (in)famously has only a two-party system: if you don't vote for one, you're essentially voting for the other, since third parties have no legislative relevance and essentially only exist for people to make frivolous protests and/or siphon votes from Democrats. This is because Republican voters always vote for Republicans, while the Democratic voter base, assuming they vote at all (which can be difficult), is often tempted by third-party candidates (i.e. Ralph Nader) who have a history of then fucking things up for the actual Democrats. In a parliamentary or multi-party system, you have less expectation that one party will act as a direct leverage or counterbalance on the other; it's more fluid and coalitional, and you have more leverage to vote for the party that broadly represents your interests. Because the US is a presidential system, you are voting for the leader directly, rather than just the majority party in power who then vote to select the prime minister/head of state in a different process.

As such, American politics are often tied directly to the figure of the president and how people personally feel about him, the two-party system means that the inevitable discontent with the party presently in power usually gets channeled into voting for their opponents at the next election, Democrats have much more trouble consistently mustering their voter pool than Republicans, and the news media is OBSESSED with the idea that "both sides are bad!" This is because a) it's profitable, and b) the corporations that own them don't want the general public to actually get too interested backing in large-scale financial, economic, or legal reform. So instead of prioritizing any kind of balanced or honest coverage, or trying to accurately convey to the public which policies and/or politicians will or won't help them, they focus on creating a distorted false equivalency where "both parties do bad things." This undermines trust in government, creates voter apathy, likewise works against the Democrats who might challenge the established mega-monopoly, and otherwise makes sure that the status quo never changes too much. This is why they are currently bending over backward to drum up some kind of scandal for Biden, or compare his classified documents situation to Trump's, or otherwise act as if they are essentially equivalent.

The American media ecosystem also relies on making you as angry about everything as possible, which feeds into the zero-sum idea wherein if you are dissatisfied with the current administration for whatever reason, you should "vote for the other ones!" to "balance it out!" or "fix it!" Even though this never, ever works, not least because one half of that equation has abdicated all interest in governing whatsoever. So if you're mad because The Democrats Haven't Lowered Gas Prices, and you vote for the Republicans because you somehow think that doing so will fix the specific problem you're mad about, you're gonna end up with a lot of pointless investigations of Hunter Biden, giving January 6 footage to Tucker Carlson, and other totally useless performative-grievance politics. This is because the Republicans don't actually care about gas prices, or anything else. But the average American voter is so ingrained to do this, as if they expect any kind of change or really think the other guys will fix it, that they just keep pulling Charlie Brown and the football anyway.

[partisan-by-default]

There’s a huge schism growing on the left I’ve struggled to understand.

And, I think I’ve figured out how to put words to it, please tell me if this rings true to you.

There are Policy Leftists and Infinite Leftists.

I am a Policy Leftist. There are specific policies I want with a beginning and end. I can argue them from a rational basis without calling you names if you disagree. Single payer healthcare. Lowering housing costs. Civil rights for LGBT people.

It brings me into conflict with Infinite Leftists. They see all these issues in terms of a purity test that spirals into infinity.

You start with one issue, and you ride it leftwards. If you ever stop, you are a moral monster.

♾️ Single payer healthcare should be universal health care. Actually, that’s capitalism so nationalize it. Actually, medical establishment discriminates against trans people so informed consent for all medication. Actually, why take hormones at all, gender itself… ♾️

It’s not that those policy goals the problem. It’s that all these arguments are so moralistic, Policy Leftists like myself can’t ever have a moment to go, “Hold on, how are we going to do that?” If you do, you get screamed at by your own side.

Infinite Leftism works well online. I myself was caught up in it for much of the Gamergate era. But when it comes to actually getting policy passed, it’s cancer.

It trains people to expect Utopia with none of the compromises needed in a democracy.

Infinite Leftism does incredible damage, particularly to the marginalized people it’s supposedly trying to speak for. Because the people most hurt by the system are held to the highest infinite standards of purity.

This shitshow with Infinite Leftism is like coronavirus. Everyone catches it eventually. And I think a lot of people like have had it often enough to be immune to it. It’s why Infinite Leftism is so much weaker than it used to be.

If there’s any future for progressives taking over the party from corporate Democrats - it’s going to come from Policy Leftists who have a narrowly defined set of objectives. That’s a base requirement to build the coalitions needed in a Democracy.

The Infinite Leftists will scream. They’ll call us names. They’ll puff their chests and insist their way is the only way to win.

I think most people are frankly tired of their bullshit. Our reasoning and strategy are better than theirs.

Some people treat democracy like it's a customer service desk ("I don't care how you fix this just make it happen") and not something that requires active participation.

We used to call people who spent their energies complaining online "slacktivists". Imagine if a quarter of the collective energy spent "debating" on Twittter was spent on, oh idk, the homeless.

[realcleverissues]

If you’re into UBI, you need to support Housing

I love the idea of a UBI. However, until we have enough housing, any additional money everyone starts getting will just go to increased housing costs. I.e. property values will go up, as will rent, moving that UBI income from the lower class to homeowners and landlords, while not improving the housing situation or life for most people. This is clearly not what we want to accomplish with a UBI.

We need to first build housing and then implement a UBI. (I imagine housing that is owned and run by local gov’ts or non-profit organizations, like housing authorities.) And considering the cost of a UBI, this is very feasible.

Let’s imagine a very modest UBI of $100/mo = $1,200/yr. There are around 260 million americans over 18. If everyone got a UBI, that’d be over $260B/yr. If we estimate housing construction costs of $260k/unit (just for convenience; the actual costs average only $200k), we can afford to build 1 Million apartments each year. 

Estimates vary of how many homes are needed to satisfy housing demand in the US, with estimates varying between 3 to 8 million homes. Let’s round up to 10 million.

It would take just 10 years of our UBI setup to completely transform the housing crisis. That’s not a long time. And this was using very conservative figures. If we imagine a UBI of $1,000/mo (which many do), we could pay for all the housing from a single year’s budget!

And what do we get in return? Primarily, two major results:

a. People are housed: People have adequate housing; slow the progression of people into homelessness (caused by housing prices); improve rate of getting people out of homelessness. (And, ideally, guarantee housing for everyone.) Additionally, the price of housing will go down for everyone, benefiting the lower class tremendously. (Some economists have estimated that the price of housing in some places could come down as much as 10% with adequate housing supply. Imagine saving 10% on your rent!) (It could potentially reduce the value of homes to some extent, which current property owners will not like, but I don’t think people are entitled to push for housing scarcity so that they can profit off it. Additionally, some studies show that things like changing exclusionary zoning can *increase* property values due to the fact that the same plot of land can now house more people.)

b. Money then put into a UBI is not swallowed by the upper class. The value of the money is more evenly enjoyed by all. Not to mention the savings from reduced housing costs (which could easily be $100/mo in savings). In other words, people will have more money, and the UBI becomes more effective. 

It’s also worth noting that the investment into housing construction will actually pay for itself, as renters pay for use of the homes. Unlike a UBI, this investment produces dividends. Those funds can be reinvested in housing, other community needs, or used to help fund the UBI.

There is a lot of exploitation that happens in our capitalist system, but housing is by far the worst since it effects everyone (i.e. everyone needs a home) and is likely the most expensive part of everyone’s expenses, with many people seeing a third or more of their income going to this one expense, every month, till they’re dead.) We must fix housing first. We must plug the hole in the ship before we can expect to move it forward with any efficiency. If you believe in a UBI, and understand the costs of it are worthwhile, then you need to also be advocating for a massive program to address the housing crisis.

[akechi-official]

In your opinion, what would be the best SMT game to start with between III (remake), IV, and V? For someone who’s played Persona 3-5 but none of the main series games

Okay this is a hard question because SMT is really difficult to get into if your only reference point is Persona 3-5. You have to be willing to accept that SMT is NOT persona and you will NOT be getting the same experience.

It really depends on what aspects of Persona you like though. For me I am a huge fan of turn based RPGs so the SMT series was not a hard jump to make. But if you like Persona for the characters and the story I really don’t think mainline SMT should be your first step into other MegaTen titles because SMT is really not about the characters. It’s about the world, and the themes, much more than about the characters and story. So if you go into SMT expecting to fall in love with a diverse and deep cast of characters, you might be disappointed. My suggestion would be to go play Devil Survivor tbh. However, SMT shines in world building, concepts, themes, and presentation. You have to be willing to look a little more abstract into the world.

If you still want to try SMT, though, here are my suggestions.

I would say if you love character and story SMTIV probably has the most fleshed out characters of the three. There’s a reason people got mad at SMTIV for being too similar to persona. There’s a lot about it that’s not for the faint at heart, and it’s still a difficult game, but the concept and characters are super interesting to me so you might enjoy it. Not as deep as Persona characters, but deep enough to where you become invested in them as people.

If you’re more interested in the gameplay, SMTV might be a good bet, because I think it is very fun to play even though it’s incredibly difficult (although I am playing it on the hardest difficulty so it might be easier at a lower difficulty) and I think for newcomers it might be easier to fall into coming from Persona. But don’t expect a good story, SMTV’s story and pacing is quite frankly terrible, and I’m not a fan of the world either. Others might challenge me on that. What you’re getting is incredibly fun and fast paced gameplay at the cost of an interesting world.

SMT Nocturne really isn’t a good game for people coming straight from Persona IMO. But it is the game that invented the Press Turn system and Persona 3 likely wouldn’t be what it is without Nocturne paving the way for it. So if you’re interested in the history of MegaTen Nocturne is a must play. A lot of people have said the remake isn’t as good as the original but it is a fine way to play, especially with the bug fixes and updates. This isn’t to say Nocturne is worse than IV and V, btw, because Nocturne is hailed as one of the best. But it’s difficulty might be a barrier to keep you from enjoying it.

That’s kind of a recurring theme, because SMT is kind of intended for hardcore RPG enthusiasts the games are WAY harder than Persona. For reference, Persona 5 on Merciless is a million times easier than SMTV on Hard. You really have to think critically about every move and prep for every major battle in SMT. Persona just doesn’t have that sort of difficulty. Not to say one is better or worse than the other, they’re just for two different types of players.

I do find it funny that you don’t want to try out SMTI and SMTII. But understandable, those games require a lot of preparation to play, especially since you can soft lock yourself in them.

Sorry that I don’t have a concrete answer, but I’m leaning towards saying IV or V just because they are slightly more forgiving than Nocturne. In summary, for story, play IV. For gameplay, play V.

Or just play Strange Journey, I’ve heard that game is really good.

If you do end up playing them, let me know what you think! Hope this was helpful!

[cafedanslanuit]

for @otherlandshark ― a dive into your relationship, your love language, your astrology compatibility, romantic headcanons, your playlist, a small story and more [+ info on self-ships scrapbooks in the carrd on my blog]

Love isn’t about finding a perfect match, nor about turning someone into a missing puzzle piece. It’s about finding someone who wants to understand the parts that you’re willing to show, and love the ones you rather not. That may be one of the closest ways to express the feelings that Saeyoung and Shark have for each other. A love that will not only soothe them enough to doze off at night but also ready to set a town on fire if the warmth will lull the other to sleep.

GIVING: ACTS OF SERVICE. Saeyoung and Shark are very similar. This, at least in the beginning, was definitely confusing. They both love making their loved ones’ lives easier and they also prefer to keep it on the low. However, when it’s their turn to receive help, they struggle a bit. Not wanting to potentially inconvenience the other, they may shy away from such gestures― nevertheless, it's not something time and understanding can't fix. The more they get to know each other, the better they can read each other's true intentions. Once they finally internalize neither of them is expecting anything in return, it becomes easier to lower their guards and slowly start accepting each other's help and take it as an act of love.

RECEIVING: PHYSICAL TOUCH. Once again, their thoughts align. While they’re not so keen on letting just anyone come close, they always make sure the other knows they’re the exception to the rule. When they're out with friends, Saeyoung likes to have an arm around their shoulders and casually rest his hand on their knee while he sits close. At home, he's a lot bolder― he will find a place on Shark's lap, rest his whole body on them when they they're lying down and either nudge their shoulder or peck their forehead out of the blue, just because he felt like it. Sometimes, it seems he's been holding onto that physical affection for years, and now that he feels safe, he's more than ready to let it out.

♡ Sarah Ruhl once wrote: “I loved her to the point of invention.” And truer words had never been said for Saeyoung. Even if he was already putting his creativity to work before he met Shark, it only seemed to enhance the more in love he fell. Now, he couldn’t stop getting ideas on what he could build to make their life easier― whether it was a reheating mug (which, albeit, already existed, but this one was made especially for Shark) or something maybe not as useful but done with the only intention of making Shark crack a smile.

♡ If they ever have doubts about being a good match, it all disappears the moment they fall into a comfortable silence. While Saeyoung is known for being a blabbermouth, on days when it’s too much for either of them, it’s an unspoken contract that they will both find their way to their bed and snuggle in silence. One arm here, one leg there― it’s soon a mess of limbs on the mattress, physical closeness and each other’s soft smell slowly but surely dissipating the day’s stress. 

♡ One of the perks of a new relationship is to come up with new traditions. While this one doesn’t have a set date or schedule in particular, they always find time to enjoy it together. And what could it be other than game nights? Unlike other couples’ game nights in which they invite their friends over to play different games, Saeyoung takes it upon himself to create a new board game every time. Whether it’s trivia, one-on-one or a set of dares with a specific reward system, he always makes sure it will be something they’ll both have a good time with. He likes making changes to his games, finding ways to make them even better and sometimes they’ll agree on playing along with the other RFA members (of course, only when they’ve mastered it― they’re no fools).

♡ Once Saeran was safe and everything related to the Prime Minister was settled, Saeyoung wasn’t sure about what he wanted to do. However, he knew he needed some time before he started dealing with people on a daily basis. He was done with his work at the agency, done with hacking and had enough money to go on for a while. So, what could he do now? The answer came to him a few days later: he was going to be a stay-at-home boyfriend. Soon, he was researching new recipes (even if he would end up setting off the fire alarm, he’s still set on getting better), finding good podcasts to keep him company and even following some TikTok accounts full of cleaning hacks. While trying out something new is always fun for him, he likes that he can make Shark's life easier this way― and if not, he can at least make them laugh.

Off the start, it may seem they’re both very different people. Saeyoung, a Gemini sun, is restless and curious and takes most issues light-heartedly, while Shark, a Scorpio sun, comes off as someone with strong ideals and passions that drive their life. However, once you get to know them, you realize why they work so well together.

For example, there’s a good balance between Saeyoung, a Scorpio moon, who lets their feelings drive them and usually feels emotions very intensely, and Shark, a Capricorn moon, who thinks before they act and doesn’t let their emotions cloud their judgement. Together, they can learn from each other― one to take a minute before taking a rash decision and the other to allow themselves a moment to examine how a certain situation is making them feel.

In terms of romance, they find a way to each other through their compatibility. They’re both Venus Air signs, both enjoying the playfulness of a relationship plus also giving each other enough room to breathe and be themselves without the pressure of filling each other expectations.

But what makes a relationship work is not only how deeply they care about each other, but how much they enjoy their time spent with one another, whether it’s as a couple or as friends. Here is where Shark’s Sagittarius Mercury and Saeyoung’s Gemini Mercury come to shine. Both love exploring new ideas, and their minds are constantly active, and eager to learn more. For them, a good afternoon can consist of discussing a wild theory. The crazier the better― especially with how much Saeyoung’s chest warms up whenever he manages to snatch a loud laugh out of them.

♡ Rue Vieillie Du Temple - León Lárregui

Y es cuando tú me miras desde allá / Y sonriéndome, me regresas hasta ti / Conoces bien mi habilidad de volar / De divagar entre los mundos [And that’s when you look at me from there / And, smiling, you bring me back to you / You know very well my ability to fly / To wander among the worlds]

Even if he doesn’t want to, there are days in which Saeyoug’s bad thoughts win. He can tell from the moment he wakes up, but tries his best to continue the day the best that he can. He thinks he can pull it off, however, it’s easy for Shark to catch his disconnected gaze during dinner. Without asking him about it, they divert his attention elsewhere, and soon notice the gleam in his eyes coming back as he stops giving his negative thoughts the time of the day. They've never spoken about it― neither do either of them want to. After all, it’s the unspoken part of it that truly brings out the sweetness of the moment.

♡ Día de enero - Shakira

Y todo va a pasar / Pronto verás el sol brillar / Tú, más que nadie, mereces ser feliz [And everything will pass / Soon you’ll see the sun shining / You, more than anyone, deserve to be happy]

It took time, but little by little, both of them started letting the other in. One shared memory followed another. A nervous chuckle here and an awkward finger gun there but, for the first time, they know there isn’t judgement nor pity in the eyes of the one listening. At the end of the day, there are so many things they will only keep to themselves, but to see most of your walls slowly crumbling down as they make way for domesticity and comfort will always feel magical.

♡ Ease my mind - Ben Platt

I make sense to the madness / When I listen to your voice / Darling, only you can ease my mind

Just like Saeyoung’s wandering thoughts, some days it may be Shark's own head that won't leave them alone. And somehow, it’s always when they're exhausted― it’s like their thoughts know they're too tired to send them away. However, even with the buzzing of harsh words and mean comments, there’s one thing that can turn down the volume of their thoughts enough for them to shake them off, and that’s Saeyoung’s laugh. Mixed with snorts and soft cackles, Shark can’t help but grin when they listen to his genuine laugh and, even if it’s just for a little while, things don’t seem to be so hard anymore.

“Hey, you’re home!”

A tired smile was your reply to Saeyoung’s cheerful greeting. You turned around to lock the door, the soreness of your muscles finally catching up now that you had finally arrived.

“I already cooked something for you to take tomorrow,” he proudly announced, his head sticking out of the kitchen. You arched your eyebrow, amused.

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” he grinned. It only lasted a couple of seconds before it turned into a grimace. “It’s not good, though. But it’s food and― no, I’m sure it’s good. It’s edible, I mean... it’s a salad. How can you mess up a salad?”

You snorted. “Mmmkay.” After taking a long breath, you left your bag on the sofa. “Thank you. I‘m sure it’s good.”

With slow steps, you walked to the bedroom, feelings your limbs weighing more and more with every step you took. By the time you were changing clothes you were already on autopilot, and your eyes were shut before your head even hit the pillow.

One, two, three. You closed your eyes for three seconds, opened them again and suddenly, everything had changed. Confused, you blinked twice and realized the bedroom lights were out. How long had it truly been? Fuck, did you sleep through your alarm? Your phone must’ve died on you― you didn’t remember plugging it before you fell asleep.

“What time is it?” you whispered. “Shit, shit, shit, how late I am? I got to―” you muttered, tossing the sheets off to scramble out of bed.

“Hey, stop,” Saeyoung said, his arm tightening around your body as he stopped you from standing. “It’s been like― an hour since you went to bed, tops.”

“Oh,” you sighed, relief washing down your body. “Oh, okay." You took a deep breath. "Fuck. Good, then. Feels like I slept for a second. anyway.”

“Yeah, sleeping can be weird like that,” he snickered. You snuggled again on the bed, fixing the comforter over you.

“Of course you’d know about strange sleep patterns,” you teased him. Saeyoung audibly gasped, feigning offence.

“Mind you, last night I went to bed at 2 a.m. I’m quite proud of it, actually. It’s a personal record.”

“From your 7 a.m. bedtime? Yeah, sure is,” you chuckled. You snuggled against him, still not facing him, but relishing in his warmth and familiarity. “Thanks.”

“For not letting you freak out about the time? No need. Saw you getting into bed and decided to join you because I was a little tired myself and―”

“―for everything.”

“Ah,” he hummed, followed by a small laugh. There was a small pause, and even if you couldn't see him, you know there was a smile on his face. “Still, no need. It’s all part of my ‘stay-at-home boyfriend’ duties, remember?”

“Yeah?” you asked, amused. "What other duties does it include?"

“This, for example.”

Before you could ask, Saeyoung had already pushed down your shoulder making your chest hitt the mattress. In another quick motion, he laid himself on top of your body. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his laugh making your ear tingle.

“This is how we’re sleeping now?” you laughed, the weight of his body over yours providing comfort. He nodded and hummed affirmatively. “Mmkay. Guess we’ll make it work.”

“We always do,” he muttered against your skin. You felt heat crawling up your cheeks.

“Yeah,” you sighed, closing your eyes. “We do.”

[nationalfacilitiesdirect01]

3 Simple Ways Facilities Management Providers Can Improve Your Organization

As a facilities manager (FM), you know that every day brings a new set of challenges, all which demand a variety of innovative solutions. Whether it’s keeping assets maintained, balancing budgets and expectations, coordinating teams, or managing time, FMs have a lot on their plates. However, when working with a facilities management provider, you have the opportunity to streamline operations and communications with efficient, cost-cutting solutions that make your job easier. Here are three ways a facilities management provider can improve your organization.

Reduce Operational Burdens and Increase Efficiency

FM providers are flexible and have the resources to adapt their services to an organization’s specific needs. With experienced technicians on standby, FM providers can easily scale their services to manage projects with reduced response and resolution time. For example, an FM provider can help organizations standardize processes for how repair orders are placed, how issues are prioritized, and how invoices are managed. Not only does this increase efficiency, it helps alleviate some of the operational burden on the FM, allowing them to focus on strategic initiatives that benefit the organization in the long run.

Increase the Quality of Work with Access to Highly-Skilled Technicians

FM providers have a vast selection of vetted technicians who are experts in their fields. Working with an FM partner means you also have access to highly skilled technicians.

Whether you need Soft FM like cleaning, landscaping, and waste management services or Hard FM like HVAC, plumbing or electrical services, on-demand access to a FM provider with a vast roster of skilled technicians ensures you have the perfect solution for the job every time. With access to highly-skilled technicians, FM providers are able to leverage their technicians to find the perfect fit and guarantee the quality of work. That level of service allows you to easily navigate complex projects with confidence knowing you have trusted communication, expertise, and results.

Optimize Costs

Consolidating operations and processes can help your organization lower your facilities management costs. Working with an FM provider that has experience in your industry means your needs are taken care of efficiently and to your satisfaction. This saves you time and money looking for the right solution.

You can also find additional savings with a self-performing FM provider because they cut out the middle-man. Technicians within a self-performing system work for the FM company so there isn’t a markup on the price as there would be when aggregators hire from their network of contractors.

In addition, FM providers have significant experience with all types of systems and processes. They can perform an audit to identify risks and provide preventative maintenance that avoids costly fixes and replacements. FM providers have experience with all types of organizations. They examine your organization through operational audits and conditions assessments to provide you with a custom solution that identifies cost-saving opportunities in your systems and processes.

Experience an even bigger Difference with a Self-Performing Facilities Management Provider

Partnering with a FM provider can deliver significant benefits for your organization. From reduction of costs to optimizing your facility management programs for increased efficiency, the right partner can provide the support you need to take your operations to the next level.

When you need a trusted and forward-thinking facilities management partner, choose National Facilities Direct. No matter your facility management needs, we solve problems for both the long and short term that meet resolution-time needs and make your job easier.

Contact us today to learn how our self-performing, self-supported, and self-communicating integrated facilities management services can take your facilities management to the next level.

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