#i hate playing chase

[eddie-cant-decide]

And now it all makes sense, I was told it was not to be a relationship, but that I was liked very much, decided on bromance but with the agreement of "no jealousy, no remorses".

I should have seen it coming, I'm just wanted around in case that person grows tired or needs to make someone else jealous, I've been treated like this before, I know that game very well and I'm damn sure not gonna let anyone treat me like that before, cuz it hurts yknow?

[thatrandomblogsays]

Annabeth, and others, often treat Percy as if he’s ridiculous or obtuse for his reactions to the demigod world, when in reality he’s a (relatively) well adjusted kid who was raised by a loving parent. His actions make sense based on his upbringing

- parents arent supposed to be neglectful

- parents are supposed to be easily attainable, loving, and present in a child’s life

- if you’re in trouble, you should call for help, there isn’t shame in admitting you’re in over your head, you’re twelve

- you shouldn’t have to jump through life endangering hoops to get your parent’s attention

Annabeth acts like he’s ridiculous, but he’s right. Annabeth knows how the Greek world works, but Percy knows how the real world is supposed to work. & rightfully calls out the BS. But it’s hard for most demigods to agree because what kid wants to admit the way their parents treat them is awful? That their actions are those of aloof, negligent, even narcisstic people who are unwilling or incapable of giving the proper love and support a child needs. That even if their godly parent does love them, it’s a pathetic, horrible, attempt at love you’re better off without.

[uncanny-tranny]

The sheer pity party some alloromantics expect of aromantics is really funny to me. The expectation is that we ought to feel broken or afraid that we will never be worthy of anything if not for a romantic relationship, but as the years go on, I've been so much less inclined to feel those ways.

People expect aromanticism to feel like a prison, and I think that's looking at it wrong. My aromanticism never imprisoned me - amatonormativity did. Being aromantic taught me that I can never and will never be "made whole" through romantic attraction. Amatonormativity teaches that to be whole is to be pursued, to be in love, to be possessed, essentially. Being aromantic has freed me of those expectations because I had to break those chains in order to truly understand what will make my life worth living.

I've been finding more and more that being allo will never appeal to me - I don't give a flying fuck about allo being "normal," and frankly if being normal means being allo, I simply just won't be normal.

[biggestqiblifan]

....

Why is it hitting me with such force that....

The Percy Jackson characters are fucking millennials.

.....fuck

[ssruis]

“Rui & tsukasa are so gay” & they’re not even the gayest ones in their unit. Look at me. I love ruikasa. But just because Rui seems to have made it his personal challenge to be as gay as possible does not mean this gayness transfers to tsukasa.

I think there’s a lot to be said wrt tsukasa’s side of the dynamic and how he’s less obvious with his affection than Rui, and how his behavior with Rui differs from how he acts with others, but that requires analyzation and we know 80% of ruikasa fans aren’t doing that.

Pairings I would say have more textual Gayness going on than ruikasa:

- anhane

- minoharu

- shizuairi

- akitoya

- kanamafu

- mizuena

- emunene

- wxs meiko and luka

- literally every interaction saki has had with a female character ever but especially with the rest of Leo/need

[blot-squisher]

So the Entity had its favorites on both sides. Dwight, the first proper Survivor, and then Kenneth for a while. At least until Danny came along and started showing off his creative methods of fucking with the Survivors during Trials. Seasoning that fear and despair with that extra helping of good stuff, ya know?

Anyway the main point.

You know on the flip side of that, the Entity had to have a least favorite. Someone it looked at and silently questioned, 'Why the fuck did I pick you up again?' Not outright hate, mind you. Just, like, a mild disinterest. Boredom. A kind of 'ooh shiny new toy annnnnnd I'm over it. Into the back of the closet to collect dust with you' kind of dislike.

Anyway, in this essay I'll go into absolutely no detail or depth on my thought process as to why I think it was Freddy and Quentin.

[caligatinsole]

You know what? Fuck everything, SOMA oc. I don't know if I'll ever find the motivation to work on her story again so why not bringing the og concept back? I missed you girl ✨

[midnight-coll]

Maybe i love unreliable narrators so much because i am an unreliable narrator in my own life. Every alter has a different perspective, everyone *thinks* they know what they're talking about when really its a limited one person perspective. The point of the disorder is so you think you know everything when in reality theres so many things you don't know you don't know. Maybe i love unreliable narrators in fiction because they say what they say and people pick apart and find the truth anyway and maybe i just like the idea of someone seeing the whole picture after talking to different alters, of someone knowing me more then an alter knows.

[writingtot]

i think one of the reasons i enjoy the percy series so much is because it’s an adaptation of the novels and not word for word the same.

at first i was a little upset by all the changes, but after rereading the books, i actually like the series even more now. as much as we all adore the books, i think we can agree that they’re not perfect. sometimes there’s plot holes, inconsistencies, or just bad writing in general. this gives rick a chance to fix those things, and that’s OKAY.

the series isn’t perfect either, don’t get me wrong, but it is nice to see the characters going on the same adventures even with some variation to the original story. i think this will allow the characters to be fleshed out more.

we have to remember that a tv show and a book is not the same medium, so the way these things are presented cannot be identical. otherwise the characters in the show would probably seem pretty flat since the books are only from percy’s perspective. the series allows us to learn more about the motives and personalities of other characters, be it annabeth, grover, or luke (personally, i’m really excited to see how his character’s story goes).

anyway, all of this is to say that the percy series is great for what it is (an adaptation of a book series). yes it could be better (cough longer and more episodes cough), but i personally really enjoy it so far.

[bloomingbluebell]

i don't think difficulty and challenge should be a litmus test for whether or not a game is "good"

first of all, how good a game is entirely depends on the person. like a game that one person hates might be a game that someone else loves

second of all, remember the animal crossing craze when acnh came out? i don't think that's an especially challenging game, but it's still beloved. games that aren't challenging can be beloved

third of all, maybe those of us who suck at games maybe want a game that's easy for once? 🤷🏼

[shalomniscient]

ARCHIVIST’S RECORDS: FAFNIR [HSR], 002

cw. [NSFT][MDNI], generally mild and suggestive at best but adding the cw just to be safe

this record involves @spirit-lanterns’s incredible casino AU and @e-hibiscus’s bunny oc misha! they’re both amazing creators 100% worth checking out!

“You know, I’ve heard about you,” Fafnir hums, trailing a hand down Misha’s thigh as the bunny perches on her lap. The dragoness's touch is warm, even through the expensive leather of her gloves.

“Yeah?” she responds breathily, placing her hands on the other woman’s waist to steady herself. Fafnir’s abdomen is firm under her hands, and she actively has to tamp down the urge to pop those buttons off right here and now to see what lay beneath.

“Yeah,” Fafnir croons, the hand on her thigh coming to rest at Misha’s hip. Her grip is firm, possessive, keeping her decidedly in place on her lap—and it sends an electric thrill shooting up Misha’s spine. “I heard that you’re an odd little bunny—that you like to watch your patrons lose instead of win.”

A giggle escapes her lips at the (entirely true) accusation. “Ah, well—you got me.”

“Hm,” the dragoness hums, and something shifts in her eyes. They go from glittery gold, the kind befitting jewelry, to molten pools swirling with dangerous, devouring heat. Fafnir leans forward, close enough to whisper right into one of Misha’s ears, sharp teeth grazing the pink fluff.

“So you think I’m going to lose, little rabbit?”

Her heart thunders in her chest, and she swallows. Her veins feel alight with excitement, and her arms wander up to loop around the dragoness’s neck. Fafnir is so close now, and Misha can feel the wisps of heat emanating through that dark, sinfully well-tailored and form-fitting suit of hers.

“Maybe your luck will run out this time,” she challenges, and it pulls a low, hissing laugh from Fafnir while the dragoness's hand cards through her pretty, pink hair.

“Bold little thing, aren’t you?” Fafnir muses, pulling back to casually lean in her chair again, as if she wasn’t betting millions on the Blackjack game before her. Those golden eyes were fixed on her and her only—it shouldn’t be as fucking thrilling as it is, but Misha’s blood sings nonetheless.

“Let’s make a bet, little rabbit,” Fafnir offers, her tail curling on the floor, scales shimmering like jewels in the low light. “If and when I win, I get to have you as my reward.”

“Wow, confident. And if you lose?”

The grip on her hip tightens by a fraction, before it relaxes again. Misha has spent long enough in a casino to recognize a tell when she sees one. It seems the dragoness does not take the concept of losing easily. “If I lose, I’ll give you anything you desire that is within my reach.”

“Anything?” she asks, a devious little smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “That’s dangerous, wouldn’t you say?”

"Indeed it is," Fafnir chuckles, a low rumble deep in her throat. When she breathes out, the column of her throat emits a light, orange glow, like the color of magma. The glow pulses in tune with each beat of Fafnir's heart, slow and steady. “But you like playing with fire, don’t you?”

“Guess I do," she shrugs with a smirk that's more teeth than anything, and the adrenaline coursing through her system feels like liquid fucking fire. Who even needs to hit the bottle anymore when she's got this? Fafnir meets her intensity in equal measure, true fangs glinting as her lips peel backwards in something between a sneer and a snarl.

“So do we have a deal, little rabbit?”

The dragoness's gaze is deep, dark and vast—both a warning and an invitation. Something buried in her subconscious screams at her, a bone-deep instinct, a prey response ingrained into the molecules of her being. It tells her to run before she gets devoured.

Too bad she's never been the type to listen.

“Deal.”

It's like the atmosphere shifts, the temperature of the room turning up a notch. The other players at the table squirm nervously in their seats—some tug at their collars, while others unbutton their store-bought suits. Fafnir holds her close as she leans forward, territorial, possessive, a draconic grin nearly splitting her face in two. When she speaks, the words engulf every other player at the table like a pyroclastic flow—scorching and inescapable and damning.

"How about we have some real fun, hm?"

In the end Fafnir wins just as she had promised, and Misha has never taken a patron to the private rooms quicker.

(She'll have to do a lot of explaining for the number of bite marks along her skin on tomorrow's shift, but that's a problem for future Misha. Current Misha is much too preoccupied to care.)

Linking OC sheets here: - Misha, @/e-hibiscus's OC - Fafnir, my OC

[jessica-problems]

I LOVE VOID STRANGER AND IT CAUSES ME NO EMOTIONAL DAMAGE AT ALL

[puhpandas]

gonna make fnaf guys in the sims 3

[collieii]

i've seen that some ppl think the ending of trimax is kinda sad, which i get, but personally i didn't read it that way. vash has spent his whole life burdened by these feelings of responsibility. he did his best to live his life, but he was always weighed down by his regret, sadness, guilt. i feel like with knives still out there and everything, he always knew he would have to deal with him. he could never really have peace. but by the end he finally takes care of knives, and the earth ships bring extra resources to help everyone on the planet. those two big things he was a part of, that have been plaguing him since the fall, have been resolved.

obviously it doesn't negate what happened in his past, things that he's done and how he (and everyone else) suffered. but i think at the end, he can actually begin to process it all, grieve, heal, and rest. sure he's still being chased around but honestly i don't think vash cares about that at all. as long as he can exist with other people he's happy. he doesn't really hold grudges. even being hunted for sport vash's life is finally simple and i think that's what he needs.

he doesn't have to work anymore, worry about the future. he took care of the problem he was part of. he can start to unburden himself of the guilt. he's learned from all the people he connected with, come away with new lessons and relationships. to me, i think of it as vash's retirement basically Imao. might be unconventional but it's what he knows and what he's happy with.

[invinciblerodent]

getting a little bit obsessed with my "cottagecore throuple" here, because the more I think about it, the more disgustingly perfect and idyllic the whole thing is to me.

like... post-game, I like to imagine Shadowheart absolutely thriving. She's a city girl with a deep love for animals, and spotty- to nil memories, most of which are of the worst things to have ever happened in a dank torture-basement: of course a sweet, picturesque forest cottage (so far I like to think that Petyr would call it "The Hovel", even though it's by all means a cozy, nice hunter's lodge) would have her downright giddy, and she deserves every ounce of that happiness ever.

As I imagine it, when not enthusiastically learning all there is to learn about the quasi-self-sustaining life (that she had dropped herself into by shacking up with a literal forest ranger), she spends as much time outside as possible: walks barefoot in the tall grass, stops to smell every flower (and even plants quite a few, just by the vegetables), and lays in the soft underbrush for hours at a time- enjoying the sunlight caressing her face, enjoying a nice novel (and/or a cuddle with Scratch, the cub, or her boyfriend once he sits down for a moment), or just gazing up at the moon and stars in silent worship. She makes friends with every animal that crosses her path, too: SO many potions of animal speaking are consumed, it's absurd. (She's best friends with the chickens. Petyr has to start farming acorn truffles in the basement for her, and that even proves actually very lucrative- in town, that shit sells for like 10-20 gold a pop.)

She'd of course bring home everything that'll let her. Little wildflower bouquets and stuff at first, but also every critter: from juvenile racoons just weaned from their mothers (they look almost like kittens! how cute!), to elderly foxes that just want to curl up in front of the fire and warm their bones somewhere safe for a moment. She's having the time of her goddamn life, she's learning a shitton of life skills she was never taught (finally learning things not meant to make her better at hurting people!), and generally enjoying a life that, while still plagued by remnants of the past (night terrors, perpetrator trauma, loss, grief, pains both suffered and inflicted, all that great stuff), has her feeling actually content with her lot in it.

And with all this, Petyr is... very business as usual, or at least he's trying to pretend that he is. Having someone in what was his space for like 20 years is strange initially, but if there's one thing he's used to, it's adapting. Making things work. (Plus, he's like, happy, or whatever. In love. You know, that sort of rot.)

Then again, he's also used to only having to feed himself with the very little he has, not another (especially another who is inexperienced at this type of thing, and a second another who just... drops by sometimes, always unannounced and unexpected, but never unwelcome), which deep down does have him a bit (a lot) more antsy about not just being the self-appointed guardian of her happiness, but also just... their general survival.

He's keenly aware that winters in the wild are never especially easy, not when you're so far removed from the safety of a community- especially not the way he's used to being alone, without even magic to keep you warm and safe. Usually, he spends most of the year primarily occupied by preparing for winter, and even like that, there have been lean years: years when he got snowed in for tendays, when he did something stupid and all the careful prep went down the shitter, years he had to go hungry and learn to make do with next to nothing.

So he compensates for- (and distracts himself from-) that anxiety by making extra sure that the pantry is stocked to bursting with all the goods there can be, and they often head out into the woods to hunt and forage together- although he's not a great (or even a good) teacher, Shadowheart (usually Shadow, often Heart, lately Jen or Jenny in affection) does make what he used to do out of sheer need, into something also done for fun.

Hunting and foraging are fun now, and soon, the cabinets are overflowing with jars and jars of dry mushrooms, so much homemade deer jerky, jams and jellies and pickles galore... there's mead fermenting, and homemade soap curing before it can be used, firewood stacked to the height of a person... herb bundles, garlic braids, grain corn, and drying peppers are strung up on the rafters like fragrant fairy lights.

Meanwhile, I imagine that Halsin comes and goes as he pleases- not entirely unlike a beloved stray cat. He just shows up one evening as if he had left not tendays, but only a few hours ago, kicks the duff or mud or snow off his boots, and leans his staff into its habitual nook by the door. He sets whatever it is that he brought this time in its appropriate place (be it otherwise unobtainable goods from town, or just a little gift, a treat to enjoy together), and he sinks into the worn-out armchair by the fireplace that was declared his the first time he stayed.

One of the others almost always then strolls by to settle wordlessly on his lap (if not both of them- that poor chair can barely take the combined weight), and just relax as his big, warm fingers slowly work through the knots and ties keeping their hair out of their faces, and, voice rumbling deep in his chest, he tells them all that has happened in Reithwin the past while.

The many smells of dinner and the comforting scent of pipe tobacco mingle with the fragrant herbs and the crackling fire then, and creates something that can only be described as the scent of home.

.............. and then all three just fuck absolute NASTY every day, in every configuration, and on every surface available for the next, oh, month or so.

[nc-vb]

I’m so in love with him, I’m actually sick about it, I am sick, so so fucking sick