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#late night convos
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raekensarcher · 1 year
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starting chapter six and it’s literally just. the softest chapter ever just thiam
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asoulsreverie · 2 years
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A kinda late night conversation between me and my friend
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And i mean I think this is how all conversations should go ngl
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One thing I miss is having someone take me seriously about strange happenings. Whenever I mentioned little signs or unexplained experiences, dreams or odd energy shifts nobody believed me.
He was always there to listen and he was the ONLY one who took me seriously. I miss it. I miss those conversations and I miss having that in a friend.
I only hope he still holds tight to his faith. His practice. His Gods. His tarot. Because while we fell apart I hope his craft remained strong.
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ronzombie · 11 days
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Violet: "Do you think there's a meaning to life?"
Ronnie: "Yeah, sometimes. I think it kinda changes as we grow, you know? Like, I used to live solely because I thought dying was a sin, but now I live to spite the people who believe that."
Violet: "... Huh. That's a nice way to think about it, I guess."
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the-houseryn · 1 year
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What do you guys do at 12:30am on a Monday?
Cuz I performed a lesson on the scrotum to a grown ass lesbian
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isnortglitter · 1 year
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curious
-i feel like all my life has just been a long wait.
-for?
-for something or someone I don't really know what I've been waiting for.
-a saviour, maybe?
-saviour? huh, no. I don't need saving. maybe, something to accompany my solitude would be nice I think.
-aren't you tired of it?
-not really, waiting gives me purpose. Being curious makes you want to see another day, wake up the next morning, even though I know nothing's going to be different today either. But it's enough if it makes you want to hope a little bit.
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skygent · 1 year
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leenfiend · 7 months
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:)
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fulgurbugs · 1 year
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Back on my bs
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free-n-wild · 7 months
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Chris: Who decided to call it "emotional baggage" and not griefcase? Martin: He's onto something.
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husbandogoddess · 2 months
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First Skate (Prequel to A Late Night Convo)
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Story
In the glittering expanse of a New York ice rink, Detectives Hwan Seo-jun and Iris Rodriguez share their first date, forming a connection that goes beyond their professional partnership.
Note: First Skate is the prequel to A Late Night Convo, a free 999 word story that takes place after Seo-jun comes out to Iris as demisexual and the two enter a committed relationship.
Features
5k words (10-15 minutes of gameplay)
4 CGs
Accessibility Options
Font Options (Default, Atkinson, OpenDyslexic)
Self-Voicing (Can turned on in options or by pressing 'V')
A cozy (and maybe emotional) story about relationships and asexuality (WINTER EDITION!!)
One very cute winter date
An anxious but super cute asexual (demisexual) man
An overprotective pet duck that may or may not want to kill said asexual man?
Play or Download Now for Free!
You can play both A Late Night Convo and First Skate on itch.io for free. It's available for Windows/PC, Mac, and Linux! Additionally, you can play both games in-browser.
First Skate | A Late Night Convo
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mcondance · 9 months
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yea hobie smut is good but what about domestic hobie moments? huh? hobie baking a cake for your birthday. that turns out kinda janky, but it makes you cry anyway. you, a photo in the dashboard of his car, a sleepy smile on your face as he holds up the polaroid camera, way way too early in the morning. hobie, who forgets his headphones at your house and comes over in a feign attempt to get them. he never leaves with them. sitting across the table going over the grocery list. holding on to hobie like he's a lifeline as he webs you both up to a rooftop to get the best seats at the drive-in movie that you've been hinting at for a while. quiet conversations at night when neither of you can sleep, just talking about life. and eachother. his hand resting subtly on your waist. your thumb brushing against his cheekbone.
do you want me to die
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nerdylittlefox · 6 months
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mostlyanything19 · 1 year
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I’m trying to write something down about the scene where Orym sends to Dorian, and then Ashton, having slipped out on the group to look for him, comes and joins him there, but I’m not feeling eloquent enough rn for it. Just. Ashton looking out for people -- all of them, he’s doing it for all of them, he’s been doing it for a while, the cheking in and the noticing and the trying to find some words, whether they’re any good or not. Telling Orym that he can reach out, if he needs something, that he doesn’t have to fold it all back into himself. Ashton sharing so much of himself and how they’re feeling and what they’ve been thinking about. I don’t feel like who I was. Always been... not big on new people, not big on human contact. General... anything. And now - this. And ...and by telling Orym this, especially in that quiet, introspective moment just between the two of them, he’s almost deliberately leaving a door angled open just so, and Orym responds exactly like I knew he would. Because... because he’s been reaching out to Ashton, physically. He has, in fact, been touching him a lot - just small things but very frequent, a tug on his hand or a pat on the shoulder or an attempted noogie or what-have-you. And Ashton has grumbled about some of those, but always good-naturedly, and he’s always let him, and has also been reciprocating. And then here is Ashton saying, in not so many words, I think I want to be touched more than I let on. And here is Orym, turning to him and very deliberately just reaching out a hand and waiting, silently asking if he’s understood this right, and Ashton says yeah. Yeah. We’re good.
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nightbloodbix · 6 months
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— WIP WEDNESDAY
tagged by the lovely @socially-awkward-skeleton and @cassietrn thank you!! 💕💕
tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @adelaidedrubman @florbelles @marivenah @simonxriley @shegetsburned @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @v0idbuggy @inafieldofdaisies @statichvm @aceghosts @jillvalentinesday @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree
Just gonna casually drop a really pivotal character moment from the whumptober thing I am still working on that became way longer than I intended it to be (warning: mentions of torture and also this is very heartbreaking)
When the pain became too unbearable, Imogen attempted to go inwards. Her mind may be the only chance of salvation. If she could rebuild her barricades from the inside, then perhaps she could buy herself more time. Battle meditation proved useful for all manner of talented Force users. Her own Master even tried to impart her wisdom on the practice, though Imogen had been too impatient to successfully utilize it at the time. She may not be at the frontlines of war or in the middle of a duel, but this excruciating invasion of her mind was just as arduous as any other challenging fight. Only difference now… Imogen was on the losing side.
The pressure built up in her head as a thunderous cacophony until she was sure something had to give when suddenly everything went utterly silent and still. Imogen wondered if she had been tortured into unconsciousness or perhaps her interrogator had enough and put his lightsaber blade through her skull before she could realize her end.
“I am relieved that you have held on to some of my teachings.”
Imogen’s eyes snapped open to see the room now completely empty. She glanced around for the source of the voice – a voice she had not heard in many, many years – and found that even her bindings had disappeared. The bounty hunter cautiously rose from the interrogation chair, not trusting whatever vision had clearly been imposed upon her.
“Show yourself,” Imogen commanded, though her tone had a slight waver. 
“I have always been here, you simply refused to see.”
Imogen spun around and saw a figure that caused her heart to plummet with enough force to nearly bring her to her knees. Rejna Shúl appeared just as the former Padawan last saw her. Imogen recognized the light brown Jedi robes, the silver hilt at her belt, and that unyielding conviction in her sharp green eyes. A ghost come to haunt her like a painful memory.
“You are a trick,” she weakly accused. Imogen could not decide which would be worse – being right or being wrong. 
“I assure you, I am not,” Rejna insisted and placed her hands behind her back. “Listen to your instincts.”
Imogen did not want to, but a dreadful chill in her bones demanded to be felt. The image before her shook her down to her very soul and she knew for certain that not even Vader himself could conjure such a convincing specter of her former Master. Not like this. 
Imogen shook her head. The shock made her feel sick. “Why now, after all this time?”
“Because you were not ready to face me.”
“Why should I face you at all? I killed you for a reason,” Imogen snarled. A part of her hoped her rage would chase this spirit away. Had she not done enough unforgivable acts to completely sever whatever connection they had in life and death?
Rejna regarded her patiently, unflinching to the storm of hostility that brewed within her apprentice. “You killed me out of impulse.”
Imogen’s hands trembled and she clenched them into tight fists at her sides, as tight as she could make them. “I would have died if you lived.” 
“So here you stand now.” The Jedi Master moved around Imogen in a slow circle, studying her the same way she did the very day they met. Imogen had been so young, she didn’t fully understand her circumstances, but Rejna took stock of what she had to work with. It made Imogen feel like an item being appraised for auction. “A woman. And more powerful than I could have imagined, yet… you still carry the same hatred for me. How long has it been? Nearly twenty years since your blade pierced my heart? Two decades is a long time to hold on to such a burden, Imogen.”
“It is not only hatred I carry,” she responded quietly. Her resolve started to crumble. 
“No,” Rejna agreed and came to a stop in front of her former ward. Her eyes softened ever so slightly at the edges. “I sense your grief.”
The mask fell away. Imogen had never acknowledged how the murder committed by her own hands shattered her as much as it mended. How, when the weight lifted off her shoulders at her Master’s last breath, she had been consumed – not by remorse, but by the agony of loss. Imogen tried to ignore it, and when that failed, she used it. She fed it into the crystal that powered her new saber, and with that conduit of her pure hatred, she let it flow unrestrained unto her prey. Yet the grief remained just beneath her rage as steady as her own heartbeat. 
“You were all I had.” Uttering those words out loud caused her vision to blur. “That is why I needed to kill you.”
Rejna seemed equal parts pleased and heartbroken at the admission. “I only understood in my final moments that you were my greatest failure.”
It felt like the phantom of her plasma blade burst through Imogen’s chest. She knew the statement to be true, but it made her realize that as much as she resented Rejna, she still always hoped for her praise. Even now, in the face of her own doom, staring into the eyes of her long dead Master, did Imogen wish she could have been different for them both.
Imogen could no longer bear to hold her gaze, but as soon as her face fell with a few stray tears, she felt the gentle hand of her Master rest on her shoulder. It took a long moment, but she found the courage to look up at her once more.
“I failed you, Imogen. You were my greatest pride and I failed you,” she stated earnestly. 
Of all the confessions to grace her ears, this was one Imogen never expected. She needed to hear it after all this time, but a part of her will forever be empty. She accepted that fact even before Rejna fell. “It is far too late, Master.”
Rejna nodded solemnly. “Perhaps for me, but you know what you must do.”
“Yes,” she said, her voice hoarse. 
“You were always so strong, Imogen.” Her old mentor’s hand moved to caress her cheek, the motherly touch Imogen always longed for and never got to experience. It caused more tears to stream down her cheeks as she clenched her jaw hard enough to nearly crack her own teeth to stifle a sob. “I will always regret holding you back.”
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