#difficult for the sake of being difficult level design

[angryisokay]

Hollow Knight could be a fun game, if it wasn't for all the tedious bullshit.

[strialternatives]

bonus:

:inhales and slams hands on the desk: akechi. palace. pitch.

disclaimer: the setting for this is all about vibes and aesthetics, it kinda got away from me when i started hashing out the plot around it two months ago so now we're here. in hell. (i'll probably have to make a secondary post i made wayyy too many concepts,)

yes i made an ost for this idea, here is a youtube playlist of chill european jazz

AU details under the cut-

Akechi Goro's palace is "Ampitheatrum Doloris”.

KEYWORDS: Akechi Goro, Tokyo Highcourt, Amphitheater

Akechi's psyche is a massive collection of locked doors, puzzles, and contradictions. He wants to be seen but not understood—heard but never known, ect. This makes his palace infiltration a waking nightmare (affectionate).

His palace is made up of five main layers. They each mirror a stage of grief:

1) There is the outer layer of with the appearance of a Venice-esque water canal maze, there is a door that must be opened to reach the entrance to infiltrate the second layer underneath the amphitheater. The puzzle's actually pretty sentimental and revolves around Akechi's interest in literature.

(This layer is depression, Goro mourns what he lost and the fact that the choices he made for the sake of revenge ultimately led to nowhere. This is reflected in how desolate/meandering the outer layer feels, it is the largest and most time consuming part of the palace for this reason. It takes weeks to finish. AKA, Akira and Morgana have a terrible, no good, very bad month of May.) 

2) The Labyrinth under the amphitheater; it is full of shadows for the arena champion to use as fodder for the enjoyment of the masses. ‘Loki’ resides here—this layer’s theme loosely plays on the Minotaur myth. 

The only way to escape is through a pulley/elevator mechanism which leads to the surface after shattering the Champion’s chains by force. Loki taunts in Old Norse, but gives Akira (and the party by extension) genuine hints on how to escape.

(This layer is anger, Goro is always angry, about the hand he’s been dealt, the futility of his own actions, and the fact that his life has always been a dead end, written in the stars.)

3) The Audience Stands; full of human cognitions and Akechi’s former clients and fans, despite everything, like Sae, he sees them as ‘people’ and is disgusted by them. Their compliments are shallow and empty, surface level like Goro’s facade. Cognition Sae is delegated to a middle manager-type role, and leads Akira and Co. through puzzles.

Different cognitions from Akechi’s shitshow of a childhood throw riddles based around philosophy and the nature of justice at the party, if the answer is ‘wrong’, there’s a mini-boss fight. Answering everything correctly yields a prize—a key, this process is made difficult by all of Robin’s ‘hints’ (which the Thieves can directly ask for) being lies.

(Bargaining. Goro always thought he could still salvage his revenge despite his enemy being essentially invincible, even now deep down he thinks he can salvage all the effort and sacrifices he put in.)

4) The Stage; Robin Hood appears proper instead of in cameo appearances, this is the lead actor's stage. To earn the right to stand with him, Akira has to have to prove his worth in one-on-one combat while showing the crowd a rousing show. The goal is to use the key obtained in the bargaining layer to unlock the Performer's cuffs.

(Denial, Goro doesn’t believe he needs or deserves saving or a life outside of his revenge, he believes there is no other way forward.)

Hereward and the 'treasure' are in the Imperial box area, which I'll save for part 2 of this I think! The second half of this'll have less focus on the environments and more on general plot and character design.

EDIT: here's part two and part three

[itsaspectrumcomic]

What can we do to improve employment for autistic people? Everyone on Tumblr just complains which doesn't really help me at all.

It's different for everyone as every autistic person has different support needs, but here are some examples in no particular order:

Allowed to wear headphones/earplugs (and not shamed for it!)

Clear tasks and written instructions - personally I find it very difficult to follow and remember verbal instructions and I know I'm not the only one

Allowed to have and use fidgets in the workplace

Able to work from home (ie, not forced to be in the office for the sake of being in the office)

Flexible hours

Adjustable lighting or allowed to wear sunglasses

Not forced to work in an open plan office

Have a designated quiet space to decompress in

Regular breaks

A company culture that accepts and encourages taking holiday/sick days

Bullying in the workplace should be taken seriously and not dismissed

No spontaneous meetings - have a schedule and stick to it

Less focus on the need for eye contact/handshakes in interviews

Less hoops to jump through when applying - why do I need to type my entire job experience into your form when it's all in the résumé I just uploaded? Why do I need several years of experience for an entry level job?

Don't put 'must work well in a fast paced environment' in your requirements. Work on making the environment less stressful and fast paced instead

Obviously not all of these will work for every person, and some might not be possible in some workplaces, but these are the kinds of things I would find helpful personally.

Fellow autistic people, feel free to add anything that would help you!

[singularscissor]

so uh. i don't really like the previous ref post i did for Bright Crown so. i made a new one that gets to the point and also actually looks good. it's still not really an art reference per se (consistency is for losers 😎), more like a general summary about them

much yapping and elaboration follows below

Bright Crown was initially designed by a member of the Assembly in Recognition of Ignorance. The Assembly was a scientific trancendentalist organization that believed the Solution could only be found through a deeper and more complete understanding of the world in general, in particular various natural laws and phenomena.

The Assembly conducted research in a variety of fields, astronomy/upper orbit conditions were only one branch of the organization. For much of the Assembly's existence, the work of Bright Crown's development and construction progressed slowly. Scientists built ground infrastructure (the Endless Sea Facility) and refined the superstructure's design in anticipation of its construction.

When the Great Equalization came, storms and flooding began to threaten the Assembly's complexes, and the leadership fell into agitation. The branch responsible for Bright Crown suddenly became politically powerful because of the infrastructure they had built -- the automated facilities were already designed to supply the superstructure, and it was not difficult to adapt them to also support the Assembly's general population. In particular, the half-constructed communications spire was modified to include a sizeable city, safely above cloud level.

With control of the Council, the Bright Crown branch was able to more fully commit the Assembly's resources to the project, and construction proceeded considerably faster (though, compared to other contemporary iterator projects, progress was slow. Building in space is difficult.)

During this time, all five launch rails were used to deliver components up the the station for assembly. The rails use a combination of gravity manipulators and magnets to accelerate the supply capsules past the cloud layer. The capsules are also equipped with their own thrusters for use once the rails are cleared.

After the structure's completion, the launch rails were used less -- though, as an mostly isolated and definitely not lossless system, Bright Crown requires regular shipments of fuel, replacement water, raw materials etc. All five rails were kept operational for the sake of redundancy, but only half of them were ever used at the same time.

Most communication receivers are designed to catch signals from other ground based sources, rather than from space. Even proper equipment (such as the specially designed ESF spire) can only pick up a signal when Bright Crown is at the proper point in orbit above it. This left Bright Crown socially isolated -- though they are assigned to a local group based off ESF's geographical location, they are more or less ignored by its members due to the infrequency of their transmissions.

Bright Crown also often worries about their long term survival. There are a lot of inherent complications with being in space -- damage that might be ignorable to a normal iterator would be crippling in such a precariously balanced system. A hull breach in the wrong place, or a breakdown in the groundside supply chain could spell disaster.

Relations with the Assembly eventually degraded. Bright Crown hated being dependent on Endless Sea Facility and the Council's goodwill, and also held a grudge against them for continuing with their own construction even after it was clear their longevity would be substandard.

[maple-the-awesome]

You Sacrifice Yourself for Them || Part 3/3

Part 1 || Part 2

Pairings: Twilight, Wild, & Wind x GN Reader

Requested by anonymous: HIIIII OMG I JUST WANRED TO SAY i lovelovrloveloveeeee the way you write so much!!!!!!! ur recent loz post had me kicking and squealing in my sear hehehe T_T could i request a scenario with the chain in a situation where the reader sacrifices themselves to protect the boys? im imagining things begging the enemy to take them instead, protecting them from a hit or even something funny like taking the blame for a mistake they made!!! id love to see some angst from you!!!!! THANK U AND HAVE A GREAT WEEK!!!!!💖💖💖💖

Zelda Masterlist 💙 Fandom Masterlist

There had been a time when Twilight hated dungeons for how often they popped up during his adventures. Between the brain teasers and terribly inconvenient designs (seriously who needs so many rooms or levels?), he would groan aloud every time someone warned him about a problem coming from deep within some 'sacred temple' or caves near their home, however after months of walking until his feet are sore and countless encounters with monster hordes, you could say Twilight has officially had a change of heart. Sliding a few boxes around for an extra heart piece really doesn't sound that bad compared to chasing a shadow across several realms, now does it?

With that said, he had been a bit relieved when a group of locals brought it to his attention that some strange smoke had been rising up from a nearby mountain, practically begging the group of visiting heroes to check it out. He wasn't the only one willingly to agree, in fact most of the boys seemed eager to help aside from Time who was hesitant to derail their quest as well as Wild and Warrior who just couldn't understand what all this fuss about dungeons is about. In the end, it was decided that half of the group would go for the locals' sake while the others would stay to investigate leads about portals. At the time, this seemed to be a great trade and Twilight had even been looking forward to being able to do something different, but as his luck continues to prove, it turns out he has none whatsoever in terms of joy...

What even happened? He doesn't quite understand. He was joking with Wind and Hyrule about something long after everyone had split into two groups to make exploring the dungeon go faster. They were nearly complete with their half, having successfully fought a miniboss which was no trouble at all, in fact that's what had them in such high spirits at the moment. They entered the next room while placing bets regarding how 'difficult' the main boss would be when a shout met their ears. Seconds later, Twilight heard a 'BOOM' while being shoved backwards by a heavy force. Given that sound and the vague smell of smoke in the air, he would've assumed he had been hit by the blast of a bomb which probably wouldn't have been so far from the truth if not for you.

It takes a good minute for Twilight's poor mind to catch up, realizing much to his horror what had actually happened as you fell stiffly against his chest, your entire backside scoured. The floor tile behind you both - the same one he was about to step on before you shoved him out of the way - is gone, only a smoldering pile of broken shards left in its wake. Now why it exploded, Twilight doesn't know nor does he care. His main concern is you, sitting up in a snap and grabbing your shoulders with worry. At least there's some relief in you blinking open your eyes to look at him, but the way you groan and flinch at the movement makes him sick with guilt.

"What was that?!" Wild asks the same question that's hidden deep in Twilight's mind.

"The gold floor tiles explode," You explain, the pain clear in your grumbled voice as you attempt to push yourself away from Twilight, although he doesn't allow it, instead carefully shifting you to sit on his lap as he hisses as the sight of how the flames had burned right through you tunic, leaving behind a nasty open wound that no doubt continues to burn.

"Why did you do that?!" He asks the questions on the front of his mind, accepting the potion Four quickly hands to him for you. A part of him wants to be angry given how calm they can all be given your injury, although any other day he'd be rational enough to understand panicking won't help the situation. Regardless of logic, this is you. You're hurt and you got this way protecting him. It should be the other way around if anything!

"Don't be such a hypocrite. You would've done the same for any of us," It's as if you can read his mind as he carefully pours the liquid over your burns, causing you to hiss quietly, but other than that, you're actually handling the pain pretty well, "Besides, it would've been a lot worse had you stepped on it directly. All that fur you wear looks pretty flammable to me. You would've gone up in flames instead of a small burn."

Twilight tries to keep his eyes down at his work as a stubborn sign that he knows you're right, not that he could ever admit such a thing aloud, "...Still...A shouted warning could've done."

"No it wouldn't. Your foot was already lowering -"

"- You two can argue about this later," Four interjects while offering you a hand to get up, "That potion is only a temporary solution. We should get you back to the inn so that Hyrule can heal you completely."

You're about to begrudgingly agree, knowing full well how difficult it'll be to walk on your own even though you were pretty excited to finish this dungeon. Before you can take Four's hand, however, you're lifted into the air, held bridal style in Twilight's arm (which poses no challenge for him to accomplish).

"I'll carry you back."

"You don't have to -"

"- You took a hit for me. It's the least I can do," His voice is as stern as his mind, making it clear that this is the only compromise you'll be presented with less you want to keep the argument up all night. Thus, you merely pout and look away with a huffed 'fine', "I'm sure the three of you will be fine finishing the dungeon by yourselves?"

"Pff, with our eyes closed," Legend crosses his arms, offended anyone would think otherwise. Four and Wind nod quickly, their eyes still reflecting sympathy for your sake even though they know you've seen worse.

With that, Twilight turns, heading towards the exit of the dungeon with you (more comfortably that you'll say) in his arms and Hyrule at his feet. As upset as he appears on the outside, Twilight can't help feeling some sort of shameful pride at the thought that you'd be so fond of him as to willingly risk injury, so he makes an unspoken promise to himself to spoil you for at least until the evidence of your burns fade. It's the least he could do (and the best excuse he'll find for staying at your side nonstop).

Perhaps it's because he's never had many opportunities to do anything like this before the Calamity or maybe it's because he got so accustomed to it after those dark days. The origin doesn't change the fact that Wild tends to find more comfort in nature than ever before. The splashing of stream water down a waterfall. The singing of birds or creaking of crickets depending on the hour. The gentle breeze through his hair as his only company...It's become a habit of his to find spots like this during tough moments, especially those when he feels himself slipping the most...moments like what occurred today...

If he wasn't so upset and angry inside, he'd feel sort of guilty for running off the way he had back there. It wasn't anyone else’s fault that he's out of his element lately, resulting in more screwups on the battlefield. It's not their fault that he messed up during the last fight, too, breaking his sword against a darknut's armor, leaving himself defenseless (he didn't think it would be that strong!). Most importantly of all, it wasn't their fault that his ignorance resulted in you, for whatever reason, feeling as if it was your responsibility to save him with complete disregard for the risk. 

Wild keeps replaying the moment in his mind - you fighting viciously against the darknut until it was reduced to a puff of purple smoke, but not without receiving several cuts and scrapes yourself. He's not sure what hurts more: seeing you injured for his sake or the anger that flashed in your eyes when you looked back at him. You're not happy with him. Nobody was considering the number of times they've warned him about not rushing in battle head first, however your disappointment carried a strong burn that challenged even the Old Man's. If anything, Wild strives to see your joy and hear your praise, not be the source of your dismay. 

He can't help but wonder what would have happened if you weren't so prepared at that moment. What if you had gotten a more serious injury? What if you had died all because of him? Could he stomach losing another person he loves like that? How can he call himself a hero when he's constantly failing those he should be protecting the most? He can't. He's a failure...

"Link?"

He pretends not to hear your voice, although it's a poor act given the way he flinches. Sighing, you take his turned head and stiffened shoulders as an invite to walk closer, finding a seat beside him in the grass. You don't say much at first, simply taking in the beautiful scenery and counting the fireflies fluttering around you.

"...I'm sorry I yelled at you either. I lost my temper, but I shouldn't have."

"You had every right to," Wild mumbles, pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his face against them so that he doesn't have to look at you, too afraid he'll break down if he does, "I put everyone in danger by being impatient. I put you in danger."

You shrug, looking down as you run your hand against the grass, "...You really do have to be more careful, I'll stand by that. You gotta assess situations especially against monsters you've never seen before...but with that said, no one can expect you to be perfect. This situation is different for all of us. Really, aside from the Captain, most of us have never even worked in groups before, so it'll take getting used to. Just try to keep in mind that you're not alone, so don't act like it."

Wild lifts his head only to put his chin upon his knee, still stubbornly glaring into the distance instead of responding to your words, although he's forced to smile a little when you nuzzle your face against his while whining his name for attention. 

"I heard you."

"Then show it. It took me forever to think-up that heartfelt speech. Do you know how difficult public speaking is?"

"It's only the two of us."

"And like, thirty fireflies!" You gesture to the bugs in question, happy to hear Wild's chuckle and even happier to wrap your arm around his without any sort of fight, "...I mean it, Link. It's okay to lean against the rest of us sometimes. I'd be devastated if something irreversible ever happened to you."

He blushes, his words whispered as he leans his head against yours and closes his eyes, "...I'd be, too, if anything happened to you."

This can't be happening again. How is this even Wind's luck? He thought he made himself perfectly clear from the beginning that just because he's the youngest in the group does not mean everyone has to keep trying to protect him as if he’s made of glass! He's a hero of courage, too! He did his part, traveling across the great sea, fighting through numerous difficult dungeons, and defeating Ganondorf all by himself - Well, the King of Red Lions and Zelda helped some, too, but the point still stands! He didn't need Wild to take a hit for him that one time nor did he need you to do practically the same exact thing now!

It's worse this time than it was with Wild which only makes Wind angrier (and guiltier). Unlike the Champion who bounced back onto his feet after a few minutes, you weren't so lucky. No matter how much Wind shook your body or cried your name with his tears dripping across your bloodied face, you just wouldn't wake up. He couldn't even lift you to carry you to safety. Time has already tried explaining to him that his panicked state likely waived his strength, but Wind refuses to accept that excuse. 

He must've done something during that fight to make you think he couldn't handle himself. You got hurt - really hurt trying to protect him and he couldn't even protect you afterwards. It was Warrior who picked you up and ran out of the battle. It was Hyrule and Legend who worked together to heal your wounds with potions and magic. What did Wind do in the meantime? He cried like a child.

He did his best to hide it, wandering to the back of the group while desperately trying to use his sleeves to clear away the tears. He couldn't help it, as much as he wanted to believe otherwise. For those long ten minutes of you not moving regardless of everyone's efforts, he was left thinking he had killed you. He's a hero who's supposed to save people, but instead he ended up getting one of the nicest and more selfless individuals he's ever known killed!

At long last, you began to stir, further awoken by the chorus of relieved sighs that followed. You complained of a nasty headache and immediately tried sitting up which Legend wouldn't allow; you're okay - you're alive despite how it may have looked seconds ago, but that doesn't make Wind feel much better. 

Even from where he stands so far away, he can see the smudged blood staining your forehead and that dazed look in your eyes while Wild just laughs, welcoming you to the club of needless head injuries. You, of course, brush everyone else off, your eyes skillfully finding Wind despite how he tries to hide from view.

You croak his name, yet he turns his back to you with crossed arms, doing his best not to start crying again, "I thought I told you all to stop risking yourselves for my sake. I can handle myself!”

"You would've been hurt yourself," You comment with a frown, making Wind's anger flare.

"I'm not a child, though!"

"I didn't say you are one. I would've jumped in front of you even if you were as old as the rest of us. Trust me, Wind. The only thing on my mind at that moment wasn't anything related to your age, it was simply the worry that you were about to be ambushed. I didn't want to see you hurt any more than I'd want to see any of you boys get hurt."

Wild chews on his bottom lip, blinking back the tears as he at last stomps over to join the rest of you, pouting stubbornly yet his voice is genuine as he mumbles, “...I’m just happy you’re alive.”

You give a droopy smile and a thumbs up, although the action is rather shaky, “As good as ever!”

“No, you clearly are not,” Twilight deadpans.

“Lay back down already, you have a concussion!”

"Legend, lower your voice."

[cure-icy-writes]

Regarding the transgender and autistic coding of Octodad: Dadliest Catch.

To preface: this essay will be in two parts. One with spoilers, and one without. The spoilers will be hidden under a cut, and optional. 

Octodad: Dadliest Catch is a 2014 action/adventure game in which the protagonist, known only as “Octodad”, is an octopus masquerading as a human man. If it sounds ridiculously goofy, that’s because it is. Octodad rarely takes itself seriously, and that works to its credit.

Now, before going any further, I want to take a moment to lay some groundwork for the premise of the game and how it relates to otherness. Octodad, being an octopus, is fundamentally Other. He is a nonhuman in disguise, he is living a lie, et cetera. The concept of beings that disguise themselves as human is an old one, from Greek gods seeking hospitality to changelings left behind as supernatural brood parasites. They are shapeshifters and deceivers, whose stories are born from the fear of Otherness.��And more often than not, these beings have malicious intent.

But Octodad, fundamentally, does not. He is a loving father and husband who hides his identity out of fear. He is Other, and this otherness isn’t portrayed as predatory or evil in any way. And viewing this story through the lens of Octodad, controlling his actions, the player gets to know a little bit about him.

Back to the trailer— Octodad’s gameplay is showcased, and it’s immediately obvious that the control scheme isn’t exactly typical. Players must control each limb individually, resulting in sloppy, uncoordinated movements. Octodad stumbles through the grocery store, across a play set, leaving destruction in his wake. He isn’t trying to make a mess, unlike a certain goose, but rather, this is the natural result of what he is. He’s literally a fish out of water— and yes, he is a fish if you’re pedantic enough about cladistics, which I am going to be for the sake of this metaphor. 

The control scheme is deliberately messy, a stylistic choice that forces the player to constantly remember that Octodad is something Other, and the resulting mistakes have consequences. The levels are designed in such a way that even an experienced player will have to make a mess at times, and it comes with a sense of shame— after all, a normal protagonist could do this. Mario could platform his way through this grocery store with no problem! But Octodad can’t. He slips on banana peels and breaks open crates and spills fruit all over the linoleum. And the UI forces you to be constantly aware of when others are watching, furthering that sense of shame.

The game won’t punish you for slipping up sometimes. But the mess you’ve made, the judgmental gazes of the NPCs, will. You are an imposter, facing a constant uphill battle to perform difficult and unnatural tasks that are effortless for the humans around you. They cannot see that you’re an octopus. They do not know that you’re an octopus. So long as you are wearing your suit, no one can tell, even with the tentacles and bulbous head and suckers on your limbs. But they can see your mistakes, and your failures.

How does that relate to autism and transgenderism? Well, let’s start with autism, since the transgender coding is mostly in story spoiler territory, while the autism is largely in the gameplay mechanics. Autism is a pretty broad spectrum, and it’s difficult to point at something and definitively call it autistic-coded when the autistic experience varies so drastically from person to person. But Octodad and his Otherness, even as a silly octopus, strongly parallels autistic masking.

Octodad’s enforced sense of shame strongly resonates with the autistic experience— constantly aware of eyes on you, always messing up because no one explained the rules to you properly, or struggling with sensory issues or executive dysfunction when everyone is trying to convince you that your experiences are normal and you’re just being dramatic. And in that sense, it’s cathartic to see Octodad, because he is unmistakably and undeniably Other. You cannot say “Oh, honey, everyone’s a little octopus, you’re just not trying hard enough,” to an octopus the way that neurotypicals often do with autistic people. You cannot deny him his Otherness which causes his struggles.

Remember the changeling story I mentioned earlier? Changeling myths and autism are inextricably connected, and far too often, they demonize autism. The problem with trying to define humanity in a way that excludes imposters that pretend to be human is that you will inevitably end up excluding and hurting people, particularly those who are neurodivergent, queer, disabled, or otherwise in a minority. So, if you cannot define humanity without excluding humans from the definition, then it serves to reason that broadening your scope will include non-humans. And this is portrayed as an unambiguously good thing, to acknowledge the humanity of an octopus.

Real life isn’t like Among Us, where the imposters are murderous freaks who unhinge their jaws and chomp off the top half of their fellow crewmates before hopping into the vents. Sometimes, they’re scared people who go through life hurting because they tried to be normal until they forgot who they were.

And now, let’s examine the story and talk about the further coding it contains. The first thing that catches my attention is Octodad’s morning routine— coffee. It seems innocuous at first, but it’s later revealed that this is the only reason Octodad has the ability to walk upright, because he’s constantly self-medicating with caffeine.

There’s a very domestic portion of the game where you see just how much Octodad adores his family, he does the chores for his wife whom he loves a lot, and then— he survives a couple murder attempts. His neighbor knows he’s an octopus, is a chef at the local grocery store, and is the main antagonist of the game. He breaks down the fence between their yards with some sort of nightmarish combine-harvester machine that nearly sucks in Octodad, but the situation is resolved quickly enough. Then, just a little later in the day, he goes out to the grocery store, where the chef finds him and chases him with a knife, threatening to turn him into moderately priced sushi. Interestingly, though, is the fact that Octodad seems more worried about his wife finding out than the fact that he’s an octopus than the threats on his life. We don’t know how often these happen, but he just brushes this off and hopes to keep up the masquerade a little longer. He has to be human, he has to be normal in order to be loved, and nearly dying alone to his murderous neighbor is a small price to pay. And… it’s sad, honestly.

The real meat of the game, though, is at the aquarium. Octodad is frankly terrified of this place, but he can’t tell his wife why. There was a scene that stuck with me— it’s meant to introduce you to the fact that the Biologist enemies are a threat who will recognize and out you, but it made me think about TERFs. They always claim they can spot trans people, as if there’s some secret sense for it, as if a world in which women are subject to random and invasive genital inspections is somehow better than a world where the lady in the bathroom stall next to you is standing up to pee.

After getting through the first part of the museum, Octodad has to find each member of his family and do some minigame puzzles. The kids are absolutely adorable, but what struck me was the conversation with Scarlet, as she grows frustrated with Octodad’s secrecy. He sleeps downstairs, he somehow “made more” when the printer ran out of ink, he lost a limb in a plumbing accident but it somehow grew back, and he’s keeping things from her. He won’t have an honest conversation, and she’s getting frustrated.

Take a moment to imagine the veneer of metaphor peeled away. Imagine you have been married to a man you love for ten years, but you know he’s hiding something from you. He doesn’t sleep in the same bed as you, never wanted to consummate things, and you’ve respected his privacy and consent, but he won’t explain why. He’s ecstatic about raising kids together, but he doesn’t want biological ones. There are these instances you can’t explain, like his sudden insistence on buying a shark plushie from IKEA, or the time you caught him mailing a tank top (was it a tank top, really, because you never got a good look at it) to someone and he looked guilty. You find a list of names, some of them crossed out, and wonder who these women are. He never wants to look in the mirror or have pictures taken. You love him and you want to respect his privacy, but the secrets are driving a rift between you.

Imagine it from the other side, now. You have been married to the woman you love for ten years. She doesn’t know you’re trans, and you’re terrified she’ll leave you if she finds out.. She didn’t seem to mind when you told her you didn’t want to get horizontal, but she doesn’t know it’s because sex in this body makes you dysphoric. You love your children so much, they’re the light and joy of your life, but you can’t help but wonder if your wife wanted to have them the old-fashioned way. You try to escape what you are but it’s getting harder to repress. You know she suspects something. You ended up with a binder, and sent it to someone you met online. You bought yourself a Blåhaj and you don’t know why it was that desperation had seized up in your chest when you saw it. You spent ages on name websites, looking for the perfect one, writing them down to see how they felt. You have the most amazing wife in the world and she is slipping away because you couldn’t keep pretending.

Scarlet asks Octodad to meet her at the shark tank when he’s ready to have a real conversation. And the shark tank is where things get interesting— the chef is there, waiting. He cuts off Octodad’s clothes with a cleaver, and tosses him into the tank, yelling, “Go back where you belong!”

The thing about the coding of Octodad is that it’s never a consistent one-to-one. That particular line? Could be read as immigrant coding, out of context. But then, looking at how easily he moves in the water compared to the flopping rag doll movements on land. He no longer has to mask, he no longer has to hide himself and navigate a world that is hostile and judgmental to him. 

And he’s miserable. He misses his family. And he’s determined to find them, and save them from the chef. So he sets off to do exactly that. 

There’s a series of objectives to complete to get there, but the one that stuck with me? Sneaking into the women’s bathroom. Granted, it’s for the purpose of going through the vents and causing a diversion in the break room, but it still strikes me that Octodad, who presents as a male human, has to sneak into the women’s restroom. And this is presented not as some scandalous affair of a peeping Tom, not a forbidden thing, but just an objective. That’s where the proper vents are, after all. 

On a sillier note? You walk into the aquarium in a shark suit, and you have to cause a diversion. So now, rather than Octodad’s clumsiness being a source of shame, it’s his strength, and it’s a point of pride. He’s an octopus! He’s excellent at making messes!

And then there’s the grand finale— it’s corny and dramatic and there’s a cafeteria on fire, and the truth is out. He’s an octopus.

And Scarlet? She says she was expecting so much worse. She loves her octopus husband exactly as he is, and no matter what adjustments she has to make, she knows her family will be stronger for it. Because now, she has the chance to love her husband in his entirety, in his Otherness, and she takes it.

Octodad is a story about an octopus walking around in a suit and pretending to be a normal human man, but it’s also a story about being closeted, masking, living in fear, and finally realizing that the love remains. That there are people who will love you as you are, genuinely and truly, tentacles and all.

[nerdasaurus1200]

At last, it’s Argonaut time!!

First off naturally, the stars of the show, Jason and Medea. I tried to give Jason a bit of a peacock color scheme to reflect Hera since he’s her champion. With really shiny and colorful armor both to reflect his prince status and also how much of a showboat he is and how he views himself as a heroic golden boy. Medea, I used mostly purple to reflect her magic and royal status, with just a dash of red to reflect how bloody her story is. And I gave her a cat because why not? I heard somewhere that cats are vaguely connected to Hecate so it felt fitting.

And of course, the Dioscuri Pollux and Castor. I tried hard to really lean into the young Spartan boy aspect while also making them close enough that you can’t really tell them apart from a distance. OSP on youtube inspired some of their physical features- with Pollux having lighter hair, blue eyes, and lightning marks to reflect his demigod status while Castor looks a little more human.

Next the other set of brothers- the Boreads, Zetes (left) and Calais (right), the Argo's eyes in the sky. They're the sons of the North Wind but for ambiguity's sake I made them look a bit like Aeolus. After a LOT of consideration and trial and error I tried to make their clothing a little warmer looking than the other Argonauts but still breezy. Something that would easily flow in the wind. I imagine them both as the Eugene Fitzherberts of the group. Super protective but also kinda vain at times

Next, Meleager and Caeneus! I imagine they both step in as leader of the Argonauts when Jason isn’t around. Meleager was fun but a little difficult cause I wanted him to look heroic but also simple. Caeneus was a such a blast as I was digging into his mythology to figure out his design. I tried to make him look a little androgynous but mostly masculine. You’ll notice I snuck the trans pride flag into his outfit.

And the three teenage stooges- Hercules, Atalanta, and Orpheus. They’re probably among the youngest of the Argonauts. Because I’m a disney girl at heart I made Hercules look very close to his disney counterpart. This new version Atalanta was fun cause I wanted her to look like she’s kind of at a level 1 compared to my first design for her. And since Orpheus is a musician and half Muse I tried to make his outfit really flashy, kinda like a circus performer.

Next up is Hippomenes and Eurydice! Now I couldn’t find any concrete source saying they were for sure on the Argo but somehow Hippomenes was there according to some source. And the idea of Eurydice being there too is just too wholesome not to include. Plus more women is never a bad thing.

For Hippomenes since in my headcanons he also grew up isolated into the woods like Atalanta, I wanted to parallel that by also dressing him in brown. I also made him a little bit of a beanpole cause I like to think he was kinda the “weakling/runt” of Chiron’s students.

Eurydice was super fun cause her being a nymph, I wanted to make her look really flowy and unique. To reflect her being a field nymph I put her in a really bright almost flower-like red. And turns out she’s Apollo’s daughter, so I made her a deer nymph since that’s one of his sacred animals.

And finally Autolycus and Laertes, Odysseus’s father and grandfather and the resident Dad Friends of the Argo. In the Epic fandom I tend to see a lot of people dress Odysseus and/or Telemachus in blue, so I thought it’d be fitting if Laertes is part of that pattern. With Autolycus being Hermes's son I put him in teal, as a nod to both the Ithacan royal family and his own divine lineage. Like Meleager I tried to make both look a little simple and humble, but a lot more weathered.

[miniar]

Playing AC: Odyssey.... working though the DLCs... on the last bit of content for the game... and I... I might not finish it...

Like... I'm getting legitimately aggravated by it...

It's not the combat, it's not the level design,... Elysium is BEAUTIFUL, and I had moments of "wow, pretty" at the start...

It's the story and the quests.

I'm a story player. If you give me a game with a good, genuinely good, story, I can forgive a ton of jank, but even the bestest gameplay ever (which this hasn't, lets be honest, it's "yet another assassin's creed", it's fine) Can Not overcome a poorly written, self contradictory story.

Shit, I don't even mind it if the dialog itself is kinda bad, if the story makes up for it.

And the thing that has me closing the game and going "I need a fucking break!" right now is that I'm apparently trying to stay on the good side of the same character as I'm pretty openly working against, and therefore am expected to accept the offer to bring back a dead person from the main game with the life of a family member or a friend in the dlc, either way, effectively undermining my own primary goal in the dlc.

It's a bad quest.

It's not a "difficult moral choice", there's no agonizing or questions or ways to avoid this as far as I can tell either. Consistently played my eagle bearer as trying to do the right thing, being a bit of a sucker for a person in need even, whenever the game lets me, which is inconsistent as fuck too... leading to the main character having an inconsistent personality (along with many other characters within the game).... but this plays like the eagle bearer doesn't really have a personality at all, and will just... go do some casual murder for a vague promise without guarantees to see a dead person again... and this AFTER coming to terms with the deaths of loved ones in Other parts of the game.

Learned to let go.. then seemingly agreed, without question, to kill a person for the sake of not letting go...

This quest is bad. I just want to be finished with the whole everything of the game, be done done, so I can put it down, process for a little bit, and then type out my thoughts as a whole but this DLC is making that difficult for me. Who the fuck wrote this bullshit?

[goldenpinof]

yooo i totally get where youre coming from wrt feeling like the only person who gives a shit enough to critique these kinds of little things about dnp. it definitely shows that they don't really care for the details, which personally i don't mind w things like the websites (maybe that's just bc i don't have an eye for graphic design!) but when it comes to details that imo make a significantly lesser experience as a viewer and fan, it really can feel really unprofessional on their end.

it's interesting because, on one hand, that's a little bit their charm, sorta scrappy OG youtubers who haven't really changed their formula much but continue to create CoNtEnT because they have an established community who enjoys what they do. but then on the other hand, they often allow that attitude to seep into things like operating their business, overlooking details in editing, weirdness with just about all of the managements theyve been under, the general tone-deafness of cheerfully announcing there will be more us and uk shows and completely brushing over the call for them to at least MENTION the rest of the world that isn't europe or the us.... also i think so often about how garbage their bday livestreams were in terms of production, that would be so unacceptable from literally anyone other than dnp, but because it's them they get away with it lmao. (and yes ultimately those streams were for a good cause and they succeeded in the fundraising, but that can't be an excuse for low quality.)

their unprofessionalism is like a double-edged sword in a way, like i genuinely find them difficult to recommend to other people, not necessarily because i think my friends wouldn't like their sense of humor, but because there ARE creators out there who have similar origins and have done similar things and have improved quality production alongside their growth. and again, i do not necessarily mind scrappiness, but it feels like it's at odds with the amount of money they make and the type of productions they are trying to do with things like the tour. and that's the other thing, they are FULLY CAPABLE of having consistently good production quality to all of their shit, not just the big tours. they just choose not to, and whether or not that's for the sake of image or being control freaks or they really do not care, it ends up making a worse experience for their audience imo.

(but like. im also of the mindset that dan should have done stand-up shows in dingy bars for $10 instead of wad so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

"control freaks"

for the last 2 years i question this statement almost every day. because if they were control freaks, none of this bullshit with promo materials existed.

and it's not about design itself. it's about typos and just wrong names of the venues. my main question is: WHY is it so hard to make things right? because realistically, it's not hard at all.

especially when people are telling you and asking you to fix it. like, how fucking stubborn you should be to brush it off. your work is your public image. and i'm sorry, but it looks like shit. it's so unprofessional, it's painful to look at. and i'm not even talking about videos. i'm talking specifically about danandphiltour.com and promo materials. editing of their videos is a different problem.

production-wise: this time, i have to say that i don't really care. but i get what you mean. there are youtubers who invested in this. dnp didn't. because they don't care, because it works how it is right now.

in conclusion: our loyalty is at fault. if we cared about work details a little bit more and were more serious, maybe, just maybe, we could level up all these things. but it seems like no one cases, and i'm tired of fighting this battle for years. i'm gonna take the L eventually. but the tour got on the way, unfortunately.

[multi-fandom-of-madness]

Don't Wanna Talk About It

Pairings: Omega X Ifrit (implied Ifrit X Dewdrop)

Type: Smut

Summary: Ifrit wants attention. Omega is busy. Things do not go according to Ifrit’s plan. Or do they?

Warnings: Dom!Omega, Sub!Ifrit, teasing, pushy behavior, Ifrit is a brat, ownership, sort of chastity, throat fucking, consensual photographing mention, subdrop, degradation, objectification, slight feminization, rough sex, fingering, anal sex, knotting, biting, mentions of blood

Word Count: 3,333

Notes: Read here on ao3. There is a scene that sounds like Ifrit is using Dewdrop, but it’s not like that in any regard. They’re both just brats who plot together. Also, here is a picture of the harness I used as reference :)

~

It’s a well-known fact that ghouls are very sexual creatures. They have fun with each other, but they also have systems in place.

Using the color system made it easier for them to have clear communication across all pairings. They had their rules, and they had their punishments — all for the sake of fun.

It isn’t uncommon for a ghoul to be punished in a way of no one in the pack being allowed to touch them. This is only broken when the ghoul who put said punishment in place determines the punishment to be over. It was difficult to keep track of until someone came up with the perfect solution: a simple collar.

Every ghoul had a set of collars and harnesses that had a specific color designated to them. (For example: Mountain’s were brown or green, Aether’s were black and purple, Zephyrs were an off-white color, etc.)

Wearing only a collar simply meant to show ownership, telling everyone else to back off. That ghoul was off limits to the rest of the pack. They may be used during a ghouls' heat to claim specific partners. More often than not, however, they were used as a punishment.

If a harness was added to the equation, that commonly meant that that ghoul had royally fucked up. They weren’t allowed to receive any attention from any other ghoul – sexual or not. They either wore it over a shirt or wore no top at all;  depending on their preferences of course.

It was an easy system to follow, and it added an extra level of excitement…until it was actually enacted.

—

Ifrit had been craving attention from a certain quintessence ghoul. Omega had a certain air of dominance that surrounded him, and Ifrit was dying to feel it close up. 

With thoughts in mind, Ifrit strolled over to the couch, trying to seem nonchalant. Though the rest of the couch was empty, he curled up against Omega who was peacefully reading. Eventually, he got bored from just cuddling and decided to crawl in his lap and press kisses to his jaw.

“There something you want?” Omega asked, not taking his eyes off of the book.

“Want you,” Ifrit mumbled, grinding against Omega’s thigh. “Please…really want you…”

Omega smiled, putting his book down and holding Ifrit’s cheek. “I can find you later tonight, but I’m busy today. Terzo asked me to help him with paperwork, and I have some chores to get done before I’m free.”

Ifrit whined and buried his face in Omega’s hand. “Skip it. Please Megs…need you so bad,” he begged, still moving his hips to get friction against his rapidly hardening cock.

“Oh hush, baby boy. You know I’ll take care of you tonight. I want to relax right now though.”

“I can help you relax,” Ifrit purred, bringing a hand to Omega’s crotch, feeling him chub up in his pants. Ifrit’s touch was hot, and he could feel it through his pants.

“Ifrit,” Omega says in a warning tone, taking Ifrit’s wrist in his hand. “You can curl up next to me and let me read in peace or you can go find someone else to play with if you’re that desperate. It’s up to you, but I’m not playing this game right now.”

Ifrit huffed and tried to bury his face in Omega’s neck, but Omega tugged on his tail and pushed him off his lap. Ifrit decided he was going to pout in the opposite corner of the couch. Omega stood up with a grunt, grabbing Ifrit by the collar of his shirt and dragged him to Dewdrop’s room.

“There. Go play with the pretty little water ghoul, and leave me alone,” he growled, shutting the door in Ifrit’s face.

Dewdrop looked up with an amused smirk. “What was all that about?”

“Don’t wanna talk about it,” Ifrit mumbled, crawling his way into the bed. If he wasn’t able to get exactly what he wanted right now, there was no harm in saying he couldn’t at least have some fun.

With the approval of Dewdrop, he sent Omega a picture of a fucked out Dewdrop, covered in marks and cum.

Ifrit: Could have been us…

Omega: I am actively working. This is not the time, Ifrit.

Ifrit: Awww you’re no fun :(

Omega: If you don’t quit, you won’t be happy with the outcome.

Ifrit rolled his eyes and put his phone aside, cuddling the blissed out water ghoul, giving him soft kisses.

“You’re going to get in so much trouble,” Dewdrop giggled.

“Oh, I plan on it,” Ifrit grinned, kissing Dewdrop who wrapped his arms around him and crawled onto his lap.

“Round two?”

—

Dinner rolled around, and Ifrit made sure to deliberately sit next to Omega at the table. He wrapped his tail around the quintessence ghoul’s calf, slowly working it up towards his cock.

“Ifrit, if you want to do something with me, you have to wait. I won’t tell you again,” Omega growled, leaning toward Ifrit to whisper in his ear.

“I’m just trying to set the mood.”

“We’re at dinner. It can wait.”

“That’s not what you said when you jerked Aether off under the table last week.”

“There’s a difference. I’m not in the mood to deal with your shit right now,” he warned, seeming more annoyed than angry.

Ifrit wrinkled his nose, but his tail stayed curled around the other ghoul’s thigh.

“Unwrap your tail,” Omega commanded. Ifrit loosened his tail, concerned that he was actually crossing a boundary, but when he smelled a wave of unmistakable arousal, he tightened his grip once again. “Ifrit,” he said loud enough to get a few confused glances from the other.

Startled, Ifrit let his tail fall and went silent. He hung his head, and for the rest of dinner, he picked at the food with a fork. He could practically feel the anger radiating off of Omega, and it made him nervous, yet slightly excited to see what was about to come.

Ifrit volunteered to clean the table and wash the dishes once everyone was finished. Omega stayed at the table, glaring at every move the fire ghoul made as if he were a piece of prey to devour.

He tried his best to ignore how uncomfortably hard he was, but every movement made his sweatpants rub against him, and every thought about what Omega was going to do to him made his cock kick.

Omega sat there, analyzing his every move. Even though he tried to keep his angry demeanor, there was no denying how hard he was.

The moment Ifrit finished, Omega grabbed his arm hard enough to bruise and dragged him into his room. Ifrit stood there, shaking slightly, staring at Omega like a deer in headlights.

“Do you still want my attention?” He asked, his words sharp.

Ifrit nodded, not meeting Omega’s gaze. Omega gripped his chin and forced him to look in his eyes.

“I need words, baby. I need to make sure you’re okay with this,” Omega said, his tone gentle. He checked over Ifrit’s face, checking for any signs of reluctance.

“Y-yes. I still want this,” he admitted. He didn’t realize that his arms were already behind his back until he dug his own claws in. Omega moved his hand from his jaw to his shoulder, shoving him down to his knees.

“Get to work,” he said, motioning to the bulge in his pants. Ifrit reached his hands out, but Omega slapped them away. “Mouth only,” Omega chided, grabbing hold of one of Ifrit’s horns and pressing his face to his crotch.

Ifrit looked up with glassy eyes, then immediately began fumbling with the button, using his tongue to try and push the button out of the hole. It took a moment, but once he got the button free, he pulled the zipper down.

His real struggle was trying to pull both pants and boxers down. “Don’t tell me that after every stunt you pulled today that you can’t deal with the consequences of your own actions.”

Ifrit whined and looked Omega in the eyes. “I-I need help,” he whispered, hoping for some mercy.

“Useless,” Omega taunted, pulling his pants down just enough to free his dick. “Open.”

Ifrit opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out, expecting Omega to shove his cock down his throat. He flinched when he was met with a glob of saliva, landing partially in his mouth and partially on his cheek. Before he had the chance to swallow, Omega pushed into Ifrit’s open mouth, hitting the back of Ifrit’s throat and causing him to gag. Omega held him there until Ifrit reached around to tap his thigh.

Omega pulled him off, letting Ifrit gasp for breath. “Are you okay? Color?” He asked, slightly concerned.

“I’m fine. Green,” Ifrit croaked out once he got his breathing under control. He swallowed some of the saliva that was threatening to leak from his lips, then opened his mouth and looked back at Omega.

Omega pushed his cock back into Ifrit’s waiting mouth, much gentler this time. He kept hold of Ifrit’s horns as he fucked his throat. “Lucifer, it’s like you were made for this,” Omega groaned, throwing his head back. When he looked down, he saw drool coating Ifrit’s chin and wet eyes. “S-shit, you look so good on your knees.”

Ifrit closed his eyes and moaned, the sound adding to Omega’s pleasure.

He pushed Ifrit’s head down, his nose pressed against the coarse hair. “Is this what you wanted? Wanted to be used and fucked like you were nothing more than a toy?”

Ifrit tried to hum in confirmation, but the action caused him to choke around Omega’s cock. Omega pulled him off, then started to strip. “Take your clothes off, and get on the bed. Ass up, face down,” he said, tone stern.

Ifrit wiped the spit off his chin, then did as Omega asked. He climbed onto the bed in the position Omega asked, and as soon as he did so, he heard the metal clinking.

“Shit,” he cursed, knowing he was fucked.

“What? Can’t handle a little ownership? You’re my bitch now,” Omega growled, slapping his ass. “Get on your hands.”

Ifrit complied, now resting his weight on his hands. He turned his head to see Omega prepping a harness with a collar attached. It was white leather lined with holographic material. 

Ifrit whined as Omega began to situate the harness against his chest, strapping it together in the back, then wrapping the collar around his throat. He pulled it tight enough to add weight, reminding him of his situation, but not enough to the point where he couldn’t breathe.

On the ring attached to the collar there was a tag engraved with “Omega’s Bitch”. A trail of leather ran underneath to more leather and metal rings. The leather moved in a ‘V’ shape down to his waist. There were chains attached to the rings, mimicking a skeletal rib cage, lining his chest. Straps of leather laid across his back in a horizontal fashion.

He couldn’t deny that it wasn’t pretty, but he knew what it meant. “H-how long?”

“I haven’t decided yet,” Omega said, moving Ifrit’s tail so it was raised over his hip. “You wanted my attention, and you got it. And that is all you will be getting until I decide otherwise.” 

He didn’t hear Omega uncap the bottle of lube, only noticing when he felt cool liquid being poured over his hole. He shivered and moaned. “A little warning? That’s shit’s cold.”

“You’re a fire ghoul. You can warm it up, so quit griping,” Omega said, using his index finger to smear the lube before pushing in. Ifrit moaned, then lowered himself to his elbows. Omega grabbed hold of one of the top leather straps, then hoisted him back to his hands. “Never said you could do that.”

Ifrit whined and hung his head, already panting as Omega added a second finger, scissoring and curling his fingers. Ifrit moaned, loud enough to be heard across the Ministry as Omega curled both fingers into his prostate.

If it weren’t for Omega’s grip on the harness, he would have collapsed as Omega pushed a third finger past his stretched rim. He was leaking precum as if he were a water ghoul – a small puddle forming beneath him. Harnesses did wonderful things to his brain.

That sense of being owned, the feeling of the leather against his skin, the way the chains jingled and bounced against his nipples – the cool metal sending a shock through his body. It all made his head spin. He could cum from this alone.

“Sathanas, you look so pretty when you’re getting fucked by my fingers. I cannot wait to see you on my cock.”

Ifrit bit his lip, stifling a moan at the thought of being impaled on Omega’s cock. Omega pulled his fingers out once he determined Ifrit stretched enough, receiving a whine from the fire ghoul, then thrusting into Ifrit, burying himself to the hilt in one go. Ifrit let out an obscene moan as Omega let him adjust, then began moving his hips back against Omega to let him know he was ready.

“You better enjoy this. This is the only cock you’ll be getting for quite a while,” Omega whispered as he bent over Ifrit’s back, fucking him hard and fast.

Ifrit grunted, letting out little “ah ah ah’s” as Omega’s cock repeatedly slammed into his prostate.

Omega sat up, taking his hands off the top of the harness to grip the bottom, moving Ifrit back and forth over his cock. “So fucking tight-” he groaned. “Such a good little fuck toy for me. Nothing but a tight hole for me to use whenever I please.”

“Uh huh,” was all Ifrit managed to get out.

“Hardly even been five minutes and I’ve already fucked you stupid? Pathetic,” he sneered, smacking Ifrit’s ass and leaving a red hand print. His hips continuously slammed against the meat of Ifrit’s ass as he brought one hand around to Ifrit’s throat, forcing him back against Omega’s chest.

Ifrit clenched around Omega’s cock as he stopped, buried completely in Ifrit.

“You’re going to be a good toy and ride me so I can see those pretty chains bouncing against those pretty tits,” Omega growled, nipping at the skin above Ifrit’s collar.

Ifrit moaned as Omega pulled out, letting Ifrit fall back to his hands so he could watch the way his hole clenched around nothing.

Omega sat against the headboard, and Ifrit immediately straddled him. Ifrit grabbed hold of Omega’s cock, stroking it a few times before lining it up with his fluttering hole.

He moaned as Omega filled him once more. Ifrit rested his hands on Omega’s shoulders as he began to bounce in earnest.

Omega grabbed Ifrit’s hips with one hand, the other moving to play with Ifrit’s nipples. Ifrit threw his head back, letting out a litany of noises. His cock kicked as Omega pinched his nipple.

“So pretty like this,” Omega murmured, pulling Ifrit into a sloppy kiss full of teeth and tongue, swallowing Ifrit’s moan. Omega groaned as he felt Ifrit clench around him. “So fucking good for me,” he moaned, pressing a kiss to Ifrit’s shoulder.

“Omega, please…please touch me…wanna cum,” Ifrit begged.

“Can’t you touch yourself?” Omega questioned, a teasing smirk on his face.

“Don’t wanna. Want you…you make me feel so good,” Ifrit whined, continuing to bounce up and down, feeling Omega’s knot beginning to form.

Omega looked down to watch his cock slide in and out of Ifrit’s hole. “Taking my cock so good. You look so good like this,” Omega mused, reaching a hand to stroke Ifrit’s cock. “Gonna cum for me? Gonna let me knot you? Fill you up?”

“Yes! Please. Wanna be good for you. Knot me, Omega, please. Wanna feel you for days,” he babbled, too far gone to be coherent. Between Omega’s dick in his ass, the feeling of his knot bumping against his rim, and the hand stroking his dick, thumbing against the slit, Ifrit was on cloud 9.

Omega put both hands on Ifrit’s hips, taking control and moving him how he pleased. Ifrit whined and his face twisted in bliss as Omega shoved his knot into him. “F-fuck!” He cursed, claws digging into Omega’s back. Omega buried his head into Ifrit’s shoulder as he came, biting hard enough to draw blood.

Omega continued to jerk him off, and Ifrit grinded against Omega’s cock.

“Fuck, Omega, I’m gonna cum-” he gasped.

“Cum for me. Make a mess, pretty boy,” Omega said. Once he was given permission, Ifrit came, collapsing against Omega as he worked him to the brink of overstimulation. Omega brought his hand to his mouth, licking Ifrit’s cum and moaning from the taste. “Fuck, you taste so good, baby.”

Ifrit hummed, then nuzzled against Omega’s neck.

Omega chuckled, then grabbed a tissue from his nightstand to clean his hand, then another to wipe the blood off of Ifrit’s neck. He lifted Ifrit’s head to press a kiss to his lips.

“Such a good boy,” Omega smiled as he put one hand on Ifrit’s cheek and stared into his burnt orange eyes. “Feeling alright?”

“Mhm,” Ifrit hummed. His head felt fuzzy, and he felt boneless, but Lucifer almighty did he feel good. He leaned back against Omega, breathing in the crisp, yet fizzy scent of Omega.

“How does a bath sound once I’m able to pull out?” Omega offered, stroking Ifrit’s hair. All Ifrit could do was nod. Omega pressed his lips to Ifrit’s head. “Did so good for me, baby boy. So so good.”

Ifrit hummed and closed his eyes, nodding off as Omega’s scent soothed him. Omega held him close, chuckling as he noticed Ifrit falling asleep. “Rest,” he gently commanded. “I’ll wake you when I need to.”

Ifrit smiled and dozed off, sleeping until Omega woke him so that he could pull out without startling him. Once Ifrit was lucid, Omega carried him to the bathroom. Omega had a bigger bath than all of the ghouls thanks to his ‘partnership’ with Terzo, which was able to fit both of them. He took the harness and collar off – a temporary thing – then submerged both of them in the warm water.

Omega repeatedly made sure that Ifrit was okay, tending to his bite mark and any bruises, giving him water and a small snack.

“Are you sure you’re okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Omega questioned as he rinsed shampoo out of the fire ghoul’s hair.

“I’m sure. I’m sore as hell, but that’s expected,” Ifrit assured. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back as Omega poured water over his hair. “But I like it this way.” He paused. “Did you ever decide how long I’ll be in the harness for?”

“How does a week sound? At least for now.”

“If it means getting that treatment again, I’ll settle for a month,” Ifrit laughed.

Omega hummed. “Oh, don’t tempt me,” he teased.

—

They stayed in the bath together for quite some time, only getting out when the water turned cold. They got dressed – the collar and harness both being put back on – then curled up together in bed once fresh sheets were on.

When breakfast rolled around, Ifrit woke up to an empty bed. He felt the chains rattling against his chest and huffed, then walked into the kitchen, being greeted by the scent of breakfast being made and the chatter of his packmates.

Aether gave him a funny look, barely containing his laughter, then poked Dewdrop in the shoulder to make him turn to look. 

Dewdrop choked on his coffee as he took in the sight of Ifrit in his sweatpants with the leather and holographic collar/harness duo lining his torso. “Dude. What did you do?” Dewdrop asked, a laugh escaping him as Omega turned around and smirked.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.”

[aqours]

What do you think is Curse of Strahd's biggest weakness as a module?

oh there's so many potential answers for this. the racism that they tried to fix later by trying to erase the concept of minorities? the fact the layout of the book is a disaster? that's one of them but i've already talked about that. i think Curse of Strahd's biggest issue, by a very huge margin is:

D&D 5E is inherently a really bad system to use for a horror game and especially the horror that CoS wants to be

i think Ravenloft and it's many spinoffs worked better in 2E because things were different back then. you started off as a somewhat above-average person and became stronger over time. 5E, however, is a power fantasy to it's core. even at level 1 you are an extraordinary person much more powerful than any regular commoner could ever be. and CoS doesn't handle this well. you are extremely resource deprived, you can go from levels 1-10 with that same +0 longsword you have from character creation. it's about becoming more skilled with what little you have over time.

which is fine. but CoS's resource deprivement is atypical for 5E module design. it's about depriving players of the typical power fantasy that D&D usually is for the sake of atmosphere and tone... which is fine, but the game doesn't offer much in compromise. let me use Warlocks as an example. one of (imho) the best spells Warlocks can have is Shadow of Moil. it is an amazing spell. once i am getting near that level one of my priorities in playing a Warlock is finding an undead eyeball encased in a gem worth at least 150 gp so i can cast it. it's amazing.

good luck finding that in Barovia! your DM will really have to work with you if they want to run the game RAW which is also not a bad thing no matter what anyone says so you can use that spell. this is an issue with spells in 5E that require expensive spell components... it's not available.

if i can use something else from D&D as an example, i want to tlak about Masque of the Red Death. Masque of the Red Death was an official 2E gothic horror thing made by people who wanted a more "realistic" gothic horror by making the setting basically a grimdark earth. you can ONLY play humans and are told you use specific classes. it was kinda killed in 2E before the internet made looking up these things easier. it received a fan revival on 5e you can purchase in the link (or i can give it to you), but part of it is you are expected to use it's character classes instead of the standard 5E ones. that's because they fit the setting more thematically, and thus are scaled to the dangers and expectations better. 5E Curse of Strahd tries to achieve this by throwing extremely difficult combat encounters combined with resource deprival, but doesn't give a lot to compensate back for this. the sunword and holy symbol are cool, but that does not compensate for not being able to do a lot of 5E usual power fantasy stuff?

i think there are better systems for what CoS wants to do. if you want extremely deadly combat, some PBTA d6 game probably suits you better. someone on r/curseofstrahd mentioned Hunter: The Reckoning might be good, and HONESTLY one day when i'm more familiar with playing WoD games i'd fucking LOVE to try to a full conversion for Hunter at some point. a lot of people really love making CoS western themed, to which I say if you also want to play as vampires consider checking out Bloodbeam Badlands actually! personally, i think you could even pull off CoS's story using Call of Cthulhu or Pulp Cthulhu for extra power: the SAN mechanic might make for something really great in this game too! one of my issues with Masque is that while i like it i just can't help but think Call of Cthulhu/Pulp Cthulhu is still better for what that setting wants

i'll play CoS using D&D bc it is made for that, but i think rather than trying to stay super true to the horror themes all the time, a DM should consider adjusting it's tone or item distribution to meet the group's fun. i love CoS, a LOT, and I love Ravenloft, but i think there's definitely better systems for what it wants to be, and CoS as it is (especially for when it was written somewhat early in 5E's life) has never been quite the story right for a 5E story

[rainstormcolors]

For the ask game: Kaiba, 7, 10, 12

Hello. Thank you for the ask and I hope you’re having a nice day out there.

7. What might they appreciate as a gift from someone?

I don’t feel that Seto is the sentimental type, not on the conscious level. And yet gestures do end up affecting him over time. Yugi might buy some trading card packs to open together and share and look at what they find. Mokuba finds a cool fossil and he leaves it in Seto’s office. For some reason these are what come to mind for me. The little things.

10. If this character wanted to cheer up someone they cared about, what do you think they’d do?

I think Seto’s emotional intelligence, from where he is in canon, leaves something to be desired. He’s not a people-oriented person, and emotional and sentimental communication is difficult for him. He often does grand gestures of sacrifice for the sake of the people he cares about in canon, and this is a showing of his affection. Being emotionally available for others when he can’t even be emotionally available for himself is difficult for him. All this to say that I feel Seto might have almost a form of learned helplessness when it comes to the idea of cheering people up, for where he is in canon. But he does indeed have moments of caring. I think of him being struck suddenly with the need to comfort Isis Ishtar, but he does so in an indirect way. He can grow from this place more and more.

So post-canon, I could see him starting to mirror behaviors he learns from the people he cares about and trusts and takes that lead to in turn try to comfort people. He learns leaving food for someone can be comforting. He learns just being in the room with someone can be comforting. In a different kind of grand gesture, he might design a special game world to explore suited to a person’s tastes. He may figure out what movie stars or directors or artists the person enjoys and he’ll hunt down an autograph or doodle to purchase and give this to the one he wishes to cheer up.

12. What’s a moment in canon regarding them that you feel is underappreciated?

In the manga version of Seto testing out his Obelisk card, he’s inspired by the inner strength of Atem in his battle, and there’s the sense Seto is trying to find himself now. Specifically, Seto lets himself be inspired by Atem. And it’s what he seeks going into this tournament, tangled into so many conflicts inside his heart.

Thank you again.

[askagamedev]

You talked about a time where the project needed producers to keep the creative leads many ideas in check and on schedule. Do you have any horror stories of the reverse, where a producer kept such a tight leash on development that it hurt development?

I've seen things like that happen before. In my experience, production problems tend to appear when the producer in charge focuses too much on enforcing rules and procedure for its own sake. The procedures aren't too different from how other teams work, the difference is the level of enforcement of those procedures - like a designer and engineer not being allowed to chat about an issue or work out solutions informally without having an official meeting called by a producer to discuss the problem. One team I worked with ran this way.

This team was running a live MMOG and had very strict procedures in place, including a floor plan that siloed the disciplines into our own respective camps - the engineers, designers, and artists were all physically seated in separate areas away from each other. Everything we did had to go through the proper channels and in the proper order - a meeting was called to go over issues, tasks had to be broken down, prioritized, and assigned for the time frame, and only then could work on anything begin. Impromptu sessions where I could call an engineer I knew over to my desk to talk about an issue I just discovered were frowned upon. Issues I know I could fix quite easily within a few minutes or hours would languish for weeks because of the procedure.

This over-proceduralization wasn't necessarily a project killer, but it did hurt morale and job satisfaction through the walls it constructed between team disciplines. While working on that project, I felt very much like a cog in a machine. I was only allowed to do the work that the machine assigned to me, and I could rarely work outside of the assigned lines. Leveling up and growing was also difficult because it was more difficult to learn from other disciplines except through extremely small and distant windows. You may have expected a story of a producer tyrant demanding design changes but I haven't experienced that scenario myself. This isn't a horror story about that kind of nightmare scenario, but the slow and steady grind of my job satisfaction slowly worn down into drudgery.

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[6316454]

I write now because I feel I have been given no other choice. When I started writing as a small child it simply came out of me. I had no choice but to write. The endless possibilities I was capable of harnessing and combining were irresistible to me. I study the practice I had as a child like expressionists studied the art of all children. To discover something about the nature of the creative process.

Writing is to me now something I do in a perfunctory way. In academics I was given an assignment and I struggled the whole way through. Regardless of the perceived value of the outcome I struggled. This I believe is the result of having that childlike approach beaten out of me. This does not make me unique. I write this essay to express this fact about myself. It is not a unique circumstance and the road I am on is not a unique one. "Bigger idiots than I have accomplished it."

I have been told that art should have a point. You should seek to accomplish something with a piece or collection of works. This was a surprise to me, when I was at my most artistic and prolific. As a teenager I wrote reams of poetry, because I had no choice. There were things I could not tell a single soul, not even a journal. I wrote because I loved words. I loved learning new words, discovering new words excited me. I loved choosing words based on the feel and flavor and exoticism. Using as many strange and unusual words was reason enough to me to write a poem. One or two particularly expressive words could motivate me to write dozens of verses. As an adult I learned that this is called pretentious or inaccessible or overwrought or flowery. Not a good thing. I learned that a writer should consider their audience and what the piece communicates to them. At first I dually accepted this but attempted to seek a balance between my manic compulsion for verbosity and restraint for the sake of consumption. But "God didn't make you crazy for no reason!"

Eventually my artistic practice withered and died in the specifically controlled hothouse of the collegiate level art class. My desire to achieve and have my art recognized was stunted by inability to understand the principles being taught to me. I felt stupid for not having the foundation to keep up with the course material or understand the point of the exercises. I panicked under the immense pressure of producing master studies or a certain number of still life sketches in charcoal. Despite multiple efforts to reconnect with my artistic practice over my years, you cannot water a dried, yellowed husk of a begonia back to health. Regardless of how much you would like it to be true.

I am not an artist, I accepted. It was a bleak realization to have. For much of my life I eschewed traditional milestones or achievements in favor of art. Now as an adult I feel I have nothing to show for it. No marketable skills, no achievement in non artistic arenas. I'm not an academic, or a designer, or a singer or an actor or a writer or an artist. I turn in my resume to multiple places a day with the help of the internet. But it is difficult to market oneself when you feel there is nothing to market.

As I feel doors have been closed to me I have grown bitter. I have experienced loss and grief beyond my years. I do not want to recover. I do not want to "work harder." And yet I struggle to be "kinder" to myself. My self expression is almost completely dammed up. What would be the point in a poem? What would I want the reader to take away? Would my essay have a compelling structure, and appropriate narrative? What do you write about when you have spent over a decade stagnating in obscurity? What experience do you draw on?

I am writing this essay to make no point. I am writing the words which occur to me. I am imparting no wisdom. I am telling, arguably, a fragment of a narrative. But when you have no skills, any output is progress. Nonlinear progress can still be important. In a way I am my own audience. Maybe my thesis is an apology. For abandoning my artistic practice. For neglecting my best and most reliable audience: a little girl who loved the thesaurus and Edgar Allen Poe.

[dalishborne]

agh ok i know i won't be able to write this drabble anytime soon so i'll talk about it as a headcanon:

thinking about how revie deals with her emotions and what may have affected her emotional regulation growing up. she's very much in between being able to shove her feelings down for the sake of others or in stressful situations, and needing to have a big cry (on her own) to release that tension. i'd say she's earned some praise from clan members for her "level headedness" but she knows that on the inside she's like an emotional volcano ready to erupt lol.

she did have a lot of love in her family growing up but talking about feelings was something that didn't happen often. if the chance presented itself where revie could confide in her parents (or just her mom at that point, before she remarried) she would struggle to be honest about herself, in case she was burdening her parents or disappointing them in some way (v likely to do with being considered gifted very young and feeling as though she had high expectations placed on her due to it. whether or not that's actually true to the situation, revie always felt the only way she would make her parents feel good and feel proud is to keep doing what she was doing, which was excelling in her studies/mentorships and being a responsible and active member of their clan)

when she reached her teens is when her keeper started to introduce lessons about what it means to lead the clan, for her future. the specific conversation i wanted to write a drabble about was when keeper dhavihal talks her about what it means to be a keeper to a clan - that it's more than heralding the lore of dalish, but to become a home to the people, for the people. something along the lines of becoming like a strong, ancient tree, where many animals may burrow beneath, store food in its holes and crevices, make homes in its branches. it gives shade and breath to all around it, and never whines or groans even when weathering the toughest storms. that sort of cemented the idea that going forth, she would need to set her needs aside for the collective. to remember that she's only a small stitch in a bigger tapestry. i had a thought of her asking dhavihal who does a keeper turn to when they might struggle, and tells her: the creators.

getting to the point that she's at was hard because she naturally feels things deeply and her emotions always feel very big. i'd say some of her hobbies have turned into coping mechanisms, especially carving/whittling. sometimes its nice to get lost in intricate designs, other times it feels good to just stab something into some wood.

all that said, she ofc has a breaking point, as anyone would, and there are certain things she may be sensitive about and could tip her over the edge or at least make it difficult for her to keep a level facade, and lastly she still grapples with a bit of an impatience streak, which has been something she's been constantly trying to keep in check.

[pieces-of-heaven]

So! Me — being the a7x liker that I am — decided to buy the Hail to the King: Deathbat game! And it's fun so far in my opinion! A little difficult, but I'm not the best gamer around. I've finished most of the game. And if you've played the game you know what that means.

Spoilers ahead for those who haven't played the game!

I really was NOT expecting A Little Piece of Heaven to have as much of a major role in this. All I thought there was was the game over screen and the little triumphant jingle you get when you obtain a castle key. And it made me happy to see of course! But then, after finishing the Afterlife level, I laid my eyes upon this.

Needless to say, tears began to POUR due to my happiness at seeing my current fixation getting the spotlight. And this meant more content!

Going in, I initially doubted it would have the content I wanted. But the more I played the more I realized I may have been proven wrong. When I came across the angel npc and talked to them, I definitely started to wonder. Because they warned you of a woman.

I continue to play the level, freaking out about how the boss could be EXACTLY who I think it is. And then I make it to the end of the level.

LO AND BEHOLD! SHE BLESSES MY EYES!

AGAIN, NEEDLESS TO SAY, TEARS POURED.

So, I originally thought it would've been some fantasy character made up for the sake of the game. But it is ACTUALLY the female protagonist. WITH her music video design no less. And if you've been following the blog, you know how much I love the video and the characters in it.

So there she is, in all her glory, having taken over heaven, cleavers in hand and slaying as usual. Not only that, her following lines of dialogue portray her personality EXACTLY how I imagined. So this definitely kept me fed on content and gives me many ideas.

Though it SEVERELY disappoints me that I haven't heard of this beforehand, until I actually bought the game and saw it myself. The game itself is sort of underrated in my opinion, and there's practically almost NO gameplay on YouTube. Thankfully there was one playlist of gameplay to sort of help me find some stuff.

But continuing onto the boss fight, it was fun. BUT it was a little too easy. All you had to do is make her stomp on the glass, you couldn't even damage her. Which is a good gimmick for the first phase of a boss fight!

And then the second phase never came.

This also sort of disappoints me. They totally had the chance to add the male protagonist into a second phase, especially with her and Andronikos falling into hell and all.

But I will say I'll take what I can get. I absolutely loved this boss. And the instrumental kicking in gave me joy. This is REALLY good content for someone obsessed with ALPOH, like myself. So yeah, I just wanted to sort of bring this to light for anyone who really likes ALPOH like I do!