#sobre: talker

[neozhelps]

Mas o problema é que não dá pra discutir direito, Mira! O pessoal vai descendo o nível quando fica sem argumentos... Acho que seria o mundo ideal usar esses blogs de vocês para debater coisas e gerar reflexão. Ninguém tá proibindo ninguém de nada, era só pra colocar a mão na consciência e pensar 'será que talvez?'.

infelizmente é uma reação natural das pessoas partir pro ataque quando elas se sentem atacadas. inclusive, tava conversando com uma das minhas amigas sobre isso na madrugada de sexta pra sábado! ter um blog como o meu ou o da oli, com a inbox aberta pra ter essas discussões, não é algo fácil, e você precisa saber segurar o rojão. nem todo mundo aguenta e tá tudo bem.

é igual os canais de opinião como ismeiow, jean lucca, matando matheus a grito, beta boechat e etc: a gente reage ao que nos mandam, e nem sempre vamos concordar com a maioria, ou até mesmo nossos seguidores vão concordar com a gente. tem que ter muita maturidade pra entender isso.

e, principalmente, tem que entender que não é porque a carapuça serviu que ela foi feita sob medida pra você. aqui nós falamos sobre a maioria, o comportamento geral; não é um ataque direto a você, maria josé dos santos que só sabe usar o jungkook em toda comunidade. às vezes a gente nem conhece você! se a carapuça serviu, é sua responsabilidade tentar entender o porquê de você ter se sentido tão atacade assim, e analisar seu comportamento pra ver o que precisa mudar ou não.

inclusive, isso me lembra uma coisa que li no burnbook da comunidade de jogadores do jcink (que eu sigo por pura curiosidade mesmo). você pode dizer que gosta mais de chá do que café sem ser um ataque às pessoas que gostam de café, e você pode levantar outro debate sem falar "e as bebidas geladas? quando vamos falar das bebidas geladas?", porque você pode gostar de chá e de refrigerante ao mesmo tempo, e falar dos dois ao mesmo tempo sem excluir um.

e se alguém vier descendo o nível na minha inbox, é melhor se preparar, porque essa humilde subcelebridade insalubre que obriga as pessoas a fazerem as coisas do meu jeito não tem medo de uma esfera cinza de óculos escuros não.

[jaywritesrps]

[zer0pm]

Imagine Luis surviving his knife wound and you patch him up.

“¡Joder! That hurts, you know?”

“Don’t have anesthesia, I told you. Stop moving.”

“Right, sorry- ¡Ay, Dios! Are you stitching with a knitting needle or something?”

You had to hide your laugh under a scoff, thankful he couldn’t see your amused smile at his attitude.

Luis was leaning against a crate when you finally caught up to him and Leon. The latter informed you of their encounter with Krauser, the Spaniard’s injuries confirmed by pain-filled groans. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you had Luis moved to one of the metal tables near the mine’s exit and stripped him of his shirt and jacket. He weakly made a teasing comment about you using his injury to get him out of his clothes, but you ceased his attempts at jest by gently making him lay on his stomach and dove right into the task of treating the gushing wound.

Thanks to your meticulous efforts and the medicinal herbs that Leon keeps around in his case, Luis was stable in no time. Able to breathe a little easier, he instructed Leon to fetch the key from his jacket pocket, saying that the agent will need it to gain access to his laboratory on the island where he and Ashley will then use the surgical equipment to remove the parasites from their bodies. After assuring him that the both of you will be fine and will catch up after Luis is completely patched up and ready to go, Leon made his swift exit, leaving the both of you alone. Which brings you to this point in time- you suturing him.

“Should consider yourself lucky. Any deeper and the blade would have struck your heart. Then… well, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“You call it “luck”, my friend, but I like to look at it as divine blessing.” Here we go, this you have to hear.

Curiously you ask, “Oh, yeah? And how do you figure that?”

“Es obvio, ¿no?” he gestures with a wave of one of his hands that he was using to rest his head on. “An angel is healing me.”

You couldn’t stop your eyes from rolling, but there was no denying the warm flutter in your heart at his suave words. “Sweet talker.”

Luis doesn’t respond, but you can tell the man was grinning ear to ear from your remark. Aside from a few more Spanish curses and colorful complaints about the pain, the rest of the procedure went smoothly. Once the final stitch was made, you gently applied antibiotics over the freshly closed wound before covering it with a clean bandage. You notice the man shiver under your touch when you placed a hand upon his broad back to keep him steady.

“There. Now try to sit up. Slowly,” you sternly advised. “Don’t want you opening that up doing something insane.”

Luis mutters under his breath, “Supongo que no debería saltar sobre más gigantes…”

“What was that?”

“¡Nada!” He jolts upright into a seated position, wincing at the sudden move that surely aggravated his injury. You would have been incensed if you weren’t so concerned for his wellbeing. After a careful reassessment to ensure that the stitches didn’t tear under the cloth, you proceeded to secure them by rolling more bandages around his torso. Your hands glided against the firm muscles of his defined chest and back as you did this.

You stood within the cage of his legs as you worked and can feel the heavy weight of his eyes on you. There was a concentrated look you tried to maintain to quell the nervous energy beating inside at your close proximity to him, but it was a losing battle. Luis’ body was radiating with an inviting warmth and a musky spice that delightfully filled your senses. You want nothing more than to drown in him, but willed yourself to keep your distance, internally conceding to give him space to recover from his near-death experience.

“This is nice,” Luis comments, breaking the comfortable silence.

You meet his eyes with an inquisitive look. “You find receiving treatment from an almost fatal stab wound to be pleasant?”

“I was not stabbed, the knife was thrown. There is a difference.” the man corrected with snark grin and you would have returned the witty remark had he not continued with his line of thought aloud. “Just thinking that it’s been awhile since it was only the two of us. Leon is good company, mind you. Pero, uh, he lacks your appeal.”

A snort escapes you, secretly giddy from his praise. “Think you’re so charming, huh?”

Mild amusement glints his grey eyes. “Have I not been this entire time?”

You shrug playfully, “Your game could use a little work.”

He returns your jest with an exaggerated pout, “¡Ay, mi orgullo! Your words cut deeper than the knife that struck me.”

Your chest heaves in hearty laughter. You shouldn’t have found it hilarious, but Luis had this innate ability to make a grave situation something to poke fun about. It’s what makes him so endearing. While you try to catch your breath, you missed the look of pure adoration he wore as he took in the sight of your smiling face. His usual coy smirk gently curving into something softer. Eventually you finish patching him up and help him back into his shirt and jacket. The man grumbles that the fine leather was now ruined, earning you another heartfelt chuckle.

Once he was presentable, he beholds you , “Gracias. Guess, uh, I owe you one, ¿si?”

“Your life, I’d say.” you nod, tone cheeky and good-natured.

It was his turn to laugh under his breath. He takes your hand in his, relishing in the feeling of touching you again. Soft determination flashes in his gaze as he mentally mulled over your words with newfound hope.

“Take it then,” Luis says. “It’s yours.”

[scargiulia]

sweetest torture one could bear | giutomi

@tomikandrews

Giulia bebia um gole de sua piña colada enquanto procurava com os olhos alguém conhecido dentre a multidão de pessoas ali presente. Pelo menos era isso que ela diria, mas a verdade é que não se lembraria de um único rosto assim que seus olhos pousaram sobre o de Tomika. “Hi, talker.” Quando viu, Giu já estava tocando um dos ombros da morena, aparecendo do lado oposto do qual tocou. “You’re good?”

[slamminslamminmcgill]

Jefe - Lalo Salamanca/FTM Reader (NSFW!)

you walk into el michoacáno looking for a job, where you meet the handsome and devilishly charming lalo salamanca. he welcomes you aboard with open arms, and he's eager to show you the ropes.

tags/warnings: oral sex, vaginal sex, squirting, semi-public sex, possessiveness, light dom/sub

anatomical terms: dick/cock, cunt/hole

words: 6,680 (because i smoke crack apparently)

ao3 link

author's notes: im learning spanish so please correct me if you notice any mistakes!! i'd really appreciate it ♥

El Michoacáno

You think you had lunch there once or twice. Decent, but nothing too remarkable. You weren’t there to eat, anyway. You were looking for a job and just happened to be passing by when you spotted the help wanted sign out front. Figuring you’d have as good a shot there as anywhere else, you walked inside. 

The air was abuzz, at least more so than you’d expect on a Monday afternoon. Lively music and delicious smells emanated from the kitchen. There weren’t many people in the restaurant. Two young men were talking at a table, though you couldn’t make out their conversation. You spotted another young man with a shaved head standing in the back, seemingly watching the other two. You figured he was the guy to talk to.

“Excuse me?” You asked as you approached him, and he looked up from the conversation to acknowledge you, “Do you work here?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah. What’s up?” He asked. He didn’t seem like much of a talker, but you got a nice vibe from him.

“The sign out front said y’all were hiring?”

Before he could answer, a loud voice butted in from the kitchen, shouting over the music.

“¡Nachito! ¿Quién es ese? (Who is that?)”

The man in front of you groaned. That wasn’t a good sign, you thought. He turned his head and replied to the mysterious voice, “No sé. Me preguntó sobre un empleo. (I don’t know. He asked me about a job.”

“Entonces, le debes preguntar como se llama, ¿no? (Well, you should ask him what his name is, no?”

He rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to you. “What’s your name?”

You answered, and he repeated it to the stranger, who seemed intrigued. “¡Bien! Le dices a espere ahí. Voy a salir justo en un segundo, déjame terminar esto primero. ¿Es lindo? (Good! Tell him to wait right there. I’m gonna come out in just a second, let me finish this first. Is he cute?)”

“¿Por qué no le ves por ti mismo? (Why don’t you see for yourself?)” He asked, and then shifted his attention back to you. “That’s my boss. He’ll be out in a second. I’m Nacho, by the way. Short for Ignacio.”

You nodded, thanking him for translating. You could only pick up a couple words in Spanish, so you were curious about what kind of person his boss was. You wondered if he was gonna be your boss then, too. If that was the case, you wanted to make a good impression. You started to fix your hair and adjust your clothes before the man you were talking to spoke. 

“Don’t worry, you look fine. He can be kinda… ‘intense’, but you just gotta get to know him fi-”

“Ah, there we are!” The voice from the kitchen announced as its owner walked into the front of house. You turned to find an older man who could very easily be described as tall, dark and handsome. He had silky salt and pepper hair, a mustache, a floral patterned shirt tucked into tight dress pants, and an apron taut around his waist. He was slightly sweaty from working in the kitchen, but that just made it seem like he was glistening. When he saw you, he playfully bumped Nacho with his elbow, “Wow… es verdad. Se ve muy lindo, ¿cierto? (Wow… it’s true. He looks very cute, yeah?)” he laughed to himself, wiping his hands on his apron. Nacho kept the same stoic expression, unphased by his boss’s joke. “You must be ___. You’re looking for work, yeah?”

And there goes all the interview prep you did. You weren’t expecting to be caught off guard by your potential new employer being a smokeshow. Your brain scrambled trying to answer him. “Yeah, I, uh… I was just passing by and saw the sign out front. I’ve worked in restaurants before, and I have my resume if you need to see that.” You started to dig through your bag when he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about that, chico. Relax. Let me get to know you first, and we’ll see if you’re a good fit here, okay? Come, sit down.” He walked over to a nearby table and grabbed a seat, gesturing you to sit down across from him. “My name’s Eduardo Salamanca, but you can call me Lalo. My family’s owned this place for decades now.” 

You repeated his name in order to drill it into your mind. “Lalo, okay. Nice to meet you! Makes sense why you’d be open for so long. Whatever you were making back there smells great.” You smiled, hoping you weren’t coming off too strong in your flattery.

Lalo giggled. “Thank you. You ever been here before? I think I’d recognize a face like yours.”

You blushed, but kept your composure. “Once or twice, yeah. Food was good, though I don’t remember seeing you here before either.” 

“Oh, I’m just here temporarily. We had a family emergency and needed someone to take over for a little while. I’m usually handling our affairs down in México,” Lalo crossed his legs and folded his hands, resting them in his lap, “Actually, that reminds me. Do you speak Spanish?”

“Uh… un poquito? (A little?)” You made a pinching gesture with your fingers when you said that. Lalo couldn’t help but giggle. “Sorry. Is that gonna be a problem?”

He waved off your concerns. “No problem at all. I’ll just have to teach you then. You’ll pick it up quick, don’t worry. Where did you work before?”

You breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed your posture. This felt more like a blind date than talking to a potential boss. “Well, I was actually a manager over at Los Pollos Hermanos for a while. It was fine, but the customers were-”

“The chicken place?” Lalo asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “I know the owner!” He laughed. “He’s an… associate of mine, I guess you could say. You know him?”

You perked up, “Mr. Fring? Yeah! He’s the one who did my interview, actually. I only met him a couple times, but he was always nice to us whenever he came in.”

“I bet,” Lalo replied, eyeing you more carefully after you name dropped his “associate”, though he made no indication, a charming smile still plastered on his face. “Let’s see… what else do I need to ask?” He pondered for a few seconds before it clicked. “Ah, ya me acuerdo (I remember). Have you ever been arrested, charged, any kind of criminal record or things like that?”

Your face dropped. You hated answering this question. It always made you ashamed when you brought it up. “Once, actually. I got arrested for drug possession a couple years ago.”

Lalo’s smile retreated, and he looked at you somberly. “What happened?”

“I was in a bad place mentally back then, and I… I got caught with stuff in my car. My lawyer got me a good deal though, but it just sucks having to talk about it. Makes me feel dirty.”

“No, I mean, what happened when you got arrested?” Lalo asked. “Sorry if that’s too personal. If you don’t mind talking about it, I’d like to know how you handled it. It’s a tough situation, you know?”

Your eyes widened. That was a weird interview question. Was this even technically an interview? “Well, I… I was handcuffed and read my rights. Then they brought me back to the station and booked me. After that I got sat down at a table in an empty room, and two cops tried to get me to talk. I told them I wasn’t speaking with them and I wanted my lawyer.”

Lalo nodded, his smile slowly creeping back in. “Smart boy. Resourceful, I like it. Tell you what, if Fring trusts you, I trust you. You wanna start tomorrow?”

You perked up at the offer. “Really? You mean it?” You tried to hide your excitement, but you felt it seeping through your pores.

“Yeah, why not?” Lalo said enthusiastically, matching your energy. “I got a good feeling about you. You don’t mind starting early, right?”

“No, not at all,” You replied, “I had to work opening shifts at Los Pollos sometimes. I’d have to  get there around 5.”

“Muy bien (Very good). Get here at 5 tomorrow, okay?” Lalo asks, holding his hand out for you to shake it.

You nod, taking him up on that handshake. You try not to think about how strong his hand feels. “Got it. Thank you, Lalo!” You gather your stuff and head for the door. “I’ll see you then!” 

Lalo waves you off. “See you then.”

—

It was still dark out when you arrived at El Michoacáno. Lalo had told you to come in the front entrance and he’d leave the door unlocked for you. You did as instructed, a delicious smell and various noises wafting through the air. You figured he must be in the kitchen. You followed your senses to the back, and sure enough, Lalo was focused on the stove, talking to someone on the phone. 

“¿Y tú confías en él? ¿Crees que él puede mantener su boca cerrada? (And you trust him? You think he can keep his mouth shut?)” Lalo spoke with a hushed voice. Even if your Spanish was perfect, you wouldn’t have been able to make out any of his words. He went to grab something from the counter when he saw you standing there, and his demeanor changed entirely. He was smiling, almost giddy to see you. “Oh! Hey! Sorry, I wasn’t looking at the clock. I didn’t even hear you come in. Go have a seat out front. I’m making something for you. It’s almost ready.” He turned back to his phone to finish his conversation with whoever. “Ya llegó. Te veré más tarde. (He just got here. I’ll see you later.)”

“Oh, thank you! What is it?” You asked as he hung up the phone, forgetting what a quick change in attitude you’d just seen from him.

“I promise you’ll love it. Now, go sit down, okay?” 

You nodded and went back to the front of house, pulling up a chair and sitting at a table with your back facing the kitchen. It wasn’t long before Lalo came up behind you, holding a plate and a cup of orange juice. 

“Here you go! I figured you’d need something to wake you up this early, yeah?” He set the dishes down in front of you before taking a seat at the other side of the table. The food looked and smelled great, but honestly he was the most delicious thing in your eyes. You shook that thought out of your head real quick, not wanting to fumble this new opportunity. 

“Thank you so much!” You took a bite, and groaned at how good it was. He smirked, clearly proud of himself. “Oh my god, that’s good. What is it?”

“Chilaquiles rojos. It’s a family recipe. I’ll have to show you how to make it one day.” He relaxed in his chair, watching you intently as you ate. You gazed back at him, your mouth watering for a whole other reason. His shirt was unbuttoned just a little too much, and you fixated on his chest. God, he was hot. So confident, so suave, so generous, and he can cook? You found yourself getting lost in him, which is why you didn’t notice he’d asked you a question. “Well?”

“Hm?” You snapped out of your daydream, nearly choking on the mouthful of mood. Oh god, I blew it, you thought.

But you didn’t. Lalo chuckled, “It’s good right? Can’t think about anything else?” You nodded before reaching for the glass of juice. You suddenly felt really, really thirsty. “No worries, chico. I understand. I was just telling you the plan for today.”

You hummed in affirmation, shifting your brain back into business mode as you swallowed, “Yeah, what’s up? Where do you want me?” 

“First things first, me and you are gonna take a ride,” He replied, “We’re gonna meet up with someone to discuss business, and then I’ll take you back here and we can get the day started. Sound good?”

You finished up the rest of your meal. “Yeah, sounds good! I’m excited to get started.” You answered with a cheery smile.

Lalo laughed again as he stood up from the table. “¡Muy bien! Let me just get these for you.” He grabbed your dishes and made his way to the kitchen. “We’re gonna head out once I get these cleaned up.” 

“Okay!” You answered, hoping you seemed like a dependable employee. 

Lalo quickly washed the dishes and made his way out to you, making sure to take off his apron and leave it on the counter. “Alright! Let’s go.” He placed his hand on your shoulder as he walked you outside to his car. He opened the passenger door for you, and you thanked him before settling in. “It’s gonna be a long drive, so just get comfortable, chiquito.” 

You nodded and buckled yourself in, trying not to seem flustered at his chivalry and the pet name he called you. It was like he made you dizzy. Come to think of it, you did feel a bit light-headed, actually. He got into the driver’s side and turned on the ignition. As you made your way onto the highway, you suddenly felt sleepy, even though your day just started. Huh, that’s weird, you thought, but paid it no mind. You figured you could use the extra rest anyway. You rested your head against the window, the sun starting to rise over Albuquerque as you drifted into sleep.

–

“Rise and shine, amigo! We’re here!” Lalo patted your shoulder to wake you up.

You were startled, not realizing you’d knocked out, but you weren’t scared. After all, Lalo was there to comfort you as you rejoined the waking world. You looked out the window and saw nothing. Not nothing interesting, but literal nothing, and no one. Nothing but desert as far as the eye could see. Where were you? That’s when it started to dawn on you that you were in a stranger’s car and he took you out to the middle of nowhere. Did he drug you? Is that why you fell asleep? Your eyes glazed over and your breath started to speed up as visions of your impending doom clouded your senses.

Lalo must have seen the panic in your eyes, his arm trailing down your back. He spoke with a gentle voice. “Cálmate. Está bien. (Calm down. It’s okay.) You’re okay. We’re just out here because it’s private, you know? It’s a competitive industry. Don’t want anyone listening in.”

It worked. You felt reassured, taking a deep breath to settle your nerves. Another car was pulling up, and Lalo laughed as he spotted it.

“There he is!” He said, pointing it out to you, “We’re gonna get out and say hello, okay?” He didn’t wait for you to answer, opening his door and stepping out, “Vámonos! (Let’s go!)”

You got out of the car just as the other parked across from you. A familiar face stepped out to greet you, and you were confused.

“Mr. Fring? What… what’s going on?”

“Hello. It’s good to see you again.” Gus smiled, nodding to Lalo before turning back to you, “I’ve been told that you were considering working under Lalo here, is that correct?” 

You stuttered, your mind racing about what you had gotten yourself into. “Y-yes, that’s correct. I… I came in yesterday asking about a job, and he hired me. Today’s my first day.”

Gus nodded, as if he knew all of this already. “Right, right. Lalo asked about you. I told him you were reliable and that you performed your duties exceptionally.”

Lalo finished his thought for him, “That’s why I wanted to take you out here to meet him. I told you he’s an associate of mine. He and my family work together as distributors for a larger organization.”

“Distributors?” You asked, still not sure how you were supposed to be handling this, or what the hell they were even talking about. You weren’t panicking, but you certainly didn’t feel at ease. 

Gus raised an eyebrow, his tone suddenly darker as he spoke directly to Lalo. “¿No le dijiste? (You didn’t tell him?)”

Lalo sighed, and placed his hands on your shoulders, bracing you for what he was about to say. His eyes pierced down into yours. He spoke calmly, but firmly. “Listen, chico. The business Mr. Fring and I are in is… under the table, so to speak. We trade things that people want, that they pay a lot of money for, but it’s all very secretive. If you want to work for me, I need to know that I can trust you. Understand?” 

That’s when it clicked. You just took a job with a fucking drug cartel.

And backing out would probably mean a bullet in your brain and your body left here for the coyotes.

Fuck it.

“I… I understand. You can trust me.” And with those words, you sealed your fate.

Lalo laughed and pulled you in for a hug, slapping you on the back as praise. “¡Muy bien! Alright! I knew I had a good feeling about you. You won’t regret it. Me and you? We’re gonna make a lot of money together. I promise.” 

You were trying not to combust when he wrapped his arms around you. He smelled so nice. His chest was so warm, so strong. You felt like he could squeeze you until you popped, and you couldn’t say that you’d hate it if he did. You could feel your face getting hot against him, and he felt it too.

Gus chimed in to praise you too. “Very good. I never had a doubt that you would be a good asset. Now, are we through here, Lalo?”

“Sí, sí, ya puedes irte (Yeah, yeah, you can leave),” Lalo replied playfully, “Voy a estar ocupado con éste aquí (I’m gonna be busy with this one here), ” He patted your back for emphasis.

“Very well,” Gus said, turning his attention to you once more, “Good luck in your new position. I hope to see you soon.” He left you with that notion of good will before stepping in his car and driving off, leaving you alone with your new boss, who seemed full of glee.

“Okay! That went well. Now, come on,” He led you back to the car and opened your door for you, “We got a lot to discuss when we get back. Don’t fall asleep on me again, alright?”

You giggled, though you still had no idea if you actually dozed off naturally. Plus, given the fact that he’s apparently involved with a drug cartel, it wouldn’t be that much of a reach for him to have slipped you something. He doesn’t seem like the type to do that, but then again, you never figured the owner of Los Pollos Hermanos to be in on this kind of shit either. Whatever, worrying was gonna do you no good right now, so you stepped into the car and let him take you back to the restaurant.

–

“I actually closed down for today,” Lalo said as he put the car in park and turned it off, “I wanted to make sure you had my full attention.” He made sure to lean in close and draw out those last two words.

Well, he certainly had yours. You figured he could tell how flustered he made you. You weren’t even trying to hide it at this point. He chuckled when he saw your cheeks begin to flush.

He walked you into the back entrance of El Michoacáno, the whole place seeming more sinister now that you knew it was probably a money laundering front. He spoke as he led you into the kitchen.

“Entonces (So), something you need to learn in this business is how to take orders, got it?” He didn’t wait for you to answer. You stood still in the kitchen and watched him pace back and forth as he talked, “It’s easy. Do what you’re told and don’t talk back. Since this is all new to you, you can ask questions if you need clarification, but that’s it. You don’t need to know all the ins and outs behind everything, okay?”

You nodded. 

Lalo pouted. He slowly sauntered over to you and tilted your chin up to stare into your eyes. “And I expect a verbal answer unless I tell you otherwise.”

You felt your brain short-circuit. He was absolutely, positively, without a shadow of a doubt, fucking with you. You followed his instructions. “Yes… sir…” You weren’t sure what to call him now. His name felt too casual for a setting like this.

He cackled, still holding on to your chin. “Sir? ¡Qué formal! (How formal!) I didn’t tell you to call me that!” He smiled, leaning in close to whisper in your ear, “but I guess I’ll keep that in mind.”

You shuddered at the feeling of his breath against your sensitive skin, gasping and clinging on to him by his shirt. You needed something to keep you grounded, and he was the best thing you could think of. He snickered, backing off and letting go of you before he continued.

“Now, we’re gonna play a game together, you and me. Just to test how well you can follow orders. Don’t worry. It’ll be fun, I promise.” He slid his hands down to grip your hips. “You ready, chiquito?”

You swallowed, figuring you could guess what kind of “game” he had in mind. You answered softly, “Yes, uh… should I still call you sir?”

Lalo smirked and moved in to close the distance between you two. “If you want,” was the last thing to leave his lips before they touched yours.

You whined into the kiss, yanking him even tighter against you. He tasted so sickly sweet. He felt so strong, so stable, so comfortable, so intoxicating, so dominating. His hands trailed from your hips to your ass. You squeaked when he grabbed you, and you felt his lips curl into a smile before he pulled away. 

“Okay. First things first, take off those pants and hop up on the counter.” He ordered, his attitude firm and demanding, giving you no leeway to argue. It was like a switch had flipped within him and he truly was just ordering around an employee. 

“Ah… yes, sir.” You sighed, and did as you were told. You shimmied to the edge of the counter, legs spread and dangling over the side.

Lalo filled the space in between them, his hands caressing both your thighs. His mouth latched onto your neck, licking and sucking at your sensitive skin. He snuck in a few sharp bites, giggling when you yelped at each one. He trailed his way up to your underwear, savoring each face you made and your body’s every twitch as he worked. His hand pressed against your crotch and he froze. You panicked, realizing what would have stopped him. You idiot, why didn’t you think to tell him?

”You, uh… you don’t have anything down here, do you?” He asked, the slightest bit of uncertainty in his voice. It seemed like he wanted to tread carefully so as not to upset you.

“Ah… no, I… I’m trans,” You mumbled, fear surging through your veins. 

Lalo took no time to process it. “Oh, alright,” He slid his fingers past your underwear and pressed into you hard, ripping a loud moan from you, “I can work with that.” He kissed you hungrily, you moaning into his mouth as he devoured you. It was sloppy and rough, drool spilling out of your mouth, teeth clashing into each other. He backed off and pulled his fingers out of you, now soaked with desire, and put them into your mouth. Your eyes fluttered closed as you sucked them clean.

He withdrew his fingers from your mouth and tapped your cheek gently. “Mírame, chiquito (Look at me, little boy.),” You were greeted with the sight of him with a stern look on his face. “If you want to work for me, you will do exactly as I say. You follow my orders. You are mine to command. You are my plaything, and I can use you however I want. Is that understood?”

You were thrilled to be at his disposal. You wanted to submit to him. “Ah… yes, sir. I understand.”

“Say it, Lalo demanded, his hands gliding back down to your thighs and tugging your underwear off, “Repeat after me. My body. Belongs. To you, Lalo.”

Despite the heat building inside you, you repeated his words back cleanly, as if he was saying them through your own mouth. “My body. Belongs. To you, Lalo.” 

Lalo nodded in approval and gave you your next line. “My body is yours, Lalo. It’s your plaything. It’ll do whatever you want,” He gripped your thighs tight to punctuate his next command, “Say it.”

You whined before you said it back. The embarrassment in your speech was more noticeable this time around. “My body is yours, Lalo… It’s your plaything… It’ll do whatever you want.”

“It’ll do whatever I want,” Lalo muttered to himself. He shifted gears to praise you for your obedience, a proud smile on his face. “Good boy… Es verdad (That’s right)...” His voice trailed off as he focused on you. You were aching for him, and he knew it. He got off on having that power over you. He licked his lips as he took in the beauty in front of him: you, bottom half undressed, in his kitchen, ripe for the taking. “I’ll take care of you,” He said before slowly lowering himself onto his knees.

You wondered for a second what he meant by that, though you figured it out once your legs were on his shoulders. You started to squirm in anticipation. “Please, Lalo… Please…”

“Tan impaciente (So impatient)...” He cooed, rubbing your inner thigh. It was like he was trying to map out your figure, so soft, so pliable, a blank canvas for his works. He took a deep breath, a firm grasp of your hips, and he spoke bluntly. “Now. Don’t speak, just wait. ¿Comprendes? (Understand?)”

You fidgeted slightly, though his grip kept you from moving too much. You nodded to show you were listening.

“No words, no sounds, no movements, nothing. Not even a sigh.” Lalo’s voice held no kindness as he barked orders at you. “Not a single sound. I don’t want to hear you. You got that?” He glared at you waiting for your response. “Understand me, boy?”

You bit your lip and nodded frantically, desperate for his touch.

“There you go. That’s better.” Lalo took a moment to calm himself, and you, before he dove into your heat, his tongue expertly navigating through your folds. It was then you realized how soaked you were already, and he’d barely touched you yet.

You convulsed when he made contact. You were in shock, thinking you were done for, having already broken his instructions. He glanced up at you to make sure you were good before he continued. He seemed to be giving you the slightest bit of leeway, knowing you couldn’t possibly stop all of your reactions. You writhed and twitched underneath him, but he kept you steady. Your breath quickened, loud puffs of air coming out from your nose, practically chewing off your lip to keep it contained, but it wasn’t enough.

“Don’t.” Lalo scolded as he pulled away, his lips already coated in your essence, “Don’t you dare breathe like that. Keep. It. Down.” He locked eyes with you, waiting for your acknowledgement. 

You took a deep breath, nodded once more, and just like that he went back to work. Though this was supposed to be a lesson in discipline, he found himself enjoying it as much as you were. His eyes falling shut, his mouth humming against your cunt, letting the vibrations from his mouth travel through you, his mustache grazing your lips. The loudest sound in the room was the reverb from how wet you were. You paid it no mind. You had to relax. You were focusing on your breathing now… nice and easy… in and out… 

…and then he slipped a finger in.

You spasmed and your breath stopped short, but you were determined. You would not falter. As he curled into your g-spot, you bit your fingers to keep quiet. It worked, somewhat.

Lalo looked up at you and raised an eyebrow. “Well…?” He could tell you were struggling, “¿Qué pasa? (What’s wrong?) Tell me what’s on your mind, boy,” He asked mockingly as he slipped another finger inside. He loved seeing you try to fight the pleasure.

You could tell he was trying to trick you, but you remembered your duty. You shook your head and gave him a weak thumbs up. Lalo couldn’t help but chuckle at that. He knew you wanted to make him proud. He kept his eyes on you as he talked.

"There we go. That's right. Focus on me and you'll be fine. If you focus on me, you can hold it in. Just...a little...longer." His motions sped up to counteract his sickeningly sweet tone. He could tell you were about to break, but he wanted to lull you into security. You wouldn’t fail him now, would you?

His words kept you grounded. You looked for guidance in his eyes and you found it. You took another deep breath and thought to yourself: It’s okay. I can do this. You felt strong, capable, and confident…

…and then his lips were on your dick. And he started to suck. Hard.

You broke then and there. It was as if he was vacuuming your pride and composure right out of you. The hand that was keeping you quiet flew down to Lalo’s hair and grabbed it. Tears cascaded down your cheeks as you let it all out. You cried out for mercy, “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Lalo!”

Lalo stuttered for a second once you broke, but he quickly found his rhythm again. He smirked and gazed up at you in awe and pride. He’d known that it was only a matter of time before you snapped. You couldn’t possibly resist for too long; he wouldn’t have let you.

You kept wailing as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. His cheeks hollowing out to suck you off, his fingers pressing into that perfect spot, it was all too much. You wailed pathetically as you approached the cliff. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I can’t! I can’t! Too…! Much…! I’m…! Fuck! Lalooo!” 

His name was the last sound to leave your lips before you climaxed. With both hands on his head, you pushed him down into you as you squirted into his mouth. You felt him wince for a second, but he gladly slurped you up. Your legs quivered from the overstimulation. You were a sloppy mess, and it was all his doing. 

When he was done, Lalo took your legs off his shoulders and stood up. He was staring down at you, brow furrowed, a bright fire burning in his eyes. His face and shirt were soaking wet. He was panting heavily, and he looked ready to strike. 

You trembled in fear beneath him. You were a helpless little bunny face to face with the big bad wolf. Your voice cracked as you begged for leniency. “I’m sorry, Lalo. I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it. I’m sorry.” You chanted your apology over and over, pleading for him to take pity on you.

Lalo caressed your cheek, but there was no warmth in his touch. He looked at you in disappointment and pity. He was taking in the sight of you: weak and subject to his will. His next words cut you like glass, “Stand up.”

You sniffled as you lowered yourself onto the floor, too afraid to look him in the eye, your own orgasm dripping down your legs as you stood. The feeling of dread was unbearable, but you dared not ask any questions.

“Look at me,” Lalo said forcefully. He tilted your face up to his, leaving you nowhere to hide, your eyes overflowing with shame. In that moment, he saw you for what you were: a cute, helpless little boy, eager to please him at your own expense. You were his bitch, and he spoke to you as such. “Turn around and bend over.”

“Y-yes… sir…” you sobbed quietly before presenting yourself to him as requested. 

Lalo positioned himself behind you, his firm hand grabbing your ass, and he leaned over to whisper in your ear. “Since I can’t teach you obedience, I guess I’ll just have to teach you discipline.” 

Smack.

You squealed on impact, the painful shock quickly fizzing away into a delightful sting. He rubbed your reddened skin to soothe it before spanking you again.

“You know…” Smack. “I knew you wouldn’t be able to keep it in…” Smack. “I just wanted to see how you’d try…” Smack. “...and take your punishment like a man.” Smack. Smack. Smack.

You whined after each successive hit, your pained cries gradually morphing into moans of ecstasy. Your legs buckled, upper body slumped over on the counter, still spiraling from your orgasm, you were desperate. “Please… Lalo… I need… please…”

Lalo shushed you, his tone gentle and nurturing once more. His breath was hot on your ear as he spoke. “Not yet, conejito (little bunny).” Smack. “Say thank you.”

“Th… Thank-” Smack. “ngh!...Thank you, Lalo!”

“Thank you for what?” Lalo asked, punctuating his question with another slap. “Come on, what are you thanking me for?”

“Thank you for… teaching me a lesson…” 

“Good boy! ¡Bien hecho! (Good job!)” Lalo ruffled your hair as he stood up. His other hand traced its fingers up and down your wet slit, “Tan mojado (So wet)…” he hissed, “Te vas a sentir tan bueno alrededor de mi verga (You’re going to feel so good around my cock)...”

“Huh…?” You mumbled. You hadn’t the slightest idea what he said, but it sounded like a compliment.

“Oh, sorry, muñequito (little doll). I was just talking to myself.” He purred, taking his hands off you to undo his belt. When you heard the clinking of the buckle, you whined and tried to grind your hips into him. Lalo was quick to shut you down. “No, no. None of that. I’m in control here, remember? I can do what I want with you. This goes at my pace, not yours.”

You pouted and buried your face in your arms against the countertop. It certainly felt like he was taking his time. Eventually, you heard a zipper, some clothing rustling around, and then you felt him press against you. He stopped short, leaving you wanting. You turned around to see him with a sly grin on his face.

“Say please.”

You were in no mood to talk back. “Please, Lalo, please… I… I need it…”

“What do you need?” he asked, his words dripping with mockery.

Any shame you had before was long gone, and in its place was insatiable desire. “I need… I need you to fuck me… please Lalo…”

“Aw, so cute,” Lalo praised you and ruffled your hair once more. “It’s alright, nene (baby). I got you.” He took hold of your hips and pushed in slowly, savoring the feeling of filling you up.

Your moan echoed throughout the kitchen. Your body shuddered as his cock stretched you open. He felt huge. He had just gotten started, and you were already shivering against the counter.

“Qué chingón… es más apretado de lo que yo pensé… (Holy shit… it’s tighter than I thought…)” Lalo grunted. You were squeezing him so tightly, he was nearly out of breath by the time he bottomed out. He took a moment to adjust before he patted your thigh, “Hey, you alright down there? Cause I’m doing great.”

“Y-yeah, I’m… I’m good,” You whimpered, “just…” and pressed your hips back against him, “please…”

Lalo chuckled and kissed your cheek before running his fingers through your hair. “So needy…” He pulled out of you agonizingly slowly, and then slammed his hips into you hard. You cried out, and he pulled you back into him by your hair, “Such a needy little boy…” He purred in your ear as he set a ruthless pace, fucking you roughly into the counter.

You were grateful he wasn’t making you keep quiet now, otherwise you’d have no chance. Your tongue was hanging out of your mouth, your eyes glazed over, and every noise you made was primal. You couldn’t think about anything else. Hell, you couldn’t even think. All that mattered right now was Lalo and how good he was making you feel.

Lalo felt the same way, but he could maintain at least some composure. For one thing, he could still speak, “That’s it, sweetheart. Just like that. Dios mío, you see what you do to me? If I knew you had a cunt like this, I would’ve taken you the moment I laid eyes on you. So fucking good.” He snarled in your ear, your hair clenched in his fist as he pumped into you like a toy. You felt his other hand begin to rub your dick, and you shrieked. He didn’t even acknowledge your reaction; he showed no signs of stopping. “Y qué mojado, también. Me mojaste todo. Nunca había visto algo como eso en mi puta vida. Tan sucio. Qué niño tan sucio. Voy a hacer que lo hagas otra vez. (And so wet, too. You got me all soaked. I’ve never seen anything like it in my damn life. So dirty. Such a dirty boy. I’m gonna make you do it again.)” 

You didn’t understand a single word in either language. Words were above you right now. You felt like an animal. The only thing on your mind was that deep, carnal instinct you were chasing. Lalo was there to guide you to it. You could feel your cock twitch in his hand. It wasn’t long now. Within your garbled mess of nothing syllables, one clear entity stood out:

“Ngh… gah… hah… La…lo… Lalo…”

Lalo’s face was beaming. He wore it like a badge of honor, how he could reduce you down to a pathetic, brainless animal. You were his beast to tame, and the beast was almost slain. “Come on, chico, you can do it. Let me feel it. I wanna feel you cum for me.”

He didn’t have to wait long until the thread snapped. Your back arched, your hole tightened around him, and your exhausted vocal cords let out one final cry of pleasure as your release splashed against his thighs. 

Lalo cackled when he felt it. “Ha! I knew I’d get you to do it again. But now…” He wasn’t far behind either. His rhythm started to get sloppy, and he used his grip on your hair to pull you back into him. His tone darkened into a menacing growl, “Now it’s my turn.” He rutted into you with all the fury and energy he could muster. He finished with a deep, rich groan, his cock buried inside you up to the hilt, his body shuddering as he painted your insides white. You were still reeling from your climax, gurgling and twitching as you felt his warmth flood you. 

He didn’t pull out when he was done. Instead, he let go of your hair, but not before excitedly petting it like you were a dog. Two strong arms pulled you tight against his chest, and he gave you an affectionate smooch on your cheek. He sighed in bliss, probably with a goofy smile on his face, and broke the silence with a voice as sweet as honey.

“I’m gonna love working with you.”

[kokorohelps]

Boa noite, tag! Eu já estive aqui ativa por um tempinho, focada em auxiliar com faceclaims. Estou aqui novamente buscando ajudar com outras coisas sobre roleplay, aumentando meu escopo de helper. Já fui player do Tumblr, Twitter/BlueSky e Discord, já experimentei nxn e 1x1 também, acho que a única coisa que não me aventurei foi na rpi, mas tenho amigos que sabem como funciona. Se precisarem de uma mãozinha, deixo minha ask aberta para dúvidas e para ajudar vocês. Nota: não sou talker. Não vou falar sobre rp X ou Y, player J ou K, muito menos ficar perseguindo ou mandando hate para algo ou alguém. Meu intuito é unicamente ajudar a espalhar maior diversidade pela tag, pesquisar porque adoro saber novas coisas, e auxiliar a recuperar nosso hobby de escrita. Ponto final.

[lacytalks]

Vamos começar do começo.

Meu apelido na tag é Nia há bons anos, sou uma mulher trans, transicionada em 2018 e em quase completo tratamento graças ao apoio da minha família. Não vou expor minha colega Lacy, porque ela não quer envolver. Sempre jogamos na krpbr, desde que nos entendemos por gente, e há menos de um ano nos conhecemos e tivemos a ideia de fazer um talker para desabafar.

Quando abrimos, a primeira ask que recebemos era de alguém, que acreditamos ser da mod do Silence, acusando alguém de flopar o rp delus. Primeiro, ficamos confusas por saber pouco da história e nem associamos ao Silence por não conhecer o rp. Depois, com a chuva de asks, chegamos a conclusão.

Desde o começo, postamos todos os relatos exceto os que não pediram para serem postados e os que citavam nomes. E vieram nomes de todos os cantos: da krp, da rpbr, dessa suposta sabotadora e os nomes reais (fizemos checagem para ver os apelidos) da moderação do Silence. Em todos, não postamos nenhum para preservar a identidade dessas pessoas por achar que isso era elevar demais a uma crise que não precisava.

Acontece que as asks acusando outros lugares de 'sabotarem' o Silence vieram TODAS com nomes citados, e nomes pessoais que não são apelidos de rpg. Nós avisamos várias vezes que não postaríamos, falta de aviso não foi mesmo, e começaram a nos encher de hate por causa disso como se estivéssemos passando plano. Era acusação de plágio (até agora não vi semelhança nenhuma de qualquer rpg com o Silence) e de sabotagem, mas comecei a receber também os xingamentos dos players do Silence que foram postados na dash.

Quero agradecer ao @neozhelps por ter salvado todos os prints que tivemos.

Aqui vão os relatos que vieram RECLAMANDO DO SILENCE:

Pediu para não ser postado:

2. Segundo relato que pediu para não ser postado.

3. Asks que recebemos com conteúdo, 3 delas citando nomes da moderação. A última que está revoltada veio citando nome de 3 players/moderação.

4. Relato que será associado porque veio mais de uma vez. NÃO SERÁ POSTADO EM RESPEITO AO PLAYER.

Recebemos um relato que contou que a moderação do Silence pegou uma pessoa aleatória para culpar de flopar e contar as coisas para talker. Essa mesma pessoa, no mesmo dia, nos chamou no chat, mandou um desabafo enorme e disse que antes mesmo de ver o que aconteceu, já tinha sido removida dos blogs, mas que a moderação do Silence supostamente havia postado um texto o acusando de vazar as coisas internas para nós e outros. Só que, mais de uma vez, recebemos asks defendendo essa pessoa além do relato fora do anonimato de mais de um player o defendendo. Foi como se tivessem 'sorteado' alguém aleatório para culpar, porque não conseguiram atingir outros rps (esses em questão, o Demigods Curse e o Aldanrae). Mais ou menos nesse mesmo dia, a central do Aldanrae caiu, e o @neozhelps está de prova, porque ele viu junto com a gente.

Relatos que vieram A FAVOR DO SILENCE:

Primeiro relato foi a ask que inaugurou o talker, falando com as específicas palavras: Vamos falar das bonitinhas que floparam o MAIOR RP DA TAG?

Muito o maio rp de tag mesmo, né? K

2. Primeiro relato (com nome citado, ou seja, banido):

3. NÃO HOUVE MAIS RELATOS DEFENDENDO O SILENCE ALÉM DESSA ASK. LITERALMENTE.

4. Ask que recebemos nos acusando de sermos pessoas que não somos, provavelmente de uma dessas moderações, novamente não postando por citar nomes.

Relatos que nos confundiram sobre a sabotagem ser do SILENCE OU NÃO:

Nossas conversas PESSOAIS COM O MIRA (ele em azul):

Estão felizes agora, que não dá para postar o que não devemos, que é até crime?

Segue imagens abaixo de uma pessoa que foi atrás de seus direitos e apresentou um boletim de ocorrência por cybercrime envolvendo essas pessoas:

Sobre a krpbr:

Recebemos um relato extremamente pesado de um player, de uma comunidade em que estávamos jogando. Eu, como mulher trans, me senti diretamente atacada e me afastei do talker, deixando apenas a outra Lacy. Nesse tempo todo, nós já estávamos desanimadas porque o que aconteceu foi muito, muito triste. NÃO VOU DAR DETALHES, mas envolvia capacitismo pesado e falta de empatia com players que passavam por luto de familiares próximos demais, sem amparo. Eu parei de jogar e desde então parei, sem voltar a ativa. Esse krp acabou fechando uns dias depois de desaparecermos, provavelmente a briga estourou. Já tínhamos saído e não sabemos o que deu no fim.

E então, sofremos com instabilidade no chat. Diversas vezes tentei contato com o Mira, mas não tive sucesso, e a conta caiu. Ficamos dois dias off e ninguém percebeu, e milagrosamente o user foi recuperado. Podem criar a teoria que for, mas questionem o Tumblr. Nem nós sabemos como foi possível, porque também acreditávamos que caiu uma vez, perdeu pra sempre.

Espero que estejam contentes com o desfecho. Não podemos postar defensoria para quem não foi defendido e só nos atacou. Nós chamaram de nomes terríveis e até desajaram morte com terrorismo religioso (sério, manas, querem aterrorizar mulher trans com entidade?), e não ligamos mais. Decidimos depois que caiu que não voltaríamos mais.

RELATO FINAL DE ALGUÉM, QUE FEZ UMA DENÚNCIA OFICIAL. SÓ NÃO VOU FALAR DE QUAL COMUNIDADE ERA (Silence, esse da krp, enfim... O triplex de vocês que se vire!):

E para o @thesubstalker, vocês se passaram por nós, quiseram dar o nosso nome e depois foi muito fácil nos atacar. Achamos isso de muita baixaria, vocês podem fazer o que quiserem na tag, mas assumam o talker de vocês e parem de nos citar. Pedimos educadamente dessa vez para que apaguem nosso nome do talker de vocês, já morremos e permaneceremos assim. Só aviso vocês que não vai partir de nós, mas vocês estão comprando briga de pessoas que não querem o bem de vocês e sim o mal de outros e logo podem ser as próximas vítimas de acusação de cybercrime.

Para a moderação do Silence: aceitem o funeral ou reabram já que dói tanto na ferida até hoje, se provem. Para os players da krpbr que nos procuraram: estamos sempre pensando em vocês e torcendo para que estejam melhores, vocês se mostraram pessoas muito especiais.

E, honestamente, fica o mais nosso sincero pedido de desculpas a todos os afetados. Quando nos avisaram que não éramos isentas, discordamos porque não víamos tanta maldade até virar crime. Agora, sofremos com as consequências e estamos pagando por isso. Para quem quiser falar sobre, estamos disponíveis.

Com amor, Nia e Lacy.

[obsessedtalks]

E desde quando talker faz alguma coisa que melhora?

Olha, eu acho que várias coisas já foram debatidas em talks que se tornaram assuntos mais recorrentes depois.

Quem está jogando por aqui, como eu, faz uns bons anos, vai se lembrar, por exemplo, como não dávamos a menor atenção para o racebending. Personagens mestiços eram comuns, ainda que o faceclaim não fosse.

E esses assuntos foram trazidos da tag gringa para a br, passou a ser questionado e hoje em dia todas as comunidades estão atentas para respeitar a etnia correta do faceclaim.

Então sim, eu acredito que algumas coisas podem ser melhoradas quando debatemos sobre.

Fofoca é bom sim, claro, mas esses espaços de talks podem reunir opiniões e expor o que os players pensam. Às vezes tem mais gente pensando como você e você não sabe.

Já passamos da fase de achar que todo talker tem mania de Regina George ou de colocar um blog ou comunidade um contra o outro.

[phukethq]

É, senta que lá vem história…

Chegou para nós, umas horas atrás, uma ask sobre as reservas e, depois de muito pensar, conversar e, até mesmo, rascunhar uma possível resposta, nós optamos por não respondê-la diretamente, justamente porque entendemos que a ask em questão, pode causar desconforto em nossos players e, sobretudo, gerar uma discussão que nós não queremos debater nem agora e nem depois. Por isso, resolvemos fazer um pequeno comunicado.

Nós, enquanto moderação e jogadores, não estamos nenhum pouco incomodados com as nossas reservas, novamente, para nós, o que importa é que vocês joguem com o FC que garanta confortabilidade e te permite manter o seu muse (e vale lembrar: Phuket é uma ilha cheia de diversidade). Dividir a quantidade de vagas para que venham mais FCs tailandeses, não é garantia de nada. Um player que, por costume, não se esforça em comunidades com seu FC coreano, não irá se esforçar com qualquer outro FC que usar, além disso, nem sempre players que tem costume de usar FC de outra etnia, que não a coreana, se dedicam inteiramente à comunidade, existem aqueles que também deixam a desejar. Vale ressaltar também que: existem aqueles que reservam o FC de outra etnia apenas para entrar na comunidade e, na primeira oportunidade, faz a mudança para o FC coreano que queria usar desde o início. Sendo assim, para nós, essa discussão é infundada.

Outra coisa que gostaríamos de alertar é que: nós também não estamos a par de talkers e estamos preferindo continuar assim, ou seja, o que for falado nesses lugares não nos incomodará, justamente porque não é algo que nós estamos procurando. Nosso objetivo é moderar para quem quer jogar conosco, para quem está satisfeito e para quem está feliz com a comunidade.

Por último, nós já falamos sobre a questão das reservas e outros pontos da criação de personagens várias vezes durante a pesquisa, ao ponto de ter gerado esse comunicado aqui, que vocês podem conferir novamente. Por isso, decidimos que questões similares, tanto a essas tratadas aqui nesse comunicado e no outro, quanto a ask que nós recebemos, serão ignoradas e deletadas. Nossa decisão já foi tomada há muito tempo e nos manteremos firmes nela.

[desireeh]

Desiree, ela/dela, +21.

Criei a conta para ajudar quem tem dificuldades com o RPG, seja com personagens, plot, moderação etc. Não sou talker, então não irei divulgar qualquer fofoca, já que esse não é meu objetivo. A inbox está aberta para solicitações, sugestões ou divulgação de projetos/centrais.

Minha gama é mais a escrita. Mesmo se eu reblogar templates, themes, gifhunt e tudo o mais, não espere que meu conteúdo próprio seja sobre isso.

RECESSO ATÉ DIA 02/01.

Status: online // offline // mobile

Última postagem: especial de natal.

Créditos das edições: jessource

[jaywritesrps]

Sobre Relacionamentos Tóxicos, Moderações e Rpgs

Por Jay Ferreira

Esse texto é uma lombra que eu tive, sinta-se livre discordar e mandar ask discordando. Real acho q é uma discussão pq pode levar a alguma coisa e mais importante do que ficar falando de perfumaria.

Dia desses de eu tava de bobeira e numa conversa q tava tendo acabaram mostrando uma ask num desses talkers ou helpers que tem espalhados, sobre uma discussão a cerca de pesquisas e moderações. Era basicamente a pessoa reclamando que pedem rps novos, as pesquisas aparecem, mas ou flopam ou os players votam "não" e a conta em questão dando aquela resposta padrão que sempre foi assim e tals. Essa não é uma discussão nova, é algo que vem desde priscas eras na rp br e, por extensão, na krp br, mas por que isso continua acontecendo apesar de todo esse tempo?

Tenho as minhas teorias. Num desses talkers, lembro que a conta respondeu numa pergunta que os players vivem um relacionamento tóxico com as moderações. Achei uma comparação idiota quando li antes de bloquear, mas hoje, acho que tem um certo fundo de verdade e me arrisco a dizer que essa toxicidade é uma via de mão dupla, que cria meio que um ciclo vicioso perpétuo, igual a aquela pergunta de "quem veio primeiro, o ovo ou galinha?", mas sendo "Quem abandonou primeiro, a moderação ou os players?".

Se você parar pra analisar friamente no espaço do ano de 2024, as centrais que duraram mais de 3 meses são quase sempre das mesmas pessoas, moderando quase sempre os mesmos temas, fazendo as mesmas dinâmicas e eventos [ou copiando de outros grupos] e quase sempre acontecem os mesmos problemas recorrentes. Mas por que isso acontece?

A resposta é comodismo. É muito mais fácil entrar num rp de uma moderação que você sabe o que esperar, de um tema que você sabe mais ou menos o que fazer [com o bônus de não precisar ler muito a central] e é muito mais fácil você jogar a culpa naquela moderação se algo der errado, do que assumir que, quando um rp fecha, não é culpa só da moderação, é culpa de todo mundo envolvido, porque rpg é um jogo coletivo, por melhor que seja uma moderação, ela não conseguem manter um jogo aberto e ativo sozinha, pq atividade é feita por players. A moderação não tem como responder turnos pelos players.

E não me venha com aquela conversa passivo agressiva de "ah as moderações novas tem que ficar feliz pq 3 players aplicaram" ou "ah vocês tem que ficar feliz por terem votado não". A tag rp br tem condições de suportar 2 rps de grande porte e continuar aparecendo outros grupos menores, isso aconteceu esse ano com o Silence e Lost Ones abertos por meses e ao mesmo tempo, e mesmo assim pipocava pesquisa todos os dias. As moderações tem todo o direito de ficar frustradas pela baixa adesão, são sentimentos válidos, porque é chato você ficar animade pra fazer alguma coisa diferente, seguir exatamente na risca os tramites, burocracias e exigências da tag br e os players não comprarem a ideia, porque não é da mod x do rp y que moderou um rp parecido em 2019 e você amou, pra depois ir reclamar que não tem novidade, continuando eternamente nesse looping.

Einstein costumava dizer que a definição de loucura é você repetir as mesmas ações, esperando resultados diferentes, e é bem nesse lugar que a rp br está presa, de esperar que as coisas mudem, mas sem dar oportunidades a temas e moderações diferentes. Pra haver mudança tem que haver desejo de mudar e esforço pra isso, e é cômodo pra todo mundo, a moderação culpa os players e os players culpam a moderação, e ninguem assume a culpa de nada.

Não vou ser idiota também e fazer a generalização de dizer que "a tag inteira é assim" porque não é, ainda tem uma minoria que incomodada com esse quadro da tag br, que ainda tenta fazer alguma coisa, e não julgo quando gente dessa galera desiste e vai embora pra tag gringa. Ninguém quer ser Dom Quixote lutando contra moinhos de vento, ainda mais quando você consegue ver bem que é mesmo um moinho.

Mas é aquela coisa, tem opções, reclamar ou fazer algo, reclamar sempre é a melhor pq o esforço é menor.

[thesubstalker]

criou talker p perseguição mesmo, é? #voltalacy

Como é que criamos o talker pra perseguição se não tenho controle do que enviam, Greyzinhe? Essa discussão toda sobre o RPG citado está vindo de vocês mesmos. A tag precisa entender que o talker não é quem promove a discórdia; é só o mensageiro do que vocês já estão cochichando pelos corredores. Não querem ver críticas? Simples: não mandem! Usem a oportunidade pra elogiar quem vocês gostam ou comunidades que realmente se importam. Bem melhor, não acham?

[neozhelps]

Teoria da conspiração: enviaram duas asks pra obsessedtalks falando de comunidade específica e ela deixou claro que não responderia. Coincidentemente, surge essa nova talker e o assunto é uma comunidade específica. Ficou um gostinho de que o objetivo era sim trazer a tona o tópico que a outra talker não quis expor (e certíssima). Reaching? Talvez. Mas é o que parece.

pensei a mesma coisa, graminha. olivia foi certa em não falar sobre, e isso só mostra que esse talker daqui a pouco flopa bonito. e acho engraçado usar o the substance de tema, como se tivessem visto o filme com o olho que não toma sol, porque definitivamente não entenderam a mensagem por trás.

[hqslegacies]

Boa tarde, pessoal, tudo bem? Eu não pensei que teria que entrar nesse blog depois de tantos meses pra ter que falar de coisas que, para mim, já estão mortas e enterradas a sete palmos do chão, mas acho que é o único jeito. Talvez eu soe meio irritada e até mesmo grosseira nesse texto, mas poxa vida... quem jogou aqui e no Cursed sabem que eu não fechei por besteira. Os dois RPs por maior que seja o amor que tenho por eles, pelos players que jogaram neles, e o que foi criado, deterioraram a minha saúde mental.

E continuam, mesmo depois de ENCERRADOS, trazendo incomodação para o meu dia a dia. O quão problemático é isso, gente? Parem e pensem um pouco.

Toda vez que vocês procuram uma briga com outros RPs de temáticas parecidas ao Legacies e ao Cursed (que tem temáticas parecidas A OUTROS RPS ANTES DELES!!!! Lembrem disso!!) envolvendo os meus RPs, vocês acham que isso cai na conta de quem no final? De vocês, em anônimo? Não! Cai na conta da Mod Anna. Porque, pasmem, eu recebo ask no meu pessoal me mandando parar de me achar a dona da temática; eu recebo puxão de orelha de gente que nem me conhece... Gente... Oi?

Eu não vou me pronunciar sobre a polêmica atual, sobre x ou y, porque sinceramente? É um jogo virtual, é um JOGO, gente! Eu tô em paz e de boa e eu não tenho nada contra ninguém. Alguns de vocês são maldosos, se aproveitam dessas situações pra falar merda. Mas EU não sou assim. Eu NÃO GOSTO de ficar comprando briga, de ficar criando inimizade e fazendo caso em algo que deveria ser divertido pra mim, pra vocês e pro colega ao lado.

Eu agradeço quem tem carinho pelas minhas centrais, por mim, sério! Meu carinho por vocês é gigantesco também, nunca vou deixar de amar os meus players e sentir saudades de vocês e querer jogar com vocês de novo. Mas mesmo quando a intenção é boa tem gente que se aproveita disso para vir com intenção maliciosa... E é aí que começa os problemas. Não tá sendo a primeira nem a segunda vez esse ano que isso acontece.

Então, eu vou me pronunciar sobre uma coisa e espero que, de uma vez por todas, tenhamos um basta nessas coisas e eu possa ter paz.

Seja você talker ou moderador de RP da temática contos de fadas, SE o Cursed ou o Legacies chegarem até você mesmo depois desse texto, por favor, deleta as asks. Não responde, não engaja, simplesmente finge que não existe. De uma vez por todas: chega.

E pra quem não tem nada a ver com isso na tag, minhas mais sinceras desculpas!

[izzyhelper]

Seja bem-vindx ao meu blog! Sou a izzie, uma helper e talker nessa grande tag com o único propósito de te ajudar ou apenas bater uma conversa! Quer desabafar sobre algo? Reclamar sobre alguma coisa na tag ou talvez até falar sobre alguma fofoca ou ajuda em escolher fc? É aqui onde você deve vim! Não tenha medo pois eu não mordo. Minha ask está aberta para qualquer coisa.

izzie & ela/dela.

em dias de finais de semana a atividade pode ficar lenta.

online ＼ off-line ＼ hiatus

lista para tutoriais de gifs/etc.

01 — apenas em inglês.

02 — sites que são úteis

O que posso oferecer:

Ajuda em escolha de fcs de várias etnias & nomes ou sobrenomes;

Divulgação de cmm ou pesquisa;

Tutoriais de diversos tipos, apenas é necessário dizer qual;

Um papo maroto;

Opinião sobre algum assunto;

Ideias para pesquisas ou futuros rps;

Recomendações (livros, filmes, séries, novelas e etc...);

Moodboard para personagens.

Prompts para personagens de vários tipos, apenas basta me dar uma explicação sólida do seu personagem!

essa lista está em atualização a cada semana, e aviso que posso ajudar em várias outras coisas que não estão nessa lista, apenas me mande uma ask! ♡

sobre a izzie; veja o readmore.

Sou a izzie, uma antiga player na tag que agora apenas venho ajudar aqui vocês com o que eu posso. Não estou jogando em nenhum rp na tag, mas estou ativa e vendo todos que estão abrindo ou as pesquisas! Posso oferecer divulgação e ajuda em escolher fc ou nome para seus futuros personagens e até prompts! Vale ressaltar que eu já sou adulta e tenho mais de 26+ e estou cursando medicina, então minha rotina pode ficar corrida nesse meio tempo. Mas ainda estou aqui para te ajudar! Ou talvez até opinar sobre alguma coisa.

[lovctxlk]

oi, pessoal! eu sou a cedrina, mas podem me chamar de drinna. durante os últimos dois anos eu tenho observado a tag e o comportamento das pessoas (players) num geral. é óbvio o quanto todos estão estressados, agitados e provavelmente emocionalmente exaustos. tendo isso em vista, depois de pensar muito, decidi criar esse blog no intuito de servir como um ombro amigo pra todos aqueles que estão precisando em ooc / off. provavelmente já sou bem mais velha que a maioria de vocês, não sou talker de rp e não falarei sobre eles ou sobre a tag rp br, mas me interessa muito ouvir suas experiências em ooc e dividir as minhas. creio que seria libertador pra ambas as partes. você pode comentar sobre os seus medos, seus problemas, felicidades, ou o que desejar sobre a sua vida fora daqui em total anonimato e eu responderei de coração aberto e sincero, mencionando as minhas próprias experiências. se desejar, também poderá mandar uma “mensagem-mimo” (love letter) pras pessoas que são importantes pra você aqui ou que já não estão mais na sua vida mas você gostaria de rever. minha intenção é criar um lugar seguro para conversarmos sobre coisas profundas que nos deixam tão exaustos física e emocionalmente e, quem sabe, melhorar o nosso ambiente por aqui?! posso garantir pra vocês que não sou alguém famoso nas tags e que o meu desejo é realmente ajudar e ser ajudada. trocar conselhos e segredos. claro que esse blog tem grandes chances de flopar, o que fez eu me perguntar muitas vezes, antes de lançar ele, se realmente valeria a pena tentar, mas acho que sim, vale. e que seria maravilhoso se todos nós fizéssemos isso acontecer. então, finalmente, cá estou eu, com a ask aberta pra todos e ansiosa em recebê-las!