#I wanted to color them too...but I botched the job!

[catlover4536]

Coming here to say masc presenting Julie is one of my favorite Julie ideas out there and that, of course, I needed to make a femme presenting Frank to compliment @cyanwyrmy and their wonderful Julie!

#welcome home #frank frankly #julie joyful #not a genderbend #fanarts! for u! #I'll admit...I've had this lineart for a long time #I wanted to color them too...but I botched the job! #also my LINES...the colors...they eat them #which I'm still sad about...this has to be one of my favorite line arts ever #maybe one day I'll try coloring them again...on digital #for now tho #making this to tell you masc presenting julie has lived rent free in my head since they were presented #and I would be a fool for not helping to include their partner in crime! #i love these two besties so much #sooo tempted to just post julie tho...I swear she is one of my best line arts out there #my art #masc presenting julie I adore #genderfluid julie joyful #repeat: not a genderbent for either

[thewhumpcaretaker]

⚜ 𝓑𝓮𝔂𝓸𝓷𝓭 𝓙𝓾𝓭𝓰𝓮𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓽 ⚜

Thank you to @evren-sadwrn for the beta read!

TW: gunshot, crying, John and Vincent being generally nasty to each other

Summary: John Wick and The Marquis de Gramont both faked their deaths on that fateful day at the Basilica. But when Vincent seeks John's help, he isn't expecting genuine compassion.

John was alone. “At home,” yes, “reading”, yes, but most fundamentally, he was alone, with a deep, soft-edged hollowness aching all along the Helen-shaped absence in his life. Dog wasn’t filling that loneliness tonight. Some days were harder than others, and this was one of the hard days. The same paragraph slid past again and again, read but not processed, as that ache grew slowly to rage at the bitter remembrances that cycled through his mind in place of the words on the page.

The sound of the doorbell came as a relief. It could only mean trouble - exactly what John was in the mood for. He took the pistol from the bedside table and closed Dog inside the bedroom – a habit he couldn’t seem to shake when answering the door, ever since Iosef.

“Trouble” wore a cream-colored three-piece suit and pearly pink tie, and a face even paler than those accoutrements. It was a comically poor choice of dress for the events fate had wrought on him that day. Even if he hadn’t been bracing himself against the doorframe in a desperate attempt to stay upright, the massive bloom of red spreading from the center of his chest would have informed John that the Marquis was in dire straits, bleeding out, come to his doorstep to beg. Huh. That sight would cheer him up all evening.

John savored it for a long moment and then began to close the door.

“Wait!”

Resting on the doorknob, John’s hand paused its progress and his eyebrow shot up in a silent expression of, “This had better be good.”

The Marquis began a speech that sounded almost rehearsed. “Let’s make this simple. I am offering you the contract of a lifetime. Not a hit, but something even more suited to your habits. Your job is to thwart the High Table on my behalf until my excommunication is reversed, and I am reinstated as Autem Imperator.”

“Excommunication? For what?”

“For your idiocy at the Basilica, which interrupted my contract. Since you were too much of a coward to face me until I had already fired, you are not dead, and I am being hunted by those fils de pute [sons of bitches]. I set out for the states this morning to end you. But count yourself lucky, Mr. Wick. The Table says it’s too late for that. Your head is no longer wanted – for now. So this is your opportunity to redeem yourself after pulling that completely underhanded stunt. Which, I might add, you botched.”

It hadn’t been a “stunt” he enjoyed pulling. Here was a man infinitely weaker than himself, on a deep, personal level, who lived in desperation. And John had used his own arrogance against him. It was what he deserved for hubris, but to give the Marquis de Gramont what he deserved was to destroy him, and John was tired of destroying beautiful things. Mere boys in their 20s, not so different from himself at that age, forced into that same twisted world. He shook his head, dispelling the memory. “You’re coming to me for protection? Why?”

He clicked his tongue impatiently. “Because! All High Table services are closed to me, but you…you’re completely unaffiliated now.”

“And I’d like to stay that way. If you’re trying to make me want to help, you’re doing a piss-poor job.”

“Oh I don’t need to make you want to do anything. You always take the bait eventually, because that is who you are. You answered the door, didn’t you? Bored of your precious retirement?”

John glowered. “I worked very hard for my retirement, as you may recall.”

“Only to relinquish it again and again. You are going to do the only thing you’re good for these days: poke the High Table only to outrun them with your tail between your legs. Except this time, it will be for a purpose that’s worth something. Try to think rationally for a moment. If there was ever a question of whether to leave you undisturbed, I could speak for you. On the other hand, if you spurn me today, you’ll - ”

“Don’t threaten me.” John closed the door. Didn’t even slam it.

He went to the basement, to fetch something. Could have told the Marquis where he was going, but why waste words? Besides, it was worth making him squirm a little.

When he returned to the door, Vincent had not moved from the spot. He blinked when the door opened, as if shaken from a trance.

John made no comment on it. He simply held up a marker. The little, cold weight of the metal felt hateful in his hand. A dreaded thing, a pin at the center of a butterfly. Something he’d only wish on his worst enemy. He handed it to Vincent. “This is not for your reinstatement as Autem Imperator. This is for your survival until you’re freed from the High Table.”

He scoffed. “You think I’m willing to give you a marker for the sake of mere survival? That is not the deal, Mr. Wick.”

“That is the deal. Mark it.”

“Payment upon receipt of services. Let me in first.”

By way of answer, John stood aside, and watched the Marquis drag himself through with a maddeningly victorious smirk. He limped his way to the sofa, with John following, not letting him out of his sight for a moment.

He didn’t even have to use the needle for a finger prick. He pressed his thumb to his heart, where there was already plenty of blood soaking through the button-down, and then into the brass. John took it back and snapped it closed again, sealing the debt.

It was only then that The Marquis added, “We’ll see whether the Table thinks I owe you anything before I’m reinstated. It’s your word against mine as to what that marker was for, and we all know which of us holds more sway.”

“Some way to honor a blood oath.” If he’d actually planned on using the marker, John would have kicked him right back out again for that. But in all honesty, it was just leverage. He opened the door again long enough to glance up and down the street. “Who shot you? Did they follow you?”

“I’m not such a novice as to lead them back. Some hitman at a gas station recognized me, but we lost him. By tomorrow morning, my bodyguard will be in another country, leading the High Table away from here.” He shuddered. “Now shut the door, it’s cold.”

It wasn’t the coldest night. Furrowing his brow, John turned his attention back to his new charge, who was looking paler by the moment. He shut the door. “Lay down.”

The Marquis did not comply. “You’re just an absolute mother hen, aren’t you, ‘Baba Yaga’? Going soft?” he seethed, teeth clenched, breathing through his nose and shutting his eyes in a bid to maintain composure. John knew the look. The feeling of shoving down pain and fear, holding your breath and restraining your muscles, actively ignoring the body’s bright red flashing lights that scream “we are not okay right now.” It was hard, and Vincent was amazingly bad at it. He probably didn’t have to do it very often.

John forced down the twinge of pity that rose up at that thought. The Marquis wouldn’t want it anyway. “Suit yourself. I’m going to get a first aid kit. If you’ve moved from that spot when I get back, I’ll shoot you.”

“Anything you say.” Vincent opened his eyes long enough to smirk and raise his hands innocently, as if playing along with the demands of a child. Unfortunately, the effect was spoiled slightly by the shake in his hands.

Fortunately, when John returned, he hadn’t moved.

“Shirt off.” It was painful just to watch as he tried to raise his arms, wincing, and struggling with the suitcoat. No doubt even more painful to be watched. By the time he got to the tie, John stepped in. “We don’t have all day.”

A venomous glare. He looked ready to cut deep. “Are you so eager to touch me, John? That lonely, in this big empty house, with all your ‘love’? Pathetic.”

Anger got the best of him for a moment and he shoved Vincent by the center of his chest, directly over the spreading patch of crimson. The result was a winded kind of wheezing that afforded him enough leeway to strip away as much fabric as needed.  Pink silk sliding through his collar. The top four buttons undone. Underneath, parted flesh echoed the parted flaps of the button down.

Panting, the Marquis chuckled weakly. “Guess I’m right. I got to you.”

“Fuck. Off.”

“How bad is it?”

John had already steadied himself and started inspecting the wound. “Could be worse. Came in at a glancing angle – only tore muscle on the left side. Then it hit your sternum.”

“Je suis à nouveau épargné [I am spared again],” he breathed, with a little dimpled smile.

“Not yet. I need to pull it out.”

“Without anesthetic!? You have to be joking.”

“I don’t have anesthetics in this house. I’ve done this dozens of times. They aren’t necessary.”

“That’s different. You’re a barbarian.”

“And you’re too chicken?”

Vincent tilted up his chin importantly. “Fine. I’m ready.”

“No, you’re not. Bite down, I don’t want a noise complaint.” The discarded tie had found a new use already.

Vincent grimaced at the metallic taste of his own blood on the silk and spat it back at him. “We’d have no concerns over a noise complaint if you weren’t allowed to run rampant and uncivilized. I had forgotten how intolerable the common assassin can be. At least my Myrmidons  - ”

John shoved it back in his mouth, and tied it behind his head this time. Without hesitation, he dove tweezers into the wound and Vincent’s muffled screaming filled the room, making the air heady and vivid.

It was over in a second, but then there was the antiseptic, and the stitching took much longer.

It was all one long, meditative moment for John. He was unexpectedly flooded with adrenaline and had to force himself not to rush. There was the rage, but then there was something else, such a desire to make this quick, to offer some kind of mercy. He kept seeing Vincent’s too-wide, horrified eyes the fraction-of-an-instant before he took the shot that pointless, bloody morning in the Basilica Of Sacré Coeur De Montmartre. Neither of them dead, in the end. Just two faked deaths and a few more bad memories. Just a young man, weak, scared of John, scared of failure, driven mad by the constant push towards power, the constant belittling, the constant threat of death from all sides that was life under the High Table.

It was almost over when there was a buzz from Vincent’s coat pocket at the foot of the couch. Shit. The last thing they needed was for Vincent to get even more riled up by bad news.

“Don’t move. You don’t want to look at that right now anyway.”

His eyes were daggers. “The insolence to tell me what I want to do.” He tried to reach for it regardless but failed. “That’s my business phone. Give it to me.”

Sighing, John dove into the pocket and tossed it to him. He caught a glimpse of the screen as it passed: a contract notice. “What does it say?”

“I – nothing. Surely a mistake.” He closed the phone and tossed it aside, feigning indifference.

John picked it up. Contract for Marquis Vincent Bisset de Gramont: $20 Million. Open. International. Special alert to New York. Personal bodyguard already deceased.  “The guy who saw you must have called in a tip to the High Table…I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? You're an embarrassment.” Vincent gave a breathy, half-hearted laugh and began to list sideways, deathly pale. John caught him and lowered him into a laying position, pulling his legs up over the armrest. He took Vincent’s wrist between two fingers and his thumb.

“What are you…”

“Taking your pulse.” It was absolutely flying, dozens of little taps flickering against his fingertips in the space of a second. The Marquis’ eyes fluttered closed at the sensation, overwhelmed by the awareness of his own blood. But his expression remained frozen, a desperate grasp for some semblance of dignity.

“You’re either in shock or having a panic attack. Probably both.”

“I am not having a panic attack.”

“Fine, then you’re in shock.”

“So fix it.”

“I’m trying. You need to elevate your legs, and you need to calm down.”

“I need to calm down,” he repeated, sarcastic. The little taps accelerated. Not helping. He jerked his hand away, his voice rapidly pitching upward into a kind of hysteria. “I’m going to die. I’m going to die.” That’s true, John thought, if you don’t calm down. “You. This is your fault, for a second time. This is why you are alone, a pathetic widower. You are cursed. Everything you touch dies, John Wick, you are poison. Good for nothing.  Je vais mourir. [I’m going to die.] This is fate. God is against me.”

This time, he didn’t take the bait. The situation was quickly becoming critical. “Vincent. Breathe.”

He was gasping now, between every other word, almost delirious. “Espèce de pion…sans valeur [You worthless pawn]! My name…is The Marquis de Gramont! You will…address me…by my title!”

John muttered a curse under his breath. Think, accommodate this asshole’s massive ego if that’s what it takes. He had destroyed many people, but rarely had someone been so fragile before him, so absolutely in need, and by extension (ironically), so innocent. Looking down at him, he suddenly viewed Vincent as something other than an asshole, something beyond judgement. An animal that lacked concepts like reason or remorse. Just something that suffered, and wanted, and needed, and that he was charged with treating according to its nature. “Marquis de Gramont,” John said calmly but forcefully, and, even though it wasn’t true, “Autem Imperator.” Please don’t pass out, he thought. Please don’t die on me. “Regarde-moi et respire. [Look at me and breathe.]” He pressed a hand into each of his shoulders, physically stopping the shaking. Physical contact, but more dignified than the hug he wished he could offer, hopefully less likely to make Vincent feel pathetic. He let his face go flat and his voice perfectly monotone, neither pitying nor dismissive, but simply a statement of fact. “Tu vas bien. Je ne vais pas te faire de mal. Ce à quoi vous survivez actuellement est extrêmement difficile. Tu te débrouilles bien. Je ne vais pas mentir, je déteste tes tripes, mais tu ne devrais pas être obligé d’être dans cette position. Cela me fait chier aussi. Alors je ne vais pas te laisser mourir. Je veux que tu ailles bien et je ferai en sorte que cela se produise. [You’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you. What you’re surviving right now is extremely difficult. You’re doing well. I won’t lie, I hate your guts, but you shouldn’t have to be in this position. It pisses me off too. So I’m not gonna let you die. I want you to be okay and I will make that happen.]”

He half expected Vincent to spit insults again, but he just stared, unable to respond. It may have been his imagination, but he thought he saw Vincent’s eyes glaze slightly, pinprick pupils finally swelling open. Leaving one hand on his shoulder, John pulled the coat over his body, arranged it into place, and resumed the firm pressure on his shoulders. A human simulation of a weighted blanket. For a moment, he shivered even more violently, adjusting to the heat, and then let out an exhale as the peak of the terror began to subside.

Then those insults began to come. “This is exactly why I hate you. This sickeningly sweet nonsense that you spout. It makes me depressed to look at you. You say this - this fairy tale merde [shit], like you’re noble. But the world doesn’t work that way. It’s an affront to my intelligence. There’s no mercy waiting for you.”

“Maybe not. But there is for you. Even if I have to make sure of it myself.”

“I - “ his voice gave out into a sob and he turned his entire head away, into the cushions.

Heavy, sparkling droplets clinging to eyelashes, half-parted, twisted-up lips pressed into the fabric, the most wrenching sounds… He looked beautiful crying, and that thought did not belong in John’s head. He averted his eyes respectfully, partly so the Marquis would be free to turn back towards him if he wanted, and partly to avoid feeding whatever god-forsaken thing had just reared its head inside him.

They sat that way a long time, in silence, Vincent’s shoulders shuddering under the rock of John’s weight, sobs escaping a torn-open chest.

And as the Marquis’ muscles finally relaxed, John felt something. He felt something for this mess of barely restrained malice and misery pinned underneath him. An urgency, all through his body, his own heart taking flight as Vincent’s came to rest. I want you to be okay and I will make that happen, he had said. That was true.

It was then that John knew he was fucked.

#john wick #john x marquis de gramont #marquis de gramont #john wick fanfic #wickblr #marquis de gramont whumpee #angst #dacryphilia #men crying #emotional whump #hurt/comfort #whump fic #assassin whump #ao3 crosspost #one shot #enemies to lovers

[theamityelf]

Who gets worse in the entire Descendants franchise? Lonnie or Audrey? I’ve heard that Lonnie was ignored by the fandom, even Descendants instagram didn’t show her as much while Audrey was a broken girl.

Interesting question, and I'd say it depends on how you look at it. (Also, I'm talking about just the movies here, because watching the animated show or reading the books, those are separate choices, and most people will just watch the movies.)

On one hand, Lonnie is given the grace of having her microaggressions toward the VKs largely forgotten/ignored by the franchise, much like Jane, whereas Audrey's microaggressions are taken 100% seriously. On the other hand, they botched the cultural aspects of Lonnie's character on so many levels I'm not qualified to outline (like, her name, her wardrobe, etc.), and Audrey didn't get that axis of mistreatment.

In Lonnie's case, it was more like the series was cheerfully dismissive of her. The writing says, "We don't care about her internal life; she's here to move forward one story beat in the first movie and rehash the plot of Mulan in the second movie and then we're done with her." (Narratively, that is. Beyond that, she's there as continuity fanservice for people who like Mulan.) Lonnie finds out Ben has been captured. How does she react? She doesn't have any questions or concerns; she just wants to go with the VKs to save him so she can sword fight. Lonnie visits the Isle of the Lost. Wow, how would someone like her react to something like that? She doesn't. She gets there and she has a sword fight and she does a good job at the sword fight and she leaves, and Jay learns a lesson about how Auradon is sexist and really, thematically, the whole Lonnie thing was there as a way to have him acknowledge a good thing about his Isle heritage. In the first movie, she's there as the catalyst for the VKs to realize parents who love their kids treat them differently. In the second movie, she's there as a catalyst for Jay to realize that his upbringing had some positive aspects, too. (Granted, you could also make a real argument for Jay's arc in D2 being crafted around the idea "Lonnie but Mulan now" as an afterthought. Like, Lonnie is given more attention in that subplot than Jay is. But I think that's more symptomatic of the series never really knowing what to do with either of them.) But the writing likes her. Like, it doesn't care about her, but it likes her. She's treated like candy; they toss her in there as a treat.

The writing doesn't like Audrey, but it cares about Audrey. Her feelings get focus and have weight. She's not just there to do cool stuff or give focus to the protagonist's feelings or remind people of a good movie Disney made years before this one; she's a character with feelings and beliefs and experiences that are interrogated and explored. Not very well, but I'd say about as well as anyone's are. Like, how well do we know Mal? What does Mal believe in? What does Mal care about? What does Mal want? I would say we can answer those questions in about as much detail for Mal as we can for Audrey.

What does Lonnie want? Well, she wanted to join the R.O.A.R. team, and she did that now. I don't know what she wants now. What does she like? ...Cookies? Sword-fighting? What does she dislike? ...? Who is she close friends with? Who isn't she friends with? What, in the land of meticulously color-coded characters, is Lonnie's color?? Was she into R.O.A.R. in the first movie? She never seemed to be characterized as sporty until D2. She disappeared in D3. Why did she have that haircut if she didn't like it?? Lonnie is not insecure and does not have a strained relationship with her mother like Jane, so why does she have so little agency in her appearance? On a day to day basis, what do we expect Lonnie to habitually do? Well, she's captain of the R.O.A.R. team now, as of the end of the last movie she appears in, so...probably that. (In comparison, we know that Jane organizes school/kingdom events and sometimes delivers messages to her mother. We know Evie has a lucrative design business. We know that Audrey is a cheerleader and has been since before we met her, we know Audrey hangs out with Chad between classes, we know she's close to Flora, Fauna, and Merryweather.) That's the thing, is that we have little details of Lonnie that we can use to craft her character if we want to, but it's work the filmmakers didn't care to do. We know that Lonnie has a good relationship with her mom, we know that she likes and is good at sword fighting, we know that she's generally positive and energetic, and we know that she used to have a haircut she didn't like. I can't visualize a day in the life of Lonnie based on that; I would have to use my imagination and make up new things about her.

So, Audrey is a character who is treated spitefully by the writing, but she is a character who is allowed to feel and express feelings that are informed by her own wants, beliefs, and experiences. Lonnie cries in the first movie because she finds out the VKs' parents are neglectful, then in D2 she doesn't blink an eye when she goes to the actual island where villains and their kids live in squalor. Why? Because it's not plot-relevant for her to care, so she doesn't.

#disney descendants #li lonnie #princess audrey rose #sorry i organized this by ideas so some of the paragraphs are long

[magnorious]

Review: The Last Airbender Episode 1 - “Aang”

“Long ago, the four nations lived in harm-”

Lol nope. What is it with writers these days fumbling exposition? You had a template, and you botched it.

I nitpicked the heck out of Disney’s Percy Jackson because if you say you’re going to adapt a book, it’s not a very far leap in logic to hope the script might follow said book. But aside from the likes of Twilight, following the source material as it was written never happens.

Netflix had an even easier job. Netflix already had the show they were adapting in a visual medium. Netflix could have gone two ways with this: Shot-for-shot remake just with live action actors, or with an “inspired by” vibe that takes familiar characters, story beats, and themes but tries to make something new with their shameless cash grab.

So, they wanted to take a beloved children’s cartoon and make it gritty and realistic… okay. Sure. No one asked for that and it shouldn’t be embarrassing for any adult to sit down and *gasp* watch a cartoon. For kids.

The original remains amazing, top-tier storytelling, so instead of these reviews stating the obvious “original did X better, why didn’t they do it that way?” we’ll look at the show as if the original didn’t exist… unless it just goes the route of Disney and Amazon and slaps a famous IP on the title screen without making any attempt to stay true to the original just to get butts in seats.

—

We open 100 years ago in Caldera (renamed generic Capital City) with a pretty decent fight scene and special effects. The choreography is solid, the tone is way darker – and so is the lighting, I had to shut the blinds and turn my laptop brightness all the way up – and it establishes pretty quickly that this is Not Your Kids Cartoon Anymore, even if the fight is bloodless.

*Side note: That no one has a Japanese accent in the Fire Nation is… surprising? I know it’s not actual Japan, I know the original didn’t have any accents, but that they’re going for the whole “gritty realism” vibe and didn’t white-wash the cast, not giving them any accent feels like a bit of a missed opportunity. Just the adults, even. Iroh had an accent in the cartoon.

The costumes are also amazing. The original is still a feat of animation but being able to see all the ornate detail in the costumes, particularly in the Fire Nation, is fantastic. The Water Tribe costumes don’t feel quite so lived-in. The colors are still vibrant, there’s no stains, no wear. They don’t reflect the weariness of a remote village still suffering the effects of a hundred-year-long war. Zuko’s scar doesn’t feel quite as gnarly as it could be, more like a very bad bruise and not the remnants of a 3rd degree burn (but at least it’s not on the wrong side). He still has his entire eyebrow and full visibility.

Sozin is amazing, too. Right off the bat he’s shown as clever, cunning, and violent. The original was limited by Nickelodeon’s censorship, so even though it was a kids’ show and they did amazing still scaring kids without showing the violence (like a graphic depiction of Zuko getting his scar), these are firebenders, and fire burns.

… Though if you’re twelve and watching this expecting a fun adventure, watching a man get burned alive in the first 5 minutes wakes you up right quick. I heard a rumor that they wanted to fill the Game of Thrones vacuum and, yeah, they went for it.

Is there a reason they didn’t lift the original opening narration straight from the old script? It was fine! It’s iconic! This feels like a student cracked open a thesaurus for their essay just to sound smarter. Gran Gran gets to deliver it and that is an... interesting choice.

They did salvage some of the original music, and hearing Aang’s theme and the foreboding horns of the Fire Nation theme redone was ear candy, along with the Sun Warrior chant in the end credits. During Aang’s escape from Zuko’s ship, however, the score sounded uncannily like the battle music from The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. 

*Side side note: One nitpick. One little nitpick, I think I’m allowed. Aang cannot fly without his staff. It’s a convenient and logical cap on his abilities and there was no reason to not keep it in.

On the one hand, opening the series with the Air Nomad genocide establishes immediately that the Fire Nation is led by an evil warmonger. On the other hand, slowly weaving in that exposition over the first few episodes, culminating with “The Storm” took what we thought was a lighthearted adventure and made it so much more. That reveal in “The Storm” still makes it one of the best episodes of the show.

Gyatso is perfect. The casting is perfect. “Gritty realism” or not, they did their homework on Gyatso. The only voice actor that left a hole not-quite filled is Iroh’s. He doesn’t quite sound like the wizened old sage, just… a guy. Through no fault of his actor’s, he’s solid, he’s just not quite Iroh.

—

While the worldbuilding is fine and all the extra additions in the beginning are entertaining… the original cartoon was limited to a cable-bound, 30-minute time slot, with commercials. They did their best to pack as much as they could within that time limit for every episode and you weren’t left wanting. It was also animated and every single frame cost money to draw. Creativity thrives in a box and not having endless Netflix money forced them to do the best with what they had.

With all this room and time to kill on Netflix it loses that tightly-woven polish. Scenes linger and add in dialogue that could have been concise and short. This show marinates, where the original was multitasking in every shot – developing the characters, the world, the story, the lore, the relationships.

In the time it took an entire animated episode, this show front-loaded all the exposition and mysteries to be slowly teased and solved through the first half of the season. We’re not left wondering how Aang survived the Air Nomad massacre. We’re not wondering why he wasn’t there, we’re not wondering who he is and slowly learning him with each episode. Curious now if the “The Storm” episode will even exist.

When Aang takes Sokka and Katara to the Southern Air Temple, neither know exactly what happened beyond that it was bad, and Aang has no clue his people have been destroyed, that it’s been 100 years. This time, the trio and the audience already have that information so the oomph of seeing the aftermath, of seeing Gyatso, doesn’t hit as hard as it should.

The themes, the personalities, the motivations of the characters so far still feel like them, even with all the extra fluff. Aang remains a reluctant chosen one, a twelve-year old with too much responsibility on his shoulders – even if he explicitly ran away after eavesdropping on Gyato’s conversation about sending him away and didn’t just happen to be gone while his home was destroyed.

Everyone except Iroh, which is a shame. He reads less as a “concerned surrogate father figure trying to raise an angsty, bratty, entitled teenager” and more “old man who’s too old for his nephew’s BS so he patronizes instead of showing any genuine support.”

About the only major element that didn’t get the love it deserves is the humor. Aang’s abrupt “will you go penguin sledding with me?” right after he wakes up is just one of many missing lines. Game of Thrones had plenty of funny characters, a show can be gritty *and* funny and he’s still twelve, he’s allowed to be a little cringey and ridiculous.

For a shameless cash grab remake that lost the original writers and took forever to finally air, this is a lot better than I expected it to be. The script isn’t perfect and there’s some lines that aren’t well-executed, but no actor phoned in their performance and visually it looks amazing. The writers did their homework and, so far, even if they refuse to make it a kids’ show, they’re still making Avatar: The Last Airbender.

#avatar #last airbender #netflix #avatar the last airbender #review

[sibillascribbles08]

1, 10, and 16 for the violence

I know you're not into rise but here's some tea

the character everyone gets wrong

Draxum. Like yeah I know this man tossed a teenager off a roof, put them in a cage, and threatened to destroy humanity but the fact that everyone assumes he'd be needlessly cruel to even the people working under him is buck wild. Do you see those gargoyles? They are unbelievably silly and probably botch their jobs 80% of the time but they still HAVE a job. Draxum lets them chill on his shoulders. When he accidentally made a meat child he was just like "guess I'm raising this now". And yeah maybe his redemption was kinda crunched together due to what happened to season 2 but he blatantly admits he cares about the turtles AND Splinter in the finale. This man is not heartless ! Even if he's determined to reach his end goals he's not gonna be physically beat the shit out of underlings major yikes. One fic I'm reading actually gets him right and like thank GOD

10. worst part of fanon

There's a lot of minor things that grind my gears but the most prevalent one is people acting like Donnie is only logic, doesn't do feelings, and additionally never wants to be touched. Like all of these things are blatantly false within the show. Donnie has VERY intense emotions that he will follow on a whim (even if he's not always aware of this) and additionally hugs his family a lot, even if he has a preference for initiating contact it doesn't meant he hates it. A lot of people take this too far in the sense of "Donnie would be a villain so easily" like, why? Because he didn't react to a man getting mutated? In one episode he goes after something the Purple Dragons are working on that doesn't even effect them directly because Donnie is just as into this hero thing as his bros are.

Personal ramble, it's why even in Off Colors where he's raised by Draxum he may come off as a hammy villain but his ultimate goal is to protect mutants/yokai.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

Okay I don't wanna name the comic or artist, people can like what they like, whatever, but there is one I see stuff about all the time that has the most OOC Rise Leo I've ever fucking seen and it's WILD to me that it's as popular as it is. Probably cause of the angst factor involved? But like who are these characters. Not the ones I saw in the show/movie that's for sure. That's all I'm gonna say on the matter.

Also it's not nearly as prevalent anymore but there was this massive trend of having AUs where Big Mama was a good mom which like she wouldn't be unless you rewrote her entire character. She'd literally be the worst parent in the show. Yes even worse than Draxum. Even worse than the Foot Clan leaders. I will not be moved on this.

#scribs speaks #course this isn't going in the tag #Big Mama would treat her children like accessories at BEST #some more recent AUs get it right #like if they don't end up being raised to rain destruction in her money making blood sport then they're LUCKY #this is the woman who apparently dated a man for fourteen years and got proposed to and then dragged his ass into a death arena #and then KEPT HIM THERE EVEN WHEN HE STOPPED FIGHTING #you think she can raise a kid? HAH #okay anyway

[marshmallowprotection]

I really wanna play with the twins' and Jumin and Vandy' hair. The twins look like their hair is curly but super soft, Jumin's looks really silky, and Vanderwood? I wanna Plat with it and braid it.

Part of it comes from my trichotilliomania probably, as I don't so much as pull my head hair out but comb it with my fingers/play with it. (Eyelashes, eyebrows, and other hair? Fair game)

Anyways, I also think that all versions of Saeran have hair that smells like cotton candy or a bit like strawberry shortcake (I have this hair mousse that smells like that for some reason-). I dunno if it's the white color with pinkish tips or what, but his hair looks like it smells sweet.

TLDR, I wanna play with Jumin, Vandy, and the Choi bois hair. And probably Zen's.

That's close to what I imagined! I figured GE Saeran uses something with strawberry and/or vanilla. He is the kind of person that would do something for his hair that wouldn't overwhelm him scent wise but is nice enough to make him feel good when he steps out of the shower. I didn't consider cotton candy but that's a good guess, too! I'm sure it would bring a smile to his face if you wanted to play with his hair. The bleach and botched dye jobs didn't do him much good.

He's nervous that you might not like the texture or feel of his hair because of it. It's got a long way to go before it heals properly, so knowing that you don't mind that... and that you want to help him without fail... well, it makes him feel a lot better about it. He will melt into your embrace... he will sigh and fall asleep at the edge of the tub if you start playing with his hair when he's in the bath.

I would argue that each of them has a different scent, though. Ray using something overwhelmingly floral and earthy. Suit Saeran using something that has to be akin to Axe or the strongest musky smell in existence that makes you gag. Unknown has a scent that's almost... well, unsettling clean, like a hospital with a metallic tint. SE Saeran is something sweet, so cotton candy might pass here!

#ask #anon #mod kait #saeran choi #choi saeran #mystic messenger

[mrspritestories]

Regular Show - Fluffy Surprise (Mordeson)

The wind blew through Mordecai’s feathers as he grumpily sat in the front passenger seat of the Park’s cart, wherein the back seat, there was a cardboard box filled with gardening tools.

An aggravated sigh melded into the environment, catching the attention of his boss as he drove through California's quiet streets.

Eventually, Benson finally gave in to the attitude his employer was indirectly sending him as he stopped at a red sign. “What?”. He bitterly contested as he finally gazed at him. “Is there something you want to tell me??”.

Not wanting to give the driver the dignity of eye contact, the blue jay sunk further into his seat while watching over some random view to his right.

Yet, he was prepared to run his mouth. “Oh, nothing! It’s just that I don’t see the problem of why Rigby and I couldn’t handle this job by ourselves! We’re not as reckless as you think, Benson!”.

“Excuse me?!”. Asked a flabbergasted manager, whose subsequent reaction was to facepalm. “You must be joking!! Are you seriously still sulking over that?!”.

“Yes, I fucking am!!”. He snarled, now fully scowling at his gumball superior. “You’re no fun at all. You know that?!”.

“Look at all the fucks I give!! After what happened last time, I can’t trust you, idiots, to do a simple job to grab the damn plants for the park!”. Finishing barking his frustration at him, he caught sight of the green color in the traffic light, which led him to hit the acceleration paddle. “In fact, I don’t even know why I sometimes bother sending you in these jobs since you two never take them seriously!”.

Silence outstretched between them as Mordecai eventually botched a raspberry.

“If you wanted to be alone with me, you could have just said so”.

Benson’s eyes widened at that mean-spirited teasing before he angrily sighed. “T-That’s… n-not true!! If I brought Rigby along, it would be more trouble for me!! He’s much better off with Muscle Man and Fives!”. He paused. “B-Besides… I-I need help to carry the trees into the cart, and you… just so happen to be strong enough for that!”.

A smile spread into the jay's beak for the first time since he hopped into the cart.

A more cunning one, but nevertheless, his mood was beginning to lighten up as he unlocked his arms and comfortably glimpsed at the gumball machine.

“Hmph~! Hmph~! Flirting on the job, Ben~? How professional~”.

“Shut it”.

Mordecai laughed at his boss’s endeavor to act intimidating, yet it ultimately failed, for he saw his cheeks broadcast a darker shade while fumbling random noises under his breath.

It was pretty adorable watching him all flustered.

It suited him to a tee.

Until his peripheral vision took control of his brain out of nowhere, inciting the blue jay to catch a glimpse of something onwards.

Something that made him shriek, forcing a distracted Benson to hit the brakes with both feet.

When the cart reached a screeching halt, the poor gumball machine placed a hand on his metallic chest to catch his bearings. However, that didn’t last long, as he was dead set on offering his slacker a good piece of his mind for jump-scaring him like that. Unfortunately, he was much too late to do so as, without hesitation, he witnessed Mordecai jump out of the cart and stand in front of the golf cart.

“Look; kitty-kitty~”.

Benson was perplexed, but hearing those ear-catching words immediately led him to straighten his back while his hands firmly held the steering wheel to take a better look.

Only for him to let out a short soft gasp; a tiny kitten, seemingly coming from the sidewalk, was gradually coming closer to his employer.

Mordecai squatted down, smiling softly at the little furry lion as it rubbed its head on his legs. “Hey, buddy~! You’re not supposed to be on the road~”. He carefully picked it up with one hand before standing up. “Gotcha~! Who would lose such a c-“.

Meow! Mew! Meooow!

Suddenly, an ambush happened; a group of about nine kittens materialized out of thin air, rapidly running towards the blue jay and encircling his feet for tenderness.

“What the-?!”.

This undoubtedly surprised the young bird as he nervously chuckled at the little invaders, promptly positioning the held kitten back on the floor.

During that, the older gumball machine was astonished and quickly covered his mouth at the adorableness ensuing right in front of his eyes. That then altered to laughing at his slacker, observing the scene of him trying to move his feet and walk away from them, only to be pursued after.

It is as if the felines had the gaming physics of rubber bands, believing Mordecai was their feline mother.

That put a smile on Benson’s face, but as he pondered better what was happening, he got out of the cart and removed the gardening tools out of the box.

“Mordecai! Bring them here!”.

Soon after, his employer accomplished so by steadily strolling towards the cart, successfully getting the little babies’ attention and having them move to where he wanted.

“This is so awesome~! I got my own little troops or something~!”. He beamed as he watched his boss place the wooden container on the floor and carefully arrange them inside. “Man… I wonder why they’re by themselves…”. He paused before snapping his fingers. “Maybe their mama is still around! I’ll go check it out!”.

The gumball machine endorsed his determination with a nod. “Good idea! I’ll stay with the kittens”. He stated, occupied making sure the furry infants were cozy in the crate.

And on that memo, the blue jay took off to where presumably the kittens emanated from.

-

Some few minutes passed, with Benson cheerfully playing with the babies by wiggling his fingers in the air and seeing them jump to snag them. Until he heard someone drawing near, leading him to stop and turn around.

It was his slacker… whose facial expression was stone cold.

“M-Mordecai?”. He worryingly raised the question. “What’s wrong? You didn’t find her?”.

Silence.

And a pretty nerve-racking one, as Benson’s brain began wandering to overwhelming conclusions about why his always jumpy and annoying bird was expressing such an erratic and tense demeanor.

“I…”. Mordecai stuttered on his words before he gave up and sighed with his head hanging low. “I’m sorry, Ben”.

Why was he apologizing to him?

Without conveying a word, Benson ran past him to discover for himself what was going on since his employer didn’t seem up to par to exchange anything. As he scanned the tall grass, he went deeper and deeper away until he froze like a rock.

His eyes were quivering, instantly moving his head to the side to obstruct the devastating sight seen on the soil.

Mordecai ultimately met up with Benson but uttered nothing. That was until he heard a faint sob, which startled the bird, proceeding to induct his attention on his boss.

Tears were spilling out of the gumball machine’s eyes as he shut them in the urge to fight off.

Yet, it was deemed impossible.

Seeing people cry in front of him was always awkward for Mordecai.

Not knowing how to react or what to do.

Still, he felt compelled to do something as he understood this was something that affected his boss on a deeper level. And thus, he positioned a hand on his shoulder.

The environment was hushed.

A gentle breeze of a wind blew by them, enabling their disturbed bodies to cool off.

“Those kittens… Those poor kittens’ mother…”. Mumbled a shaky manager, who was choking on his own weepings. “All alone during her labor… No one to help her… F-Fuck!”. He covered his face.

Mordecai sighed. “Man… What a shitty way to go… I bet she would have made an awesome mom to those fluff balls”.

Darting away, his sad expression was automatically exchanged for a fierce one as he ran away, leaving his puzzled superior behind.

The blue jay returned shortly after, but he was carrying a shovel this time.

“W-What… What are you doing?”. Asked the park manager.

“Well, we can’t just let her stay like this! The least we could do is give her a proper tomb, ya know?”.

Benson held himself before weakly nodding at his reasoning. “Y-Yeah… Let’s do it”.

-

After scooping the remaining dirt, Mordecai shoved the shovel into the ground as he leaned on it for composure. He watched his sad boss kneeling on the new burial ground, setting a hand on it.

Both mourned the loss of the fluffy motherly figure by saying absolutely nothing.

Until Mordecai lifted his head. “Mama cat… We promise to do whatever means possible to give your babies a proper home and a good life. You just relax up there and…”. Now it was the jay’s time to sob, but he rapidly brushed his tears aside. “Rest in peace, okay~?”.

A kiss was heard, ushering the manager to monitor his employer, throwing his fist into the air.

It was an unproductive move, yet Benson grinned. “That… was very sweet of you~”. He meaningfully declared, unhurriedly wiping his tears with his arm. Yet, he quietly wept again. “I… I’m scared, Mordecai… What if… What if this happens to Mochi?”.

“What??”. A skeptical Mordecai stared at his boss with wide-open eyes. “Benson, no!! Don’t say that! Mochi is in perfect hands because you’re always making sure she’s fine!”. He kneeled to his level, putting a hand on his shoulder again. “You know this is different, right? The poor mama was in the middle of nowhere!”.

“I understand, but still!! W-What if it’s not e-“.

He couldn’t finalize his sentence as he felt his body enveloped by a pair of feathery arms.

Ones that led him to give in and burst into tears on his employer’s chest. And Mordecai fully allowed him as he kissed his head to console him.

Eventually, the gumball machine eased down. “S-Sorry… I…”. He let out an awkward giggle. “I didn’t mean to go overboard… and make this super weird for you. It’s just… these things just get to me…”. He sighed. “Guess in the end… I’ll always be a sensitive loser…”.  

Mordecai smiled while raising his shoulders. “You think you got it bad? I cry watching stupid kids’ movies!”. He softly laughed. “But for real, Ben; think nothing of it~ It’s pretty natural the way you’re feeling right now! And if others make fun of you for that; then I’ll make sure they’ll regret that decision”.

Although it was shocking to hear such a stern tone in his slacker’s voice – especially on that last threatening comment – it was still heartwarming to listen to those words.

It truly made him feel so loved and endorsed.

A chuckle left his lips as he smooched his cheek, resulting in the bird melting in pure bliss.

“Thank you~”. Slowly untangling himself from his arms, he went to grab the shovel. “Now, let’s hurry up on getting those trees, okay? The sooner we do this, the faster I get to go find homes for the kittens”.

“I?”. He recited in confusion.

“Umm… Yeah?”.

“Ben~! Didn’t you hear my whole monologue? We’re in this together~!”. He confidently remarked as he crossed his arms. “C’mon; like hell, I’m letting you do this by yourself~ I want to give those babies a home just as much as you do!”.

The park manager was impressed at what he was paying attention to, leading him to smile warmly. “You know, I find your goofy side charming and all… but I like it when you show me your mature side. It’s quite nice~”.

“Eh~ It does feel good, but don’t get used to it~”. He gave him a sly wink, followed by sprinting away. “Last one to the cart has to do a solid!!”.

“What?! Mordecai!!”. He tiredly moaned but gradually spun to look at the floor.

He noticed a bush of blossoms nearby, leading him to pick one up and gently set it on the burial ground.

“Rest well, sweetheart. You’ll be missed”.

And thus, Benson walked away.

#Regular Show #mordeson #mordecai regular show #benson regular show #benson dunwoody #some angst #fluff #MrSpriteStories

[ennaku-sirri-da]

Uyir-kaga eluthukal ( Letters for life )

[ ID: Small sized digital fanart of Putunia Mollar, Jimothan Botch and Trencil Varnnia from Smile For Me the game. Trencil and Jimothan are close to game style while Putunia is more in the artists simplified semi realistic one. The sketch is somewhat messy and is flatly colored.

The changes to her are scruffier hair, a visible big nose, a toned down reddish-brown skin tone and the dress she wears is simply patterned like a purple petunia such as the skirt bottom having a splash of spotting.

Jimothan gestures to the first vowel of the Tamil alphabet written in a book that is 'A' pronounced like the 'u' in 'nun'. There are papers, pencils and a rubber scattered behind this book. Jimothan is saying," A for Annam" which means swan. Putunia is sitting in his lap and leaning forward horizontally to the open alphabet book. She says "A-A-A..." but Jim corrects her," No baby it's "Ah"..."

Jim is wearing a baniyan and blue dhoti. Behind him Trencil garlands his arms around Jim's neck, listening to it all with a neutral expression. The background is a pale gradient of green, yellow, red. End ID]

--

HAHA get it, get my pun, does anyone get my Tam pun🥸( disguise emoji with glasses and moustache indicating amusement in this context)

But yeah since Tunia has the heritage, but due to her circumstances she does not know her parents and didn't have a chance to learn her mother tongue, later on Jimothan teaches her from scratch best as he can. He isn't a teacher by job but he sure can darn try atleast for the basics. Tunia calls it's her "Tamil Tution" with "Jim-Appa"!!! He isn't a 100% serious and boring in it all the time, come on guys this is our community daughter. He does uppu-muttai with her, which is like.

You carry around someone like a 'salt bag' and keep asking how much people will pay for them, like those guys who sell things on the road. However once he gets a high bid Jim simply says she's too precious to give sorryyyyy X ) (X eyed face emote with smile ) !!

And you know, I projected here BUT I think since he did not like, grow up a Lot in Russia in my HC but was US-raised then as for his own language, Habit can speak reasonably well in casual conversation but more formal stuff and bigger words are lost on him. He can write the script from muscle memory since he was taught when young but he didn't use it much later anymore in an English world, so he cannot form many written words on his own. And he can't read very well. So yeah there's a lot of room for improvement if he'd like and I'm learning too hdjdjdh yanno.

BUT! He has an accent doesn't he? Correct me if this sounds contrived BUT for that one I reasoned that his parents were just-arrived immigrants, so he probably picked up their speech patterns ( But mostly from his mother and also his uncle who helped her raise him in the early years as her husband's brother-in-law and her own brother ). Uncle Grigory lives back in Russia though( I'll figure out a specific place) and later on he only sees him during month-long vacations. And the last thing was that Habit really did not interact well with so many people as he grows up more so that relative isolation might be a factor too. That said considering everything( it would fade) the accent probably isn't like thick, but noticeable if you listen.

Anywayyy what I wanted to say is that Habit probably tries to learn more about this stuff too either self taught or with help and I like to imagine Putunia and him bouncing off what they've learned that day with each other. Also they make each other say things in the other's language just to hear them butcher it LMAO Putunia I BET as a Certified Baby Kid just, catches Habit's face and pulls it around to make him say the sounds like stretching him for " EEEEE" SHES PUPPETING HIM 🥺 ( pleading emoji )

Fun fact: There is actually a Super Special Hatch at the back of Habit's head and if you find it, open it, and stick your grubby hands in then you can PUPPET HIM AND MAKE HIM SAY WHATEVER STUPID THING YOU WANT!!!!!!

#i say #txt #jimothan botch #Putunia mollar #Habitician #habiticians #s4m #smile for me game #trencil varnnia #dr habit #(talked abt in the description) #my headcanons #headcanons #roseverse #au #s4m au #fanart #my art

[latibulesims]

Hello, Lati! So, since I'm "new" to the Sims 2 Filming Community, I mean, I've always played the Sims 2 since 2005, but I've always had stories in my head that I wanted to film, and now I'm ready to make it happen, but my actual question is, since I'm thinking of making a VO Series, should I start with subtitles since I don't have any subscribers yet? I love your series, The Rivers and Foundings, and I love your filming style a lot. I hope that I can film like you one day too! But I also wanted to ask you, did you start with subtitles too? And since I literally have no subscribers, I don't know if anyone would be interested in being a part of a new series, so yeah, what would you advise me? 🤔

Plus My series has a lot of characters since my series is inspired by many series, mainly Game of Thrones, so that's another "problem" I guess 😪

Hiii <3

First of all, welcome!! It's always so nice to meet up-and-coming sims 2 directors, especially in 2022!!

DISCLIAMER: This is just my experience with everything! I don't think that's how everyone feels (many people still do subtitle series, and they do a FANTASTIC job at it, this is just my advise to you as someone who wants to do VO series from the get go).

I don't think it's absolutely necessary to start with a subtitle series! I did start off making subtitle series, and it did not exactly ease me into making a voice over series for the first time. I'll explain why:

Basically, a subtitle series is very different from a VO series. Sure, filming subtitle series before I did a VO helped make sure I knew how to FILM (how to manage the parameters, camera movement, how to pose the sims, what animations to use, etc), but it didn't make my transition to a VO series any easier in terms of SOUND EDITING. Which, really, is what makes or breaks a VO series!

MY EXPERIENCE WITH GOING FROM SUBTITLE TO VO: When I first started The Rivers, my first VO series, the sound quality was (to me) just God awful. I have a hard time rewatching the first couple of episodes because of it. The audio of my VAs were botched because I didn't know how to edit their background noises, the sound effects/ambience were off or too low, and the music was WAY too high. It probably doesn't bother viewers much, but as a director who's been doing VO for 6 years now, it bothers me a LOT. And back in 2016, I had already been doing subtitle series for 6 years, so I can honestly say from experience that, where sound editing is concerned, having previously worked on subtitle series didn't really do anything for me when it came to creating a VO series.

TIPS IF YOU'RE JUST STARTING: If, like you said, you've never started filming, I would advise that you start off making short machinimas instead of jumping head first into a VO series, especially a fantasy series with a lot of characters. Filming short machinimas (under 5 minutes long) is great because you can practice filming, pacing, sims making, set/world building, coloring, etc... Without it being a super large commitment. I definitely recommend them, ESPECIALLY if you don't plan on starting off with a subtitle series.

Like I said, having a subtitle series before a VO series did nothing for me in terms of sound editing, but it helped make sure I start off my VO series with decent(ish) filming and pacing (though it has evolved a lot from that, but we're always evolving)! I used to make SO many short machinimas before and during my transition to VO, and they helped a lot. I don't do them anymore, because I don't think I need to since I found my style, but they were a lot of fun.

It'll also help a lot with your engagement, because it's a perfect way to introduce people to your series. Not everyone will be inclined to sit down and watch a full episode without knowing much about your filming and writing style, but people will always have time to watch a quick, short video. That's how I made my first friends in the community, that gave me to push to transition to VO!

SUBSCRIBER COUNT AND VOICE ACTORS: When I first announced The Rivers, I actually announced it as a subtitle series. Like you, I barely had any subscribers (would get maybe 4-6 likes on a video, despite having done it for a few years), and did not think anyone would be interested in auditioning.

I don't think the subtitle series I was publishing at that time was what helped me gain enough fraction to decide to make the switch to VO. It was actually a mix of both machinima shorts I was putting out, and me trying to become more involved in the community. I would comment on people's stuff, engage with them on twitter and other socials, and just try to make friends. The sims machinima community, especially the sims 2 machinima community, is VERY tiny. Which has its perks, because we're quick to welcome each other since there's so few of us left. I would advise that you get on Twitter (if you do, let me know so I can follow you there, hehe). From there, you can post a casting call whenever you're ready, and I (and i'm sure other directors in the community) will be happy to RT to give it some engagement!

ON A SIDE NOTE, Don't be afraid to request voice actors! When I was holding auditions for The Rivers, I barely had any male voice actors auditioning for my series, so I ended up requesting most of them (like Jonah and Noah's VAs). I also ended up requesting VAs for The Foundlings (like Alec's VA), even though I had subscribers at that point! There's no shame in requesting VAs when you haven't found the perfect voice for the characters you had in mind :)

CONCLUDING THOUGHTS It is difficult to gain engagement as a sims 2 director. I don't want to pretend that it isn't. It's very rare to have the numbers that Sims 4 directors make, because people don't want to give a game as old as The Sims 2 a shot. But if you're looking to share your story with a group of passionate bunch, then don't be afraid to give it a shot :) And i'm happy to help with rt-ing or reblogging! x

Hope this helps!! Please let me know if you have any other questions. I know it took me some time to reply to this one, but I always enjoy answering these asks, especially if it means making the way for more Sims 2 directors lol <3

#ask lati #latips #sims machinima #the sims 2 machinima

[system-contact]

Rules

Below is the basic rules of interaction for this blog. There's no password or anything to prove you read it, we're working on the honor system, but hey, if you want something fun to do, you can send me your favorite color! Just for fun!

This is a semi-selective 18+ blog. I will only write para with mutuals for the time being! However, OoC interactions (questions/asks/memes) don’t require being mutuals. You (the mun) must be 18+ to follow/interact. No NSFW or suggestive interactions will be permitted or accepted with underage characters. No ifs, ands, or buts about it, this is a hard line. Roleplay in the form of chat, asks, short-form, and long-form (para and multi-paragraph) are all welcome.

I am a singlet. While I am going to be doing my best to research and treat Fei’s DID with gentle hands (as the game unarguably botched in many part), I will inevitably fuck up. Please feel free to call me on any singlet bullshit that slips through the cracks, my aim is to treat DID with care and respect that it very much deserves, and I am always open to learning, being corrected, and listening first and foremost to the voices of those who experience it.

Canon characters, OCs, or crossover characters are entirely welcome! (I will try and look into your fandom as best I can for the latter!) Verses/interactions/AUs will be tagged accordingly so you (& I) can keep track. Excessively long posts will be hidden behind read mores or otherwise trimmed down.

Bigots begone. If you (the mun) are a TERF, SWERF, racist, transphobe, homophobe, fascist or neo-nazi, antisemite or otherwise religiously bigoted, or any other purveyor of hateful beliefs, you will get a big fat block-on-sight. You are on the wrong blog.

Mun =/= Muse. I am NOT my character, and my character is NOT me. I’m just a goblin on the internet writing for a character I don’t own. Assume all posts are in-character unless otherwise stated with the associated #ooc tag or with indicated OOC text. My characters actions and beliefs do not reflect my own.

Please be polite and courteous. Don’t be rude/hateful/harassing to me OoC. That’s not cool. You can be rude to the character, though, go for it. Give them a noogie and shove them in a dumpster. ALSO, please be aware that I have a day job and do commission work. I may be a little slow to reply sometimes. You are free to politely poke me if it’s been a little while, but I am definitely going to have my slower moments. I thank you very much for your patience. ♡

Don’t metagame or godmode. C'mon, friendo, be cool. That will not fly here, I am way too old to have patience with that stuff. Respect is key. I control my character, you control yours, unless we have mutually negotiated otherwise for any reason.

Tagging/Trigger Warnings: I will do my very best to tag and TW all content that I can for the comfort of partners and readers alike. This blog, however, will concern dark concepts, and WILL contain mentions of said dark topics. All threads containing sensitive topics will be hidden behind read mores. But, if you need anything specific tagged, please do not hesitate to shoot me a message! I will absolutely make sure to tag them for you. I highly encourage discussing and agreeing on boundaries and limits prior if you are interested in RP, and I will happily adjust my writing to meet them! Consent is absolutely critical and to be respected.

I don’t have exclusives, nor do I have plans for that at this time. I may have mains, however, still deciding.

And finally, three strikes, you’re out. I will always do my best to talk through any issues, I much prefer to solve problems amicably. However, I have my limits. If the behaviour continues past the initial addressing, I will end all current interactions immediately. If you persist in the behaviour, you will be permanently blocked.

#ooc ;; lizard mecha

[flareish]

The Bet

bokuto x reader

summary: Bokuto makes a bet with himself where you end up dying his hair

genre: fluff

warning: swearing, a couple suggestive remarks, quick kiss

word count: 1.3k

a/n: so apparently no one nows what Bokuto’s natural hair color is so I’m assuming its his root color and that he does dye his hair. I’m basing this all off the one time coach ukai called bokuto “frosted tips” 

“Hey y/n! Watch this!” Bokuto calls out to you where you are sitting on the bleachers watching practice. You look up and he continues.

“If I make this spike you have to dye my hair.” Bokuto has already decided you've already agreed.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea-“ Bokuto signals to his team mates to get get ready.

“Don’t worry I got this.” Wasn’t what you were worried about.

“I’ve never dyed hair before-“ His teammates are laughing so hard they can barely jump.

“Ready!” Bokuto jumps up and spikes the ball. His teammates barely get off the ground and he spikes it with ease. You're not sure if it's because they want to see the aftermath of you dying his hair or because they were too busy laughing to even try.

“Feel free to do your worst,” Akaashi walks up to you, “it will be more entertaining if it comes out botched. Might teach him something too.”

“You might think it’s funny but I’ll never hear the end of it.” You grumble, knowing that every argument from then on it would be brought up.

“Why you date him, the world will never know.” Akaashi says jokingly as he walks away.

“Have you seen his ass?” You yell back laughing. Akaashi rolls his eyes but can’t deny it.

“You better be talking about my ass!” Bokuto yells from across the court.

“You bet.” You smirk at him and he bounces his eyebrows suggestively at you.

The two of you are now in his bathroom. Practice is long over and now you must complete Bokuto’s bet. Maybe demand would be a better term.

“You are aware I have never dyed hair before, right?” You ask him as he boosts himself onto the counter top.

“Yeah but it's not that hard,” He says dismissively, “besides I’m here to walk you through it.” You were pretty sure it was hard. I mean have you seen how many failed hair dying videos there are. You were also worried about how helpful Bokuto’s help would actually be. You’ve seen him explain things purely in noises. 

“Alrighty mix up a bit of this, with some of that in this bowl.” He points the stuff out to you and you go to work. 

“What is it?” You ask as you begin mixing.

“The powder is bleach and the bottle has developer in it,” He explains, “Since my natural hair is pretty dark I can’t just dye it otherwise it won’t show up, so this lightens it.”

“Oh you know a lot about this.” You say 

“Well I do this everytime my hair grows,” He passes you something, “Here this is an applicator, just brush the bleach on the ends of my hair.” You stir around the bleach mixture and get a good amount of product on the applicator.

“Isn’t there supposed to be a cap and a hook thing that you pull your hair through?” You question, having seen a video using one. You step over in between his legs and begin applying product. He has to tilt his head down because he’s so damn tall.

“What do we look like? Professionals?” Bokuto laughs at the idea. 

“There was one in the kit but it takes forever so I threw it out,” He says, “I’m better than it anyway.”

“Oh yeah of course you are.” You say sarcastically.

“Woah was that sarcasm.” He says lifting his head to pick a fight. You play fight often over simple stuff, all lighthearted of course. You’re both argumentative people, it’s your love language. Besides from touch cause this boy in handsy.

“You sure you want to pick a fight right now,” You point the applicator at him threateningly, “It’s your hair on the line here.” He gasps at you in offense.

“You wouldn’t.” He playfully glares at you.

“I already got permission to screw your hair up. I wouldn’t push me.” You would never actually on purpose but boy is it tempting sometimes.

“By who!” Bokuto now more interested in who betrayed him. You push in his head back down and continue working. 

“It was Akaashi wasn’t it.” He grumbles.

“Maybe, maybe not,” you mumble, “There last piece.” You take a step back to admire your work.

“Woah done already?” He hops off the counter and looks in the mirror.

“Looks good.” He says and ducks downs to kiss your lips. Its quick and sweet.

You manage to wait the twenty-so minutes for the bleach to do its thing without getting too much product everywhere. You sit on the counter when he goes in the shower to wash out the bleach. His phone dings and you see he got a snapchat from Kuroo. You open it to see Kuroo sending a shirtless selfie.

“Babe why does Kuroo send you mirror pics?” You ask giggling. His head pops out the shower. 

“Wait let me see!” You turn the phone around so he can see before the timer runs out. 

“Damn he’s fine.” Bokuto says before ducking back into the shower. “Geez just date him already.” You joke. Snapping a quick selfie, you reply to Kuroo telling him to stop stealing your man. He comes back and tells you that you’re welcome to join as well. You roll your eyes and tell him that he may change his mind after your potentially botched dye job makes him go bald. You continue back and forth with Kuroo until Bokuto comes out the shower. 

“Ready for round two.” He winks at you suggestively.

“You know it.” You hop off the counter and he takes your place.

“Now its time for the dye,” He says grabbing a couple bottles and pouring them into a new mixing bowl, “Okay now apply this to where you just bleached.” You repeat the previous process. As you go you feel some wandering hands on you.

“Are you bored already.” You ask.

“Usually I do it so I’m busy focusing but now I’m just sitting here it feels so long.” He explains.

“I’m almost done,” You scoop up the last of the product from the mixing bowl, “and done!”

“Just have to wait another twenty minutes.” He mumbles playing with your hair.

“We should dye your hair,” He says excitedly, “Then we could match!”

“No way.” You say laughing. 

Twenty minutes later and your back in the same position. Him showering and you sat on the counter. You two just talk about your days and anything else that comes up. 

“Ooh I should order food for after,” You say grabbing your phone, “What do you want?” 

“I’ve been craving a burger all day.” He says happy with that idea.

“Burgers it is.” You leave the bathroom to make a phone call for a delivery, already knowing his order. When you come back into the bathroom and Bokuto is out and drying his hair. You come up behind him and wrap your arms around his waist.

“Hey there.” He says over the noise of the hair dryer. He passes it to you, wordlessly asking you to do it. You have to push up onto you tippy toes but you manage. You run your fingers through his hair trying to get all of it dried. When it all looks dry you set the hair dryer down and try and spike it up a bit. 

“It looks pretty good,” He compliments your work, “Not a good as when I do it though.” You smack his chest and leave for his bedroom, but you were pretty happy about his compliment. He comes up behind you and throws you onto the bed. You laugh at the sudden movement as he pounces on you. He rolls the two of you over so you are on top and lets you snuggle into his side. 

You don’t mind how you spend your evenings as long as it is with him. 

#bokuto #kotaro bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokuto x reader fluff #kotaro x reader #kotaro bokuto x reader #fukurodani #fukurodani x reader #fukurodani fluff #fukurodani captain #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu oneshot #haikyuu x reader

[seancekitsch]

Out of the Rain: a Marko x Reader fic

Warnings: bloodplay goes without saying bc vamp, rough sex, dirty talk, semi public sex, telepathy?? me projecting my music taste on this fic again. drug use, fast and loose use of vampire lore bc when i write i am god and u cannot stop me. also can u tell i have like…. v clear descriptions of the setting like i used to work at the place im describing but its not in california

No one had come in for hours. What's the point of staying open? You dim some of the lights in the store, which is one of three head shops in Santa Carla, but the only one open late. You're not really sure why this is the only store that stays open, why everyone else if worried about the three am walk back to their car on a weekend night. You've never seen anything of suspicion, just sometimes that biker gang watches people shuffle out. That was almost comforting, though. People didn't like those guys, so no one would make you use your switchblade if they were around.

The bright while fluorescent lights of your typical daytime ambiance faded away, and now green light bathes you in the “mood” lighting your boss thought was a good idea. The green lighting reflects off of the glass counters, shining it back at the ceiling and making everything that much more green. It fits, you think with the overall vibe of the store. The stale scent of weed, gently and miserably covered up by some nag champa incense, always burning in at least four different spots within the store. You'd long since gotten used to the smoke in your eyes. The music does everything to add to the ambiance. You always have full control of the music in the shop, usually because no one else is willing to take the night shift in Santa Carla. In fact, most of the boardwalk shops had a revolving door of night shift workers. You never got why, something clearly spooks them that does not spook you. Whether that makes you brave or stupid, you dont know. Jefferson Airplane’s Surrealistic Pillow pumps through the speakers in the store. But I suppose no one knows, you're my plastic fantastic lover.

The rain batters the boardwalk outside, a roar much different than the typical hustle and bustle of drunk teens, of the cliques and crews that come in and out; the few that sit and snicker in the doorway, never entering. Some too afraid to be associated with the implication of being spotted in the shop. We sell jewelry and vinyl too, you always say, when they balk at the idea of being in the same room as a bong or incense.

But then there's the other group that stands and idles in the threshold, also not entering. It's that biker gang. Four guys, a girl, a kid. Maybe he’s the brat of the girl and the one who takes himself too seriously, but maybe not. She looks too young for that. They'd been hovering around quite a bit lately, always after dark. You’d spoken to them, at least the ones that are talkative. The hair metal wannabe and the cute short one. Paul and Marko. You knew the dark haired one was Dwayne, but all he ever offered you was a curt nod and a tight lipped smile, respectful but indifferent. They're nice, not worth the spooky reputation they have. Any time it's not just you at the shop, your boss tries to spook them away. Good thing your boss isn't here tonight, because one of them is prowling around the storefront in the rain. That is, if it's not your spliff induced haze playing tricks on you.

No, one of them is out there. Without his little pack. The cute one. Marko.

You walk over to the door, which you haven't had propped open since the rain trickled in as a drizzle at the beginning of your shift. At least he had enough sense to be huddling under the awning. Fuck, he’s handsome even when he looks like a drowned rat.

“What are you doing out here?” You scrunch up your nose as you ask.

“Y’know, waiting for you to show up.” Wanted a look at that cute ass.

You blink at him. Did he really just say that?

“Okay… well, you know it's raining out there, right?”

“I might,” he offers noncommittally, eyeing the spliff still in the hand that's not holding the door. If it were anyone but him, you'd probably get fired for it.

Why is he just hanging around out here? That's hella weird. His curls are getting matted to his forehead, slick with rain, his jacket starting to look a little sad.

“C’mon in, Marko. It’s too wet out here. You’ll fuck up your jacket.” You nod towards the interior of the shop holding the door open as he passes you.

Wrong move, sweet cheeks.

“What did you say?” What did he mean, wrong move?

“I didn't say anything,” he offers nonchalantly as he thumbs at one of the tapestries on the wall. A garish mess that’s supposed to be the worm from Alice in Wonderland, but it’s distorted by a botched tie dye job of dark muddy colors. Every time you look at it, you assume one of the day workers did it.

“No, you said something.”

“Do you want me to say something?” there's both a threat and an innuendo in his tone. Maybe you do, but you just laugh, a sharp exhale through your nose, and bring the spliff to your lips again as he follows you deeper into the store.

You jump up onto the counter next to the ash tray, easy reach for each time you need to ash.

“So why are you really here?” your eyes narrow at him, kicking your sandal off on the floor where it lands a few inches from his boots. He looks uneasy in the space, like for all the wild shit you assume he’s into, he might not actually belong in it. He sways a little to the music, perfectly in tune with the rhythm. You sway along too, and suddenly he fills the space like he belongs. He just needed someone along for the ride with him.

“Do you ever come around during the day, or just at night because I’m so fun?” You’re teasing him, but it’s a nice easy feeling between you.

“Not really a sun guy,” bullshit, he would look beautiful with a tan, “but I do drag everyone here just to see you.”

“Awww, all for me? Do you have a crush, Marko?”

It’s more than that. You hear the words clearly, but his smile doesn’t move. You kick the other sandal off.

“I can hear you, I don’t know how, but I can. I bet you can hear me too.”

I can. You’re wrong about the tan thing.

You straighten up, mind clearing as you blurt out your next question. Something absolutely stupid.

“So what are you, a vampire or something?” he laughs at you, but his big toothy smile doesn't reach his eyes. No, there's something predatory, extremely dark in his eyes. Otherworldly.

How could you guess?  

“Well, that for one big fucking clue.” You ash the spliff for the final time, leaving the roach in the tray. You would think you’d be more surprised, more upset that you just found out vampires were real, and that you were in the same room as one. You have to say, weirder things are probably afoot in Santa Carla. Murder capital of the world can’t all be from some rowdy teens and a ten year old.

“You do those surf nazis?” is all that leaves your mouth. You kind of hope it was. They were the fucking worst. Racist, misogynistic, destructive. You’d had to threaten them a few times to leave your store on your shift.

“The—? Oh! Surf nazis. Yeah that was us. Ate a few of them.”

“Good for you. I mean— murder. bad. But they were nazis, and now they’re dead. so…” you trail off. Not really sure what to say next, but then you keep going. Remember everything you know about Marko.

“No, no I mean, it makes sense. Right? You and the guys only hang around at night. Aren’t vampires solitary hunters though? I don’t remember Dracula being in a frat.”

“They’re my pack. We take care of each other.” He says it with such fondness and devotion.

You feel a pang of jealousy run through you. You work alone for the most part, live alone, you’ve got friends but they’re all over the place. He belongs to something.

“And you're down with this?” he’s legitimately asking. You nod. You don't really have a choice, you're down or you get eaten, but like genuinely you are down with it. If he was going to eat you, he probably would have by now. There's probably a reason they've been hanging around the store, and in your sightline while you close up. You're putting things together.

“Like really?”

“Well, you haven't made me a kebab yet.”

He shrugs, frowns.

“Could still skewer you on something.”

Laughter erupts from your lips while you roll your eyes, music to Marko’s ears. This is why he took a shine to you, it's easy to get along with you, and you're not one of his brothers.

Something heavy falls in the room, and it's not the haze of the incense. He steps towards you, big blue eyes raking over your body, but always coming back to meet your gaze. He closes the space between you, easily fitting between your thighs; the rough patches of his jacket brushing against your bare skin where your shorts ride up. He leans in, like he's about to kiss you, and against all better judgement, you're going to let him.

You're going to let him.

The record skips. He holds out his hand, more like a gentleman than a biker gang killer, and helps you off the counter.

“Hold on, let me pick out a new record,” you turn without waiting for his confirmation, not at all surprised when Marko follows hot on your heels to the back room. Your boss’ office, the record room. Whatever you wanted to call it. His hands ghost over your arms as you push past the wooden bead curtain to enter the room. You can feel his presence close enough to touch. That's it, right where I want you. There’s his voice again.

He lets you actually pick out a new record. You slide it out of the sleeve and walk it over to the player. The static buzzes and pops as the needle finds the groove.

“Ocean Rain, you heard it?” No. He shakes his head, and you can feel it as he leans into your back.

“Echo and the Bunnymen. They've got a new album coming out this year.”

You turn to face him and his fingerless leather glove clad hands cover your cheeks.

He kisses you gently, tenderly. Not at all the way you’d expect. He’s eager, kissing like there’s something to prove. He licks his way into your mouth, tongue pushing your lips apart and you let him. His arms tighten around you as you kiss, tongues now greeting each other playfully. Your tongue explores his mouth, running along each and every tooth in his mouth. Huh, no fangs, you realize, and maybe he isn't actually a vampire. As if he reads your mind (maybe he does), he pulls away.

“They're, uh, hiding,’ he nods, almost to himself more than you. You nod as well, slow and uneasy, not quite believing him, but he pulls you back into a harsh kiss, more of what you expected. His hands roam your body as yours bury themselves in his curls. Still damp, but long and beautiful just as well. He shrugs the jacket off his shoulders, and his hands only briefly leave you to throw it and his gloves somewhere else, leaving him just in a thin white tank top. His mouth leaves yours to trail lower, kissing your neck. Your pulse point. Fucking irresistable. No, that's definitely his voice. Is this the end? Could be.

“I can smell you, hot stuff,” he moans into your ear, sending shivers down your spine. You find yourself gripping onto his shoulders a little tighter, but he lets you sink. He guides you, again more gently than you thought he would; bare knees brushing the threadbare carpet floor before you plant yourself. You look up at him through your lashes and he all but bites back a groan.

“You gonna join me down here?” You lick your lips, waiting for something.

“Nah, I’m gonna let you have a head start,” there's a joke in his tone. You're learning that’s normal for him. He’s silent, or playing jester. It’ll be interesting when you let him fuck you. Shit, did he hear that?

“Quit thinkin’ so loud!” he runs an affectionate hand through your hair. “But yes, I heard you. Glad you're as eager as I am.”

That's encouraging. You take your time undoing his belt, connected to faded and soft leather chaps, not bothering to push them down his thighs before you move to the top of his jeans, teasing your fingers at the skin just above the waistline. He shudders under your touch, extremely reactive. Does he get touched like this often? Or is it just quick fucks? You don't want to think about who else he might be doing this with, focusing again on his body, and all of the offending clothing covering it. You unbutton them slowly, teasing. For a member of the undead, he seems to be out of breath under your movements. The zipper is pulled down just as slowly. You run your palms flat along the bottom of his stomach, to his hips before pushing his jeans down to around his ankles, hooking his boxers on your finger along with them. He’s beautiful, and you can help but stare. Hard, eager, and thick, greeting you with a small trimmed patch of golden blonde curls. You wrap your hand around the base.

You never expected a vampire to whimper, but that's exactly what happens when your tongue darts out of your mouth to lick the head of his cock. Quick, tentative little lick, testing the waters. Your tongue swipes across the slit at the tip of his thick member and his hands animate like you flipped a switch, rising up, going to your hair, rising up again, slamming down against the desk. Your boss’ desk. You lick a long stripe to the underside of his cock, paying close attention to the prominent vein there.

“So good, so good, oh you feel so-” he pants out, hands white knuckling the edge of the desk. Heat pools in your core, loving that he’s so vocal. Fuck, if he could just keep speaking. Your other hand moves to your shorts, sloppily and hastily undoing them and wiggling them down to your knees. You wrap your lips around the head of his cock and sink down on it, taking him as far as you can, until you couch when he hits the back of your throat.

“You look fucking beautiful like that. Please move, Please move, you’re so fucking good at this.”

You do, starting to bob your head up and down on the length of him, hollowing out your cheeks and flattening your tongue against him, cupping and massaging his balls in your hand. Your free finds itself between your legs, rubbing gently at your clit, stirred and encouraged by his praise.

“Does sucking me off get you hot and bothered?” Yesitdoes.

You keep bobbing your head, rubbing your clit, eyes trained on his until his eyes squeeze shut. His cock twitches in your mouth.

“Don't wanna- don't wanna finish in your mouth,” he’s urgent, grabbing you by the chin and pulling your mouth off of his cock. He pushes you back by your shoulders, letting you guide yourself back to lay on the rug. He pulls your loose shorts easily off your legs and settles himself between your legs, too eager to bother with removing his boots and everything.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for so long. Do you know how bad I wanted this?”

“Fuck me, Marko, dont say it. Just do it,” youre breathless under him, wanting nothing more than for him to be fucking you. He pauses.

“I dunno…” his thumb swipes up along your clit, drawing a whine from your throat, “For some reason I think you like it when I say things.”

You nod, knowing words will fail you. And he gives you what you want, lining himself up and sinking into you, groaning as he buries his head into the crook of your neck.

“Oh I knew your pussy would feel like fucking heaven,” he pants against your neck, pressing a harsh kiss to the underside of your jaw. He sets the pace quickly, unmerciful and fast, fucking hard and deep into you. His hands push up your thin tee shirt, and you can feel his sigh of relief when he gets a handful of bare breast. He doesn't have to deal with a bra tonight. You hike your knees up, opening yourself as much as you can to him, wanting him to fill you to the brim. He looks into your eyes while he fucks you, which comes as a surprise to you. Maybe it shouldn't. You wonder what it would be like to be a victim of his. Does he treat them well? Have fun with them like this? Or is he vicious? You don't know if you could picture him like that… vamped out.

“What does it feel like?”

“What?” he thrusts sharply, snapping his hips into you, making you yelp.

“To be fed on, but not to die.”

Are you serious? You hear him in your head.

YesIam. He thrusts like that again, earning an identical yelp, now coupled with your thighs squeezing him around the middle. You're close already, and he can tell.

He nods, a question; You nod, confirmation.

He pulls at the neckline of your shirt, already scooping so it doesn’t ruin, and exposes your shoulder. Somewhere non lethal. His other hand comes up to grip your jaw, covering your neck but being careful not to squeeze it. You hope he bruises your jaw, you realize. A physical way to feel him when dawn comes. He slows his pace to a rocking, grinding into you, staying deep.

Then he bites. Stars erupt behind your eyes, and it feels like your blood has turned to seltzer. Every nerve in your body is in overdrive as you moan and shake and come undone around his cock. You're the kind of girl that comes from the bite of a vampire, apparently. He doesn’t let up. You can faintly hear him moaning against the open wound in your shoulder, and you hope you taste good to him. He licks the wound a few times more, softly, carefully, like he’s trying to soothe you when he finally lets you come down from your high.

When he pulls back to let you see him, his features are gruesome, full vampire with sharp brows and cheekbones, pointed nose even that much more so almost birdlike. Fangs and bottom half of his face covered in blood.Your blood.  He’s panting like an animal after the kill. But he doesn't scare you. Maybe he should, but he doesn't.  It's just Marko, no matter what, and if he wanted to eat you he would have. Several times now. His hand finally releases your jaw, to wipe the blood from his face. He wipes his hand then on your face, covering you in your own blood, hot on his fingers and palm.

“Fuckin sexy,” he pants, voice deeper and distorted. His thrusts speed up, trying to find his own release as your nails dig into his back, maybe making him bleed as well. You feel the rug burn forming on your back, you feel tears in your eyes. It's never felt this good with other guys.

When he comes, he comes with a howl, buried deep inside you as he shouts and shivers then stills above you. Your chest is heaving, trying to regain yourself as his face slowly fades to normal, and he slumps down on top of you. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, near the wound he tore open, now no longer bleeding. He mouths at any bare skin he can find, lazy half kisses as he spreads more mess and blood on you. Your fingers find his curls again, winding them around your digits as you stare up at the sickly green mood lighting bathing the walls of the room.

An hour later, Marko is helping you lock up early.

He makes sure to dump out all of the ashes from spliffs and incense, makes sure the vinyl is all in its right place while you make sure the register and inventory is all in its rightful place and order.

“You’re dangerous, you know.”

“Me?” you scoff, “That rich, coming from you.”

I’d do a lot of things I’m not supposed to for you. You kinda don't want to ask him what he means by that. For some reason that feels like a conversation you shouldn't have tonight. 

He leaves the store before you, holding the door open for you and letting you lock the doors. He slings an easy arm over your shoulder, not bothering to shield either of you from the rain as he steers you towards your car. You can feel the rain cleaning your face, the blood flowing away and saving you the shower you were going to take before collapsing into bed tonight.

“Where’s your bike?”

“I flew here,” he says with that devilish smile, and you're really not sure if he's joking or not. Your arm sneaks its way into his jacket and wraps around his waist, holding him close as he makes sure you get home same. Marko makes you feel calm, in a way you didn't feel before you moved to Santa Carla. How long had he been waiting to make his move? And does this mean he and his brothers would be coming around more often? Maybe being more friendly towards you. Each step towards your car feels heavy; You don't want to go home alone without him, but somehow you know he won't come with you. 

“Will I see you again?”

He grabs your car keys from your hand, and sticks them in the door handle. Of course you will.

Right. You just have to be near the beach at night. You know, where you work.

He kisses you full on the mouth, holding you close and tight, like you could slip away at any second. When he finally lets you go you pull away to be met with his face, full on grinning, his eyes still closed from the kiss. He doesn't look like a killer.

Marko watches you as you pull open the door to your car and more or less throw your ass into the seat.  He holds the door as he gives you one last smile, and says:

“You know, you should never invite a vampire into your life. Renders you powerless.”

And he winks. 

#marko lost boys x reader #lost boys x reader #marko lost boys #my work

[bokuroo-squeals]

"He/She is really cute" +Tattoo Shop with Kyotani

200 Follower Event. Should I use the read more? Is this too long?

Masterlist

The first thing you notice upon entering the place, is the strong smell of green soap and disinfectant that lingers in the air, with a combination of what you guess is chocolate and mint fragence. You think it fits the parlor, is simple, a little dark insides maybe, with sketches adorning the place in black in white that gives some personality. There's not a lot of color peaking, the couch is red and the walls are black, but the floor contrast it with white tiles. It's nice.

"I've known the guy since highschool" Hajime explains "Used to be my kohai, that's why he's offering to do the tattoo"

Your cousin was supposed to cover one of his tattoos, a botched drawing that sat in his skin far too long to be acceptable, so when you asked if it hurt getting one, he thought it was a good idea for you to see yourself the process. And here you were, on the crimson couch that was designated in the waiting area of the parlor.

Suddenly, heavy steps echoe around, making you turn your head towards the person. It's a man with intense eyes, so intense you might have been intimidated if it weren't by the fact that you came with another gorilla that could match his look. You notice the inked words and figures marked all over his arms, and the ones visible on his collar bones thanks to the black shirt with a low collar. He's features are rough, but you delight on them, staring for a minute to long to be considered normal, and he must notice because his brow lifts, silently asking Iwaizumi.

"Ah, she's my cousin. Y/n, this Kyotani Kentaro, my previous teammate. She wanted to see the process, I hope that's not a problem" by the way Hajime speaks, relaxed and steady, you know that they most have been close, or at least with great affection towards the other.

The man with dyed hair just let's a groan of approval before motioning the next room where you think Hajime is gonna get his tattoo, so you follow.

Twenty minutes gone by, the tattoo is not done and with nothing better to do, you let your mouth open to voice all of your questions.

"Is it too hard? Tattooing someone I mean"

Even with the small period of time, you are already aware that this boy Kyotani is not a talker, and is rather suffocating being in a room with such a big presence, but he doesn't seem that annoyed by your constant questioning, like the purpose of the different needles and why does he uses so many, instead, he answers, voice a little rough that contrasts with how quietly he speaks to you, almost as if he's forcing himself to be gentle.

"When you have practice, it isn't hard, unless you're shit at this, and since this is my job, I have to be good at it" he responds without breaking concentration, cleaning the ink on your cousins arm with a cloth.

You let a wholehearted laugh at his words, knowing that Kyotani is saying it seriously. "Yeah, it must be easy for you since you are be good at it, my bad. It was a dumb question".

His lips curve a little, and so do yours.

By the end of the session, when you're at the door and Hajime is done receiving all of his instructions, you open your big mouth once again without thinking to say without reservations "You know what, Hajime? Your friend is cute"

And he stands there in silence while you bear the weight of the words you've said without realizing, and your cousin can only laugh at you as he stands between the both of you. And your ears are ringing as you drag Hajime out of the shop. And Kyotani stands there in shock.

But don't worry, cause later that night, Iwaizumi looks at his phone, with a message from the blond guy asking him for your number, and under his question there's the next text "Your cousin is really cute"

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #kyotani x reader #kyotani scenario #kyotani kentaro #kyotani fluff #200 followers

[misterewrites]

Intro to Caitlyn 101 (Mirror’s Edge)

Summary:  Caitlyn is a thief looking for the next big score. Used to taking wristwatches and wallets from rich folk, she's aiming to take down bigger game as she discovers the hidden magical world within her hometown. Her first mark is an unassuming shopkeeper and his collect of ancient relics. All set with a plan, Caitlyn makes her move. Though plans rarely go off without a hitch.

Hello everyone! E here, hoping you are all well and staying safe. So the next chapter of my little side project is here! Honestly wasn't planning on getting back to this so soon but I was having fun worldbuilding and character creating and here we are. You can blame my friend @hains-mae for enabling me.

Right so the next thing I write will probably be the part two to this then the next chapter of the Underground. Umm that's really it for me so have a great week, be safe, wear your mask, take care of yourself and your loved ones. Please feel free to reblog, share, leave kudos or leave comments with things you liked or feedback if you read it on a03. I promised I'd try to promote myself more and it feels weird haha.

E is out, have a great one everyone! and here’s the link to the doobly do 

---> https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/76014323

There was an arrogance that seemed deeply etched into every aspect of the magical world. She stood among valuable, ancient relics from throughout human history: Vases from Greece lined the shelf above her. A row of Roman gladius blades in various states of decay with only a flimsy glass case between them and Caitlyn’s pocket. Tarnished Victorian era slivered lockets left about like loose change.

Millions dollars worth of the past and she, a stranger, was left unattended with it all.

Technically she wasn’t supposed to be in here with the locked door and close sign but the fact in the 5 minutes it took her to pick the lock and scout the first floor without a single soul attempting to stop her really was a testimony to the haughtiness of the ‘shopkeeper’.

It had been only few months since she saw past the false reality that was superimposed onto hers and she was still readjusting: Magic was real. Elves, dwarves, little halfing folk? Real. People shooting bolts of lightning and flames while riding storm clouds? Real. The guy who kept awkwardly hitting on her every time she tried to get a hotdog from the cart at the corner? Just a regular creep BUT could’ve been magical.

Even their currency was a show of their excessive wealth: Sliver, gold, platinum coins Actual platinum traded away like it was nothing! People starving and helpless on the streets and these bastards just walked with some of the rarest metal on the planet in their pockets like chump change.

Anger bubbled within her stomach along with self righteousness and a bit of her breakfast but she took a deep calming breath, closing her bluish gray eyes. ‘Calm down Cait’ she scolded herself ‘This isn’t the first time you’ve seen excessive wealth squandered and wasted. You’re here for a job so do it and never come back.’

She glanced around the waiting room she found herself in. It was off to the side of the shopping front andthere were very few things of interest in the tiny room: Some old, tattered chairs that had seen better days. A very, very tacky abstract painting hung over a bricked up fireplace. There was a scattering of magazines older than her with loose stables and free roaming pages everywhere.

A place of show and very little use.

“Hello my angel.”

Caitlyn seized up. She had been so caught up in her rage she hadn’t been paying attention to anyone coming down the stairs. Three stories with a handful of people about and nary a sound could heard. Must be some sort of magic.

She shook herself out of her stupor, slowly exhaling to calm her nerves. She forced her lips to curve into the cutest, lost smile she could muster. She opened her purple jacket a bit further so the guy could get a clearer view of her tight white tank top and running shorts.

“Helpless. Remember you’re helpless.” She whispered to herself before whirling about, her long black hair with dyed purple coloring flowed behind her gracefully as if she was an actress in those stupid hair product commercials.

“Oh!” she spoke with mock surprise, scrunching her face cutely as possible “I’m so, so, so sorry! I’m lost and the door was open and sorry!”

She leaned forward, sheepishly scratching the back of her neck as she gave whoever it was a better view of her outfit.

Hook, line and sinker.

“No problem sweetie. No need to lie to me.”

Hook, line and sunk apparently.

She blinked, unsure if she heard what she thought she heard. She glanced up to find a strangely dressed man with the goofiest grin.

He was cute in a ‘I dress as an obscure, indie character for cosplay’kind of way: His messy, unkempt black hair sat under a black fedora. He wore a long black trench coat that had seen better days. At least he preferred more colors than black on black. His collared shirt was a nice baby blue with an equally nice light brown vest. Black dress pants because men’s fashion is incredibly boring and shiny loafers to completed the look. Whatever the look was.

She expected him to be taking a good look at her attire.

What she found was him staring at her.

His warm dark brown eyes were soft, gentle and he refused to break his gaze from her bluish grays even though there were more tempting sights on offer.

She was on the back foot. No wandering glances, no self pleasured smiles. Not even a creepy chuckle. Just a strangely dressed, inch shorter guy looking like he just found the love of his life in this moment.

“I…” she cleared her throat “Umm….did you hear me?”

He gave a quick nod “Yeah. You broke in and you were trying to cover your tracks.”

It wasn’t that he guessed correctly what was she up to that threw her off. It was how casually he said it. More discussing the weather than committing a felony.

She raised an eyebrow, not sure how to proceed from whatever this was. There were always some people who caught on about her intentions fairly quickly but no one had ever been so….indifferent about it.

“I don’t work here.” the man offered, slowly closing the distance between them but leaving the doorframe wide open “I really don’t care that you’re here to rob the place.”

This has to be a trap. This had to be. No one was ever this….laidback. Were the other goons on the side waiting to jump her when she bolted? Was she on camera and he was letting her go knowing full well he had all the evidence he needed to track her down?

Or maybe he really didn’t care. He seemed more interested in talking than stopping her and there was this strange presence about him. A calm she’d never felt before even when her parents were alive. It was odd and foreign to her but she felt safe. Protected.

She shook her head, slowly inching closer to the doorway. The man made no attempt stop her. He just stood there, smiling, hands in his pocket.

The rational part of her brain said to run. This whole thing was botched and it was better to cut her losses than find out first hand what magical creatures could do to her. The less rational side of her head told her to wait, to talk this guy. Lying was obviously pointless but she had a feeling he would answer any questions she’d had and she had plenty.

“So…” she rose a suspicious eyebrow “Not gonna stop me?”

He shook his head “I wish you’d stay but I understand if you don’t want to be found in Andor’s shop. He’s one of those new elves. Less honor more power.”

She blinked. He said elves right? Just threw it out there like it was an everyday matter of fact and not a deeply held secret of her hometown.

“Elves aren’t real.’ Caitlyn said matter of fact.

“We both know better than that.” The man gave a bright smile.

“What do you want?”

The words spilled out of her mouth despite her best attempts but this guy was throwing her off so badly she forgot how to function.

“Talk to you of course.”

The worst kind of people were the sincere ones. They were sappy and gooey. They just so happy it was sickening. They had to be up to something. They had to some scheme or scam or something they were waiting to drop on you. No one was that happy, that purely honest. They were the liars who were so good they convinced themselves they were good people. No one was good and everyone had a dark corner in their soul they hid from the world.

Caitlyn knew she had plenty in whatever was left of her ratty soul.

“And if we talk? Will you let me go?”

The man nodded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Caitlyn licked her lips anxiously “Promise?”

Promise? What was she 12? No one kept their promises. Not even her.

He placed his hand over his heart “Cross my heart.”

“Let’s talk,”

He jerked his head towards the door “Outside. Don’t want you to ruin your heist.”

-----

Today was not going how she was expecting. She was thought she was going to break into an elf ran front, scout the area and come back in the middle of the night. She hadn’t been expecting to have coffee and bread with a random stranger on the street.

Well she had coffee, mystery man opted for hot chocolate.

They stood in a strangely comfortable silence a block from Andor’s. The man offered to pay for whatever she wanted and she took him up on it. Couple of baked goods, a sandwich for lunch, some water and of course her cup of wake up juice. If he was mad at her for her splurging at his expense, he hid it well. He just took his coco and some fancy elvish bread. Looked good but Caitlyn wasn’t up for trying other beings food. She didn’t know how it would sit with her stomach.

The elf who ran the cart, a few months ago human to her, waved goodbye to the pair as he counted the human cash the man gave him.

The trench coat cosplay stood patiently, sipping his drink and waited for her to break the silence.

She refused to break the silence first. Not wanting to sound too eager. Eagerness was a weakness and this guy was already throwing her off her rhythm.

“I’m Finnrick by the way.”

She turned to him, unsure if he was messing with her or not.

He gave her the same goofy smile “Finnrick Drift, private investigator.”

“Ah huh.” She nodded slowly “So you’re a magical P.I.? Like elves cheating on their wives, dwarves dodging their taxes P.I.?”

“Sometimes.” He shrugged his shoulders “Ironically elves like dodging on their taxes more than dwarves.”

“Right.”

“You’re new to the whole other side of Newton Haven huh?”

She glanced at her coffee “Lived here my whole life. Really makes me wonder if I lost my mind.”

“Don’t worry, we’re all mad here Alice.”

Why was she talking to him? Why was she being honest? This was weirder and getting weirder every passing second.

Finnrick changed subject “So, robbing Andor? Any particular loot you are after?”

Caitlyn narrowed her eyes “Trying to fish something out of me Finny?”

“Guilty as charged” He beamed with pure happiness “Don’t want you wasting your time on shiny trinkets he cares nothing about.”

Caitlyn remained silent. She wasn’t used to such transparency. Normally this would be the point where the guy would lie or pretend to not have heard or awkwardly switch the subject but Finnrick answered openly and honestly. So far.

“So” Caitlyn straightened up, pulling her jacket wide open “What do you think? Great outfit right?”

Finnrick turned to her with a grin, his cheeks turning a pinkish hue as his eyes locked onto hers “Your body is absolutely lovely but your eyes even more so.”

Caitlyn could feel the flush coming. She coughed loudly, focusing on her drink as she willed the embarrassment away.

Finnrick chuckled lightly but returned to his drink. The silence returned, still comfortable as before.

This is was bad whatever this was. She needed to regain some level of control and stop acting like a teenage girl on her first garbage fire of a date.

“So” she cleared her throat “Mister P.I. what would you recommend taking if not all those millions of dollars of historical items he leaves about?”

Finnrick crushed the foam cup effortlessly as he gestured to the third floor of the shop “His office has a pretty simple safe. He keeps loads of paperwork. His various contracts, accounts, treasure hoards”

Caitlyn scoffed in disbelief even though her eyes shone with excitement “Treasure hoards? Elves? I thought dragons were the hoarders. Weren’t elves supposed to be above all that lovely corruption?”

“No one is above corruption.’ Finnrick answered “Elves are just like everyone else.”

Caitlyn crossed her arms and leaned back with a cocky swagger “And why, pray tell, would I care about boring paperwork?”

“Because it really hurt him in the pride.”

Damn Finnrick was good. Not only she was eager to learn more, she could already feel the smug satisfaction of bringing a powerful prick down a peg fill her cause.

Finnrick seemed to notice this because he went on “Andor is a young elf. 100 years give or take.”

“A hundred years is young?”

“When you live a thousand years every other race is a child to you. Andor’s old man is a swell guy. He’s one of those good elves you see in Tolkien.”

“Tolkien?” Caitlyn furrowed her brow “He wrote the books that those Lord of the Rings films are based on right?”

“Yeah actually.”

“Oh and the Hob…”

“We don’t talk about that.” Finnrick quickly added “But see the problem is Andor’s old man doesn’t know his son has become the small time crime lord. Thinks he’s running an antique business selling off old junk that was gathering dust in the family’s attic.”

Something clicked into place for Caitlyn “Wait. Junk from the attic? You mean all those relics on the shop floor?! THAT’S OLD JUNK!?”

Finnrick gave a casual shrug “Elves are weird. Andor don’t know shit about selling, all his money comes from his illegal business practices. That’s how he keeps the shop afloat.”

“I see” Caitlyn spoke, her bluish grays sparkling with mischievous intent “If those records disappeared, his shop sinks and he has to run back home to daddy.”

“And out of the city” Finnrick finished with a smile “And those records are pretty valuable to loads of people. Easier to fence and less messy to explain than a long lost Greek vase showing up in someone’s private collection. You’d get good prices for those hoard locations alone. Better than trying to carry tons of stolen and lost treasure back to your house.”

Caitlyn eyed Finnrick carefully “And you’re doing this out of the kindness of your heart? Trying to do your ‘civic’ duty to our fair city?”

“Among other things” Finnrick admitted “But mostly for the greater good.”

“Pfft, greater good? Yeah sure buddy. Like you know what’s the greater good.”

“Will you do it?”

Caitlyn paused, allowing all this information sink in. It was much better than she had planned and while she wasn’t sure of Finnrick’s angle, he seemed honest enough. Of course everyone seems honest enough the first time you meet them.

“Let’s say I do” she spoke, placing her hands on her hips to play the part “What’s in it for you?”

“A favor” He replied simply.

She rose a curious eyebrow “A favor? It’s not date with me, is it?”

“No, I plan to earn that one myself.” Finnrick answered cheerfully.

Caitlyn coughed “Fine, good. Not a date. Least you’re not a creep. But a favor is pretty vague.”

“It’ll be simple I promise.”

Caitlyn narrowed her gaze suspiciously “You promise?”

Finnrick put his hand over his heart again “Cross my heart.”

Caitlyn took a moment, weighing the pros and cons of the situation.

Caitlyn offered her hand towards the trench coat cosplayer “You got yourself a deal.”

He gently took her hand in his own and gave it a firm shake. She was surprised when, as he pulled back, she felt a strange metallic item left behind.

She looked at the crystal butterfly hair clip he placed in her hand: It was a beautiful with sliver hues and multi-colored shards of glass across its wings.

“What’s this?”

“A gift.”

Caitlyn felt uneasy with the ornament in her palm: It felt cold and distant like it was feeling her out and wasn’t liking what it found.

“It’s attuning to you.” Finnrick explained “It’s syncing up to your whole aura.”

“Aura?” Caitlyn shot him a glare of disbelief “This isn’t one of those new age hippie things is it?”

Finnrick shook his head “It’s a magical item. Yours specifically. Everything alive has a deep and very convoluted to explain connection to this plane. The hairclip is trying to match yours so you and only you can use it.”

“It feels wrong.”

“Because it doesn’t know you yet. It will.”

Caitlyn felt unease about whatever this was. Part of her wanted to toss it as far as she could. The worst part was she felt the item probing at her, changing temperatures as if trying find a comfortable setting for both of them. Burning one moment and too cold the next. This was magic and it made her felt like she knew nothing.

But part of her felt it slowly and subtly trying to match her, focusing on her and on her place in the universe. It felt more natural each passing moment and she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t curious what mister detective over here was letting her borrow.

Caitlyn blew a strand of hair out of her face “How long does this usually take?”

“An hour.” Finnrick reached into his pocket and pulled out a cell phone “Oh shoot I have a meeting to get to.”

He turned to leave and suddenly Caitlyn felt alone. Awkward just standing in the street without someone to talk to.

“Wait!” She reached for him but quickly pulled back when he faced her “….any advice?”

Finnrick scratched his chin for a moment “Red tiles. Avoid them or they’ll blast you off the roof.”

“G-gotcha.” Caitlyn didn’t want to know what blast off the roof was code for “A-and the hairclip? What’s it do?”

Finnrick gave a cheeky grin and Caitlyn could feel her face flush “I guess you’ll have to find out angel. Bye for now. May we meet again soon.”

And like that, he was off. Strolling down the straight with a bounce in his step and humming a tune.

Caitlyn glanced at the ornate hairclip in her hand.

Turns out there was a lot more to this magical world than she thought.

#Mirror's edge #Original Work #original story #my work

[gatorkid509]

Yeah, I fell back into one my very first fandoms, The Batman a.k.a. an underrated gem that gave use some of the best designed villains, one of the best versions of Batman, and some of the best episodes. Though it does have a lot of flaws( I still hate that they made Poison Ivy a teen just so she can have a connection to TB Barbara. They could have obivously made Ivy a botany teacher who turns bad, I know student/teacher friendships aren't seen as much in media because of student/teacher relationships, while controversial, are more widely known, but it's still possible)

Sorry, back to subject, I absolutely love the Team Penguin episode, something about this group of Gotham misfits banding together because Penguin saw a movie about teamwork just gives me the feels, and it makes me wish they teamed up again just for fun.( Maybe without Penguin because that means they can use either Firefly or Ragdoll's names for the group, The Gotham Gangsters/ Villains United sound much more cool) and it would mean more screen time for Ragdoll and Killer Moth as they didn't really get much screen time after that episode( Ragdoll made a slight cameo in Rumors and Killer Moth got a mention, which sucks as I find his mutanted form adorable and so fluffy!!!)

So for this drawing, I was curious about whether or not Killer Moth has instincts of a moth since he's now mutated into one, and I couldn't help but think he would unintentionally annoy Team Penguin with his new habits of chewing on their clothes and attraction to bright lights( an irony because Ragdoll makes jokes if Killer Moth has these abilities when they first meet). I'd imagine he would fly behind Firefly because of Firefly's jetpack emitting a bright yellow glow and trying to get close to it that they would crash into one another when he gets too close.( And he's definitely going to apologize for it since he can't help it.)

So yeah, here he is chewing on Ragdoll's sweater, I did color it with markers and you can definitely tell I did a pretty botched job at coloring KM's fluff, mainly his neck fluff as it looks too close of a color to his outer fluff, and I made part of his antennes. I also botched Ragdoll's colors to despite having the right browns for him, I made the left patch too dark so that hides his x shaped eyes( Speaking of which, how does Ragdoll see with those X shaped eyes on his costume? do they have tiny holes that let him see? This has been bugging me since I first saw him). I took a picture of the sketch just before I colored it just in case I botched it with markers( And of course I did) so expect a digitally colored version eventually.

Though I do have to say, I did get them pretty accurate to how they look in the show, Moth was, of course, really hard because of the fact I don't usually draw insects, but his fluff was really fun to draw. And Ragdoll was surprisingly easy for me, maybe it's because he's not as complex as other versions of him.

And might I add that Team Penguin was very close to becoming an all animal themed team if they included an acrobatics villain with an animal theme. Though I will let it slide as the only other animal themed villain that knows acrobatics is Catwoman and I don't think Penguin was willing to ask her join due to the last time the 2 teamed up.

Now I want to write headcannons for Team Penguin, doubt I'll actually do it, but who knows.

And so, I think that's pretty much it, tell me what you think.

#the batman 2004 #killer moth #drury walker #ragdoll #peter merkel #team penguin

[cherubark]

Yeah, I’m fully on the side of “anonymous RP is unique in its ability to let you disconnect from any interaction for any reason and not everybody wants to or is even suited to giving critique in the first place.”

For starters, why is the opinion of a random stranger worth anything at all when you’re the one who knows your writing best? My tastes are singular to me, not anybody else, and what I might think of as clunky writing or botched characterization might hold no weight to my partner whatsoever. How am I supposed to differentiate between people who want critique and those who don’t? Or what if, as has happened to me many times before, a partner asks for critique, gets it, and then decides they don’t like that answer and gets pissy with me when this isn’t my job nor something I like to do in the first place? I see absolutely no reason to risk hampering another writer’s growth by providing bad advice when I’m just Some Guy on the internet with no impact on their journey.

My reasons for disconnecting range from “there are fundamental structural issues that render this response unreadable” to “you remind me of someone annoying” to “I have too many RPs and yours is the one I care the least about” to “you used a color that hurts to read against a white background and I’m in a bad mood.” Because I can and that’s nobody else’s choice to make but mine. Do all of these require explanation, or is it fine to just leave without a word and let them figure themselves out? If we start quibbling over what the only “good” reasons are for silent disconnects, we lose a valuable tool in allowing people to curate their own content and let go of chats that they don’t want for any reason or no reason at all.

#cherp #We've been having this discussion for over a decade now can it please end