#no that's not what i meant to say but y'know

[a-star-that-burns-brightly]

Muu and Kotoko's Trial 3 restraints are literally beating the audience with a steel chair how the Milgram system is one who's goal is dehumanization above all else and I am in love with it just as much as it makes me squirm.

Like. The more you think about it the worse it gets. How do they eat? Actually scratch that, how do they shower? How do they use the damn bathroom? Their hands and arms are literally unusable, and as far as eating goes, Muu cannot take off her barbed wire veil and Kotoko obviously can't take off her muzzle because, I repeat, their arms and hands are Fucking Unusable. Tasks like feeding and cleaning themselves, things that all humans should have the right to be able to do, have either been made a chore or nearly impossible. Their legs and feet are bent in positions that they are not meant to stay in, without a doubt causing an agonizing amount of pain and damage that when they get out of here (if they even do) can only be reversed through physical therapy, or in Muu's case, possibly surgery. Coming back to them not being able to use their hands, who is going to write their interrogation answers? Not them obviously. Es is almost certainly going to have to write them out for them. Because y'know, this humiliation torture sundae was missing a cherry on top. I wouldn't say that this is a fate worse than death, because I do not personally believe there is a fate worse than death. But I'll tell you what, I certainly wouldn't blame Muu and Kotoko for thinking so.

[blingblong55]

God of Lust- Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW

--- F!Reader, MDNI, smut, 18+, oral!sex, P-in-V, cupid!simon, dub-con (I don't know if this is the right tag) ---

જ⁀➴♡

The first time he sees you, Simon stops in his tracks. You’re walking through the park, blissfully unaware of the celestial being perched on a nearby rooftop, a bow slung lazily over his broad shoulder. He’s spent centuries watching mortals stumble their way through love—some sweet, some tragic, most of it predictable. But you? You catch his attention like a flaming arrow to the chest.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, eyes tracking your every move. The way you carry yourself, the slight flush to your cheeks from the cold—everything about you makes his fingers twitch. He should move on, and find another poor soul in need of a love nudge, but he doesn’t. He stays. Watches. Wonders.

It doesn’t take long before curiosity turns into something darker, more insistent. He’s meant to guide mortals toward love, not crave them for himself, but Cupid’s never been a saint. And he’s got a particular set of arrows—ones meant to inspire obsession, to turn innocent interest into something much filthier.

And he wants to test one on you.

He follows you home, unseen, perched in the shadows like a wolf stalking prey. His wings, usually hidden from mortal eyes, twitch with anticipation. He shouldn’t. It’s a line even he shouldn’t cross. But when has that ever stopped him?

The moment you step inside your apartment, locking the door behind you, he makes his move. A blink, a shift in the air, and suddenly, he’s inside, standing in your dimly lit living room. His wings retract, bow discarded, leaving him a man—well, something close to one—dressed in dark trousers and a loose white shirt, golden gauntlets glinting in the low light.

You turn, eyes widening in shock. "Who the fuck—?"

"Y'know," he interrupts, voice a deep, teasing drawl, "it’s rude to swear at Cupid."

You freeze. He watches as your mind scrambles, confusion knitting your brows. "Cupid?" you repeat, disbelief laced in every syllable. "Simon." He steps forward, gaze dipping, raking over you. "But yeah, that's me, love. And I've had my eye on you for a while now."

You swallow, stepping back, bumping into the table. "You're real?" He smirks. "Real as the ache between your legs, sweetheart."

The heat in his voice makes your stomach twist, thighs press together involuntarily. And he sees it—of course, he does. Simon’s been studying human desire for centuries. He can spot it just a mile away, and right now, you’re radiating it.

His gloved hand lifts, fingers tracing the edge of your jaw before dipping lower, brushing over your collarbone. "Thing is," he murmurs, "I spend my time puttin’ lovers together. But I’ve never had one of my own." His touch drifts lower, playing at the hem of your shirt. Your breath catches, and he grins. "Do you know what that means?"

Your head shakes, words lost in the thick tension between you. "It means," he says, voice rough with want, "I’m overdue for a good fuck."

Then he’s on you, pressing you against the table, mouth claiming yours in a bruising kiss. His body is hot, and solid, wings flickering into existence for a brief second before vanishing again. His hands—strong, demanding—grip your waist, pulling you flush against the evidence of his arousal. "Fuckin’ hell," he groans, lips dragging down your neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin. "Gonna take my time with you, love. Gonna ruin you."

His hands move, ripping fabric, and discarding clothes like they offend him. And when you’re bare before him, he steps back, dark eyes devouring you. "Perfect," he mutters, voice thick with reverence. "So fuckin’ perfect." His hands return, rough palms ghosting over your skin, teasing, testing. "Tell me, sweetheart," he purrs, "have you ever been fucked by a god before?"

I mean, if he considers a good vibrator a god then yes. Being properly fucked by a god? Not even a good smut book can satisfy that need. Then he drops to his knees, and whatever answer you had dies in your throat as he shows you exactly what he means.

His calloused fingers danced along your hips, deftly unbuttoning your jeans with a wicked grin. "Let's get these pesky clothes out of the way, love. Want to feel every inch of your gorgeous body against mine," he growled, golden eyes glinting with mischief and unbridled desire.

His hands slid under your shirt, pushing the fabric up and over your head, leaving you bare before him. The cool night air kissed your skin, pebbling your nipples as he took a step back to admire his handiwork. "Fuckin' hell, you're a sight," he breathed, drinking in every curve and dip like a man starved.

Simon's clothes vanished in a shimmer of golden light, revealing a body honed by centuries of carnal pursuits—muscles rippling under scarred, tanned skin, a trail of hair leading down from his navel to the thick, half-hard cock now bobbing heavily between his thighs. He grabbed your wrist, pulling your hand to his chest, guiding your palm over the raised lines etched into his skin. "Trophies from lovers past," he murmured, voice rough and low. "Each one a reminder of the power of passion, the all-consuming heat of desire."

Was cupid an "angel"? He did say he is a god but…fuck this guy is a sight to behold. Not even the heavens above can come up with something so perfect.

He nudged your thighs apart with his knee, settling between them as he sank to the floor. Strong hands gripped your hips, squeezing the supple flesh as he gazed up at you, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with lust. "Spread wider for me, sweetheart. Let me see that pretty cunt," he commanded, hot breath washing over your sensitive sex.

His fingers skimmed along your slit, teasing through the slick folds, drawing a shuddering gasp from your throat. "So bloody wet already," he purred, bringing his fingers to his mouth to taste your essence. "Delicious. I could get addicted to this flavour."

Simon reached into the pouch slung across his chest, pulling out a small, ornate box. Inside lay the infamous arrow, the one whispered to bring pleasure beyond imagining to any who dared to wield it. He plucked it from the velvet lining, running the smooth shaft along your inner thigh, the cool metal sending sparks of sensation dancing across your skin.

"Brace yourself, love," he whispered, voice a sinful promise as he pressed the arrow's tip against your swollen clit, circling the sensitive nub with maddening slowness. "I'm going to ruin you for anyone else. Make you scream my name until it's the only thing you know."

He dipped his head, replacing the arrow with his mouth, sucking your clit between his lips as two thick fingers plunged knuckle-deep into your soaked channel. "Fuck, you're tight," he groaned against your flesh, pumping his fingers in and out of your clutching heat. "Can't wait to feel this sweet cunt wrapped around my cock."

Simon redoubled his efforts, fingers curling to rub that perfect spot inside you as he sucked and licked at your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. The arrow continued its relentless assault, the cool metal a delicious contrast to the scorching heat of his mouth.

"Come for me, sweetheart," he demanded, voice vibrating against your core. "Paint my fingers with your cum. Let me feel you fall apart." His thumb pressed hard against your clit as he sank his teeth into the tender flesh, sending you careening over the edge with a scream of his name echoing through the night air. Your body convulsed around his invading fingers, walls clenching and fluttering as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

But he wasn't done with you yet. Not by a long shot. As your orgasm began to subside, Simon surged to his feet, grabbing your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist. The thick head of his cock nudged against your entrance, the scorching heat searing your drenched folds. With one brutal thrust, he buried himself to the hilt inside you, stretching you wide around his impressive girth.

"Bloody hell," he snarled, head thrown back in pleasure as your slick walls struggled to accommodate his size. "Fuckin' perfect. Never had a cunt fit me so bloody well." He pulled back slowly, only to slam forward again, setting a punishing rhythm that had the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filling the air.

"Take it, you filthy girl," he growled, hips snapping forward with bruising force. "Take my cock like the desperate slut you are." His hands gripped your ass hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, kneading the supple flesh. His hips pistoned forward relentlessly, the thick drag of his cock stirring up your sensitive walls with each powerful thrust. "Fuck, your cunt feels like it was made for my dick," he grunted, angling to hit that sweet spot inside you dead-on with every drive of his hips.

Simon's golden eyes blazed with lust and something almost feral as he watched your face, drinking in the play of emotions across your features—shock, pleasure, desperation, and all the delicious things in between. "Love seeing you like this, sweetheart. Lost in the throes of passion, drowning in the feel of my cock splitting you open."

One hand slid up your side to palm the soft swell of your breast, calloused fingers plucking and rolling the stiff peak until it ached with need. He dipped his head, dragging his tongue over the sensitive bud before suckling hard, sending jolts of electricity straight to your core. "Beautiful," he murmured against your skin, nipping lightly before soothing the sting with a sensual lap of his tongue. "Can't get enough of these perfect tits. Want to mark them, claim them as mine."

Simon's other hand drifted down to where you were joined, the slick sounds of your coupling filling the air. He circled your clit with maddening slowness, the rough pad of his thumb rubbing the sensitive nub in time with the relentless thrusts of his hips. "Gonna make you come on my cock like a good girl," he promised darkly, voice a sinful rumble against your skin. "Squeeze my dick with this greedy little cunt until I pump you full of my seed."

His words, gravelly and thick with desire, pushed you closer to the edge. Your body began to tighten, walls fluttering around his pistoning length as your climax built with breathtaking speed. "That's it, sweetheart. Give it to me," Simon urged, thumb pressing hard against your clit as he somehow increased the force of his thrusts. "Come screaming my name. Let the whole bloody forest know who makes you feel this good."

With a raw, animalistic cry, you shattered around him, your sex clamping down on his cock like a vice as ecstasy exploded through every nerve ending. Your vision went white, stars bursting behind your eyelids as wave after wave of pure, unadulterated bliss crashed over you.

"Fuck, yes!" Simon roared, his release slamming into him with the force of a freight train. His hips jerked erratically as he buried himself to the hilt, painting your insides with thick ropes of his hot seed. He ground against you, working his cock in small circles, making sure you felt every last pulse and throb as he filled you up.

As the intense pleasure began to ebb, Simon captured your mouth in a searing kiss, his tongue delving deep to dance with yours. He poured all his passion, his hunger, his all-consuming desire into the embrace, leaving you breathless and boneless in his arms.

When he finally broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, both of you panting harshly as you came down from the high of your releases. "Bloody hell," he breathed, a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I knew from the moment I saw you that I was going to ruin you for anyone else. And I'll be damned if I don't make good on that promise."

With a sudden surge of strength, he hoisted you up, carrying you bridal style. "Round two awaits, love. Hope you didn't have any plans for the rest of the night, because I'm not nearly done with you yet," he purred, golden eyes glinting with wicked intent as he kicked open the door and carried you over to a proper bed, ready to spend the rest of the night worshipping every inch of your gorgeous body in the most thoroughly carnal ways imaginable. The night was still young, and Cupid had a reputation to uphold.

જ⁀➴♡

Tags:

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[ninguitar]

꣑ৎ　────　𝓣ANGLED IN LOVE　♱.　LR 　　　　the true queen at the game that i despise 𓈒𓈒

───﹙🕷️﹚𝓢. ｡｡　the friendly neighborhood spider meets the outlaw cat.

𝓹airing. blackcat!lara raj x spiderman!f!r 𝓰enre. fluff wc. 2.1k+ notes ! to clarify, heeseung is ned in this fic, reader is mentioned to have an ex, & reader doesn't know black cat's identity 🤞🤞 (MASTERLIST)

now playing ⋆ track 02 (dangerous lover) by avenoir & mercedes by brent faiyaz

THE THING ABOUT THE BLACK CAT was that oddly enough, she reminded you too much of a certain classmate—a classmate named lara raj, who seems to be disappearing at the crack of dawn, telling you they were merely urgent errands.

the first time you thought of them two, you told yourself it was just a small coincidence and nothing else, yet the thought still lingered in your head; the way the word 'pretty' smoothly rolls off of the black cat's tongue, almost as if she was born to say it, the same way it does with lara—the way they both insisted that you were too much of a worrywart, chastising you for it. it was just a coincidence that they shared a few common things because the alternative meant dealing with something you absolutely thought was way too much baggage.

your head buzzes painfully, and shaking your head, you try to shake off the horror that overcame you; there was no way in hell that your very own classmate was the black cat. lying down on your bed, your gaze following the ceiling fan's movement, you softly hum under your breath. the clock to your left read 2:23 in the morning, and a heavenly sigh drifts from your lips; you could practically stay in your bed for eternity if it meant not having to do anything.

before you could properly get a night's rest, keys begin to jiggle against your door, and a holler outside of it abruptly stops you, your head jolting up. cracking open the door stood a bewildered, disheveled heeseung outside, still in his luigi pajamas. huffing out a puff of air, you sit up from your bed, your arms slouching, as you lock eyes with the korean boy.

it became a routine for him to randomly barge into your dorm, as if you had nothing else to do. sometimes it was about needing your homework answers for your guys' english 1b class, or needing you to hook him up with one of your friends; other times, though, it was about your spider-man duties.

"great timing, heeseung," you grunt sardonically, rubbing your eyes and temples, your eyes barely able to open to see even a sliver of him. "what are you even doing up so late?" brushing the stray tousled hair out of your forehead, confusion washes over your face, as he hurries to your side, his lips pressed thin.

he shrugs, "i could ask the same to you!" a groan falls shortly from his lips, as he lets out a tired laugh. "but that's besides the point; i heard from the police scanner that there was some alarm going off at that really expensive jewelry place, the- the one you were complaining about the other day."

"fifth avenue one, right?" you murmur, as you immediately toss your covers to the side, pulling your closet door open, and pushing through the racks of clothes inside. shuffling through, a grunt escapes from your lips as you realize, "don't tell me it's that burglar who keeps getting away again!"

"if the shoe fits," he chuckles, nudging your shoulder, as you shoot him a glare, making him mumble an apology under his breath. heeseung watches you hastily shuffle around your room, handing you your web-shooters, "it- it could be a false alarm, y'know. i don't know though—it couldn't hurt to check it out, right?"

you hum, nodding your head, as you try to lightly slam your closet door closed, grabbing the web-shooters. sliding on your mask, you pat heeseung's shoulder, "i promise i'll hook you up with that girl in my intro to tech class." and with that being said, you crack open your room's window widely, and swung out of it and into the night to try to catch the same thief from previous nights.

"you better; you owe me for throwing up on my shoes!" the korean boy yells out the window, his voice rugged, as he shortly pulls away from your window, exiting your room.

swinging at breakneck speed, your eyes erratically flicker around each and every building, before arriving at the roof of tiffany & co. not even a few minutes in, and you could hear glass breaking from below you. a grunt falls shortly from your lips, as you maneuver around the building to quietly zip inside. the place was a disaster—an absolute mess of designer jewelry scattered across the floor, and broken glass everywhere. you bite the inside of your cheek, wandering around the store, before spotting the elusive thief, a few items clutched in her hands, a few items.

black-cat was donned in an all black, laced with white suit, and a black whimsy mask that adorned her face. turning around, she hums in delight—almost as if she predicted that you'd already be here in a few minutes. you whisper a curse under your breath in awed disbelief, the girl waist deep in a massive wall-vault, and standing tip-toe to reach the very back.

you might as well have been sitting on dynamite.

"didn't think i'd see you here, pretty," lara drawls, a grin curbing her lips, as she eyes you down almost shamelessly. every single, slight movement you made, she tracked down, her eyes keen, "i'm even impressed you could even find me this time around."

you cross your arms against your chest, barely a few feet away from her. "you knew i'd be here," your voice takes on a stern edge, as you watch the black cat turn to one of the empty display cases, a playful smile beaming through her lips. "god, you know that i have to turn you in-"

your words elicits low chuckles from her breath, shortly interrupting you, "you still with that god-awful girl of yours, or are you swinging solo now?" lara's voice was like velvet to your ears, her brow raised to emphasize her words, as she reaches out towards you, drawing a claw from your shoulder down to your elbow.

sighing in defeat, your shoulders slump, "that's a lot ofquestions," you bite the inside of your cheek, before shaking your head mentally, realizing you were playing into her games. god, there was definitely something magnetic about her—something that unremarkably draws you in against your will. and although her every word got under your skin, there was a strange type of charm to them—one that always made it difficult for you to remain guarded around her.

black-cat tilts her head, her hand resting on your shoulder contemplatively, "i'm just curious," a prideful expression washing over her features—a wide, un-bashful grin curbing her lips, as she watches worry lines crease your forehead.

"i hear that's bad for cats."

she shrugs, lightly tracing a claw along the slide of your masked face, and in a knee-jerk reaction, you jolt away, reaching up to flick her hand off. a faint frown juts her lips for a brief moment, before a half-hearted smile adorns her face, "sue me for wanting to rekindle an old flame." lara dramatically laments—as though she wasn't the same one who was currently clutching god-knows how much jewelry in her arms, that you were shocked she could even effortlessly carry all of them.

"you need to sit back and relax—always so tense, and for what?" looking over her shoulder, her hands spin back to rest on a display case's glass, and she takes slow, measured steps, leaving scratch marks trailing the cases. lara rolls her eyes, sauntering opposite of you, your gaze tracking the languid ease of her movements.

you wryly smile, humming in bored acknowledgement, "how about you tell me why you're really here? you went awol for weeks." gritting your teeth, an exasperated sigh from you following your words.

the red-headed girl shrugs, hopping over the counter, and proceeding to walk towards the broken window—only until your hand curls around her arm, halting her movements. your eyes unconsciously flicker between the flashing lights and sirens of the cop cars surrounding the street below you two, and the lips of the girl in front of you.

"you missed this, didn't you?" lara asks—despite already knowing the answer—tilting her head, and leaning closer towards you. your lips were barely an inch away from hers, a shit-eating grin tugging her lips.

you draw a deep, steadying breath, fighting the urge to play into her games, and with your voice firmer than before, you mutter, "cut it out." clenching your teeth, you could practically feel the red-headed girl's breath fanning over yours, and that surely didn't help—not when you could feel blood rush in your veins, and the way your heart could practically burst out of your chest from how much it was thumping.

your eyes linger on her lips for a split second, that lara most definitely notices, swallowing the smile that threatened to give her away. "the maggia are no joke—"

her arm extends over to your shoulder, and she pulls you closer, her hand slightly tugging on your mask. she softly hums, dismissing your comments, "i missed these little chats." the indian girl watches your expression contort into ones of uncertainty, making her coax out smoothly, "nobody's watching anyway." her hand hastily pulls the skin-tight mask just above your mouth.

it was a push and pull relationship—to say the very least. her lips curl into a sly smile, your eyebrows furrowing.

"this is a mistake."

and really, it sounded like you were more-so trying to convince yourself rather than her, especially when your hands cling to your sides, as if you were debating whether or not you should pull away. the red-headed girl leans in again, her retracting claws trailing lightly over the fabric of your suit, and resting above your heart. it was a miracle that she couldn't feel your heartbeat coming from your sternum.

by then, you'd already accepted your fate—your mind running hazy, and your eyes fluttering shut.

you nonetheless take a few tantalize steps, leaning in, while your lips slightly brush against hers; a wide grin curbing your lips as you watch the indian girl visibly roll her eyes at how painstakingly slow you were moving. her hands slip behind your neck, resting on the back of it comfortably. before you could mumble a teasing quip out from under your breath, she presses her lips against yours feverishly.

it's almost surprising that it's only taken her a few months to worm her way into your heart. she nearly beams.

for a fleeting moment, you freeze, your hands gently pushed up against the red-headed girl's chest, "maybe we should stop; we're not good for each other." she leans her head closer to yours, your noses' slightly bumping.

"we could always ignore that," lara counters, tilting her head, and leans just right by your ear, "we're not doing anything bad necessarily—just all fun, right?"

you nod absentmindedly, too enthralled to even utter out any futile protests. her arms wrap around your waist again, a smile on her lips, as she watches you exhale shakily. you could pick up on the way your heart raced by the second, a huff escaping from you, before you press your lips against hers.

the world stops; nothing exists besides the two of you—well, for only a brief moment.

flashes of blue, red, and white sear through the dimly-lit tiffany's; policemen were already trying to break in. a sigh drifts from your lips, and before you could properly pull away, lara continues to seize your lips against hers. heat curls at your cheeks, before your head snaps to the entrance of the building, making you hastily shuffle off of the girl. several policemen surround the entrance, with weaponry and flashlights aimed towards you two.

"freeze!"

muttering against the radio, one of the officer instructs, "call this in—we have spider-man and an accomplice over here." really, an accomplice? you raise your arms up, and a grunt escapes from your lips .

"see you soon, pretty," black-cat drawls, an ear-to-ear grin tugging the corners of her lips—as if she planned this out. wicked realization blooms across your face, as she takes advantage of the situation, jumping out of the window using her grappling hook, and swinging away.

see you soon—her words echo, practically turning into a mantra in your head.

heeseung. 🦌 : i saw u on the news CTFUU

heeseung. 🦌 : aint no way u lost hold of her again💔

heeseung. 🦌 : god heard my prayers and made you fumble for the 45th time🙏

yn. : shut up hee.

heeseung. 🦌 : js mad u aint pulling bitches LMFAOO

yn. : say bye to that girl in my intro to tech class then, freak.

you don't really wanna be my lady (you don't, you don't),

you know it's more than just drivin' mercedes (more than mercedes)

current 𝓽aglist : ( open. ♱ 2 be added, read this post. )

@kisshae @sed7ction @yeetaberry127 @vrtualstar @jellaaa @jaythegirlkisser @falling-intoo-deep @c-yerim @ssamlovr @gtfoiydlyj @rinapomu @meganskiendielsbtc

[tired-reader-writer]

Good news: I think I've found suitable replacement names for Ayunnen, Kashi, and Kazai!

Ayunnen:

Aýnabat

Derived from Turkmen aý "moon" and nabat, a type of crystallized sugar candy.

I do realize that this essentially means naming him “moon candy” but y'know what, it's cute, I'm keeping it. The name is feminine, however I have allowed myself this anachronism bc the Marda clan people generally have a very loose relationship with gender. It's fine, I think.

Nabat candy <3

Kazai:

Khazan

Meaning autumn or falling leaves, it's also a Persian festival that has to do with autumn, Khazan Jashn.

Many thanks to @innerchorus for bringing my attention to this! Information on this festival though was. Uh. Scarce. But I did manage to find a small article written entirely in Farsi about an “autumn festival” that was held in a certain neighborhood.

Kashi:

Sâyezân

From Kazakh сая (saya) meaning “shadow, shade, protection, comfort” and жан (zhan) meaning “soul” (both words of Persian origin).

This. THIS was the name that gave me so much fucking trouble. I liked the “saya” part (the Farsi pronunciation was smth more like saye according to the wiktionary audio, hence why I spelled it that way) HOWEVER I kinda. Didn't like the look of “zhan” (jân in Farsi) and I really liked the fact that Kashi and Kazai's names used to share a syllable and... I tried to look up what “zan” would've been in Farsi but turns out, it meant something like “woman, wife, female” and naming Kashi “girl-shadow” just didn't sit right with me 😭😭 Also the original name I found was Zhansaya which... I didn't quite like the vibes of, really............ I tried to look for alternatives to replace that zhan with, but didn't find anything, and so. I was wholly tempted to chop that part off and just have it be Sâye. In the end though, I ended up playing shuffle with the two parts of the name and let's just say the zân still means soul, it's just. Stylized differently. Yeahhhhh. Toooootally fine.

So. Yeah! The new names of my ArSen OCs! Edits to the fic will have to come after I'm done writing chapter 3 (but before uploading it) so look forward to that, I guess!

I have also made the decision to revert “Areyan” back into his canon name “Arslan” as this was a holdover from when I thought it'd be a fine idea to give Arslan another name to denote that this was an alternate, different version of him. Ehhhh he can go back to being Arslan.

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

Delighted to say that I spent two hours and went absolutely tunnel-vision insane and cleaned so much of my room and also packed.

[saltpepperbeard]

I'll take care of you, take care of you. That's true.

[captainkurosolaire]

~ X Marks Th' Spot ~

'Cause they matter... ...N'... I see now... I matter... I understand, I'm th' treasure, You'll pay fer keeping me from them.

[nattikay]

ok, I mentioned in tags the other day that I had something else that I wanted to address about Josh Izzo's Omaticon panel but wanted to wait until I had a chance to rewatch the recording (missed several chunks of it when it was live due to technical difficulties on my end) to make sure I had the full proper context. Now that I've done that, here it is:

Mako asked Izzo about how much he consulted Paul Frommer (creator of the Na'vi language) for the games, comics, etc. Izzo responded that he does so very frequently and that all the Na'vi language stuff in official media goes through Frommer to be checked first.

Now, to be clear, I do believe him when he says this. I can 100% believe that he talks to Frommer frequently and that Frommer checks everything. If this weren't the case, the Na'vi we get in AFoP, for example, would be far far far worse than it is (side-eyes old Activist Survival Guide).

However....

Mistakes can still happen. Typos can still happen. Even if Frommer approves an initial name or word or sentence, someone down the line could still mishear it or misspell it (either by transcribing it incorrectly or simply making a typo) etc.

The character "Eetu", for example. The pronunciation of this character's name in the game is perfectly valid in Na'vi, but the spelling doesn't match: it should be Itu. I'm completely willing to believe that Frommer heard the name pronounced "Itu" and said "yeah that works", but I highly highly highly doubt that he saw it written down as e-e-t-u when he approved it because that just does not fit with how Na'vi spelling works.

Same with "P'asuk", I don't doubt for a second that Frommer could've been asked "hey, we want to name this character 'berry', how do you say that?" and responded "sure, that word is Pasuk!" but I just cannot buy that he'd have seen it written down with the unnecessary (and invalid!) tìftang and said "yup that's fine". I'm sorry, I just don't believe that; it doesn't make sense.

And then of course, there's things that are inconsistently misspelled: for example, AFoP usually spells "Zeswa" correctly, but there are a few places in the Hunter's Guide where it's incorrectly spelled "Zes'wa", which is phonetically invalid per Na'vi syllable structure.

Now, I'm not saying this to hate on the team who put AFoP together. I very much enjoy AFoP and the majority of the Na'vi language stuff in it is very good. But mistakes happen. And these are mistakes.

Which brings us to my issue with Izzo's panel: when he noticed some people in the chat bringing up these small typos and errors, instead of acknowledging that "hey yeah, people might have made a few typos, we do our best to avoid it but mistakes happen sometimes", he........basically doubled down on them, insisting that Frommer approved everything and handwaving any inconsistencies as "meh it's just a conlang, there's a wiggle room".

which.......I'm sorry, Mr. Izzo, as someone who both studies and teaches the Na'vi language that is a major L take.

He shared an example story from the first movie, where Zoe Salda��a accidentally mispronounced a word (pähem) and the mispronunciation wound up getting canonized as a synonym (pate).

Here's the problem, though: pähem was not the only word that got mispronounced the first movie. There are tons of mispronunciations to varying levels of severity. But pate is the only one that got canonized as a new word (idk why they decided to do that for this one particular word but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ). At one point Jake says "analu" when he should've said "ngari" but you won't find that in any dictionaries.

It's a kinda fun story that the word pate stems from a mispronunciation, but it's not the norm. 99% of the time, when an actor flubs a word, it's just that: a flub. A mistake. And that's ok, because mistakes happen. But it's a mistake nonetheless. And that applies to typos and misspellings too.

The High Ground Vol 1 consistently misspells skxawng—one of the most well-known Na'vi words outside of the language community—as skwang, but you ain't gonna be seeing "skwang" show up in any Na'vi dictionaries any time soon.

Yes, it's true that Na'vi is a conlang and that it's actively growing and evolving. But hand-waving away very obvious mistakes as "oh it's a conlang it's flexible" was...not good.

Josh Izzo seems like a nice guy who really loves the fans and I understand that he wanted to emphasize how much effort they put into getting things right and that they do consult with Frommer etc—and that's all fine and good!

But, it seems very clear to me that Izzo himself simply does not know all that much about the Na'vi language or how it works. Which is fine of course, understanding the language is not his job; he can (and does) talk to Frommer for that. But if he did know more about the language and how it works himself, I don't think he'd be doubling down to validate these very clear mistakes.

[sysig]

Let him dad her!! (Patreon)

[agalychnisspranneusroseus]

Man if Marcy keeps ending up with like child protection services in all these fics over her parents being slightly distant then my parents should be in JAIL

[not-poignant]

Good day! A genuine question. Do you really won't think about comment like " WOW!!! Thank you for this chapter! " from a person who usually writes more in-depth commentaries as something like " they didn't llke it enough for the extra sentence or two " ?

Hi anon!

So, everyone's human. Even the people who love to leave longer comments get tired sometimes, or have other things going on in their life.

And I'd rather those people leave a shorter comment or an emoji, than like, feel guilty about not leaving long comments, or just vanish into thin air (at which point I just assume they've stopped reading, because I have literally no evidence otherwise unless they're sending replies or something else). Though obviously people can stop commenting too!

There are some people who leave me three hearts (or around 3 hearts) every chapter they read. I take them as little extra kudos, or just a little sign of appreciation. It's someone going 'I'm here, I like this.' And I reply with little hearts as a little sign of appreciation to go 'I'm here too, thank you, I see you.'

That's special to me.

I love love love long meaty comments that I can sink my teeth into, but I love all my commenters, anon.

But even the people who love leaving long comments get tired, get stressed out, can't think of words, have nothing to say because they're speechless, and then it's like well, I hope they feel comfortable enough to just leave a 💜💜💜 - and if they can't, they can't.

If people don't like my fic, anon, they stop reading! They don't leave comments, they stop leaving comments and they disappear (which is why when a regular commenter vanishes, that's when I think they don't like the chapter/s or story anymore, which is fair, and they don't have to, but sometimes it can make me a little sad).

But yeah the sign of a person who doesn't like to read a story is a person who isn't there to read the story at all! Not someone who only has the energy or will to leave a sentence or two! Some of those people don't speak English as a first language, and still practicing, some are really tired, some genuinely don't have much to say, some are embarrassed because it was a sex scene, etc. There's lots of reasons!

Everyone who's ever left a long comment doesn't need my permission, but certainly has it to leave extremely tiny comments when it's all they can manage / and they want to leave something! Honestly, putting pressure on yourself to leave long comments every single time can actually stress people out to the point that they stop reading fics when they know they can't comment like that, I've been in that position myself and that's not...what we're going for.

I want people to enjoy the story first, because like...that's...what I want the most. :)

(For folks wondering, this is - I think - in reference to this post I reblogged earlier today).

[rev-velvet]

Alright now that Summer Nights is over its time to lock in and be on guard cause Nintendo could announce FinalFest literally at any moment. The World's End splatfest was obviously suspicious as fuck and that’s usually the trigger for a FinalFest announcement. So for everything to go on as normal this time means some actual world ending shit might happen. Im betting on IdolFest happening or another popular idea where it's the three poisons each Deep Cut member represents. More rambling under the read more Im just talking out my ass at this point.

Tbh at first I thought the FinalFest would be another race war with Salmoninds as the third option due to their increasing presence in both cities. But that immediately didn't make sense since A) Lore wise it would be ridiculous for there to even be Inklings vs Octolings and B) Nintendo might be cooking something bigger with the Salmoninds if Big Big Run was anything to go by. Im doing all this yappin just to say and Idol Theme splatfest is the most likely outcome my mindless rambling knows no bounds.

[kulvefaggoth]

.

[angeart]

mmm found a song with lyrics that fit hhau grian so well.

you're begging me somehow to believe that you could take it if i'd only find a way to let you in but i'd feel like i'm selfish don't know how to help it and so i wonder if you'd be better off without me i'll kill the time 'til you see that i'm nothing more than a lost cause 'cause i've been drowning in the violence bleeding out in silence 'cause i'm nothing more than a lost cause oh, i feel like a lost cause so could you find a way to try to save me now

[fatelcved]

THE DANCING DRUID | BALDUR'S GATE 3 AU

you remember now. foraging for herbs, goblins swarming you, a painful blow to your skull, and then... nothing. how is it you came to be aboard a nautiloid?

you are more concerned about the tadpole in your head than how it got there. you are more curious how you are not a splatter of viscera upon the beach. who cares how it happened? you have no idea where you are and ache all over. ► could the goblins have something to do with it?

you have never known goblins to align themselves with illithids, but you suppose there is a first time for everything. no matter your theories, the pressing matter of your tadpole hangs over your head; you need to find a healer. soon.

born to a drow mother and human father, chiyo grew up in a small village in the wilds of faerun. she felt more at home among the flora than people who eyed her warily, though, often exploring the forest, marking paths to pretty fields and little hideaways. it seemed to come natural to chiyo, like she belonged among the bubbling brooks and whispering leaves. it felt natural.

noticing her affinity for nature, her father taught her how to harness its magic and how to honor and serve silvanus; her mother, too, taught her the teachings of eilistraee, the goddess who had wished for the drow to return to the surface as well as the deity she had once served as a cleric. the young half-drow sometimes doubted that the gods would truly watch over someone so insignificant, but she learned and worshipped them nonetheless.

there came a day when her father decided it was time that they return to the circle he left long ago. his attempts to create one of his own had been unsuccessful over the years, and chiyo could learn from the druids there, find a community that she would never find in the village they currently lived in. so they left for the emerald grove, and there they have stayed.

additional notes:

chiyo is a druid of the circle of the land, focusing more on magic that manipulates the elements than wild shaping; eilistraee also plays a part in her magic/combat, making her partial to blades and allowing her to use spellsong to heal and buff/debuff those around her. she may wield moonfire as well, though this spell is mainly intended to provide light rather than having any combat use.

she and her family have lived in the emerald grove for the past 8 years, making chiyo 28 in this verse. she's familiar with the druids and tieflings, most likely on good terms with most of them, but i won't assume close friendships unless plotted/given the okay!

she still has similar issues to her original verses, such as struggling to make real connections and opening herself up and being vulnerable. even so, she makes the decision to continue travelling with her companions not only because it's the right thing to do and her fate hangs in the balance, but because she grows attached to them.

i'm writing chiyo as " tav, " but i don't mind one bit writing her as a companion -- basically if you want your muse to be the group's leader, just let me know <3

i won't be using icons for this verse, but i'll have a screenshot of chiyo's appearance below!

i'm sure i'll add more here as things come to mind!

[perilegs]

I wish I could like inquisition bc it's technically a good game and I would love it if it was just a standalone game that had nothing to do with dragon age, but it just doesn't feel like a dragon age game to me.