#overcorrected

[chipmunkweirdo]

Having a hard time getting creative juices to flow again.

Alvin managed to get a little (intro?) or something done for the next multi-fic idea.

“As Classic Alvin, I’m rambunctious and wild. I do things without considering the consequences. By the time I realize I’ve made a dumb decision, it’s too late. I’ve got a huge mess to clean up. He’s fun in the moment, but then he wallows in his regrets.

As Nerdy Alvin, I overthink everything so much that I freeze when asked to make a decision. I make too many plans. I get lost inside my own head. I hyper analyze and get fixated on learning as much as possible. I become more introverted and aloof.

I can deny it all I want. He is my “Simon” side. A part of me I didn’t realize existed until Jeanette helped me learn to control my impulses more. Though I fear she may have caused me to flip a little too far in the opposite direction.

And Alvin 2.0, he’s the best parts of both of them. He’s got the passion, the fun, the spirit, while maintaining the intellect, the expert planning skills, and the ability to think ahead. I LOVE being him. But he almost feels too…stable, sometimes. Missing that randomness and chaos a bit. Being stuck in his mindset too long also feels unnatural and uncomfortable after a while.

I don’t really want to have to choose between the three. Not permanently. There’s a time and a place for all the sides of me. I just wish I was better at judging what that time and place is. I wish I was better at matching the switch to the situation. I’m not great at it, but it’s something I’m working on.”

[onewomancitadel]

You make a video game where you can finally live out your revenge fantasies against a character you hate and wish to violently punish so everybody has to play exactly the way you want in an RPG but this one writer you can't get control of manages to negotiate a "redeem" ending because they're on a one-person "he's a deuteragonist" crusade, and then everybody chooses that option anyway, and not just the shippers, but your little fans too

[bother-blame]

VARRIC TETHRAS | Dragon Age: Inquisition

Good to know! Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever.

[aalghul]

someone on twitter said they don't want to see jaybin be villainized and people are complaining about that. i guess it is now illegal to be upset at the possibility of a 10-15 year old being (once again) written as doomed to being a violent criminal because *checks notes* he was poor and homeless

[dandelion-roots]

poor miles...

[id in alt]

[idolomantises]

Sometimes I get messages about certain dialogue in my comics about how a character is being passive aggressive when I'm just writing them as straight forward and blunt.

idk, as an autistic person who's dealt with genuine harassment several times (including a few months ago) because his straight forward and blunt demeanor was misinterpreted as being "rude", "ungrateful" and "bitchy", its just kind of interesting seeing people interpret dialogue in a more hostile way.

it's not a complaint, i prefer those fictional interpretations over terminally online twitter users who need to be coddled over everything but it is kind of fascinating seeing how people interpret certain dialogue.

[pairdelune]

v1 having fun commiting violence and being scared of dying don't have to be mutually exclusive concepts

[bunabi]

I think at some point you gotta honor the art enough to say 'we are not doing/adding/changing that' or 'that seems like unecessary wish-fulfillment'

Yes the creative director but also literally everyone at the decision-making level should enforce those boundaries

That's a better way of putting how I feel

[fob4ever]

patrick, 2023

[twinleafsystem]

your eyes cast a spell that bewitches the last time i needed twenty stitches…

[amis127]

"I don't see this ship at all..."

"they are such good platonic friends..."

"We don't have to make everything romantic "

Ok y'all thanks for every disclaimer and socially responsible take on this situation every time Sam and Evan have a moment. We get it. We've heard you. Please move on.

[tennessoui]

aaaaa can i request #44?!?

absolutely of course you can 🫶

[from this list of prompts]

[5. 'are you jealous' - 27. 'i'm pregnant' - 46. 'hey, have you seen...? oh']

44. 'if you die, i'm gonna kill you'

"Hey, hey," Anakin hears. Or feels, rather, as each word is punctuated by an ungentle tap against his cheek. Which is really sort of rude, considering that the last thing Anakin remembers is taking a grenade to the chest.

The least Vos can do is be nice to whatever's left of his dying body. He hopes the grumble of dissatisfaction he makes conveys this, because he can't find the energy to actually speak, let alone turn his head away from the hand on his face.

"No, nope, c'mon, Skywalker. Get up. Keep those eyes open. There you go. You're fine."

Anakin doesn't feel very fine. He feels disjointed and confused. He's in so much pain that it's honestly hard to focus on anything else, not even the blurry vision of Quinlan Vos' face leaning over him.

There'd been the grenade. So for all intents and purposes, Anakin should be dead, not dying. He'd been wearing armor, at least. Obi-Wan had given him his armor before sending him into the caves with Vos. He thinks. He remembers that, the way his master had taken Master Vos aside for a conversation that looked tense and unhappy, even to Anakin's eyes. And then his master had taken off the armor provided by the planet's guards--something heavier than what Anakin had, higher tech and sturdier--and given it to Anakin. It'd still been warm from Obi-Wan's body heat when he'd helped him fasten the straps around him.

His master. Anakin needs to--if there are grenades around, if the rebel group has access to that sort of fire power, if they're here in these caves with grenades while Anakin's master is walking about without armor--

"You're fine," Vos tells him, tugging once, sharply, on the padawan braid hanging down Anakin's throat. "Missing a bit of your side, but of your--your arm, but you're fine."

Anakin doesn't feel fine. Anakin has no idea how he feels. Anakin needs to find his master. He can't--

"Swear to the Force, Skywalker, if you die--I'm gonna kill you. Cause Obi-Wan's gonna kill me," Vos is muttering and Anakin can feel his hands ghosting along the site of the injury. It must not be good. He doesn't sound like it's good. He doesn't sound like Anakin's going to be fine.

But at the sound of Obi-Wan's name, Anakin forces his eyes open into slits once more. "'ll be fine," he tells Vos.

"Damn right you will," Vos replies, and suddenly his hands are tighter on Anakin, pressure being applied that lifts him up off the ground.

"No, not--" Anakin says, and he can hear the way he's slurring his words. He can hear the sound of his breath and the beating of his heart. "He'll be fin'."

It's easier to let his head flop down against his chest than to try and lift it to see where they're going. If they're moving somewhere, he trusts Master Vos enough to get them there, even though it's at least partially the man's fault that he went and got himself blown up. After all, he'd pushed Vos out of the way of the explosive the moment he felt it flying through the Force. So really, it's his fault.

He wonders if he should say that out loud. If Vos already thinks it, if it matters.

He doesn't think it matters, really.

"Oh, he'll be fine?" Vos asks, and Anakin's dropped--at least gently this time--against the wall of the tunnel as Vos pushes against a door with the Force. Checking for danger. Securing the area. "He'd be devastated, Skywalker."

"Get a new on'," Anakin disagrees, going limp the moment Vos' hands lift him up again. It hurts. It still hurts. And there's the dark promise of sleep licking at the back of his mind. It'd be so easy to fall into, if he could just stop arguing with Quinlan Vos. "Jus' a padawan."

Just a padawan, just an obligation. They've been butting heads more and more frequently ever since Anakin turned sixteen. That was a year ago now. Their quarters are silent usually, but tensely so. Anakin spends a lot of his time in places he's not supposed to be: the beds of other padawans, the Lower levels podracing, the occasional jail cell if he can't run fast enough. Obi-Wan, he thinks, spends a lot of time tired. Regretful. Unable to look at him, which rankles more so than the cuffs the Coruscanti cops have put on him to keep him subdued on the way to the jail.

If Anakin were to--if he--if this...if he doesn't make it out of these tunnels, Obi-Wan'll be alright. Eventually.

Except Obi-Wan needs his armor back. That's where they're going, Anakin's sure. He needs protection because it's dangerous down here and Obi-Wan gave his protection away, gave it to Anakin.

Vos huffs--some kind of combination of a snort of laughter and genuine exertion from the strain of Anakin's weight. "Alright, kid. Sure, you're replaceable. But I'm not, and if you die because I accidentally blew you up on a mission, Obi-Wan's gonna kill me. And he needs a best friend, so if you die, then I die, what's the man gonna do?"

Anakin lets his eyes close. "Needs me," he slurs out nonsensically. Not because they mean anything. He just likes the way they sound.

"Yeah, that's what I've been trying to--oh, thank the Force, Kenobi--get your med-pac, he needs--"

"Anakin," and that's his master's voice, high and distressed and threaded with something Anakin can't name and has never heard before. "What happened? Vos, what--his arm, his chest--what did you--"

Hands that are familiar and roughly calloused and heart-stoppingly gentle cradle Anakin's face, lifts him up and out of Vos' hold, and Anakin registers a brief flash of his master's face--wide eyes, furrowed eyebrows, a clenched jaw--and then he lets the darkness overtake him. Safe. They're both safe now because they're here, together.

[deimcs]

ROSYMORN MONASTERY / vlaakith audience.

[payasita]

I have a request: The Lamb with a double barrel shotgun and a cheerful demeanor saying that they have had enough.

had to crowdsource the second half of this joke but hey

[keepin-it-on-the-d-l]

The dichotomy between Grant being a bubble wrap parent and the twins straight up giving their kids guns

[visceralcoma]