#unspoken game
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saturdaysky · 7 months ago
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a little morning pick-me-up
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A morning on the way to Baldur's Gate. The party booked themselves into an inn and enjoyed real beds, hot baths, and privacy for the first time since the Nautiloid.
Gale and Mayhew shared a room, of course. They were filled with the relief of surviving the shadows and the glow of finally getting together, so their private room was probably a blessing for the whole party, honestly.
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This was some ascended anatomy practice! Referenced some great stock from @null-entity.
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dykedvonte · 7 days ago
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Honestly a sorry from Curly would mean nothing to Anya.
I’m not saying she wouldn’t want to hear it, it’s a hollow vindication. She told him and he couldn’t hear her. He saw it and he couldn’t understand it. They both experienced it and he should apologize that it took that for him to get it. She already knows he’s sorry but what’s the point if neither of them can do anything about it? It’s earnest but at the same time what she wants an apology for is what Curlu can’t apologize for.
He can’t be sorry for what happened to her even if he is. Even if he carries that guilt with him until the day he dies it’s not all his to bare. The most heinous parts aren’t his weight even if he tries to balance it. A part of her bitterness is the fact he can’t be sorry for it all. She can’t just direct it all towards him even if she wants to. She was failed in so many ways by all of them. It hurts with him the most cause he had the power but they all did nothing in the grand scheme of things.
The one person who should apologize would never and could never, it’s not something you can be sorry for. She wants an apology, she needs one but what would it fix?
#my two scents on apology scenerios cause like if she heard it I think it would just make it worse#likes she’s happy in a bitter sweet way like I don’t know why people need Anya to be actively resentful and mean about it like that’s nots#satisfying none of this story is satisfying in anyway shape or form and I want to write scenerios that really aren’t that like it’s real#it’s raw it’s in character for her to sort of forgive Curly but not accept his apology cause it’s worthless and that’s the tragic part of i#in a world where they escape and he apologizes he’s forever haunted by the fact she’ll never accept his sorry and she’s forever haunted by#the justice she didn’t really receive like for those that like them together it’s alway the unspoken bitterness of all his actions carry an#act of apology while she will never accept it as such cause he can’t say it and do anything about it nor what he’s apologizing for she can#learn to forgive him for the mistake understand the circumstances even if she doesn’t agree or wishes he’d known better but it’s forgivenes#based on she wouldn’t do that to herself to hold it against him forever he’s paid for his sins in watching the effects of his inactions and#having so much taken just like her but it didn’t have to happen and that’s why she can never accept the sorry#there shouldn’t be a reason he has to be sorry but there is idk they are so much to me like platonically#the only way I pair cishet straights together#mouthwashing#mouthwashing game#anya mouthwashing#nurse anya#captain curly#curly mouthwashing
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buchreihe · 3 months ago
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( . . . ) this is the story of 𝐍𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐀𝐍, a loner with a heavy australian accent who suffers from sleep paralysis every single night after reading evil spirits out of a horror novel so he prefers to stay awake as long as possible, living his life out of a coffee mug in the middle of nowhere brisbane.
❝ In books I meet the DEAD as if they were alive, in books I see what is yet to come . . . All things decay and pass with time . . . All fame would fall victim to oblivion if god had not given mortal men the book to aid them. ❞
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A librarian more used to reading stories than living in them, Nathan would be an unlikely candidate for hero in any book. But even discounting the power of his voice, Nathan is a formidable foe. Though he might not have many combat skills, Nate is more than willing to learn, and he refuses to be cowed by the dangers he's fallen into. Also called “ Silvertongue ” because of his ability to make characters come alive by reading them out of books - to "paint pictures in the air with his voice" - although he has been wary of this gift.
𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐧 : night terrors, regretting every decision he ever made, being able to read people and objects out of books, the fear of being forgotten, realising that the church lied, paranormal events, staying awake for several days and isolation.⠀⠀ ⸻
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐃
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rocketbirdie · 4 months ago
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*slips another kunsel into your pocket*
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happyk44 · 10 months ago
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The thing was Percy didn't like being a bad kid. Every time he got kicked out of a school or wound up in the counselor's office over some incident he wasn't completely blameless for, his mom's brows would pinch. The line on her lip dipped. He knew what she was thinking each time: lost wages, job risk, who was going to watch him if he got suspended, where would she send him if he got kicked out, and so on.
He hated that he did that to her. Being a bad kid meant being a bad son. He refused to be a bad son - not on purpose anyway.
Well, he used to. She wasn't here anymore. Her brows weren't going to furrow. Her lips wouldn't thin. Her shoulders wouldn't draw up and tense before the principal even opened their mouth. It was over.
He didn't have anyone anymore. Nobody at cabin eleven would look at him. Other cabins steered around him like he was carrying the plague. Grover was off doing whatever satyrs did - probably getting ready to infiltrate some new school, befriend some new kid, save their lives. He didn't need Percy. It’d only been a few days but they'd barely interacted. Older satyrs would yank him along into the wood before Percy could get close or even open his mouth. Even Annabeth just eyed Percy with scrutinizing eyes - like she was assessing him for something. But every time he tried to approach her outside of their lessons, she brushed him off.
No one wanted Percy around.
What was the point of being a good kid anymore? There wasn't anything or anyone forcing him to keep his head above water. He was tired of the murmurs. He was tired of the avoidance. Tired of the glares from the Ares cabin. Tired of trying to keep the quake in his stomach tamped down.
He was just tired.
He thumbed along the flat edge of his sword. His new best friend was the pervasive feeling of loneliness. With a miserable sigh, he tucked the sword into the holster on his hip. People barely wanted to spar with him now so he was stuck to sweating it out on the dummies by himself. At least only when Luke wasn't pushing him as hard as possible.
But even with Luke there seemed to be pause. The first time Percy felt his gut yank after being claimed had been in training with Luke, and as soon as the feeling caught him, Luke begged off. Like he'd seen something in Percy that unnerved him. Sometimes when Percy looked in the mirror, he saw something in his eyes that unnerved him. A foreign thing - like a contact lens put in the wrong way.
No amount of poking or prodding at his eyes was going to get it out though. It was inside him - in his blood. He was sure of it.
He was starting to worry that it was the very thing he'd been keeping back, the very thing his mom was trying to keep him safe from.
The clang of metal against metal was loud as he walked past other trainees. There were a couple people leaning against the wall near the water fountain. As expected, they shifted away as he neared. Mistrust was bright in their eyes.
He did his best to ignore it. Not the first time people had stared at him like they thought he was dangerous. Or beneath them.
The water sprayed for a moment before he lowered his head. It was clarifying. He'd noticed it before, a burst of energy with every sip whenever he was tired, but ever since being claimed, he'd noticed the alertness more and more.
As he let go of the button, he caught the tail end of the muttering nearby. His stomach dropped.
“... should've ditched him sooner,” one boy grumbled. His friend snorted. “Maybe then she wouldn't have died.”
“What did you say?” The two startled. Percy understood why. He barely recognized his own voice, the eerie coldness to it frosty on his own tongue. Still, he repeated as he twisted on his heels to face them. “What. Did you just say?”
Panic besot them. For a second, the barest of a second, he could feel it kick in - be a good boy for me, Percy, be a good kid for Mom.
But she wasn't here.
She wasn't here.
So what was the point?
He took a step forward. “What,” he snarled, saliva coating his tongue like froth, “did you say?”
The others shifted away but he just crept forward. “Nothing, man,” one of them finally bit out, but they were lying. He could see it in their eyes, hear in their voice, feel it in their veins.
“You're lying,” he said. A bitten off laugh echoed from his lips. “You were talking about my mom.” Another choked laugh. “You think it's my fault?”
One of them raised his hands - a mock surrender. “Hey, dude-”
“You think I wanted her to die?” A sharp sensation coiled through Percy's chest. It thrummed hot and heavy, piling, piling, piling on his lungs. “You think I asked for ANY OF THIS?”
Someone's hand came to rest on his shoulder and it was like the crashing of the waves against his bare feet. Cold, clarifying, clear.
Freeing.
His fist drove straight into the jaw of whoever was behind him. He could barely tell who he was seeing - it might've been Luke, or any other tall blonde guy. But as soon as whoever it was stumbled back, he whirled around and punched whichever kid was closest in the stomach. They went down and he clambered on top to wail. Fist and fist upon whatever body part he could reach. He wasn't the most elegant hand-to-hand fighter but there was something to be said for the voracious and vicious energy boiling through him.
Distantly he was aware of yelling around him, aware of people pulling at him, aware of the person beneath him crying, arms over their face, arms Percy was tired of hitting. He needed to get their face, get their tongue, rip his mom from their mouth. How dare they speak about her.
How dare anyone talk about her.
A dozen hands finally yanked him back. He screamed. Bodies toppled. He grabbed the closest one by their hair, driving his knee upwards over and over again until hands ripped him away again. Swung blindly and caught someone. The two of them fell. His stomach pulled back. They choked. They weakened. He swung himself over until he was on top.
I want you all to drown, he thought, grabbing at their jaw. Don't ever speak of her again.
Saliva smeared across his fingers. His stomach pulled back even more. What was that - blood, water? On his hands, on his knees, on their skin, on their faces, in their veins.
His free hand drew out. He wanted it. It was his. Didn't they get that? She was his, and she was gone, so he would take and take all else that belonged to him until the hole in his chest was gone. Until the water they had coursing inside them filled him up.
“Percy,” someone whispered.
Their voice was familiar, breath hot against Percy's ear. He twitched. The feeling of nearby water, nearby fluid, was clenched tight in his fist. He just had to pull back. Yank it. Make it his.
The voice turned pleading. “Percy.”
He froze as two hot hands came to clasp his cheeks, dark brown eyes and curly hair blurring into view. Grover's face.
“Grover,” he breathed. For the first time since he'd ended up at camp, he relaxed.
Grover's thumbs stroked his skin. “Yeah, it's me.” He leaned in closer. “Percy, you need to stop.”
“Stop?”
“You're hurting people," he said. “You have to stop.”
Why? Percy thought. He didn't care. He didn't care if they hurt, didn't care if they drowned where they laid choking, didn't care if they suffered. It didn't mean anything to him. They didn't mean anything to him.
But this was Grover.
And with his mom gone, Grover meant the world.
“You want me to stop?”
“Yes,” Grover said. His breath was warm, his skin hot, his body close. Distantly Percy remembered nights at school like this - Grover tucked up next to him, trying his best to help Percy study when most people would've bailed. “I want you to stop.”
His lips were wobbling. His eyes were thick with wetness. His voice was unsteady - trying to be calm and rapidly failing. Even his hands shook.
Percy grabbed at his wrists. “Okay,” he whispered as he clung. His stomach relaxed slowly, the crash turning into a tickle. “I'm good, I'm good.”
Shakily, Grover exhaled, pressed his forehead to Percy's, and murmured, “I know, I know.”
His hands pulled away from Percy's face, but not away from him, arms wrapping around his neck and pulling him in for a tight hug. Percy's breathing wobbled as he tucked his face into the crook of Grover's neck. He clung tight and desperate. Pleading.
No, he couldn't be a good son anymore. He didn't have to bother keeping in check to avoid the thin line of his mom's lips. But he could be a good friend. To keep the tears out of Grover's eyes, the tremble from his skin.
“I can be good,” he promised quietly, for Grover's ears only. “I promise I can be good.”
“I know,” Grover said. His cheek pressed against Percy's. “I believe you.”
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The fountain nearby trickled quietly. The steady flow soothed the unease between Percy's shoulders. Still, he squeezed the pillow in his grip tighter to his chest as he watched Grover flit around the bunk closest to him. He snapped the final end of the sheet around the mattress. Hooves clopped quietly against the tile as he stepped back. His gaze flickered between Percy's bed and his own.
Then he grunted and began pushing it closer.
Percy hopped up. The discarded pillow slipped from his fingers and onto the floor. He nearly tripped over it trying to get to Grover's side. They pushed the other bunk over until it was pressed into Percy's.
While Grover unfurled his blanket, Percy stepped back. Awkwardness choked him. He didn't know what to do, what to say. So he picked the pillow off from the floor and pressed it into his chest. Grover didn't spare him many glances as he worked to make up the bed. Leaning across his bunk, he yanked Percy's blanket from between the seam where the two bed frames connected and began tying the edges of both blankets together. It was shoddy work, no way it wasn't coming apart just from them lying on the sheets, much less sleeping.
But Grover did it anyway.
As he shifted back, hooves scraping the floor, Percy held out the pillow. Grover dusted off the top then laid it against the headboard. With both hands on his hips, he admired his work. Percy stared at it too. It was nice. Joined bed. Grover within direct reach.
His palms itched.
“Are you scared of me?”
Grover twisted around. His brows furrowed, but the edges of his lips were quirked upwards. It was reminiscent of school - Percy stumbling over something he read and Grover, lost but amused, over why Percy thought it was a man-of-war that Theseus fought.
He was partially grateful Grover cut him off before he could finish what he actually thought the sentence was trying to say. It certainly wasn't fight.
“I mean,” Grover started and Percy's stomach drew back. Behind him the trickle of the fountain silenced. Like the water was holding its breath too. “I'm scared for other people, but I'm not scared of you.” He punched Percy's arm with a quiet smile. “I know you're not going to hurt me, Percy. That's why I stopped you.”
The fountain began to trickle again. “And that-” He faltered. The ghost Grover's touched goosed up his bicep and across his shoulder. “-that doesn't worry you?”
That you might have to stop me again went unspoken but Grover was always good at understanding Percy's unspoken words, at knowing his unspoken feelings - even the ones Percy wasn't even aware he felt.
He sighed. “It worries me. But not because it's you.” He shook his head. “And definitely not because I'm scared of you hurting me.”
His eyes scanted away, brows furrowing deeper. Then he relaxed into the bed. After teetering on his heels for a couple seconds, Percy joined him. He gripped the edge of his shorts so tight his palms burned. Grover reached over to stroke along the back of his hand.
He exhaled slowly and let go.
“You remember Pan?” Grover asked.
Percy paused. “The satyr god, right?”
“Yeah.” Grover pulled away to tug at his fingers. “He's been missing for a while. Ever since the industrial age took off. And no one knows where he is. It's the dream of every satyr to find him, so that nature can return to the way it was.”
“That your dream?”
He nodded solemnly. “You have to be a Protector first, before you can get your Searcher’s license. But I'm not like the others.” His gaze fell down. His hands sat in his lap, cupped around nothing but air. “I don't want him just so we can bring nature back to its peak.” He sighed. “We were a lot different when Pan was still around. More free. More wild. I want satyrs and nymphs - all of us to be us again!”
Percy leaned into him. “What's stopping you?”
Grover snorted. “People forgot. We were more than just Pan's disciples. We fought to protect the wild from mankind. We didn't just sit around waiting for him to tell us what to do. But nobody wants to do anything.” He scowled. “They think when Pan returns he'll fix it all and I-” He bit his lip, then shook his head. “The world has changed. And gods don't get involved like that. Not to the extent they want him to. It's not in their nature. But if he comes back then maybe…”
He faced Percy. His eyes were watery, darkening the already dark brown of his eyes into shots of black. The welled tears glistened ever so slightly. Like the night sky, free of pollution.
His lips wobbled into a gentle smile. “But that's why I'm not afraid. You’re like nature at its purest form - chaotic, wild, unburdened.”
Normally those words wouldn't hit Percy as compliments. Insults, degradation - things that would deflate him and make his mom frown. But Grover sounded so earnest, his heart swelled.
“You can't tell, but I can feel it.” He swung his arm over Percy's shoulders and tugged him in close. “Your demigod essence, this sense of the wild that I've been searching for my whole life.” He gestured loosely. “Even the Demeter kids don't have that. Their mom is all agriculture and farming and that's great and all, but it's not pure nature, it's not the wild.” He squeezed Percy's shoulder as best he could with one hand. “You remind me of home, Percy.”
The frog Percy hadn't noticed in his throat jumped out with a burst sob-laugh. He tried to tile away, but Grover just tugged him close, bringing around his other arm to keep Percy pinned. Nonetheless his hold was fairly loose, like Percy was a stray cat he didn't want scratching him if he felt like running.
Or like he knew that Percy was the ocean through and through, unwilling to be contained, wanting to flow wherever he saw fit.
Percy practically crawled into his lap, sniffling into Grover's shoulder. Warm hands stroked up and down his back. He laughed quietly - a half-distressed noise marrying the sound, but managed a breathy wheeze of, “You remind me of home too.”
Grover kissed the top of his head. For the first time since arriving, he shattered. All his twisted up emotions committed out in a tidal wave of tears and broken gasps. All the while Grover held him. As tight as Percy clung to him, he didn't complain. Just held on even tighter. Wetness from Grover's own tears smeared across Percy's skin.
Ever the empathetic. Like his mom.
Percy squeezed his eyes shut. “Please don't leave without saying goodbye,” he begged in a hollow, hoarse whisper.
“I won't,” Grover promised.
They held onto each other even as tears and cries faded away. Grover kept stroking his back with both hands. Percy continued to cling.
Shoulders shaking, Percy wound the fabric of Grover's shirt over his fingers. After a few minutes of toiling silence, he whispered. “I think I'm changing.” He pressed his forehead to Grover's collarbone. “I'm scared.” He pulled back and stared into Grover's eyes. “What do I do?”
“Be my best friend,” Grover said, like it was the simplest answer in the world. And as soon as the words fell off his tongue, it did. How silly was Percy not to think of it before? “My best friend is a good person, the best kind of wild.”
“I can do that,” Percy promised. “I swear, I can do that.”
“I know,” Grover said, squeezing Percy's cheek. His thumb swiped away at a still wet tear under Percy's eye. The stroke was soft, gentle. Kind. “I believe you.”
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icology · 11 months ago
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thinking about the subtle displays of affection in the games...
holding hands in ico... the way wander touches mono's face and pets agro... when trico nuzzles the boy and he hugs him and laughs... team ico really invented love in all its forms
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supjello · 2 years ago
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"Your son?" "My apprentice, but I think of him like a son."
#pentiment#andreas maler#casper ziegler#my art#it took me about two seconds to go full 'if anything happens to my beloved casper i'm killing everyone in this town and then myself'#'and then no one will be around to solve this murder mystery because we'll ALL be dead'#(some spoilers to at least where im at in the game>)#my andreas loved his son but found no love with his wife#(though he wanted to. he really wanted to.)#drifting off alone and finding this kind of 'what if' when he took casper on and began travelling#and it wasn't fair to anyone involved. not his wife who had to face loss alone#not andreas who was trying to cover up the hole august left with another family's son#not casper (though he wouldn't know this- since he didn't realize the extent andreas really cared about him like a father)#but most things went unspoken and most consequences unseen#so there was just this deep undercurrent of silent fatherly love and worry beneath every interaction#between the two#and it KILLS me even though i know 99% of this was me reading between the lines they let me choose#i wonder if my andreas kind of secretly wished casper's family didn't make it through the turmoil#it's a fucked up thought and i think he'd feel extremely guilty if he ever caught himself thinking it#but there's got to be some extreme dread there about the idea of the apprenticeship ending and this boy he considers a son cutting ties#and really having to face going back to his wife who he (rightfully) feels guilty about leaving.#even if she never loved him#and even if only pain was there to return to#ANYWAY#I FEEL TOTALLY NORMAL ABOUT ANDREAS MALER#edit: guess who just completed the game. guess who’s own art is now making herself SAD
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cookiesandbiscuits · 1 year ago
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😂😂😂
He's so freaking competitive on whoever can spoil MC the most
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tag-if · 11 months ago
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Apologies if it's a weird question but how do the RO's kiss?
not weird at all! i think a little tricky to answer, but only because it can vary
i'll say these are all in early relationship stage;
A. Bellefleur; a bit desperately/overeagerly? like kissing you is what sustains them, like kissing you is their equivalent of oxygen
K. Valiev; gently, almost as if you're going to crumble beneath them, it's barely more than a whisper unless you push them
A. Caras; a little clumsy, they push slightly too hard and pull away slightly too fast, like they don't really know what they're doing just yet
T. Bellefleur; almost viciously, there's just a little too many teeth involved, though you can tell they are barely concealing nerves the whole time
M. Serrel; confidently, and they are good, it's clear they've had many practice encounters before you
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enchantrum · 3 months ago
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Dragon Age fandom had its problems but at least almost everyone understood the usage of tags like "character critical" "character hate" etc and didn't just throw big tirades against characters in the public tags where their fans obviously hang out. and when they did do that even people who also hate the character told them to stop
BG3 fandoms treatment of tags is like "fuck around and find out" and then when OP finds out they cry that everyone is so rude and unfair. like bro you did the equivalent of walking into a clubhouse and telling everyone there you hate the thing the club is about????
yeah people are gonna call you dumb and tell you to fuck off
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elliespuns · 1 year ago
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"Sometimes I hear you calling From some lost and distant shore I hear you crying softly for the way it was before." - Ellie to Joel
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travelers-gaming · 5 days ago
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i'm rereading lisa's cops and robbers speech and i think its interesting how much it reads like a lie?
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obviously its wrong to say that rachel is taking it too seriously, it's not like she has a choice. but lisa doesn't have a choice either! coil recruited her with a gun to the head!
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lunarharp · 1 year ago
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qifrey's birthday and silly stuff
#witch hat tag#orufrey#excerpt is from my 30k failing eye fic (link in pinned) which has a birthday scene. i revisited and edited it again and it is now 30k :)#kerplunk thing is because of a mysterious game that shirahama has drawn orufrey playing before and to me it looks like Kerplunk.#a kids' game from this 'Real World' which we live in. card game is Cheat from neopets. but it's a real game. i want to play it for real....#you lie and cheat in it..hence the name..and 'branston the eyrie you are a bold one' classic neopets tumblr post...no....ok then.....#'hey qif i know we're obsessed with witches' kerplunk but we used to play cheat all the time what happened to that??'#'oh. i just..don't like lying to you. i don't like how it feels.' 'oh haha i guess that's a good thing. ok let's play kerplunk instead ^_^'#'mm. *dying inside crying in the rain in my soul*'#i dislike trying to illustrate my writing. i resent myself for having described oru's captivating mysterious smile so perfectly#i can't draw that. i know what it looks like perfectly in my mind and i am right there on that roof but i can't draw it satisfyingly enough#writing comes from a different part of my brain. there's different things in there. i'm glad i wrote out some of what i can't draw.#then there are things that i don't write or draw but which are still a crucial ongoing facet of my orufrey mindscape.#the Written orufrey the Drawn orufrey and the Unspoken orufrey... three faces of a beautiful irreplaceable jewel in my heart...#could a depressed person do THAT.
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puppyeared · 2 years ago
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Spirit tracks is fun teehee
#ITS FUN HAVING ZELDA AS A COMPANION OK… title character gets to be playable omg#god. they are everything to me idk why but spirit tracks zelink is my fav by far#It feels more earned I guess? The other zelda games I’ve played p much established zelink as like some unspoken thing#Like uhhh skyward sword gets brought up a lot bc childhood friends. And breath of the wild although I do like botw zelink#But like you get to see their relationship develop in spirit tracks like they go from oh cool we’re teammates to YOU ARE MY BFF#I also like Zelda piping up whenever something happens like. I remember I used to go swimming here do u wanna go swimming when I get#My body back. Also I like being nice to her we are besties your honor#2nd image is my fav expression in windwaker when his magic gauge increase HIS FACE IS EVERYTHING PLEASEEE#I also drew tetra wearing something like baro’t saya? Using her game model and pictures of dresses and the boxer codex#Everything I’m putting on here is experimental anyway cause I’m checking Wikipedia on my own culture 🫡#BUT HELL IT WOULD BE COOL like tetra could have a more rugged baro’t cause like she’s a captain and she needs it when on open sea right#And I can imagine tracks zelda having more of a traje de mestiza dress because it’s more fancy right.. waving my hands#Sometimes Filipino zelda can be something so personal bro#My art#myart#doodles#the legend of zelda#legend of zelda#loz#Spirit tracks#wind waker#took link#Zelink#zelda#Tetra
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anonomi · 5 months ago
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random rant but i cannot believe that r/tf2 or part of the community (since it definitely spilled out into other places) ever legitmately thought making gay smut of the bothosters would ever work, but what really irritates me is the double standard. like people were okay with gay sex cause "it's funny" and all but the moment someone posts about their hcs of the mercs being bi or gay, or they try to have fun with the characters, or you ever try to seriously apply these things suddenly everybody's like "why are they gay?" and "forced rep"
the moment you seriously suggest that you see the guys as anything but straight or the smut as anything but a joke you get side eyes and laughs.
i know it's a symptom of the gaming side clashing with the fandom side, that a lot of the backlash is from younger people, and also it's reddit (esp r/tf2 which sometimes feels like injecting glue into my veins) but it's really annoying that the only time something 'out of the norm' is accepted is only when it's a joke or unserious. esp when you have some people who are so loud about "gay sex lets go!!" but the moment you pull that sex out of there or are like "yes i hc this dude as bi/ace/anything but straight" they completely switch up. not cool
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yokai-girlie · 2 months ago
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For the Hozier ask game, how about Like Real People Do?
Everyone say it with me now:
ITAFUSHI WORLD DOMINATION 🗣️‼️
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