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fanfic-obsessed · 5 months

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The Force

This is another, ‘the Force is fucking with us right?’ Kind of idea that I feel like makes up about half my ideas.

It starts just after Obi Wan Kenobi is beheaded on the death star. The Millenium Falcon has just exited the Death Star but has not jumped to hyperspace yet. The alarms have not quite rung when two things happen that derail the entire sequence of events.

First Obi Wan Kenobi and Cody (who had been on Alderaan when it was vaporized) appear, from apparently nowhere in front of Luke, Leia, and Han. They look like they did at the beginning of the Clone War (Obi Wan is still only just recognizable as Old Ben). The second is that Alderaan (and Scarif) reappeared, completely undamaged (I just want you to picture, for a moment, the operators and techs of the Death Star or anyone looking out of one of the viewports where the Planet they just vaporized-with all the detritus that entailed- reappeared unharmed). Though it was not known right away every single victim of the Empire from the Purge forward (including the Clones) have reappeared, spread out throughout Alderaan.

Every single one of them have all their memories up to their deaths. Those that had been dead for more than a month also have some idea of what has happened since their death (taking into account age, mindset, and how traumatic the knowledge would be for them).

Everyone is still very confused.

On the Millenium Falcon, they do not jump to hyperspace because they are too busy gawking at the two men that just appeared (and everyone on board, barring the formerly dead men, is asking themselves some version of -does The Force work like that?). Then they notice that there suddenly is a planet where there had been a debris field.

Feeling more than a little bewildered, Han hesitantly begins to fly toward the planet and in the background CodyWan reunites after twenty years of believing the other was dead. They are guided to the Royal landing pad by a few shaken techs who will be asking for a vacation and a raise.

Onboard the Death Star, the low level techs consider if they should call Darth Vader? Should they call the Emperor? Fire again (It would take time for the weapon to charge and no one is really sure a second shot would do anything if the planet was reconstituted the first time)?

Vader is still down in the hallways of the ship, feeling anticlimactic victory over Obi Wan’s robes and well away from any viewport when suddenly the Force is feeling much…fuller? Then it had been a few moments before. The screaming that had been deafening since Alderaan’s destruction quieted and the crying he had been perceiving since killing the younglings had ebbed.

On of the comm techs hesitantly (so hesitantly, their speech was all full of all umms and errrs and they really hope that they do not piss Darth Vader enough for him to hunt the tech down-it would not be the first time something like that had happened) tells him that there was a Padme Amidala calling from the planet demanding to talk to him.

Vader manages to get out that she should be patched through. A large part of him is going PADME!!!!!!! A smaller part is going ‘there’s no planet here any longer?’

The conversations start with Padme going “ANAKIN NO MIDDLE NAME SKYWALKER” in a very pissed off tone. It does not get better for Vader from there.

This is not the same Padme at the end of ROTS, who had gotten so caught up in being in a romance novel that she was smacked in the face with the third act twist of it turning into a horror story. This version of Padme has been watching for twenty years exactly what Anakin was doing, separated from her need to see the best in him. She is closer to her TPM self, and absolutely livid at Fascism done in her name. Padme is also, to her reckoning, back from the dead, about to meet her children for the first time, and possibly immortal (after what just happened…who knows).

Somehow Padme’s entire rant is broadcast throughout the Death Star. None of the stormtroopers know who this person is but they have a deep instinctual need to surrender (Even Tarkin does not recognize Padme after 20 years).

The Millenium Falcon lands on Alderaan. Leia grabs her parents and holds on, before anyone can say anything. Luke sees Owen and Beru (also brought back, and to Alderaan) and does the same. Obi Wan and Cody are off to one side holding each other (Obi Wan is basking in the Force being lighter than it has in 2 decades-though he does not know that rest of the Jedi are also back). Han hovering off to one side awkwardly.

Padme comes storming out, having just finished her…conversation with Anakin. Obi Wan jolted (being the only person currently paying attention who would recognize Padme-Also Bail and Breha had already had the ‘oh that kind of back from the dead’ realization). Padme strode right up to Obi wan and slapped him upside the head ‘that is for getting decapitated before telling my kids they were siblings’ then she hugged him.

After a long period of time, Luke and Leia separate enough from their adoptive parents to meet their mother. Also getting to realize that they were siblings.

After the current reuniting, and uniting, is over Padme says ‘Oh, Anakin will be coming down shortly, he has some things he needs to say’.

Obi Wan, the only other person who knows exactly who Anakin Skywalker is, goes ‘Padme…that may not be a good idea’

Padme gives a smile that could also double as a threat display, though not aimed at anyone present. ‘You need not worry, Obi Wan, Anakin will be spending the rest of his life making up for what he has done.’

For the first time Obi Wan considers that cutting off Anakin's limbs and leaving him to burn on the bank of a lava river was actually kinder than letting him face the full fury of Padme Amidala.

He did manage to communicate exactly who Anakin Skylwaker is. Thankful, at least, that Padme was there for the ‘Our father is Whom???’ Padme does reassure Leia that she did not have to be there and confront the person who tortured her and blew up her planet, but Anakin does owe them all at least one Apology. Leia promptly decides she would be there.

It is an Awkward set of meetings, not the least of which is because Mace Windu comes through with some of the formally murdered younglings (who all knew what they would be facing and wanted to confront their murderer). Vader (and he is still mostly Vader) is not sure why Padme Amidala is intimidating him, but he is going with it.

At some point someone brings up the Emperor. Padme makes that same smile, the threat display, and says that Palpatine should probably start running before she got to him. Far away Palpatine felt a chill along his spine…something had just gone very wrong.

There will be time to deal with the new metric ton of trauma. Seriously there are types of trauma that had never existed that they would have to develop therapy for. There are people to find places for that have been dead for twenty years. There is still an Empire to dismantle.

But for now there is a man who is arguably the second most evil person in the galaxy awkwardly apologizing to his daughter (unknown) for torturing her and blowing up her planet, her adoptive parents for blowing them up, a slew of children he murdered, as well as an entire planets worth of people (many of whom he owes a very personal apology-also probably some kind of compensation), with his 5’3” formerly dead wife looking on.

Even the Force has no idea how we got here.

#star wars #star wars au #obi wan kenobi #fanfiction prompt #anakin skywalker #codywan #sheev palpatine #anidala #star wars a new hope

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euniexenoblade · 4 months

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My thing with table tops, whenever anyone tried to make me play them it was always d&d and pathfinder and I always found it to be such a fuckin drag, I really wanted to just hang out and be dumb with everyone but the game always had these annoying ass combat patches and I just got so annoyed during it. Then I'd watch some show someone recs me and its the same shit I don't want battle sequences I want fun story telling and fun shit to do and I genuinely thought that ttrpgs were just all that, boring fucking combat and no fun..but the truth was you gotta find people who don't play DND and pathfinder, like there are fun fucking games out there apparently that aren't just boring as fuck typical fantasy combat shit.

#ranting

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candle-lamp · 2 months

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Rereading SBG and writing what I notice: Episode 11-20:

- more Tyler being skeptical

- Ben really doesn’t like Tyler at first

- Ben drawing the phantom

- Ben getting creeped out by the photo, apparently always being creeped out by the supernatural

- Aiden is really friendly to Logan

- Logan sleeping on the couch

- pretzel Ashlyn

- the weird dream sequence when they enter the phantom realm (I wonder if everyone else had a dream or if it was just Ash?)

- Tyler slamming the door in Aiden’s face

- Taylor worrying about their roommates

- phantoms can open doors

- Aiden wielding a spray bottle

- Ben worrying about Ashlyn

- Ben holding Aiden back from fighting more phantoms

- the gang is all running around in socks/barefoot

- Tyler comforting Taylor

- Aiden is the only one not shaking after the first encounter

- Aiden noticed Ashlyn’s arm

- when Ashlyn is calling out Tyler, Aiden stops smiling

- Aiden “go off queen” Clark

- Ashlyn tapping her foot

- Ben has first aid experience from patching Aiden up after "skateboard tricks, rock climbing, hiking, jumping off tall places"

- Ben blushing when complimented

- Ashlyn restraining herself from hitting Tyler

- we get to see Logan and Ashlyn's lockscreens (Logan: astronaut helmet with flowers, Ashlyn: ballet shoes)

- everyone getting sick after shifting back

- more Ashlyn foot tapping

- the group discussed going to Savannah several times previously

- ladybugs next to Ben (reference to canvas version)

- Tyler stomping off, turning around, and grabbing Taylor

- Ashlyn acknowledging Tyler's point about doing outside activities

- Aiden wanting to know where Ash's ballet studio is at in case of emergencies

- The Banners sharing popcorn

- Ashlyn's parents flipping her over the couch to interrogate her

- Ben also crouching down when Aiden comes around the couch

- Ashlyn's parents playing cards with Aiden and Ben

- props to Ash's mom for getting her hair up dang, if she was in the phantom realm Ashlyn wouldn't have needed to cut it

- clothes pile in the twins' room

- Logan's grandpa calling him "son"

- his grandma noticing when he started being anxious

- he was previously in an astronomy club but quit

- Logan can easily lie and deflect, which is probably why his grandparents didn't do anything about him being bullied

- Aiden/Ben (unclear whose room) has a minifridge

- Logan has small succulents in his room

- the panel of Taylor and Tyler (you know the one)

- Ash foot tapping, also I feel like I should've mentioned this before but she has freckles literally everywhere

- once something is interacting with in the shadow dimension, any changes in the human realm don't affect it, which includes the gang's bodies bc "injuries that happen here can be felt but not shown in our world and vice versa". does this mean their aging is going to be much slower in the shadow dimension?

- also (from what I gathered) time does seem to pass in the shadow dimension even when they aren't there bc the phantoms will move, how much time is another question

- Taylor and Tyler hide together, Aiden and Logan are together, and Ashlyn and Ben are both alone

- Ashlyn where are your shoes

- freaky ass phantom at the end of ch 20

#sbg (webtoon)#sbg #ashlyn sbg #aiden sbg #ben sbg #taylor sbg #tyler sbg #logan sbg

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gothicprep · 11 months

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so, apparently marvel is in disarray. ahead of the marvels coming out this weekend, variety dropped a bomb on the studio's somewhat dire state of affairs, as the franchise has hit its first real rough patch since the release of iron man 15 years ago. among the issues: jonathan majors, whose domestic violence arrest continues to hang over marvel's plans to make his character the thanos-like heavy for the next sequence of movies, the weak box office projections for the marvels (which some have said is tracking lower than recent bombs like the flash), the unending flood of hashtag content on disney plus which is overwhelming audiences who are finding it harder to keep up with the interlocking stories that have served marvel so well over the years, shoddy visual effects, spiraling budgets such as the reported $25mil an episode for she-hulk, a show that looked terrible because of the shoddy effects work aforementioned, behind the scenes chaos as kevin feige works to slash budgets and kill projects that aren't coming together. one movie at risk is the forthcoming blade reboot with mahershala ali, which has gone through rewrite after rewrite including reportedly one draft in which blade was the fourth lead in, quote, "a narrative led by women and filled with life lessons".

that last line has provided a lot of laughs for people like jay gothicprep, and critics who insist that marvel's efforts to diversify the lineup have led to much of this disaster, indicative of disney's overall failure with things like indiana jones and the dial of destiny or animated projects like strange world or lightyear. while this is potentially true (i guess, it's possible) it doesn't seem true because this certainly wasn't the case when black panther and captain marvel were both cracking the billion dollar mark a few years ago. rather it just seems, more simply, that marvel has run its course. marvel was hit by a double-whammy of endings. the thanos storyline that'd dominated the first ten or so years of the project came to an end. at the same time, the pandemic began and disney plus started flooding the zone with content, creating a natural break point for audiences that had no desire to watch hours of tv to understand 1.5 plot points in whatever the next movie that's coming out is.

this preamble is getting kind of long, and i have a lot more to say, so i'm going to continue to thought dump about this under a cut.

first of all, i'm still laughing like a week later at the women led life lessons description. no one has disputed that it happened. that description is the funniest thing i've ever read in a trade industry report possibly ever. what in the hell, my friends. did a writer even talk to a producer about what blade was? it's a movie about a guy with a sword who kills vampires! it's pretty straighforward! that sounds like something i want to see! there were three of them already, and two of them were pretty good!

anyway, i think you can take that incredibly ridiculous description of a draft that maybe wasn't the main draft – this movie has been through tons of writers and directors – and see some of the real problems with marvel's creative direction, which is that they've stopped making movies that highlight the core concepts of their characters. there are other problems as well, but when's the last time they put out a movie that was like, "iron man. he's a guy in a metal suit and he fights a bad guy." or "spider man. it's a guy in a spider suit with spider powers. he's got girlfriend problems and he fights crime around manhattan and maybe there's dr octopus." they don't do that. their recent stretch of movies have all been these impenetrable multiverse stuff with ties to tv series that you haven't seen and maybe won't ever see. there was a whole 25 minute section in black panther 2 that was setting up armor wars and ironheart. and like. who needs that sequence, which was boring and looked like total garbage? and now armor wars is being redeveloped lol. they've just departed from a lot of the core concepts that powered their earlier films.

they have some other problems. they've leaned into a slate of characters that is not all that well-known or inherently super popular, even for marvel being able to deliver on making billion dollar films out of guardians of the galaxy and such. maybe with the exception of spider man, which they don't get a full cut from because sony owns the actual movie rights. then there's the fact that the streaming series, by all accounts, aren't great but you *feel* like you need to have seen them. they're all real big problems. marvel needs to go back to making movies that are named after a character who's a superhero with a clear concept. guy with spider powers fights crime in his neighborhood. even though those movies got kind of repetitive, they did well enough because they didn't stray too far from the character concept.

i think, too, as a viewer, when you have a studio churning out so much stuff that's not good, you get the impression that the superhero industry feels entitled to your time and entitled to your money while not delivering.

this summer also represents an interesting counterpoint to what's happened with marvel and dc. the sheer amount of stuff that you devote every waking minute to keeping track of the damn things got exhausting and made movies stop feeling like events. this summer we've had barbenheimer and the eras tour, and those have been both big events and felt exciting. barbie was a chance to be campy, oppenheimer was a chance to see something serious and cinematic, the eras tour was exciting for fans of taylor swift who couldn't afford to spend $3k on taylor swift. and they felt this way because they were all unlike anything you'd seen at the movies in recent years. they had a high standard of quality, and going, it genuinely felt like people were there because they wanted to be, not because they were being force marched by a cultural behemoth to be there. you can't summon that same kind of energy for a marvel movie when it both feels obligatory and you expect it to be bad.

it also feels like there's a certain contempt for the audience where it concerns quality problems. i mean, i don't think that this is the intention. marvel isn't saying "we can deliver this stuff that's garbage and people will see it anyway". but one of the things i thought was the most damning about that variety story was the fact that, on some of the marvel tv shows, the final effects were inserted after the shows were released. so if you watched the show on opening night, you probably didn't see the final effects work. the arrogance involved in that is insane. it speaks to a total vanished pride in putting out a good product.

even some of marvel's better regarded films were heavily edited and heavily worked on right until the end, in part because kevin feige would come in and fix things, so stuff would have to get reworked. that's why effects deadlines were super tight and people were always crunching at the very end of this. there was that incredible quote from sam raimi from a couple months before the second doctor strange came out where he was like, "i think it's done but i'm not sure. marvel, they work on their movies until the very end." the director didn't even know if his own movie was locked or not because he clearly wasn't the one making the decisions about what the final print would look like.

that can work if you're making two movies a year and have a supervisor that comes in during the process and says, "i need you to redo this, in this way". but when you stretch that out to three movies a year, plus god knows how many episodes of television, there's no way to do that and make it a high quality product.

an instructive lesson comes from the book "disneywar", which chronicles michael eisner's time at disney. and one of the things in this book was the development and deployment of "who wants to be a millionaire" in america. bob iger is head of abc at this time. the guys making this show do it for a week. audiences love it. it's putting up huge numbers. everybody is excited. it's crushing it in the ratings. and the people who made it wanted to keep doing special week or two week long engagements that people would show up for. and iger was like, "no. i want this every week, three times a week, forever." and audiences got burnt out on it quickly, because it was something that only really worked as a special that ran for a week and disappeared for a few months. that's what the disney plus strategy feels like with marvel.

#i love watching movies with my friends

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rallamajoop · 1 year

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Lab Photos and Documents from Resident Evils 7 & 8

Near the end of both Resis 7 and 8, the player character gets to explore a laboratory full of significant documents and interesting photos, textured and angled such that it’s very hard to get a good screencap. So here’s a huge dump of all the relevant image assets I could find to extract from both game files (plus some rambling about everything that got recycled between them, because spot-the-reused-asset is still my favourite game right now).

Photos from Lucas' lab in Resident Evil 7

The photo of Mia with Eveline in front of the tanker can be found at the end of the Mia video tape, though it also shows up again in Lucas' other lab in the Not A Hero DLC. That DLC also throws in a few new photos of Lucas' creations.

And moving on a game...

Photos from Miranda's Lab in Resident Evil 8

(Apologies for the long post above the cut, but tumblr doesn't seem to let you tile images below a 'Read more', unfortunately.)

What’s interesting is that most do seem to be legitimate photos of the characters’ real-life face models, not just renders of their 3D game models. Whether the human models themselves posed for these or whether their likeness was simply photoshopped onto scenes composed without them I haven’t been able to find out (though the latter seems more likely to me, given that most face models don't even seem to have known what character their likeness would be used for). Either way, there’s an eerie realism to these that doesn’t occur in many other parts of the game, and it’s effective in its own uncanny way.

Since both games refer to the same research at the same lab, it's probably reasonable that some of RE8 photos are just slightly-adjusted copies of those from RE7 ‒ those two shots of Eveline in the lab most obviously. And we're probably just supposed to politely ignore how obviously Miranda's just been selectively edited into that original pic of Eveline with the scientists. *cough*

In fact, if you look closely, even that big group photo of Eveline with the research team and transport operatives has actually patched in both Mia and Eveline from that earlier photo of them standing in front of the tanker. In fact, Alan (Mia's partner in RE7) isn't even from a photo at all: that's a drawing from a piece concept art (no wonder they've got him standing at the back!) As a minor role who appeared in no photos in RE7, I assume they just didn't have any good shots of his face model available.

I'm a little suspicious even Miranda's face in the group shot has been edited in from one of her other photos, but the match isn't quite perfect enough for me to be sure.

Even that photo of the needle going into the egg and the developing foetus isn't new: you can see the same needle shot in some of the RE7 documents, and even the foetus development series gets an angled scan-over in the RE7 ending sequence.

Mind you, some of those "photos of Eveline" may actually not be Eveline herself ‒ text on them in the lab itself suggests they're photos of other members of the E-series, sacrificed during necrotoxin tests. Which makes it rather odd that the figure in the second photo is an adult man who looks nothing like Eveline, so I can only assume some wires got crossed somewhere in the dev team.

(Also odd: the suggestion that there were multiple E-series subjects, some of whom were put down for experimental purposes, even though Eveline herself is labeled E-001. But let's not pretend RE lore has ever been super-consistent at the best of times.)

RE8's "lab photos" also include a couple of shots of a man in snow gear who's apparently Spencer of Umbrella-fame, presumably for all those fans who don't feel it's a proper Resident Evil game if there's not an Umbrella in it somewhere. They're both about as rough as that one piece of concept art of Alan, so I'm guessing whoever created them was about as invested in that topic as I am.

Somewhat more interesting to me are the two shots of Miranda with babies. The second obvious Eveline, but the first is presumably of Miranda with Eva, way back in 1920 or so ‒ demonstrating nothing so much much as that in a full 100 years, Miranda hasn't even slightly changed how she does her eyebrows. /s

#Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil 7 #Mia Winters #Eveline #Mother Miranda #RE assets #reused assets #RE lore #meta

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eccentric-nucleus · 9 months

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actually if i'm gonna make a games rec post.

here are some games i have enjoyed recent-ish.

kenshi. an open-world squad-based rpg with base-building elements. get stronger by getting beaten up. lose a fight and get knocked out, have your weapons and food taken by the bandits that mugged you and left you bleeding to death. get rescued by some slavers that capture you and sell you into slavery. free yourself from slavery and limp away until you roll in hours later with a whole squad of overpowered fighters. then head a little bit too far south and get murdered by skin bandits. they take your skin. this is a completely self-directed game; there's no "main plot", although arguably "figure out the history of the world" is kind of the main 'story' mystery. there's also a bunch of unique recruitable characters with custom-written interactions. i usually recruit exclusively from freeing slaves but you can do w/e.

wildmender. a survival gardening game. this one came out recently and the devs are still releasing bugfixes; it's unclear if they'll make large content patches in the future. apparently multiplayer can still be pretty glitchy, and there's a water flow bug that i've been finding very frustrating. the way biomes work is kind of unsatisfying. kind of slim content-wise, but still, i really enjoyed what's there. out of all of the climate change terraforming anxiety games i've seen, this has been the one i've most enjoyed.

hellpoint. a scifi soulslike made by a team of like 12 people. previously i had thought things like "it would be neat if dark souls was less linear". hellpoint is a great example of why that might be a nightmare. the areas are connected in such a complex way, with one-way routes and branching unlock keys and secret paths and hidden doors behind hidden doors that it gets profoundly disorienting. a hint: almost every single hidden door in the game (there are a lot) is the middle panel of the same exact three-paneled-wall geometry. once you notice what it is you will see it everywhere. also, the enemy designs are hot.

crystal project. remember playing fan translations of final fantasy v? remember wandering around in old mmos? crystal project is kind of a... turn-based rpg mmo-influenced platformer. with a job system. you can sequence break the game from the tutorial level and also at basically every other point in the game too, although until you know what to look for it might seem like there's a linear critical path. but there's a lot out there. hint: play on easy mode. the combat gets tough later on and the game absolutely expects you to be finding and exploiting some class combinations.

astlibra: revision. a sidescrolling rpg. it must have been released episodically originally or some of the chapter pacing makes no sense. also it was originally released with a mess of art sourced from all sorts of places; 'revision' is a re-release with a more unified art style. it gets extremely anime all the time. there's a whole obligatory section where you have to ask all the women in a town about what kind of panties they're wearing. it's rough. i enjoyed how chaotic the systems are and how much Stuff there is to pick up and upgrade and unlock. the plot goes some unexpected places though it doesn't quite stick the landing, i still enjoyed what it did. also karon should be the love interest instead.

silicon zeroes. a cpu-building puzzle game. this straddles the line between the tech/code games that are literally just "learn a new language and code in it" and ones that are more structure-themed like, idk, spacechem. connect modules to assemble solutions to problems. it takes too long to get to chapter 3, which is where they start asking you to make entire cpus.

ashen. another souls-like. i just really like the environments in this one. the initial area looks gorgeous and the way it changes through the game is really neat to see happen. the seat of the matriarch is wonderfully awful to traverse and i wish there had been two or three more dungeons like it in the game. you can't level up; you gain stats mostly by progressing sidequests and the name quest. i eventually ran out of things to spend money on AND inventory space to store items. the late-game tuning is a little rough but until then it's great. a hint: there are three weapon types and within that type nearly all the weapons are identical. you get thrown so many weapons that don't matter; don't worry about collecting all of them. see above re: running out of space and things to use money for.

i guess it would be cheating to recommend minecraft regrowth or morrowind but i have also been playing those.

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vasiktomis · 2 years

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The Seeds Eating You Out - AFAB!Reader (18+)

Tags/Warnings: Humiliation, angst, illiteracy, yelling.

Buy me a coffee! | Commission Me!

Joseph

Joseph doesn’t beat around the proverbial bush. He wants to make sure you’re satisfied.

He takes an ultra long time worshiping your body.

Lots of kisses.

After a while the spit in his beard goes cold and it feels like a gross stamp.

Also, you realise that despite all the worship, he never actually looks at your face.

When he finally settles between your legs and you’re looking down at the top of his head, you realise how aggressive the male pattern baldness really is.

A strangled sound escapes him the moment he lowers his face to your cunt.

You look down again. He’s crying. Choked sobs, shoulders wracking against your thighs.

“I’m sorry.” He blubbers, drooling saliva and snot all over your vulva. “My wife had a vagina, too, you see.”

Deep in the ocean of his balls, the sperm that will one day become the fetus that will one day become Ethan Seed is strangling its siblings to death. It will lead the New Eden.

___________________________

Faith

Faith is one to keep her nails clipped, god bless.

She just hasn’t washed her hands since the 3rd grade.

There’s almost as much grime on her fingers as there is her terminally bare feet, which are leaving patches of wet grit and sand and the odd blade of grass on your sheets as she crawls toward you on the mattress.

“Welcome to the bliss.” She smiles, holding eye contact until she’s lowered herself enough that you can only see the whites of her eyes.

A muddy hand grips your thigh, and it distracts you from a long lick through your folds, and the expectant look that goes unanswered.

Bravely, she continues on. First in an ‘A’ sequence, then ‘B’.

She’s tracing the alphabet into your clit, and what’s worse, you can hear her humming along so as not to forget her place.

When she gets to ‘F’, she stops and cranes her head to meet your gaze again.

“F for Faith.” She whispers, expressionless.

“That’s right. Very good.” You nod, hesitant.

You wish to leave this place.

___________________________

John

For the past minute, John has been rubbing your shit like a scratch 'n' win lottery card. Sweat gathers on his forehead.

When this started, he was brimming with charisma. Now, 60 seconds in, he looks like he’s about to kill you.

“You like that?” He pants yet again, near sanding off your clitoris with the sheer elbow grease he’s putting into it. “You gonna squirt? You gonna come? Come already. Just —why won’t you come?” John punctuates his accusation by straight up punching the mattress.

For a moment, he looks like he might burst into tears. Into the layers of cotton and padding, he screams himself hoarse before going deathly quiet.

It’s a matter of seconds before he composes himself.

He’s a pro, after all.

A bead of sweat (or perhaps a tear) that had been wobbling at the end of his nose smears into your folds as he lowers his mouth to your entrance — and all but shoves his tongue inside with a faux-appreciative hum that makes it obvious he really thinks he’s doing a good job right now.

Just as soon as the ill-informed venture begins, he’s pulling out and away from you, settling on his knees with what is either a grin or a grimace.

Hastily, he fumbles with his belt.

Apparently it’s his turn now.

___________________________

Jacob

Jacob traces a grimy finger around your clit, ignoring the hitch in your breath.

“See, if you had some more meat on this, there’d be more for me to work with.” He grumbles. “No balls, either. Not only am I going hungry, but thirsty, too. How do you expect to feed a platoon like this?”

“Sir, it’s a pussy, SIR!” You bark back at him, doing your damnedest not to flush red while his eyebrows raise.

His expression turns thoughtful, then. “So this is what a pussy looks like. And the hole?”

“Supposed to be there, SIR.”

“Ew, yuggy.”

“Sir, it is yuggy, sir!”

Jacob shifts back, then. He turns to look over his shoulder at the sliver of arm peeking out from behind a corner.

“Peaches, you see this shit?” He hollers. “Is this common?”

“Y-yes, sir.” Comes the trembling response.

Jacob hums at that, returning to scrutinising your cunt.

“So this is what the liberal agenda is pushing.” He scoffs. “This is the America I fought for.”

#this is serious fyi #far cry 5 #fc5 #joseph seed #faith seed #john seed #jacob seed #mdni #nsft #thanks for the inspo zak

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sednonamoris · 1 year

Text

once bitten

Pairing: John Marston x gn!reader

Summary: John and Abigail’s relationship continues to deteriorate as Arthur begins a clumsy courtship. You and John run off hunting to get away from it all, but things don’t exactly go to plan.

Warnings: Angst, emotional constipation, canon-typical violence, animal violence, hunting, strong language, weird and complicated love square pt. 2, brief dream sequence, more wolves

Word count: 3,551

A/N: I’m sure in a few days I’ll like this but right now looking at it any longer will make me cry - bone apple teeth :) Covered a lot of ground with this one 😮‍💨

Series masterlist • AO3

—

There are fresh wildflowers hanging around the entrance to John and Abigail’s tent. Jack has new clothes, unfrayed and free of patches. There’s a healthy flush to Abigail’s cheeks and a sparkle in her eyes that’s been missing for you don’t know how long - ages. Arthur walks around camp with a jaunty step and whistling tune. Even Uncle says something about how happy he seems.

John isn’t happy at all.

In fact, you’re sure he’s never been madder.

Every time Arthur walks by he sneers or makes a rude, too-loud comment to whoever he’s talking to. When he spies Abigail or Jack he snipes a nasty word their way or disparages any kindness Arthur has done. The flowers are ugly. Half-dying. Why the hell did Abigail have to put them up, anyway? And those new clothes look stupid. Can’t Jack be grateful for what he has already? This ain’t a life of luxury here. And so on.

“That boy is lost,” Dutch says to you one afternoon, shaking his head while cigar smoke curls around him. John is chopping wood across camp like each log has Arthur’s face on it, chest heaving and sweat dripping down his brow. “Running once again, though he remains here among us.”

You frown, arms crossed. “He’s an idiot, lettin’ things get this bad in the first place.”

“Maybe,” Dutch chuckles softly, “maybe. He’s blind, certainly, to miss what’s right in front of him.”

He looks meaningfully at you when he says it, and you shift under the scrutiny. You’ve always known that Dutch knew - Hosea knows, and there are no secrets between them - but he’s been kind enough not to say anything over the years.

Until now, you guess.

“What do you think he ought to do?”

You know what you want him to do, but it’s silly and selfish and Dutch has always been better at this sort of thing.

“I think,” he says, like he’s been waiting for you to ask, “I need this family whole again. John has a choice: to step up and be father, or to let Arthur do it in his stead. Love catches us all, in the end - one way or another. But maybe you’re asking me what you should do.”

“Maybe,” you admit on a sigh. “I’m afraid I might be lost, too.”

You’re scared to look him in the eye but feel him stare right through to the heart of you anyhow. He grasps your shoulder with one hand and tilts your chin to face him with the other. His brows are pinched together over strong features that feel like home after running with him for so long. Your own father’s features have long since faded to dreamlike memory.

“You, Arthur, John,” Dutch says, “you’re the children I never had. Figure this out before you break your old man’s heart, will you?”

There’s something you can’t place in the depths of his gaze - a love or a warning or a promise. It doesn't really matter because whatever it is he’s right; this has to be fixed sooner than later.

—

Things come to a head when Abigail kicks John out of their tent in the middle of the night. In nothing but his longjohns and the pitch dark he shouts every obscenity he can think of at the tent flaps, but she doesn’t budge. Worse, she doesn’t even shout back, and half the camp is woken anyway.

After sulking by a campfire that isn’t much more than embers he tries again. Her rejection is even quieter, this time, but no less apparent.

So he tries your tent instead.

John pokes his head past the flaps and you blink through sleep to see him flushed, equal parts anger and shame with just a shred of hope in his expression. “...You got room in here?”

Sometimes you wish you were a worse friend.

“Jesus, yes, fine,” you grumble. “Hurry up and shut up.”

He steps in with his bedroll and sets it on the ground beside your cot while you roll over and pretend to fall back asleep. Still, you don’t miss his quietly mumbled thanks or way his breathing evens into soft snores in a matter of minutes. You eventually close your eyes to the sound and sleep away the few lavender hours before dawn.

—

He is not forgiven by morning. If anything, more time to think about it has made Abigail even less compromising.

“The hell did you do to her?” you ask over breakfast, but he only glowers in response.

She’s giving him the silent treatment, going about her day without so much as a glance in his direction. It’s driving him crazy. Especially because she makes a point of talking to Arthur instead every time he tries to start a conversation.

“That woman,” he seethes. “And Arthur is no better! What did I ever do to deserve this?”

You can think of an itemized list, but you don’t tell him that. You’re still busy feeling sick for telling Arthur to go for it in the first place. Christ alive, you’re more guilty now than you ever have been about robbing and killing folk your whole life. It might not be so bad if Arthur didn’t take every opportunity to rub his intentions in John’s face, but the two of them are worse now than when they were kids.

You want to confess, to make yourself the villain instead, but what if John will never speak to you again afterwards?

…What if that’s what you deserve?

“That’s it,” he stands so abruptly the table rattles. You jump, startled from your spiraling thoughts. “I’m gettin’ out of here.”

“John Marston if you tuck tail and run again you can forget Abigail, I’ll kill you myself.”

“Not like that,” he says. “Hunting trip. Just a couple days; I need to kill something other than Arthur. Would you—” he cuts himself off, squirms in place. Can’t quite look you in the eye. “Do you wanna come with?”

“Sure, yeah,” you hear yourself agreeing automatically. “Someone’s got to make sure somethin’ doesn’t gnaw off the other half of your head.”

He scrunches his face. “Real funny.”

You allow yourself a faint grin. “I know.”

—

It’s quick work to get the horses tacked while he packs rifles and food enough for a day or two and triple checks the location with Hosea, who looks like he can’t decide how exactly he ended up raising such a bunch of fools. His brows raise when he catches your eye past John’s shoulder. You can feel the helpless expression on your face in response.

Arthur makes a point to wish you luck. Not John, just you. Abigail keeps busy with Jack at the far end of camp without so much as a word. Dutch steps into place beside Hosea and sends you off with a meaningful stare you feel long after camp has passed out of sight.

—

“Apparently some feller told Hosea about some real big elk in that forest out past Valentine,” John says as the two of you trot along. Moonshine takes two steps to Old Boy’s one, but you’re making good time. Even the pack horses you’re ponying along keep pace just fine.

“Cumberland?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I figure between the two of us we can take at least one down - maybe two - and bring ‘em back to camp. Pearson might even happy with us, for once.”

“He’s plenty happy with me,” you scoff. “Charles, too. We bring in game all the time.”

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

You smile to yourself.

It’s a fine day for it, if a bit cloudy. Looks like it might rain later. Cumberland isn’t quite as green as you like, but the spruce trees stand tall and proud and the grass is coming in full, sprinkled with deceivingly pale and delicate flowers for what you know it takes to survive out here. Still, it’s not too sunny, not too warm, and the faintest whisper of a breeze fans your face with the scent of late spring and coming rain. Hard to complain about that.

Even skirting around Valentine you make it to a decent campsite before the evening goes grey and the drizzle begins. Muscle memory makes quick work of striking up the tents and unpacking the bedrolls. John gathers the driest kindling he can find while you hobble the horses. You warm a can of beans over the newborn fire while he scouts around for a rabbit or squirrel to complete the meal.

“Feels like I can breathe again out here,” John says once dinner is ready and the two of you are settled around the campfire.

Something about being out in the wilderness makes even bad meals taste better. If Pearson tried to serve this up you’d riot, but here? Rabbit and beans is about the best thing you can think of.

“No such thing as bad country,” you agree.

“I don’t know about that. You remember Ohio?”

You groan. “Don’t remind me. That was a terrible winter. I ain’t built for cold like that.”

“You ‘n Javier both,” he snickers. “I’m surprised you didn’t complain so much in Colter.”

“Colter was different. So many people gone, and the rest half froze and scared,” you look away and sigh deep. “Wasn’t my place to complain.”

“I guess,” he blows out a loaded breath. The tin plate resting between his knees is all but forgotten. “Still hard to believe we lost people like that. Do you think Mac is alive out there?”

“Hard to kill a Callander. Still, I don’t fancy his chances. Those Pinkertons are mean sons-’a-bitches, and the law was on us out there like stink on shit.”

John snorts out half a laugh. “Sure were. Feels like the whole thing was a setup. And Dutch—”

“Dutch what? Javier said he didn’t have much of a choice.”

“You weren’t on that boat,” he shakes his head. “He says it was her or us, but I can’t help feeling like that girl didn’t have to die. He spent our whole lives tellin’ us not to kill in cold blood. Weren’t nothin’ hot-blooded about that.”

A shiver runs down your spine remembering the glacial calm on Dutch’s face as he dragged John to shore, spattered in blood and a bad situation. Not regret.

“Sometimes there ain’t no way out but the hard way.”

Never regret.

“Yeah,” John says. “Maybe.”

When you make your way into your tent for the evening the staccato beat of rainfall lulls you to sleep. You dream of storms. Rain comes down red and thick as blood. When you look down it’s covered your hands. Stained them. When lightning strikes you hear a woman scream. Instead of thunder, Dutch’s laugh echoes.

—

The next morning you lie on your stomach on a ridge overlooking the Dakota. Pale dawn light filters through the mist and makes the morning shimmer. You breathe deep and steady and quiet and try to focus on the elk at the other end of your scope and not the way John is pressed so close to your side, his own sighted rifle at the ready. A whole herd lies below. They take turns keeping watch and grazing and drinking their fill from the pebbled shoreline. Hosea’s man wasn’t wrong; the smallest cow among them is easily six hundred pounds.

The both of you rose with the sun to start tracking them through the wood. Last night’s rainfall made their muddied hoofprints easy to follow. Through the brush and down to the river you scouted and crouched and checked for scat and broken branches. Now they’re settled on the riverbank for the morning,

“I was hoping for a bull,” John mutters.

“Meat is meat,” you roll your eyes, “and these are damn big cows, besides. Which one you dropping?”

“I’ll take the one by the tree. You?”

“Other side of the river, head down drinking.”

You feel him nod beside you. “On three?”

“One…”

Inhale.

“Two…”

Exhale.

“Three.”

C-Crack!

Your shots fire off almost simultaneously, scattering the herd all at once, save the two that are dead before they hit the ground.

John whistles for the horses and you make your way down rocky paths to the riverbank. You settle on dressing them at camp and hoist the bodies onto your pack horses whole, heaving with effort. It’s a good thing the little Morgans are sturdy.

“We should head back,” John scans the ridge, shifting in place, “before anything smells the blood.”

“Sure.” You swing into your saddle and take the lead of one pack horse.

John ponies the other off of Old Boy, and you pick your way back up narrow pebbled deerpaths to the main road. It’s early yet, and you’ve only been gone a night, but meat is best fresh and it’s not too far a ride back. Still, you’re slower now than you were coming out here. You tell yourself it’s because the horses have a much heavier load this time around, but it rings false even to your ears. What it is is selfishness. Out here in the wild things are simple and John is all yours. Back at camp life is far, far more complicated.

“Wish we could’a stayed another night,” John breaks the silence, voicing your own thoughts. He glances at you sideways from his saddle. You pretend not to notice.

“Too bad we’re not worse hunters.”

He sighs and rubs his jaw. “Yeah. Just not sure if I want to see Abigail so soon. Or Arthur. The pair of them—”

“Can’t we talk about somethin’ else?” Your shoulders hunch, defensive, and your lip curls somewhere between a plea and a snarl.

“Really?” John turns his head to you fully and pulls his horse up. The closer you get to camp the harder it is to forget the tensions that wait for you there.There’s a mean shine in his eyes, clouds before the storm. “Seems like you been happy to talk to Arthur about it all. Karen said—”

“That’s different.”

“How the hell is it different? Last I checked it was you ‘n me, not you and him.”

“It’s different,” you insist, arms folded and glare full of thunder. You open your mouth to say something more - something mean - something you’re sure to regret, when a rustle in the brush snaps your gaze past John and any argument to the forest behind.

The horses dance beneath you, spooked and snorting. Their eyes roll white. The commotion gets closer. In moments a blur of brown and tan and desperation comes barrelling out of the brush; the biggest bull elk you’ve ever seen. You swear it looks right at you before puffing out a frantic breath and galloping away.

“What the—” John curses, but you aren’t left to wonder what was chasing it for long.

A bone-chilling howl cuts him off. One, then two, then three wolves emerge from the forest in hot pursuit. If they hadn’t called you might not have noticed them until it was too late; their grey-brown coats blend into the brush perfectly, and each padded footfall is all but silent. Powerful muscles ripple through their shoulders as they run. It’s as beautiful to watch as it is terrifying. You don’t think you even breathe. John is just as petrified beside you, face blanched and hand straying up to clutch at his still-healing scars.

They’ve almost passed entirely when your pack horse rears up, whinnying desperately at the scent of a predator. You shush her but it’s too late; The wolves stop their pursuit and stare at you instead with their hungry golden eyes. Saliva drips from their maw. Midmorning sun glints off their canines.

You fire your pistol at the ground near their feet, hoping the sound will scare them off. Two shy away and take up the elk’s trail again instead, but the biggest of the lot jumps back for only a moment before circling the horses once more with a savage snarl. Fuck. You don’t have a spare hand to reach for your rifle, and neither does John if you have any hope of keeping hold of the pack horses and your respective kills. Another bullet does nothing to deter it this time. It circles even closer and snaps at Moonshine’s heels. He squeals and kicks out, narrowly missing the wolf, which pins its ears and growls at the close call.

Everything in you screams to run, to get far far away from this predator that stalks closer and closer still, but you know that even if Old Boy and Moonshine take your direction, in their panic the pack ponies will flee every which way, tearing the leads from your hands and making themselves easy targets.

“Go on, get!” John shouts hoarsely.

The wolf’s lip only curls in response.

This time when you fire your gun, your aim is true. Big as it is, a single bullet from a pistol is only enough to make it mad, but you’re desperate. It lunges forward, and you empty the chamber into its skull. The horses scream. Your pack pony tears away into the wood. Moonshine nearly skitters out from beneath you. Old Boy rears up on John.

But with a final whimper the wolf lies dead.

“Shit,” you curse. “Are you alright?”

Now that you can finally turn to look at him, John seems about as rattled as you feel. All the blood has drained from his face, making his scars stand out even more, stark pink against white. His grip is white-knuckled and shaking ever so slightly around his reins and the lead of his pawing pack horse.

“I fucking hate wolves,” he says.

It’s easy to agree.

“C’mon,” you say, “that pony can’t have got far.”

“What should we do with the wolf?”

You shrug. “Skin it if you want, but I doubt the hide is any good after I shot it full of holes.”

“You think that elk got away?”

“I dunno.”

You tilt your head at him, eyes squinted, but other than scared he seems fine. Still, he stares at the wolf’s prone corpse just a moment too long before following you into the brush to retrieve your missing horse.

—

The rest of the ride back is silent save for the creaking of saddle leather and occasional snort from one of the horses. John keeps looking over at you like he wants to say something. Every time you look away and spur your mount forward before he can.

—

“Hey, you’re back already!” Javier calls from midway up the path to camp. He whistles lowly when he sees the haul you’ve brought with you. “What’s with the faces? This will feed us for weeks.”

“Long story,” you say.

John just shakes his head.

“Siempre algo con ustedes,” you hear Javier mutter as you pass. You wish he wasn’t right.

You hitch the horses as close as Ms. Grimshaw will allow and begin the huffing and puffing process of getting both carcases strung up near Pearson’s station for proper dressing. John takes one end while you take the other and heave it off the horse.

“Take a look at that - what a beauty!” Pearson says when he sees the size of the cow.

“Quit lookin’ and help us get this damn thing up,” you grunt. “Jesus, it’s heavy.”

The work is cumbersome and awkward, but between the three of you it gets done. Jack appears somewhere between stringing the first and second one up, staring with wide, innocent eyes. He doesn’t say a word, content just to watch. You flash him a small smile. John ignores him entirely.

At least until Abigail joins him.

“Surprised you’re here,” he jabs. “Got tired of Arthur while we was gone?”

“No,” she huffs. “He’s gone to Strawberry to fetch Micah. I— The boy, I mean, was worried ‘bout you is all. Didn’t think you’d be back so soon.”

“Didn’t plan to be.”

She puts her hands on her hips and he glares, forced into some sort of stalemate.

You busy yourself with Pearson and try to look everywhere but at them. Both keep glancing over to you for something. Support? Vindication, maybe? Abigail’s eyes are heartbreak blue, and you feel yours widen when they meet hers, backed into a corner you still don’t fully understand. When you finally manage to break away the grey of John’s waits for you; ash and ruin.

Like the coward you are, you tuck tail and retreat with the excuse that the horses still need to be untacked and cooled out, nevermind that Charles has already started the job. You hear Abigail say that she and John ought to talk, if he can get his head out of his ass long enough for a serious conversation. You’re out of earshot before his retort comes stinging.

“Are you okay?” Charles asks when he sees the look on your face.

You sigh and manage a grimace. “Sure.”

He glaces back to where John and Abigail stand before meeting your eyes once more, all sympathy. Left without something to say - because what is there to say, really? - he puts a strong, warm hand on your shoulder. The solidness of his touch should be reassuring, but it only reminds you of how fragile and broken everything else feels.

#john marston x reader #rdr x reader #rdr2 x reader #ghost story #ch. 17

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theerurishipper · 10 months

Note

I remember people said the scene in Transmission, where Ladynoir renounce their Miraculous and "seemingly" not thinking about each other are mean to be a plot hole, not character inconsistency.

Bt for me, if the character NOT even make a slight uncomfort gesture/expression when they see Scarabella and Black Minette out there instead of their team mate, then it's not a plot hole, it's character inconsistency.

"Plot hole" excuse only work if Adrinette make any comment/looks surprised/make any reaction upon seeing the new duo but the aired time won't let the show do more than that. But the show doesn't let them react negatively which resulting people interpret it as "Yeah I don't care about my team mate, I already got my gf/bf anyway" which is not plot hole at all.

It's 100% character inconsistency. Plot holes are when the plot is wonky, and some logic doesn't logic. When a character acts OOC, it is character inconsistency. Adrien and Marinette have both become wildly OOC since the second Adrienette became canon on this show. They don't care about superheroing anymore, they don't care about each other as Ladybug and Chat Noir anymore. Outside of like, one line about "I hope Ladybug/Chat Noir are okay" (which is quickly overshadowed by some Adrienette, cause we sure do need more of that when we're talking about the late Ladynoir), they just don't give a fuck.

Actually, this isn't even character inconsistency anymore, this is a whole character overhaul a la whatever happened to Felix Fathom. Cause Adrienette only works if you change significant aspects of their characters. What about Chat Noir meaning freedom and a means of escape for Adrien, what about Ladybug being the narrative opposite of his abusive father who gives him unconditional love and acceptance? Fuck that, what he really needs is to start centering his identity around his classmate (with whom he isn't even that close because she thinks he's perfect) and defining himself based on her needs. And what of Chat Noir being the only one who can understand Marinette's struggles? Chat Noir being her special partner whom she can always lean on? Nah, fuck that shit lmao, here's Marinette trying to tell Adrien something he already knows and Marinette trying to hold Adrien's hand even though she's done that before without a problem!

Anyway, like I was saying, they had to change their characters up so that Adrienette could make sense, because it sure wouldn't make sense if it became canon in the show that devoted the bulk of its development to Ladynoir, now would it? So that's why we get episodes like Determination, where Adrien is suddenly head over heels for Marinette out of fucking nowhere, right after the Jubilation dream sequence where they had those cabbage patch kids, and Ladybug initiated a kiss even though they realized this was a dream, and they were clearly having some complicated feelings about the whole thing at the end of the episode. Cause fuck Ladynoir, amirite? Like, why would we waste time on the relationship we spent 5 seasons developing when we could focus on some cookie cutter high school romance with retcons galore and multiple, I tell you, multiple scenes featuring Marinette suddenly having the inability to do things she's done before with no problem, and apparently, it's all Chloe's fault, like what a fucking shocker, who could have seen that coming.

And lets not get into the actual plot holes in Transmission too, cause those also exist? How does Adrien Agreste know and proudly state Scarabella's name when no civilian knows she exists? How does this not make Marinette question why he knows? Why does Marinette expect that someone else becoming Ladybug means she's free when she's still the Guardian? Make it make sense, please.

Anyway, that's all I got. I'm sorry for using your ask as a venting post, anon. I just rewatched Gamer today, and god, Adrienette are so cute and adorable in Season 1. Like, they actually have chemistry and fun interactions and it's the lucky charm debut episode! I will never forgive this show for taking that Adrienette away from me and replacing it with... whatever Season 5 coughed up.

Thank you for your ask!

#ML Salt #ML Writing Salt #ML Writers Salt #Marinette Salt #Ladybug Salt #Not really but tagging to be safe #Adrienette salt #Asks #Meta #My meta

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nerdalmighty · 5 months

Note

hey, sorry for randomly sliding into your inbox but! i just wanted to tell you that i'm about to start act 3 of bg3, would've started it sooner but i didn't get to play for a couple weeks as i was waiting to be able to upgrade my hard drive. and over the course of playing i've ended up changing several details of my tav's backstory as well as really fleshing out their character and getting into the roleplay, and i'm so attached to them by now that i almost don't want to finish my playthrough lol. i'm thinking of starting a gale origin playthrough once i do finish just so i can see more of tara. and i noticed that you're close to finishing the game as well! can i ask how birdie's adventure is going?

AHHHHHH DON'T APOLOGIZE!!!!!! I love talking BG3 :)

I am INCREDIBLY close to finishing the game. Like, about to go to the Nether Brain for the final battle close.

I've been putting it off FOR WEEKS because I'm so incredibly attached to Birdie and the companions and their relationships to each other and I don't want it to end!!

Since last we spoke, Birdie and the gang had just done the Iron Throne mission (breaking people out of jail). She decided NOT to go confront the other Wave Servants; that chapter in her life has closed. I won't spoil more of Act 3 since you're just getting into it, but I did I think maybe three other Big Plot Things and now it's time to actually do the damn thing and beat the game.

I'm a little nervous about some of the endings I may have gotten for myself (I'm concerned I may have accidentally condemned Gale to godhood) and I know there are some things I missed, purely because it was my first playthrough and I didn't know any better (I didn't get to know Rolan, didn't save Minthara, didn't get the Githyanki egg, etc), but I'm honestly excited for the epilogue sequence. Is it mostly because of happy/soft Astarion? YES! I LOVE THAT GUY! SUE ME!

My roommate and I have been playing the game at pretty much the same pace this whole time, so I'm about to watch HER beat the game this Friday. She's playing as a Gloom Stalker Ranger named "Sevyn" (yes, like the number 😂) who's romancing Gale, but we've made relatively similar choices throughout the whole thing.

I'm not too worried about spoilers since I know a lot of the outcomes, I just don't know how it happens or what the final battle looks like. But like I explained in my previous Birdie post, I like to look things up beforehand/during certain events because I like having help. Similarly, I love watching my roommate play and learning from/with her so I don't feel as in the dark when it's my turn. Granted, I played a lot without her during Acts 1, 2 and 3, but since we're getting to the end, I've slowed WAY down and have let her go first with most big things. It's not for everyone, but it's how I like to play!

I'm so attached to Birdie and this save file that I'm thinking of creating an entirely new account on my PS5 just to start a new game so that I don't have to save over previous Birdie saves.

Like, what if in a new patch, they add a new scene to Astarion's plot line? A new action (hug/kiss)? New camp idle animations? I want to be able to go in with Birdie and do those things, should they ever come up. Yes I COULD romance Astarion again (and probably will because I'm a weak woman) but as you said about your Tav and I've been saying about mine, I'm really attached to Birdie and I'm invested in who she is and how she fits into the world of BG3.

ALSO! Apparently they're adding mods at some point to the PS5 version? It's been taking everything in me not to buy it on my computer just for some of the mods even though I LOATHE sitting at my desk for hours on end. If mods come into play, I'll definitely want to see what kind of fun things I can make happen for Birdie and the gang. Additionally, one of my friends told me that people modded Skyrim to the point where they were adding new plot points and quest lines? If that happens, and they add like some sort of masquerade ball or event where I can dress up like a princess? You bet you're ass I'm going back to Birdie to let her do that 😂 I'd want to play new paths with Birdie in general, but I'm a sucker for a royal ball sequence 🥸

So basically, Birdie's story in Baldur's Gate may be coming to an end fairly soon. I don't know exactly when yet, but I've been having a blast and can't wait to play the game again and again and again. Right now that's hard to imagine, but I know I'll pick it up with a new Tav eventually because it's such a good game and you can't help falling in love with the world and the writing and the characters. I shall grieve the loss of this particular story, but I plan on keeping Birdie around for as long as I can.

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blackjackkent · 7 months

Text

So... we are definitely a bit stymied by the fact that our awesome Hammer is utterly useless to us if we can't get into the damn Prism, and under the circumstances, the Emperor probably isn't coming by for more dream sequences. (I did try a long rest just to see, but no dice; this is, however, presumably when my drabble from earlier was set.)

So I think the plan at this point is to head for the Netherbrain and hope a hole to the Astral Prism shows up at some point.

Luckily, we DO know where the Netherbrain entrance is, as we wandered towards it by accident on the way to the fight with Orin, and then the Emperor pointed out the existence of "cranium rats" which are a thing apparently.

They also got a new animation in Patch 6 and "can now stand up on their hind leggies".

(I took this screenshot like four times because more rats kept coming over.)

-----

"They're kind of... cute, in a weird way?" Karlach says doubtfully. "Maybe they want to be friends? Want to catch one, Hec?"

"Normally I would be all for this plan," Hector says dryly. "I think, sadly, our priorities may lie elsewhere at present."

"They are vermin," Lae'zel points out flatly. "And corrupted by ghaik influence. They would make unfit companions."

Karlach clicks her tongue, absently rubbing at her chest as the engine surges. "You are all no fun at all..." she mumbles.

-----

So we're back deep in the caves near the Temple of Bhaal, which is a place Hector would have been happy enough never to come back to.

At the end of the rat-infested dock is a waypoint, labeled "Morphic Pool Dock" and a small, rather rickety-looking boat.

No way out but through.

Oh, god, here we go. O.O;

Narrator: Pristine darkness in every direction.

Narrator: Silence, but for the gentle, rhythmic slap of water on rock as your vessel cuts through.

#bjk plays baldur's gate 3 #hector carlisle #bjk writes her own party banter #ahhhhhhhhhh

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wolfeyedwitch · 2 years

Note

“ are you going to kill me? ” Pariah Prisoner Bailey?

Pariah Prisoner, Part 6

Also for @amonthofwhump's Winter Whumperland day 8: revenge whump.

Have some complicated Emotions and Feelings.

CW: medical setting (including mention of IVs), Bailey's crappy headspace. I think that's it, though that list seems suspiciously short... If I missed anything, please let me know!

Masterlist

---

Luke looked up from his tablet and glared at the figure on the bed. Of all the people on the team, why was he the one tasked with watching the villain who nearly killed him?

Stupid question. He knew why. Maeve was sleeping off the efforts of keeping Poppet alive. Zera was banned from anything until they’d had a meal and a minimum of 4 hours of sleep, given the dissociation and freak-out session they’d had in the medbay earlier. Iris was combing through the data on how they’d been intercepted and captured in the first place, and Elijah was tackling the small mountain of paperwork the shitshow had generated.

Luke, on the other hand, didn’t have anything pressing. The only injuries he’d gotten in their escape were some minor scrapes and cuts, nothing serious enough for Maeve to bother with, and he’d had his adrenaline crash nap already. So really, he wasn’t the best option so much as the only option.

That didn’t mean he had to like it.

It didn’t make sense, was what bothered him the most. He’d had this mental image of who had attacked him. They were cold, impassive, ruthless. A sadist of the worst sort. They had no problem torturing him to the brink of death and leaving him to topple over that edge.

And then it turns out his attacker was Poppet. A villain with no prior history (that they knew of, he reminded himself) of violent actions. Who he now had interacted with, and he didn’t know what to think anymore.

Save your sympathy for someone worthy of it, they’d said. They hadn’t played on Zera’s soft heart or Elijah’s stubborn insistence on seeing the potential in everyone.

I’ll tell you everything I did so you can repeat it. They hadn’t denied that they’d hurt Luke. They even seemed genuine when they said they were sorry.

You were right about me. I’m just Slipknot’s little toy, their stupid attack dog. He didn’t remember those words, meaning he must have said them during whatever encounter led to…

To an otherwise sane, empathetic-seeming kid beating him nearly to death.

He couldn’t make that sequence of events make sense. He was still missing something, and it nagged at him like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

The only source for that missing information was Poppet themself. Meaning Luke would just have to wait.

---

The wait ended up being shorter than he expected. It was only a few hours into Luke’s guard duty bedside vigil that Poppet woke.

The signs were subtle at first. Their breathing, which had been regular and deep, hitched and stuttered. Their brows furrowed like they were in pain. Luke got up to double-check the IV drip.

Which meant that he had front-row seats to see Poppet open their eyes.

They looked like a startled horse, their eyes wide enough to show a ring of white all the way around the iris. Their gaze darted around the room before finally landing on the IV in their arm. Poppet’s breath caught in their throat before coming out as a quiet whimper. They reached for the IV.

“Hey, don’t,” Luke said sharply.

Poppet jumped. Apparently his presence hadn’t been important enough to register in their look around the room.

“Whe—” they croaked out before their voice gave up on them.

“Hero HQ, medbay,” he said. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Our medic went to the trouble of patching you up, so don’t even think about undoing her work. The IV stays in.”

He saw Poppet’s throat work as they swallowed, then nodded. “It worked?” they asked.

Luke snorted and raised an eyebrow. “Your plan? More or less. We got out, despite the issues there at the end.”

Poppet closed their eyes. Their face smoothed out as they took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Good. That’s- that’s good.”

Luke didn’t bother replying. He let the silence stretch out between them as he studied the villain. He was torn. Part of him, the bitter part that couldn’t see past what had happened to him, said this was an act. This was fake, a way to get someone into the Hero HQ as a spy. Poppet was just a convincing actor, and would stab all of them in the back the first chance they got.

The more rational part of him, the part that could admit he was hasty in attacking Poppet back in Slipknot’s cell, said that that was ridiculous. A dislocated shoulder might be one thing to convince the heroes, but that batshit escape plan that somehow worked? Getting stabbed? Those were something else entirely.

Poppet’s eyes flew open again, looking at Luke in a panic. “Are you okay? The others? Foxfire and Tempest?”

This villain had no damn right to look so earnest about their concern for his teammates!

“They’re fine,” Luke bit out, harsher than he really meant. Poppet flinched at his tone, and he sighed. Softer, he added, “Foxfire wore themself out carrying you back here. They’re resting. Tempest is doing paperwork for all this shit. No one besides you got anything more than scrapes and bruises in the escape.”

“Good,” Poppet said, finally breaking that too-intense eye contact. “That’s… I’m glad.”

They closed their eyes, face scrunching like they were in pain. Luke checked their IV again. Everything was fine.

Their next words were so quiet, he wouldn’t have heard them if he were any further away. “Are you going to kill me?”

Luke actually made himself dizzy with how fast his head snapped around to look at Poppet. “What.”

“I won’t fight you,” the villain said, voice barely audible. Their eyes were open now, but they wouldn’t look at him. They stared resolutely at the ceiling like they were trying to hold back tears. “Or I’ll try not to, anyway. I… I can’t guarantee I won’t use my telekinesis on instinct. But I’ll—”

“Stop,” Luke said.

Poppet’s mouth closed with an audible click. They squeezed their eyes shut.

Luke ran a hand over his face. What the fuck. What the actual, entire fuck.

Okay. He gets it, okay? He fucked up. He attacked them back in the cell, and said some things that weren’t exactly all rainbows and sunshine. But that was the heat of the moment, alright? He has a temper, and this whole… thing, is kind of a big trigger for it.

It was one thing to make threats (and… throw punches… yeah, he fucked up, he’s aware) in the heat of the moment. It’s an entirely different thing to talk about it so calmly and matter-of-fact.

“I’m not,” he started, then broke off with a groan of frustration. Why was this so hard? Why couldn’t this be a simple situation with a simple bad guy that he could simply rage at?

Because life is rarely simple, came a mental voice that sounded suspiciously like Elijah, the even-tempered asshole.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said.

He expected Poppet to be relieved. Instead, they looked more upset after hearing that. They opened tear-filled eyes and stared back up at the ceiling, still refusing to look at him.

“Right,” said Poppet. Their voice was thick with emotion. “I still owe you that list.” A tear escaped and rolled down their face.

List? What list? When had they… mentioned…

I’ll tell you everything I did so you can repeat it.

Oh.

Fuck.

---

Dun dun dun!!!

Taglist:

@heathenville @nonbinary-disaster @kim-poce @whump-world @dolls-circus @pickleking8 @ghostfacepepper @cupcakes-and-pain @badluck990 @mylifeisonthebookshelf @pumpkin-spice-whump @deluxewhump @extemporary-whump @whumpwillow @multiple-characters1-acct @sunflower1000 @fleur-alise @equestrianwritingsstuff, @scp-1296 @livingforthewhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @suspicious-whumping-egg @kaiwewi @lelly-belly @neuro-whump @newbornwhumperfly @whumpthisway @whumpcreations, @wicked-whump @heart4brains, @myhusbandsasemni @how-to-be-a-hero @kixngiggles @kurochan @whumpsday @extrabitterbrain @pattonvirglsanders @neverthelass @we-write-as-one @elrysdoesstuff @whumperflies-and-roses @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @ramadiiiisme @towerlesskey @emmanemanemm @pigeonwhumps @whumpycries

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skyboxeye · 6 months

Text

Capturing the ambience of LEGO Island 2

This minigame-packed adventure explores many classic LEGO themes.

Running the game

There are two main versions of the game to chose from: the original 2001 release, and an improved 2007 version released as part of a two-pack. There is also apparently an unfinished, unreleased v1.1 with some bug fixes.

Curiously, the version hosted on MyAbandonware seems nearly identical to other 2001 releases I found. There appear to be minimal differences between the two.

All versions use a simple disk check; mounting an ISO with a tool like Daemon Tools suffices. There are also No-CD hex-edits available if you're interested.

Debug menu and Level-select

We can access LI2's debug menu by altering the main menu options. I found some hex-edits for this on RRU. If you're not comfortable with hex-edits you can try using a patcher or patch, or LI2 Mod Manager.

04 00 00 00 02 -> 01 00 00 00 11 43 52 45 44 49 54 53 -> 44 45 42 55 47 00 00

Widescreen

Use the resolution and widescreen hacks offered by LI2 Mod Manager. See this thread for more detail on how it works.

Hiding UI and Player-character

This is possible using Lego Island 2 Game Editor. It's a powerful albeit buggy application for modifying LI2 assets.

If LI2GE doesn't work, for example to edit fonts, you can use Lego Island 2 Extractor and/or Lego Island 2 Explorer. Once installed, be sure to disable automatic updates inside the program's INI to avoid startup crashes.

LI2 will prefer to load files from identically-named folders if they are present in the _data directory. For example, if a Fonts folder exists, its files will be used and Fonts.bob/bod won't be loaded.

We can also pause the game to remove the HUD, screenshot this state, and create a no-HUD overlay for our footage.

(Not) Free camera

A modder devised a way to summon a glider at any time.

Rendering ambience sequences

I recommend using the Fruity LSD effect with FL Studio. First, open the MID file in LEGO Island 2's level files, for example Fishing_Amb.mid. Be sure to select MIDI Out with Fruity LSD in the subsequent dialog.

Afterward, click the folder icon in the top left to specify a DLS file - use one found in your MID file's folder. Once it's loaded, populate each channel by clicking it, and picking the corresponding patch. Don't forget to populate the "percussive" one-shots as well (Channel 10 in the screenshot below).

You are now ready to play your MID with the intended samples attached, or export it to a WAV file.

Appendix: Rendering music sequences

Download DirectMusic Producer. Supposedly this program allows you to export samples and sequence data. You could then render the pair using the MIDI renderer of your choice, such as OpenMPT or FL Studio's Directmusic plugin.

Appendix: Ambience sequence dead-ends

I tried VLC, with the DLS configured under FluidSynth, but this gave no output. I tried Miles Sound Tools with a DLS specified, but again - no output. I tried Winamp but seemingly couldn't get in_midi to use a custom DLS file, despite specifying one in the setting dialogs.

Appendix: Other LI2 developer tools

A soak test can be activated by pressing F8 while in windowed mode. You can also spawn a debugger window by pressing F9.

#lego island #ambience #modding

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shywhumpauthor · 2 years

Text

Whumpuary Day 11

Prev. || Masterlist

Cw: torture, amputation, starvation, rough healing, a bit of gore, broken bones, hand whump, blood

Their hands were cocooned with gauze bandages, cotton colored strips covering the skin. Though the wounds barely bled anymore, small patches of red still managed to seep through the dressings.

It hadn’t been too long. At least Whumpee didn’t think so. Though they hadn’t exactly been coherent for the past while, so they couldn’t really tell.

Whumper hadn’t given them much time to rest or generally recover, but it hadn’t mattered much, they weren’t entirely aware of what was happening during the entirety. Now as they laid, curled on their side huddled under the thin sheet, the fabric painted with a few day old bloodstains, trying to conjure a sequence of events to explain what had happened.

They had fully passed out at some point after Whumper had just about finished their second finger, and woken up some time later to the awful, familiar stench of burning flesh as the wounds were cauterized plainly with a thin instrument and a lighter.

Over the past days they couldn’t work up the will to look at their hands. They could barely manage to glance at the bandages without feeling sick to their stomach. The pain was blatant, but they had gotten used to it, the tortures Whumper had used to fill their few waking hours managing to take up the most of their attention. Noah wasn’t sure whether to interpret it as mercy or a tactic, but they were sure Whumper was going easy on them. At least, easier. The last day they had spent only a few hours crammed into a box barely big enough for them to fit inside, having to keep their neck craned down and their legs folded to their chest. It had left them stiff and aching, but it wasn’t anywhere near comparable to having literal pieces of them cut off.

Noah was aware they were gone. The missing digits still seemed to throb, aching with phantoms of the pain that had occurred. They couldn’t bear looking when the quiet medic entered their cell to change the bandages, but they knew at least two were gone completely, and at least another partially. They weren’t sure which hand to consider “worse”. They were right handed, so that would be the obvious answer, but they weren’t sure. Their left seemed to be in the worst condition, they could barely bring the remaining fingers to twitch, while with their right they could just about manage to move their middle and index.

Their thumbs, those were another problem. They weren’t sure what Whumper had done, by that point their consciousness had been long gone, but they were certain they were both broken. Twisted, mangled, even the bandages couldn’t hide the disfigured shapes.

Whumpee wasn’t able to eat, at least not on their own. When the medic had come, they would always come with a cup, prop Whumpee’s back up with a pillow and hold the straw to their lips, allowing them a few sips of water before beginning whatever tortures they would bring. Whumpee wasn’t sure if they were actually helping. Healing was never easy, but with this it felt like every time they would always leave the pain at a greater scale. And of course, painkillers might as well have been a myth, this deep in the dungeon.

That was another thing. They were no longer alone in the basement. They weren’t sure who it was, or when they had gotten there, but Whumpee knew there was someone else. The vent system must have been all connected, because at first Whumpee could hear every one of their screams, their angry yells and the crashes as they could have only been throwing themself at the walls. They had since gone quieter, now Whumpee could only hear them in the dead of night when they both apparently lay awake, the stranger’s quiet sobs traveling through the walls like a hushed chill. At some point or another, in a half delirious state, Whumpee was almost tempted to yell out to them, let them know they weren’t alone down here. But what use would that have been. At the most it would have only given the stranger a false sense of reassurance, that they weren’t alone, a notion that would be ripped away whenever Whumper decided to take a turn at them. So Whumpee didn’t say anything, pressing their face into their pillow and trying their best to ignore.

The minutes seemed to stretch out, seconds dragging by at a pace barely above a crawl. Whumpee’s eyes were closed, but they couldn’t seem to find sleep, a situation where they found themself in more and more often. Despite however exhausted they were, the pain and uncertainty always managed to keep them awake, refusing to let their mind slip from that last bit of worry into rest.

The medic would be coming in soon. At least, they hoped. They had no real way to tell the time, unless they wished to count the seconds, but that never went on for long before their mind lagged and they would forget which number came next.

And it was a while later, when the metal hinges gave off a deep creak as their cell door opened. Whumpee cracked open their eyes, a sliver of light hitting their pupils which was almost enough to send them burrowing back under the blankets, but they just squinted and blinked, fighting to prop themself up on trembling elbows.

Their entire body went cold, and suddenly they regretted not retreating back under the thin covers. But it was too late now, their eyes locked against Whumper’s, a stalemate, amused chill against fevered fear. In their hands they held a small bowl, nearly as deep as it was wide, with a small turned in lip to prevent whatever it was inside from spilling out.

“Good morning, Whumpee. I’m glad to see you coherent. I came in the other day, but I don’t think you were well enough to truly remember. Medic told me you haven’t been eating, so I thought I’d come see what’s up.”

Not eating? Whumpee wanted to scoff, but they couldn’t move, much less speak as Whumper crossed the small cell and lowered themself to sit on the edge of the cot next to them. The only food they had been offered in the past, what, week, was the typical dungeon gruel, left on the floor on the other side of their cell. Even if they had had the energy to get up and cross the room, they wouldn’t have been able to grab it, much less maneuver the spoon well enough to eat some. Plus, they were certain the effort wouldn’t have been worth it for a few bites of whatever was in the watered down, grey sludge.

They tried to act like they weren’t bothered by the proximity, but their mind still fogged with the lingering exhaustion, they weren’t able to keep much of a straight face. Whumper sure noticed.

“Now come on, I can’t have you starving to death on me, can I?”

———————————

[cut short because I just don’t want to write the rest of this. Not whumpy enough to keep my interest. Maybe one day but notttt today]

Tag list: @pickleking8 @blood-enthusiast @t0rture-me @sparrowsage @enigmawritesstuff

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