#Pretendy Fun Times

[autumnslance]

sorry if you've been asked before, but how did you initially get into roleplaying and learn how to improve at it and be comfortable rping? it seems like something difficult to learn, especially rping in video games, so i'm always interested in how exactly people adjust to it

OK, let me preface by saying I am old enough to remember the Satanic Panic of the ‘80s and actually read Chick Tracts that were at places I went to with my parents. Including the infamous one about Dungeons & Dragons. They were real dumb; even as a church-going kid I knew Christian media was by and large…very There in quality often, so much of it being overtly about morals and messaging (the best really is more subtle or flat-out silly about it, letting the characters and events speak for themselves with only just a little requisite shoehorning to appease their publishing house requirements). And Chick was…something with those hyperbolic comic stories.

So I didn’t get to RP at all until I was an adult (19ish years old), and in the army away from home and was introduced to it via an entirely different gaming system and world I’d never heard of before, the World of Darkness specifically, second edition, and I was a kid who loved supernatural things like werewolves and other shifters a lot. My first RP character ever for a game that only ran once was a Metis Fianna Galliard.

Bless White Wolf, they tried. The old editions have some serious Problems in various ways looking back now with what I’ve learned since, but they Tried.

I went to my first Vampire LARP in Augusta, Georgia while in job training—this was back in the fall/winter of ‘98 and ‘99–and when I got to Kansas I met up with the guys in my unit who RPed Palladium game systems (Rifts, Palladium, Robotech, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, etc). My first Vampire: The Masquerade char was a Toreador (artiste vampire). My first Palladium fantasy char was a bardic demigod. Then I settled into a I think half-elf druid in Rifts and was the only one interacting with the GM’s attempts at story while the other guys talked about minmaxing their megadamage and waited for me/my character to point them at things. At the local independent LARP in Kansas I swapped the Toreador for a young Tremere named Lynell Marsden.

My buddy and eventual roommate, the LARP GM, introduced me to a RPG-themed webcomic whose premise made it ripe for online roleplay, which the readership did initially on the old forums in play-by-post, and then also in IRC chat in a series of rooms we had. My main characters were an Amberite soldier-princess and a drow cleric/bard of Eilistraee I brought in from a D&D game after a few years, as I expanded to many, many other gaming systems, like D&D and Shadowrun, and so many others I can’t remember them all. I ended up helping narrate and do admin work for the LARP and the World of Darkness games we ran in our own town as well as at a small local convention we attended for several years.

And dear Anon, I sucked at RP in my 20s.

Cuz I was new and learning. What appealed to Young Me, once properly explained by a peer and seeing the game rule books, was that Roleplay is collaborative improv storytelling. It’s playing pretend—which I’ve always loved to do!—but with an actual ruleset and boundaries. As a writer, it sounded so neat to sit around creating characters and telling stories with friends. The rules were there as randomizer but also to help balance and make sure everyone could contribute (well, once one stopped playing freakin’ Rifts…).

In free form play-by-post, and in the IRC chat, there weren’t really rules like you’d find in a gaming book for at the table; you had whatever rules for the forum or chatroom the mods made, usually about being courteous and communicating, but the characters varied wildly. Each thread or room GM had their own ways to run their stories. Communication was key. Letting others get time in the spotlight. Making attempts, working things out, not being afraid to fail on purpose (even if your character was trying) cuz sometimes that was more interesting. We had some random commands for dice we sometimes used in the chat, but it could depend on who was running that particular session or storyarc.

It took practice. And mistakes I still look back on and wince at myself about, more for the times I hurt others or made things less fun for them, than my own creative errors that weren’t good for my characters (and I made bad choices for my characters aplenty). OK, and also for the times I spent staying up way too late roleplaying, plotting, chatting, when I should have been responsible and sleeping due to work and/or class in the mornings…But I also don’t entirely regret all those lost sleep hours.

LynMars, my common internet handle, comes from that Tremere I played for a few years in my friend’s LARP, before retiring her to play other characters. I made many Baby RPer mistakes on Lynell, she was a learning character, and while I messed her and her story up badly, I still love her as one of my firsts and ended up using her name as a handy online identity and also a reminder to myself.

You don’t have to do or be everything, especially on one character; everyone has specialties and limits, it’s what helps with the collaborative parts and team play. Learn and know your own boundaries. Respect others’ boundaries. Learn OOC doesn’t equal IC but also doesn’t give rein to be a jackass IC in a collaborative setting. Communicate. Be willing to collaborate and compromise. Be willing to lose as often as you win, sometimes the better story comes out of it. Build your characters with some grounding as people; give them flaws (sometimes their virtues taken too far can also count!), let them make mistakes, let them have their own stories so when they interact with other characters, you’re actually improv acting that person, not yourself in a funny hat.

I reconnected with my old webcomic-based group over the pandemic and people still talk fondly of my old characters and stories, and I have some good memories of theirs. A lot of things we all look back at 21-to-13-ish years later now and cringe and laugh at ourselves about, but the memories of those times are still mostly good and about the fun we had together back then, despite the clunky nature of our storytelling, our mishandled character concepts, the wank and stressors, the few bad apples we did have in the old community, the mistakes we made. We still remember the cool stuff and how it made us feel and why we sought each other out again to just say Hi. And in some cases, ended up playing games together again.

My experiences in forum and chatroom RP made the jump into MMO RP in WoW (back in Classic!) fairly easy, honestly. It was pretty much the same thing, only we had actual avatars and environments and in-built emotes as well as whatever gestures or settings we described for when the game didn’t have something. I wrote stories of my characters, many of them still up on my alt blogs, and collaborated on a few stories and RPs with friends.

After several years, some people had weird ideas I was “popular” and “established” and “good” so stirred up wank and jealousy that hit me out of the blue, especially since we were on a small server whose RP community was dying off as folks migrated away (from the server or WoW in general) and we were just among the last RP groups to still hang around out of inertia. They wanted to be a Big Fish in our drying-out pond, and didn’t like that I told them that it takes time and effort to build a story and a group with the reputation they sought, that one has to make time to run events on a regular basis and be there for it even if turn out isn’t great. I hope they’ve figured out what they want to do and better ways to do it since then.

Cuz even after 13ish years of WoW RP on top of all my tabletop and LARP and chatroom experiences, I still made some mistakes. I still sometimes ran and played in some mediocre to bad RP. For my characters and their stories, and in interactions with other RPers.

It’s OK. Learn from those errors, talk it out with your pals and others, keep IC and OOC knowledge and feelings separate, be willing to bend (not break; compromise means all involved parties have to give and get a little) for collaboration and interaction, know who you can only interact with in public RP events with a polite nod and small talk and otherwise not engage with—kinda like in real life, when you have to be tolerant or nice to those irritating classmates or coworkers but otherwise don’t deal with them more than you must.

It’s simply being social, with imagination thrown in. Remembering the stories are pretend, but there are real people behind those words and characters. The nuts and bolts of how to do emotes, which tense to use, whether to use /random or other dice commands…that’s just variable detail that can change as needed. Being a decent person OOC to make an enjoyable story—“good” or “bad”—IC with others is what’s important.

I don’t really RP online now, as I just don’t have the time or energy I used to—especially for the inevitable wank, as Roleplayers are by and large a dramatic bunch with our own hangups, awkwardness, and miscommunications galore (so many callout posts I’ve seen where I’ve wondered if the grievances were IC and came from lack of OOC communication about expectations, boundaries, and blurring the lines between characters and players. So many). These days I stick to my silly nonsense fanfics and some tabletop RP with friends—though due to us being scattered across the continent, we usually end up playing via Roll20 or similar programs to mimic it in an online environment, and even my local group’s had to do that during the pandemic and now with two players moving away soon, on top of the usual trials of being adults making time for games together. I could likely get into FFXIV RP easily enough, here on Tumblr and in game, if I were so inclined.

But it takes time. And constant learning. Figuring out the community norms and methods, which ones work for you, and which don’t. Giving yourself a bit of grace. Knowing your boundaries and respecting others’. Being social and willing to communicate, not being afraid of it, or making assumptions, giving benefit of the doubt—to yourself as much as to others. Patience. And just focusing on the fun and the good and who cares if it’s a bit cringey and weird and silly and dumb with outrageous characters so long as folks are feeling included, treated fairly, and having a good time.

That’s really what’s important.

[knowlesian]

i keep telling myself i literally cannot go into debt in the world of bg3 and that i am in act 3 with 100k in gold in my pockets maybe i should spend it on literally anything at all

but then the life under late stage capitalism training sets in and i find myself genuinely reluctant to not sit on my giant pile of Just In Case gold because what if the baldur’s gate housing market crashes! or what if i sustain an injury magic simply cannot fix! these pretend concerns still need to be taken seriously!

[gale-sized-hole]

One time I read the words “if you’re going to write an AU you might as well just write original fiction” and I think it did irreversible damage to my psyche because I haven’t been able to sustain an AU since.

[anjelicawrites]

Thank you anon for putting this idea in my brain!!! It follows this piece here. Dom!Nurse!Reader x sub!Tom Bennett.

Warnings for prostate milking, face sitting, spanking and safe word discussion.

When someone knocks on your door in the middle of the night, you don't expect it to be Tom Bennett; he's been avoiding you since your last encounter, not that you truly minded since you were swamped by paperwork and you still are! You'd though a military hospital would be less of a pain in your side, paperwork wise, it's actually worse than the civilian hospital you used to work at. When you bark to whomever knocked to come in, you are truly surprised to see him. You knew he would come back, looking for more, they always do, you don't expect him this early.

"What do you want?".

You are snappier than you intend to be, it just that you are extremely frustrated right now.

"I'm in pain" he answers, voice morose

"Then I am sure one of my colleagues will be happy to give you some pain relief" you answer without lifting your head.

If you hadn't so much paperwork to fill, you wouldn't be this curt with him. He has such a sittable face you wish to try, simply not now.

"Why do you have a cot here?".

You jump out of your skin, you thought he'd had already gone away! Without lifting your face you answer

"I work ungodly hours and going back to our barracks is too much of an hassle".

You can hear him move move the chair to sit down, at least he's learnt his lesson.

"Why are you here Tom?"

"My legs hurt".

The petulance in his tone forces you to lift your head from the paperwork. You can see that his smirk on his face, an expression that is a mix between giddy and expectant is plastered there. Oh, you think, he wants more.

"You won't find any pain relief here. I suggest you either go back to your bed, or you tell me the real reason you're still awake"

"You know why".

You can see he is vibrating in his own skin, the blue of his eyes a mere blue ring. Unconsciously his tongue wets his lips and again you find yourself thinking about sitting on his face until he taps out.

"I know many things, Tom Bennett, this one specifically escapes me".

For a second you see rage on his face, his nose scrunching, his smirk a tad darker, until his brain takes control again to remind him what happened the last time. He spreads his legs more, the outline of his cock clear against the flimsy cotton of his PJ's; tempting but you still want him to spell it out for you and not only for safety reasons.

"What you did last time - you can see that he is forcing himself to keep eye contact, even though his skin is turning red with embarrassment - was good until it wasn't"

"Last time it was punishment"

"I've been good"

"For whole two days, incredible! - you say, the pen forgotten on the pile of paperwork on the desk - you want some reward for being a decent human being?"

"I want to know how does it feel to finish that way".

He's finally admitted it, not too bad, still not perfect.

"I think you've forgotten something".

He stares at you surprised, the cogs turning into his brain until he finds his answer.

"Please?"

"That's better".

You can see his head whipping around to follow your movements the moment you stand up and stretch your back, his eyes glued to your breasts.

"It's going to be intense, you might feel like it's too much and you have to tell me - you stand between his splayed legs, forcing him to crane his neck to look into your eyes - 'yellow' is if you are unsure, 'red' it's for when it's too much and 'green' means I can keep going. I won't be happy if you are uncomfortable and you are not telling me"

"What are you going to do, punish me again?"

"If you liked being punished so much, I can do that. It was fun last time".

He snarls, his nose scrunching and you shouldn't find it so cute.

"Nothing to say? There I thought you were good at running your tongue"

"I can show you what this tongue can do" he snarls back, he's so cute, like a kitten pretending to be a lion

"Hm, I will be the judge of that. Clothes off sailor"

"What about you?" he asks, eyes shamelessly undressing you

"Maybe, if I am satisfied - you check the clock pinned on your uniform - I need to go get something, I'll be back in five minutes, I want to find you naked, legs spread, don't touch yourself otherwise you'll go back to your bed".

You bend your back to hover his lips and glide away with a laugh the moment he tries to kiss you.

"You have to earn that privilege, Tommy Bennett - you see the brattiness in his eyes resurfacing, his nose scrunching again - decide what you want to do pretty boy".

Swiftly you remove yourself from between his legs, before he can grab you. You take your time to come back with the lube, breaking the five minutes you told him; it's not like you promised him anything and he's going to drive himself crazy, his brain tormenting him. You smirk at the thought, fucking with your partner's mind is the best part, almost as good as coming.

When you get back you are welcomed by the sight of a very naked, very hard Tom Bennett, legs spread and eyes clouded by lust, his shame betrayed only by the blotches of red all over his body.

"Like what you see?" ha asks, adversarial

"I wonder what my colleagues would say at seeing you like this"

"Let them come and find out"

"Whore".

He laughs, but you can see the excitement in his eyes; you notice also his clothes discarded on the floor, that will not do.

Without betraying your anger, you approach the table to leave the lube there. Slowly you remove your shoes, his eyes following the way the skirt of your uniform rides up your legs. You use his own lust against him, grabbing his hair tight to push him on the bed. He doesn't have the time to say anything that you grab his balls in a painfully tight hold.

"I will not accept this kind of disrespect sailor - a noise of pain leaves his lips when you hold becomes even more tight, his feet scrambling on the cot- maybe your family accepts it, I don't. You will fold your clothes and leave them on the chair, then you'll stand up and grab the table to get your punishment".

You let go of him completely, standing up and going to the cupboard in the corner to retrieve your brush: either he complies or he stomps out of the door, you are inclined on him staying though.

You can hear his labored breath, he must be hurting but he only has himself to blame. You listen to the slap of his naked feet on the floor and the rustling of his clothes being folded; you smirk to yourself, you are rarely wrong when it comes to these kind of things. When you turn around he is standing in front of the table, hands curled on the cheap wood, eyes boring into yours, challenging. I haven't had a brat in such a long time, you think, what a lovely chance to meet one here.

Making sure he sees the brush in your hand you approach the table, slowly you circle it letting one of the angles of the brush scrape on the wood. You stand behind him, admiring the long lines of his muscles and his lovely ass. Gently you cup one cheek and go to your tippy toes to whisper in his ear.

"I will spank you now. Ten strikes that you are not going to like but will be good for you - softly you kiss the sensitive skin right under his lobe, a long shiver courses through his body - after we are done, we'll go back to where we were".

Delicately you widen his stance and bend him a bit forward: he's perfect. His muscles tremble when you caress his long back, needing him relaxed, wanting to bring him to the point where he begs you to be spanked; sadly that's not going to happen, if your lives were different you know you could achieve that, you just know it.

The first hit is light but he yelps and jacks forward in surprise, forcing you to put a hand between his shoulder blades to keep him in place. Softly you murmur in his ear until he's relaxed again and then you strike, with a little bit more strength, he grabs the table with a white knuckled grip, teeth grinding. After the fifth smack you caress his scalp, feeling the sweat there, with a gentle hand you follow the dip of his spine up and down until he falls face first on the table. You tell him that he's being a good boy and to tell you where he his, he says green with a rough voice. You grip his neck with a firm hand

"Do you want to dish these last five fast or slow?"

"Fast so I can be done with it".

You'd scold him but it comes out without a bite, you can hear the torment that pleasure and pain are wrecking on his body and mind; you don't need more than a glance to notice how hard his cock is, you wonder if he'd always known or this is a fresh discovery.

"As you wish".

You spank him with more strength each passing, he bites down on his wrist to stop himself from screaming, from coming without being touched: it's torture, even worse than the spanking you are administering right now. He's out of breath when you're finished, you have to slowly help him release his teeth from his wrist; gently you help him lie down on the cot, red ass up in the air. You sit on the floor, one hand in his hair, helping him unwind, with the other you rummage inside one of the drawers for the soothing cream you normally use on your hands.

"I"m going to put come cream on your arse, ok? It will be cold".

He hisses when you start spreading the cream, his ass is on fire, still you can feel him slowly relax; even with your ministration there's going to be welts, he'll have issues sitting down for a while and you can't find in your heart to feel bad, he deserved the spanking. After you're done you kiss his sweaty temple and he asks with a grin

"Don't I get a real kiss?"

"When and if you'll earn it. Let me put some cream on your wrist as well. You made quite a mess"

"I wonder whose fault that is"

"Yours - your tone playful - you should've respected my office and your clothes more"

"Does this mean I'll get a spanking every single time I don't behave?"

"You look like you've had too much fun. I need to find another kind of punishment for you".

He pouts and you laugh in his face. You can feel his eyes burning holes in your bosom while you move; should you take your clothes off? Does he deserve it? You open your uniform partially, letting him ogle your cleavage while you apply the cream; he handled his punishment extremely well, why deny him a small reward? Once you are done, you stand up and remove your ugly uniform, leaving you in your underwear and bra, he stares at you unabashedly, his tongue licking his lips.

"For the next part, do you want to stay on your front or do you think you can manage to lie on your back?".

He doesn't immediately answer, eyes glued to your body; you used to be fuller, but you are on rations like everyone else is.

"I have asked you a question, sailor".

Your stern tone makes him raise his head and focus on your face

"I can manage on my back" he answers cockily.

You can see the regret in his eyes the moment his ass comes in contact with the sheets, not the best idea he's ever had; you manage to reign your laugh in when he hisses, preferring to grab the blanket on your chair to fold into a makeshift pillow to kneel on, the cot being to small for you to do so.

While you open the lube to coat your fingers, you notice his erection hasn't flagged, it lies proud and red against the white skin of his abdomen, pearls of precome adorning the bulbous head; you remember his salty taste on your tongue and your mouth waters.

Without being prompted he spreads his legs, one dangling from the cot, the other bent and pressed against the wall, his abdomen tight when you gently caress his chest and play with his nipples. He stares with big eyes at your coated hand

"Relax. It didn't hurt the first time, did it?"

"It hurt what you did after"

"That's called ruining an orgasm. You'll get more if you start misbehaving again, but not tonight".

He hisses a breath when you start breaching him, slowly, gently, following his body as his arse relaxes around you and his hips start pushing against your hand. By the second fingers he can't keep his eyes open anymore, his head pathetically falls on your pillow and he moans, back arching in pleasure, by the third, he is moaning wantonly, like a whore, his muscles opening up when you scissor him; not that you need to, but you want to see him gape for no reason. He starts scrambling on the cot when you first find his prostate and delicately push against it, his eyes shot open and he stares at you incredulous as pleasure engulfs him, his breath shortens and catches with every movement, his abs tighten until he moans and thin fluid coats his belly. One hand shots to you and you grab it, your other fingers still buried inside of him; he looks like he's trying to talk and you reassure him

"It's like anything you've ever felt in your life, isn't it? What's your color, Tommy?"

"Green" he manages between pants

"Then I can get going, can't I?".

He moans a long 'yes' and you give him no respite, from this moment on, your fingers scissor him open, push against his prostate and he almost jumps off the bed, moans and curses escaping his lips. His body trashes every time pleasure peaks, his back arches to the point of pain, his hips piston against your hand and he's a crying mess, lips bitten and spit oozing from his mouth. His cock feels impossibly hard and his balls so tight and full he thinks they're going to explode, his whole lower half is lost to him, his legs kicking uselessly and trying to close around your wrist. He doesn't know what this pleasure is, why he's still hard, why he doesn't want it to stop even if it's hard to breath. When you finally stop, his belly is covered in fluid and it's slowly making his way down his hips, his abs hurt from how hard he's been tightening them and you are still breaching him, his ass full of your scissoring fingers, splotches of red all over his body. He can't breath, his lugs working too fast for him to actually catch a breath. You cool hand on his forehead feels like heaven, your voice softly helps him slow down as he follows your instructions and breaths in sync with you. When he finally manages to open his eyes and all he can see is your face, your eyes two rings of lust and desire, your teeth worrying your lower lip, God he wishes to kiss you so bad, be the one to bite your mouth until you moan.

"Yellow" he croaks and your fingers still inside of him

"You did so very good Tommy, you've been such a good boy for me. Do you have a last one in you? One full orgasm?".

For a second he can't answer, his brain incapable of forming a coherent thought, until the ache of his still hard cock explodes in his brain.

"I can - he says with all the bravado he can muster, which is almost zero - do your worst"

"As you wish, Tommy".

Your fingers push against his prostate without pity, your fingers almost leaving his hole, only to fill it again to bully the small gland while your other hand curls around his cock and jacks him with quick, precise movements, your thumb rough on his head. The pleasure is so strong, so brutal that he comes almost immediately, a long wail of pleasure and pain on his reddened lips, his come all over your fingers and his tummy. He hums unhappily when you gently remove your fingers from his ass and he almost chokes on his saliva when he sees you leisurely sucking his spent from your fingers, like it's the best food you've ever had.

The second you try to stand up and collect a towel to clean him up, he grabs your wrist

"Sit on my face"

"I need to clean you up, let go"

"I don't care about it. Sit on my face, I can see how drenched you are".

You know you haven't been this wet in fucking years, you can feel it seeping through the cotton of your panties, your hole loose and ready to be filled. You steal a glance at his reddened lips, his pink tongue licking the abused skin. He's been good, he used his safeword, he deserves his reward, besides, you'd been lying to yourself if you said you'd never thought about his mouth on your pussy.

One handed you start sliding the cotton down your legs, he understands and lets go of your other wrist. You bare your cunt to him and fold your ruined panties trying to ignore the wet patch on the crotch.

You stare at the smile plastered on his face; he's going for cocky but he's failing, still too high from the multiple orgasms to be his bratty self. His cheeks are flaming red, the blue of his eyes just a small ring of want as he takes in your cunt. On a whim you spread your lips to show him how wet you are

"This is all your fault. Are you going to do anything about it?".

You don't give him time to answer, cautious you straddle his face, your knees finding a sliver of space on the cot. His hands grab your hips to steady you and help keep your balance, cheekily he steals a quick lick and he moans at your taste.

"Tap my hip if you need to come up for air".

Slowly you lower yourself, you can feel his fingers curl in the meat of your thighs, him trying to hasten your movements and you will have none of it, he'll get your pussy when you decide he will.

Your cunt muffles his moan when he can finally taste you fully, his clever tongue sneaking inside your hole to fuck you, his nose perfect against your clit. You start moving slowly, taking your time in finding the perfect angle, his hands are strong on your hips, securing your cunt against his face. The safer you feel, the faster you move, his tongue fucking your hole in tandem with your movements, his nose pressing perfectly against your clit. You have to brace yourself against the wall, biting the skin of your arms to stifle your moans every time his tongue curls inside of you, seeking that perfect spot that will make you unravel, his hands force you to plaster yourself on him, to drag yourself even more tightly against his nose and you start to feel it, yelps leaving your lips when his nose presses against the perfect place on your clit, your hips grinding brutally with every spark of your orgasm, your hole clenching around his stiff tongue; there, you're almost there, pleasure starting to unfold from the pit of your belly, zinging up your spine until you come, your screams muffled by your arms. He keeps licking you, drinking you down hungrily until you lift yourself, your thighs tremble with the effort of supporting you; you need to focus, to breath until you feel calm. Slowly you move yourself down his body, electing to ignore the masculine pride in his smile and you turn to lie on him, the cot being too small for you two to lie side by side.

"Do you ever date lads the normal way?"

"Meaning? - you ask, turning to put your hands on his chest, your chin resting there - Meeting a guy, going to a boring date to a pub, where he'll pay thinking he's bought the access to my body? Going to other dreadful dates until I bed him and find out how mediocre he is? No thank you, I prefer to go straight to the point; in the end it's what we both want".

You see the smile dimming on his face and you are not surprised, men don't like when you act like them and tell them the truth.

"What is it pretty sailor? Do you want to wine and dine me?"

"Dates with me are never boring" he huffs, adorably

"Well Tommy. If we both survive this war, I'll let you take me out on a date. Would that be acceptable?"

"Yes" he says and he can't control the yawn, he's so tired.

"Sleep Tommy. I'll wake you when it's time for you to go back to your bed"

"Where are you going?"

"I'm staying here, pretty sailor. I need to finish paperwork before tomorrow".

He doesn't even listen, already asleep. With quiet movements you put on your panties and uniform back again and quickly clean him. After you are done you sit next to the cot; it takes him less than five minutes to turn on his side to push his nose in your hair.

Everything taglist: @ilikeitbetterangsty

[batmanschmatman]

3, 6, 23 ❤️❤️❤️

what are some fics that you go back and read again and again? one of my absolute favorites is Give Me Light, Give Me Life which has been orphaned but has all my favorite Winnix tropes and is extremely cute, I literally reach for this one first every time I want to reread something. I also love More Than a Team, which has some great outsider perspective on Dick and Nix as a couple and Nix being a great BIL to Ann. Also Cats & Dogs by some author you've probably never heard of. :3

what's a headcanon that you will die on that hill? tbh I'm at that point in this fandom where it's hard to clearly ID headcanon vs. Things That Are Just True, so here are some of my favorite "not technically clearly defined in the show" things in no particular order: Dick's shallow foxhole in Bastogne is just where he hangs out during the day when he's not actively at the CP, he shares Nix's more palatial one to huddle for warmth regardless if they're a couple yet. Mary Frank Sledge and various other close family members of The Boys are clumsily accepting of their relationships - or at least very don't ask don't tell about why Babe moved to Louisiana to live with a war buddy - because it did historically happen (read Coming Out Under Fire by Allan Berube if you haven't already!) and the world is depressing enough without needing to drag it into my pretendy fun times. Joe genuinely does like to read and while isn't as formally educated as Web does grow to like swapping books with him and getting into heated debates about them. When they move in together post war, he's a very critical but ultimately constructive editor of Web's articles and books. Ron becomes penpals with Lip's mom while he's in Korea. Not explicitly headcanon but it's historical truth that Gene Sledge would occasionally send the paper letter version of an angry group chat to Burgie, Snaf and their other friends when he didn't like folks interviewing him for books about the war and that is 100% a thing he and Dick both do lol. Harry often house sits for Dick and Nix's dog when they're off on adventures. Harry has also clocked them as a couple from the instant he stepped in on them arguing in "Currahee" and is just The Ultimate Bro and never says anything.

what's your favorite wip of yours? as you well know, I don't have a lot of wips currently, but I have been meaning to brush off some old finished unplublished fics including a sequel to the sledgefu soulmate au fic I posted on AO3 a million years ago and a daemon au thing with Snaf and Mary Frank Sledge.

[apathetic-theme-song]

sometimes i think about the guy on my WoW RP server who said that Pandarens are homophobic just by nature and being gay is Wrong

and then I remember there's an excerpt of an in-universe smut novel where there a Pandaren woman explicitly refers to her wife and think "damn, you would literally rather be homophobic than correct"

and THEN I remember that this is literally pretendy fun times where people unironically play dragons disguised as humans so nothing matters, and that this guy knew that and STILL decided to rather be homophobic than correct

[blamethestardust]

You know what’s annoying? Anon journals in fandom/writing spaces. It’s worse when people talk about a character your best friend plays (a MCU character with an ample bosom, not to name names) and it gets her feeling down and kind of like oh, I feel like I don’t wanna put that character out there anymore. And they might not even be talking about HER portrayal, it’s just that all encompassing need to lump all of those who play this one character together.

It’s like, fuck misogyny and people ruining the fun pretendy times for other people because *god forbid* people have fun writing a character and do sex positive shit or do things that they think does not fit with *their* particular view of things in this specific world. Like, seriously. Fuck right off with that bullshit.

[wyrmguardsecrets]

|| Jfc rp is pretendy fun times when did it become SO DAMN SERIOUS???? || its because people cant separate ic from ooc, thats the core problem of 80% if not more of RP drama. "oh no your character doesnt like mine, and we're different races iC. you're a racist OOC!!!!!" and "wow his character IC had sex with hers? he's cheating on his irl wife!!!"

.

[tiefighter]

Hey just cause ur friend likes something you don’t doesn’t mean you can be a cunt at them it’s all pretendy fun times calm ur farm

[lultimagoccia]

Knowing your partner well can potentially make writing together a lot easier

Name: castoro. cast for short!

Pronouns: they / them.

Preference of communication: dms are good! i do have a discord, just know i can be slow to reply to messages thanks to Bad Memory Brain + Low Social Battery. i promise i do wanna talk to people and rp, just really goin' through it with my exciting brain struggles.

Name of muse: giuseppe ’ peppino ’ sacchetti spaghetti.

Experience/how long (months/years?): i've been making up stories and embodying characters who aren't me basically my entire life. i honestly don't know who i'd be without fun pretendy times. in terms of online rp, i've been goin' since i was 13, so almost 20 years at this point. i've been on tumblr since 2011, and before that, i've used forums, chatboxes, online messengers, deviantART notes, i've done it all!

Best experience: a forum rp based on the movie " 9 " by shane acker. met some truly incredible people through that experience ( including my gf with whom i had a beautiful baby! ) and just overall had a great time weaving this big intricate plot together that spanned many months. i miss that level of cooperative plotting and threading, it was really fun and engaging.

RP pet peeves/dealbreakers: admittedly i very rarely unfollow / break a mutual with someone, so my threshold of tolerance is fairly high. i understand everyone has their bad days and that sometimes the only place a person can blow off steam or unwind is in the rpc. that said, i steer clear of people that display a consistent level of callousness, unkindness, or overall rude behavior ooc. i don't care how good a person's writing is, rp is a social hobby and if a person is gonna treat fellow players like shit all the time, nobody owes them interactions. no ooc / ic divide is also a big deal breaker.

Muse preference (fluff, angst or smut?): i find i really enjoy charged interactions, either moments of action or elevated emotion. i love seeing what happens when two muses just talk and share some really interesting chemistry that naturally progresses the plot. of course i love fluff and angst and all, but those kinds of things work best when i'm really invested in the muses earning that moment of sweetness after a lot of struggle or fighting their way through a hard time together. i love smut in theory, but i'm mega shy about writing it with new people. i think the stuff i enjoy in an erotic context is just so deeply personal, it's hard to share casually unless i really trust the other mun and gel with their writing style.

Plots or memes: for sure memes, i'm horrible at plotting out ideas unless i'm super familiar with the other person and their muse. i love brainstorming ideas and seeing where those vibes go, rather than planning out details of what's gonna happen.

Long or short replies: somewhere in - between i'd say. just depends on the rhythm of the scene and what best keeps things moving.

Best time to write: usually when i'm caffeinated and have had a nap. fully restored and ready to shift into Focus Mode babey.

Are you like your muse: while i can def relate to his struggles with intense anxiety and all the incredibly inconvenient ways that it manifests, i'm not a lot like pepp. which has proven to be a fun writing challenge, tbh! i enjoy trying to get into the heads of characters with their own set of morals and beliefs separate of my own, try to understand why they think and act like they do.

tagged by: @crvptd said do, so i do tagging: u

[mistresstrevelyan]

My hyperfixation struggle and other doubts...

Now I’d REALLY appreciate some input here bc my brain is being really nasty to me as of late. Okay, here it goes...

Over the last couple of years or so I’ve caught myself feeling melancholic over Dragon Age in particular when it comes to my main hyperfixations. Not that I love it LESS, I actually cling on more tightly bc it feels like...everyone is moving on to shinier pastures I can’t really get into (IE FFXIV) or move on from gaming completely.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that doing either is bad or that ppl. should stay in my hibernating fandom (I really hope Dreadwolf will change that) but I sometimes feel like...there’s something wrong with me for still focusing on games that came out a decade ago and an IP that hasn’t had any new content to play through since Trespasser in 2015. I feel equally sad to see the MELE hype die down again, knowing that this is it for Commander Shepard, for real this time. (I honestly doubt they’ll be in ME5)

Sometimes I legit miss my old DA/ME crowd from like 2012-2015, everyone was so excited about BOTH franchises, esp. with DAI looming in the distance. And then...things went bad for a long time and I removed myself from the BioWare fandom for a year, playing just TW3 to “detox” and reassess what truly mattered to me.

But in that time a lot of ppl. moved on to TW3 themselves or dropped off the grid for reasons I know nothing of. It’s just...no matter what else captures my imagination in gaming, I always end up returning to DA/ME/SWTOR in the end because these are my most precious blorbos and I just wanna keep loving them and share their stories, even if there’s no official content for them anymore. 

And then in 2018 I got so sick, I almost died several times and lose my leg and long term health in the bargain. I return here to see that dear Miri ( @grandenchanterfiona) has passed on. RDR2 is the shiny star of the year (A game I’d fall in love with later, lolsobs) and DA/ME are...dormant. I tried other games again (FFXIV, ESO, CP2077 etc) but nothing would...move me the way BioWare games did and still do.

This year I lost my Dad to cancer. That made me cling to my escape pretendy fun in Thedas/two galaxies even more.

I guess I’ll still be talking about Rhia, Desideria, Drusilla, Katja and Tessa when I’m old and gray. And I think that’s okay? I just...I hope Dreadwolf can revive the fandom the way DAI did. I’m already excited for it.

[sword-and-lance]

((okay I'm just gonna whidge for a bit out loud as ya do sometimes

but

yeah if it seems like I've rapidly become more a BG3 blog than an XIV blog there's definitely a reason for that

like I actually have yet to play the 6.5 patch and what I've looked up with regards to the actual story of the MSQ and the 24-man has not remotely incentivized me to try lmao

like

god they really should've found a good way to spread out 6.0's story out to 6.3, tbh, having five patches' worth of this current BS would've convinced me to unsub if I hadn't already bought sub in-bulk months ago

what kills me is I'm all for "subplot that isn't as dramatic/world-ending"! Hell, that's basically what HW was as an expac and it was great! But holy shit this feels like written-by-committee gruel in the exact same way Stormblood did and my attention on the game damn near stopped in Stormblood if it wasn't for the .4 and .5 patches grabbing my attention again and EW doesn't have that going for it l o l

and it also feels as if they're basically trying to wrap up every loose end evar from 2.0 to now and while I do get that--I mean, no one wants this to turn into a continuity clusterfuck or turn into WoW or shit like that, that also sucks and it ain't a bad idea to just clip down some of what you're dealing with from time to time

but also

what they're clipping off is basically the entire story I fell in love with in the first place and that feels bad man

they ain't trimming the metaphorical bushes so much as completely clearcutting them damn near to the ground

and what they've been replacing it with so far has been just so painfully boring that I'm genuinely considering just not even getting 7.0 until I hear whether or not the storyline's gotten any better

hell even the fight design hasn't really interested me for a hot minute so like, even mechanically-speaking I don't even like getting on and I find very little of the side-content that...engaging

literally having more fun doing my own Pretendy Funtime Games shit for XIV than I am actually dealing with the game at all, and yeah I think I might just take YoshiP up on his "if you're getting bored/frustrated with the game then take a break" thing because good lord I don't think I can do this

we'll see if I ever go back outside of my own fic-stuff though))

[cookinguptales]

yes, I recognize that in the show, a time loop would probably be super funny and Nandor would likely have some stupid time loop adventures before eventually succumbing to his despair but like

this isn't the show, this is my pretendy fun-time fanfic and I want him to be sad. lmao

[grayintogreen]

Perhaps we'll get some insight into this in the Lucien book, but in the meantime:

Why do you think the Somnovem chose to find and repair Lucien's soul rather than just appointing a new Nonagon or something? Like it'd be one thing if there wasn't anyone else available but that wasn't the case. Vess actively wanted the position (and iirc she had all nine eyes so she was in contact with them) and the other Tombtakers were around too (granted they probably wouldn't have wanted it but still). Maybe Vess was their backup if they couldn't restore Lucien? Idk I just think it's interesting that they went through the trouble when they technically didn't have to.

Side note: How exactly did they "put his soul back together" anyway? Like how does that work?

This is gonna get into SOME headcanon territory, but I'm gonna try to stick with what is actually presented in canon and therefore what I've had to make up can at least be backed up by what we've seen and heard. I do have deeper theories about this, but they are literally things I made up for an Alternate History fanfic that I cannot use as basis for an analysis.

Now while we can't say for certain that Lucien was Fate-Touched or born under Ruidus or whatever and that is complete conjecture based on nothing, we do know one thing- he has red eyes and as far as we understand he has always had red eyes. Hold that in your head for a second.

There was a previous Nonagon, presumably the person who scribed the Tome, and for whatever reason, they weren't able to handle it. They went mad and burned up and died like a typical Betrayer God puppet (even if the Somnovem aren't gods- same basic idea). So here comes Lucien who finds the tome and has their eyes naturally. I feel like with everything we've seen of Age of Arcanum wizards, even broken fucked up ones, that seeing someone who has that kind of connection to you built in isn't something to be discarded.

So that's a point in his favor. Add that Lucien is a misunderstood dreamer (like they were), has a massive chip on his shoulder (easily manipulated), and responds well to the knowledge and power they give him without going completely cuckoo and exploding, he's basically the perfect Nonagon. That isn't to say that they couldn't have picked another one, but they put a lot of investment in one that clearly was working for them and his scraps were right there and easy to reach out and find. (Lest we forget that Cognouza is a fucking hoover vacuum slurping up everything that gets in its way as it floats in the astral sea.)

Now Vess, on the other hand... I do believe Lucien isn't bullshitting about her not having the imagination even if I think the "intended usurper" Christ metaphor he talks about is just him justifying what happened to him as something that needed to happen because that appears to be part of how he copes with trauma and life, in general. He spins the narrative to his advantage.

Also Vess is another wizard and the Somnovem are a fragmented fucked up hivemind, but they are still wizards. You don't invite another wizard, especially one who is more eager for knowledge and power than your vision (and Lucien CLEARLY believes in the vision- he just ended up thinking the Somnovem weren't doing it right), into your happy pretendy fun times society unless you want them to turn on you and take your shit for themselves. This is their hubris, I think- they believed VESS would turn on them to steal their information and try to overpower them, but they assumed Lucien, a lesser mortal, wouldn't, simply because that seems to be pretty normal for Age of Arcanum wizards.

As for how they got his soul fragments- they were likely keyed into him as the Nonagon and thus claimed by their magic and just followed his "scent" (which is how Lucien describes it exactly) and then used Cognouza's hoover powers to bring the shreds of Lucien's soul into Cognouza proper and rebuild it, which is an extremely weird way of saying "idk magic dream powers." They wanted him whole again so the aether made him whole again, and I'm sure that had NO EFFECT on his psyche whatsoever.

[lgcxnoeul]

talk your ear off

After several years of training, he could proudly state that he had formed special relationships with each coach that he had spent valuable time under their tutelage. While some relationships had started off comically awkward, there were many coaches that he had vibed with from their first one-on-one interaction. He was still the very same troublemaker that had joined the company years ago, testing how far he could push boundaries, but with wholesome intentions ( of course ) and always outside of the valuable lessons and workshops led by the coaches.

He had learned that there was a time and place to fool around early on. All thanks to Instructor Yoo. He had been one of coaches, whom had been straightforward and warned him that his antics wouldn't always work regardless of endearingly cheeky he came across to others. Noeul was still adamant that fun could be had any second of the day. He had only become better at reading the room because of Instructor Yoo. He had been ecstatic to find out that the man would be the coach to check up on him for the current project he was participating in. Without him, he didn't think he would have reached this point in the company.

Maybe, he had come with a bribe —an iced caramel macchiatto with an absurd amount of espresso shots— and sporting one of his toothy grins when he stepped through the door.

"Did you miss me that much, Instructor Yoo?" He questions with a slight tilt of his head, teasing tone in his voice. He sets down the man's drink on the table, properly greeting him with a bow of his head. "I heard you specifically chose me."

An obvious lie, but the bold assumption makes the corner of the man's lips twitch upwards and laugh out-loud, which was a rare sight to whoever knew the stony-face man.

"Tell me about the project, Noeul."

"Well, I didn't know how I would feel constantly being surrounded by twenty men. I think I'm just happy that the company didn't force us to bunk together like the military." He sinks further into his chair, half-chuckling when he exhales through his mouth. "That would have been traumatizing." He taps his fingers against the arm of the couch, pressing his lips into a firm line. "In all seriousness, I really enjoyed that all of us with different skillsets came together and produced something to be proud of. I don't know if we achieved what the company wanted in terms of success, but we all worked hard until aches were unnoticeable, and we bonded over our struggles, our disagreements..."

"It affirmed for me that I want to be in a group. There is nothing more exhilarating than hearing footwork syncing on wood floors, or all of us out of breath when the instrumentals stop playing." He rests his chin in his palm, snorting at his own words. "Okay, that is a bit cheesy, right? I did end up bidding adieu to my sneakers. That was a loss I wasn't prepared for this month and I had to purchase a new pair, break them in. I'm not even sentimental or perceive them to be lucky, but it did throw me off. As a dancer, does that happen to you?" He pauses, clearly waiting for the man's response, only to not receive one. "Anyway—"

He bites on the inside of his cheek to suppress the pout from forming on his lips. He reaches for his drink to play with the straw, taking a quick sip. "I appreciated how the schedule was set up. I realized it's the type of schedule that works for me, one that I won't lose my sanity since you know that I'm not the most patient person. It's not too repetitive and there is always something new to look forward to. I had a lot of fun learning the unit songs and I can't wait to perform them at the concert. I'm crossing my fingers that I can do a concept like 'Do It Like This' in the future so—" A pause to wink at the man. "...if you can pass that along for me that would be great. Although, my arms were hurting the first day. I need to work out more, but that was a cruel reality."

"They felt like jelly!" He lifts his hands, pretending to be like one of those balloon men at car washes that he saw when he went to the U.S. with the other trainees. "Ah, before I forget, I think that the variety aspect was my favorite. It was a fun way for all of us to learn about each other, our personalities... I've spent time with most of the trainees, but it's rare when we get to interact with the actors and the models. I learned a lot from simply observing them. Some of them are in a league of their own, right? I was impressed by their expression, or how great they are at finding the camera. I realized that I have a lot to improve on. The wall just keeps growing and growing, Instructor Yoo."

"Noeul, you shouldn't forget to breathe." The reminder is finished off with a reassuring smile, notifying him to continue speaking if he wanted to.

"Right, right." The young man mumbles, averting his gaze to stare out the window. Had he switched the drinks? Why was his heart beating so hard? "Were you the evil person behind the choreography for 'Do It Like This'?"

A loud and boisterous laugh finally escapes the coach, filling the room and almost catches Noeul off guard, who joins him with subtle dimpling of his skin above his cheeks.