but there is one promise that is given

anonymous asked:

IM SO HAPPY IM NOT ALONE IN LOVING THE NON SEXUAL LICK HEADCANONS THEYRE JUST ODDLY SWEET

( Melly’s Mod Notes: Yesssss. I’m glad I’m not alone on this too! \ o / I know it’s a strange thing to like and adore but its what tickles my fancy if I want something cute or fluffy while having it silly if I want to imagine my favourite robots, haha.

Also I’ve been getting a lot of messages asking me what on earth I mean by non sexual licking headcanons after I put those tags in. Since I really love this stuff, I’ll be more than happy to give examples of what I mean by that. I’ll be primarily using G1 continuity for maximum silliness. )


✦ Introducing the concept of licking at all to the Autobots. I like to headcanon that Transformers/Cybertroninans only have known a fluid-based diet thanks to how energon is formed and never somehow needed to use their tongues. So when they come to Earth and one day see Spike or Chip stick their tongue out to lick their thumb to flip a page or their palm to try and flatten their hair, they are all understandably confused and ask what’s that all about. Cue the strange and fumbling explanation of tongue and saliva and its uses for the humans. Some find it gross. Some find it cool. Most are, once again, intrigued by the wonderful uniqueness of humans and their planet.

✦ Autobots trying this licking thing for themselves in their attempt to better learn humanity. They have a giant basketball court and watch soap opera and ballet on their super computer. Of course some of they are gonna go, ‘I wanna lick too!!’ after learning about the concept. At some point Spike or Spike’s friend needing to beg some Autobots - WHEELJACK. PERCEPTOR. - to please stop licking everything they see or discover because no don’t lick the train tracks you know what train tracks are gUYS-

✦ Short but sweet: Someone trying to explain that weird phenomenon of kids licking street lamps and flag poles during winter time, trying not to giggle the entire time. One of the Autobots - Hound, for some reason and because it’s funny - decides to see if this works in reverse by licking Spike or Spike’s friend out of the blue(?!) during their talk. Everyone learning the terribly truth that yes. It can work in reverse. Ratchet can only stare at the embarrassed parties with judgement as he tries to get their human friend off of Hound’s tongue.

✦ Auutobots finding out, to their delight, this is how dogs kiss and show their love to those they like. On one hand please imagine some of the sillier and friendlier Autobots like Bumbelbee returning affection to dogs this way, grinning the whole time as the dog shakes off the excess energon-saliva and continues to back and lick them back!! On the other hand please fucking imagine Powerglide getting sent to his private hangar for the night when he tries to use this on Astoria and she is o f f e n d e d because wow?? Excuse you??? If she wanted to get slobbered on and in the not sexy way she would have gotten a dog, ‘Glide.

The Autobots being introduced to the idea of candies. Seeing Spike and his friends eat up the stuff when the humans are hanging out on the Ark. Learning the hard way that robots and sticky/syrupy Earth treats do not mix. Wheeljack and Ratchet deciding that will not deter them and creating their own version of candies. The energon candies being a smash hit with the other Autobots who are intrigued by the lollies and taffies and suckers. Prowl shyly asking for some of the snacks so he can lick on something while doing work, wings fluttering in joy when he’s given a nice big bag of it to show their appreciation for the SIC. Ratchet and First Aid using it to coax stubborn patients into the medbay by promising them sweets. Mirage pretending to be snooty and sticking his nose up if introduced to the sweets - blah blah something about sticky and gooey and yucky - but Spike’s friend may catch an invisible Mirage sneaking a jelly or two when he thinks no one is looking. It’s kind of hard to miss a floating jelly suddenly disappear followed by half a dozen more. They pretend it works for Mirage’s sake.

Energon ice cream. Following the train of thought of the last headcanon, the Autobots wanting to try and make their own ice cream after seeing their human friends enjoy the stuff so much and seeing it in their favourite soap operas and shows. Trying to make their own flavours like copper-nickel or silver-gold and enjoying the delicious stuff on hot summer days to keep their systems cool. It’s all fun and games until Wheeljack tries his hand on making ice cream by building his own ice cream vending machine. No one is sure how but it ends with 95% the Ark is on fire. Optimus Prime regretfully has to ban ice cream making in the Autobot base after that. It’s a sad day for everyone.

I’m going to make a rare “out of character” post to say a couple of things.

First, I know it’s very corny but I want to thank all of you sooooo much for the lovely response you’ve given this blog. I’m so excited that thousands of people share my enthusiasm for weird Sims game mechanics! I’ve been having a hard time lately irl, and while I may not respond to all of your nice comments, I do read all of your asks and every comment on my posts, and I save all the good ones because they genuinely make me happy.

Also, thank you for all your questions and suggestions for future posts! I promise I’m not ignoring them, I will get to all of them and if it’s taking me a bit of time to respond it’s only because I’m trying my best to put together quality and factual posts.

Well, I guess that’s all I really wanted to say. Once again, thank you so much for all of your love for simsposting <3

My thoughts on The Punisher

Surprise, surprise – I have (extremely scattershot) thoughts about The Punisher! 

The husband and I binged this over the past 3 days (2 episodes Thursday @ midnight, 5 episodes Friday night, and 6 episodes over Saturday) and given its unrelenting intensity I’m pretty sure there are a lot of details I’m not going to fully grasp until I watch this again, but overall impression – super solid. I would still personally rank it under Daredevil (sorry, he’s always gonna be my number 1!!), but I think it jockeys for second position with Jessica Jones? This particular show did some things amazingly well that the others haven’t, I think largely due to the fact that it was a standalone series, separate from the Defenders, and didn’t need to mess around with rationalizing any superheroics or powers – at its core, it’s an intense and violent 13-hour examination of Frank Castle, who incidentally exists in a world with superheroes. But anyway, let’s dive in – it should go without saying that spoilers absolutely abound after the cut…

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Crestless and without ties to any of the other known orders, the wandering knights follow their own goals. They are altruistic civilian individuals whom decided to take up armor and weapon, leaving family and name behind in their lonely crusade for the greater good.

Driven by an indomitable will to ward against the creatures of the mist they wander tirelessly from settlement to settlement to aid those in need - to spill their own blood in the place of the innocent.

They are loved by the people - sometimes nearing an eerie disposition of adoration that can’t quite be explained. Just the promise of help seems enough to drive people into a celebratory frenzy… Something the knights of the other orders are rare to see, despite their efforts.

No one can remember when the first one showed up, or how many there are - or has been. The name of Grey is given by the people as the knights themselves claim to be without names.

Though possessing no witching trickery of the mist, they have the uncanny ability to sense the presence of those that do - making them invaluable tools during witch-hunts.

procraesthetics  asked:

I wonder what would happen if Dudley grew up in the wizarding world but still as a muggle? like kind of reverse AU where his parents are dead and he has to go to Lily for whatever reason? do you think he would become bitter like Petunia about magic?

Lily remembered her sister, how there had been a time she was curious and delighted about magic, before it slowly sank in that she could look and not touch.

The last thing Petunia had said to Lily before she died was a chilly goodbye, ending a holiday dinner where they’d had a shrieking row in the entryway. Petunia had said freak and Lily had hissed better than this, better than this being my whole fucking world, Tune, do you even see yourself, are you happy–

And now here was Dudley Vernon Dursley fussing himself to sleep as Lily walked the halls of the Godric’s Hollow house. His tiny soft hands with their tiny soft fingernails curled under her chin, the same way Harry always had.

She passed James, who was gently bouncing his way up the hall the opposite way. “I think he’s asleep,” James mouthed over Harry’s tousled head. His hair was the same mess, bent down to peer at his sleeping son.

Lily stopped where she stood, her nephew heavy on her chest, her husband smiling, her sister buried. “James,” she said. “How are we going to do this?”

“Oh,” he said. “Hey. Don’t you cry, you’ll start them off– unless you need to cry, I mean, you go ahead, hey, sweetheart, hey, it’s alright, you just let it out.” He stepped forward, shifting Harry gently to his other shoulder, and pressed his forehead to hers. “We tuck them in, okay, that’s what we do next. Then we go to our own bed, okay, and go to sleep, and when we wake up it’ll be a new day.”

“A new day,” she said. “Another day– James, that’s the– I’m so tired.”

“So let’s sleep. It’ll look better in the morning,” he said. “And if it doesn’t look better this morning, it’ll look better in the next one.”

“You promise?”

“Better than that. I’ll show you. Every day,” he said and kissed her cold forehead.

Dudley had not shown up on the Potters’ doorstep with the milk bottles. Lily had gotten a phone call from the landline she still had installed in Godric’s Hollow, about an accident, and she had gone down to the Muggle police station to identify the bodies.

The cupboard under the stairs was filled with spiders, broomsticks, and the sewing machine Lily’s mother had given her when she married James– that’s all. Dudley slept downstairs. Uncle Remus taught Dudley and Harry to knock out coded messages through the wall their rooms shared.

In the backyard, beside a rickety porch and an ambitious hedge, James taught them to fly– first on little tot brooms where their toes brushed the grass the whole time, then out of the barrels of practice brooms James used for lessons and coaching Little League Quidditch.

When the boys turned ten, five weeks apart, they both got shiny new Nimbuses on Dudley’s birthday (which came first), and a set of enchanted Quidditch balls on Harry’s, to share. The Bludgers were enchanted to be very kind but Dudley spent long afternoons whacking them far afield while Harry chased the Snitch at his back.

Harry had a scar on his forehead, like a jagged bit of lightning. Dudley had no scars– the car crash that had killed his parents hadn’t touched him where he sat strapped into a car seat in the back, chewing on a stuffed dinosaur toy.

Lily did not believe in lying to the children. She was bare years off being a child herself, and spare moments on the far side of a war. When Dudley asked about his parents, she told him there had been an accident. She pulled pictures off the shelf and wrote Petunia’s old university friends for more.

Photographs came by mailman, the images still and unnatural to Dudley’s eye. Every day he’d gone out to play, for years, he’d been waving at the picture near the back door of his aunt and uncle on their wedding day, and they waved back every time.

“She was very clever,” Lily said. “Your mom liked to know everything.”

“And my dad?”

“Vernon liked… cars?” James offered. “That’s the word, right, Lily?”

“I didn’t know him very well,” Lily said. “He liked drills, I think; he worked for a firm that made them, and he talked about that a lot.”

Dudley brushed his thumbs over the dull edges of the photos. When Lily went off to Auror headquarters the next morning for work, James bundled the boys up and took them on an impromptu invisible tour of Grunnings Drill Manufacturing Inc.

They tiptoed down halls and past water coolers and ringing fellytones. They held hands under the Cloak as they dodged around the machines on the manufacturing floor, thumping and pounding and whirring away loudly enough that Harry and Dudley could whisper to each other under the noise. An elevator took them all the way up to the top floor. Harry whistled cheerily and eerily along with the elevator music while the Muggles slowly edged toward the doors and pressed floor buttons lower than they’d originally wanted.

There were boxes and cabinets and folders and desks and staticky monitor screens full of numbers strewn in endless grids. “Merlin’s knuckles,” said Harry, who was seven and a half and rather proud of this expletive. “People can look at this all day, their whole lives, and not die?”

“Work is hard work,” said James.

“At least mum gets to curse things.”

“But my dad liked it?” Dudley said, peering at a white board that was bleeding enthusiastic marker. “There’s a lot of things, here. Maybe he liked knowing things, too.”

When the boys asked about the scar on Harry’s forehead, Lily and James looked at each other. “You know how sometimes we sit with Uncle Remus and talk about a war?” James said. “Or with Ms. Amelia or Mr. Mundungus.”

“Mr. Mundungus is kinda smelly,” Harry said helpfully.

“It’s not nice to say so though,” said James, and Lily made a face.

“Are we raising them to be nice?” Lily said.

“I’m trying,” said James.

“You talk about a war,” said Harry and shrugged. Dudley nodded.

“There was a very bad man, in those days,” said James.

“Voldemort,” said Lily, and James made a face.

“He was so scary a lot of people don’t like to say his name, even now,” said James. “And he was coming after us because we had been fighting against him, in the war. He came to the house and he tried to hurt you, Harry. But it didn’t work. It hurt him instead, and gave you that scar.”

“Is he going to come back?” said Dudley, who was paler than his normal pink.

“No one’s heard of him since then,” said Lily.

“Where were you?” said Harry, because all his life they had been right there.

“Oh,” said Lily, but her throat closed up.

“We were at Dudley’s mum and dad’s funeral,” said James. “Our friend– our friend Sirius was watching you two. The bad man, he came to the house. He. Well. I.”

“Sirius died,” said Lily, one hand squeezing James’s knee and the other reaching down to brush hair off Dudley’s forehead. “You lived, Harry, and Voldemort vanished. And that’s why sometimes people stare in the streets, baby.” James tweaked Harry’s collar absently.

Two days after they had buried Lily’s sister, the Potters had stood together in the first chills of November and buried James’s brother.

Sirius had been burned off the Black family tree years before. Lily and James had talked to his cousin Andromeda, to Remus, and then they had laid him to rest in the Potter family plot. At the wake, they’d told old jokes about squirrel breath, shedding, and man’s best friend. Remus had fallen asleep on their couch and stayed for a month.

It took a two hour row with HR for Lily to get two passes to the Ministry’s Bring Your Kid To Work Day.

“He’s a Muggle.”

“He’s not,” Lily snapped. “He’s family.”

She had to get permission, sign a million forms, and she also had to take the boys in early so that Dudley could get smothered in the spells that would keep the Anti-Muggle wards around the Ministry from activating on him. “If a Muggle stumbles in somehow, they just see a funny-smelling supply cabinet and turn back around,” Lily told Dudley. He nodded and dragged Harry off by the wrist to go look at the fountain.

The windows were pouring sunlight into the underground room– the maintenance workers had just gotten a win on their contract negotiations and had banished the grimy rain-spattered windows of the previous weeks. The light hit the falling water, the golden statues, and the small excitable crowd of Ministry dependents who were gathering in the atrium. Dudley was fishing about in the fountain for Knuts to toss back out again, elbow-deep, and Harry was laughing and coming up with weird wishes to make on them.

Lily hadn’t said son. She’d said family, and that was true enough, wasn’t it? She didn’t say son– she had a son, and she had a nephew, a ward, another child who came to her after nightmares and scraped knees. It was not less, it was just words.

Lily worried about stealing more things from Petunia. Tuney had shrieked at her, in ladies’ restrooms and suburban foyers, had hissed at her in grocery store aisles and family dinners, because Lily got everything. And now Lily had her son.

Lily could just imagine it– could just see Petunia’s face twisting and chin stabbing at the air. You could have anything, and you took my son– my son!

“You left him to me,” Lily whispered, but that wasn’t quite right. “You left,” she whispered, and that wasn’t quite right either, so she strode off toward the fountain to ask the boys if they wanted to go see the Auror spellwork ranges. Dudley’s sodden shirt sleeves dripped all over the Ministry floors. Harry’s hair fell down into his eyes and they both grinned bright enough to rival the spelled sunlight.

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you’ve been through a lot,
i can see it in your eyes.
you’ve got a big heart,
and you’re not sure what to do with all of it.
you’ve given too much of yourself to people who weren’t worth the pain.
the people who promised to never hurt you did, and the ones who promised to never leave,
left.
without even a proper caution of their departure.
you’re lost,
misplaced.
but,
you must understand,
it gets better.
i promise,
it does get better.
it always gets better.
—  k. azizian
cold coffee. (m)

pairing: jungkook | reader

genre: smut

word count: 4,564

description: “I wasn’t referring to verbal truth. I was referring to,” and then there was a brief pause that was followed by a light press to the center of your stomach. Your back laid flat against the wooden bench before the predatory loom of his figure appeared overhead, “Candor of the body. Which you, my love, are the absolute queen of.”

cr.


With an exchanged swipe, taste forthcoming as the two of you had intended. Too sweet, muttered against your lips – lips that curved into ones of amusement at his feigned disfavor for your particular arrangement of the poison. Too bitter, slipped past your teeth in retort, the air of the syllables brushing against his breath; a dance of icy exhales in a burning winter night. His mouth twitched at that, following your suit into similar enjoyment of the playful critique.

“Maybe not my coffee, but sweet in other aspects, no?” He spoke in a devilish dialect of insinuation and lust. One that, before encountering him, was unfamiliar to you. Adoration, it managed to claw at your chest with great vigor each and every time he glanced down at you through darkened tufts of raven hair. His words wrapping their way around you entirely until they sounded of music. The notes gliding across your bones as his voice conducted your motions.

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PSA- RESPECTING MUSES OF POWER

       This has to be said because personally I am tired of having to establish this again and again. And it has to do with RESPECTING MUSES OF POWER. And this includes and it never limited any official canon stated titles and positions. Be it Ruthless Queens, Hard Kings, Gang Leaders, or Apocalyptic Masterminds with barb wired bats. Somewhere there is always a nice chunk of muses who are always trying to either; 1) Defy, 2) Rebel, or 3) 1 & 2 but with a try at badass snark. This PSA is concerning all of the above, and all that are included within the category of muses of power.

      It is so important that this made clear that when being a MUSE OF POWER there is something that accompanies that and it is exactly that. POWER. Muses of power ACTUALLY hold a fair amount of ACTUAL power over most muses. Especially if it’s in their favored canon timeline. A Queen or King can have a man executed for speaking foul words against them, or the Apocalyptic Mastermind can have someone beat up and locked away because he damn well felt like it. That’s because they hold a certain amount of real power to do so. And it’s so important that with MUSES OF POWER that this is respected. I’m so tired of seeing muses try to be the FORCE OF GOOD or the REBEL OF LAW and the muns get all upset because the MUSE OF POWER in question reacted accordingly.

     This is also me making note that a MUSE OF POWER is not required at all to be nice or friendly toward anyone, not everyone is kind or courteous.  And neither is a MUSE OF POWER required to be so. Do not show up and expect someone to be loving of this or that muse just because sweet words were given.

       IT IS ALSO RUDE TO USE STEREOTYPICAL NEGATIVE BELIEFS OR NEGATIVE TRAITS AND MISCONCEPTIONS JUST TO CREATE ONE SIDED ANGST FOR YOUR SIDE  TO MAKE THE MUSE OF POWER LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE AND YOURS THE SWEET CORRUPTED INNOCENT.

      If the defiance and rebuttal is plotted; then it is alright. Because both of the muns have a full understanding of what is happening and the consequences of said actions. WHICH THERE IS ALWAYS CONSEQUENCES WHERE MUSES OF POWER ARE CONCERNED. You insult someone or spit in their face- I can personally promise you something bad is going to happen. But again, plotted and planned, are always acceptable because as I said. Everyone is on an understanding and everyone is on the same page.

    all in all:  RESPECT MUSES OF POWER

on loving the human

i. they will not appreciate all your gifts, will akin them to a cat bringing dead mice to their feet. this is fine. everything else you give, they will find gorgeous. if you are vain enough, give them something of yours to wear. if you are rash enough, give them something of yours to wear. they will find it beautiful and every Other will know you’ve claimed that one. be sure no one else, such as Not-Cat or even the crows, have done the same yet. a human, no matter their talents, would be worth such a war. you must remember this, if you see them keeping feathers-blacker-than-night in their hair/pockets/pouches. you might be able to fool them from another Fair, but, if the birds have gotten to them, there is no return. best to pick another that can catch your attention. any of them would start pleased with that.

ii. to appear human while first wooing them is best. you will need two ears, two eyes, a nose with (only!) two nostrils, 32 teeth, 206 bones, and about 640 muscles that do not slide or slip or slush. both halves of your (singular) face must react together, but not mechanically, robotically, stiffly, or in any manner similar to plastic or silicon. one side of your mouth must not be higher or lower than the other unless it is a facial expression, of a half-smile or frown. your eyes must not be too close together, or too far apart, your ears must be even, the spacing of your nose-to-eyes-to-ears-to-forehead must all be within a certain ratio. if you must, watch a good artist space faces to see the estimate. but you must not be too perfect, either: your teeth not too straight or too white, your nails not too clean or pristinely cut or without variation, your skin not too blemish-free. you need some faults in order to appear human. you must maintain solid form at all times. still, it’s likely they’ll know, regardless. at least, they’ll probably appreciate the effort. (remember, being seen without protection is even more telling. keep sugar and pewter/tin/aluminum with you at all times; these will look enough like salt and iron. it is also advisable you carry ‘offerings,’ even if you never leave them anywhere. creamer cups are most popular.)

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Snap Decision

(A chance meeting with a stranger at a bar helps you recover from a bad breakup.)

Warnings: 11000+ words of mostly sex stuff.  Bad ex boyfriends. People doing inadvisable things.  Listen up kids: in real life you should be more cautious about who you let take naked pictures of you! Lots and lots of sex.  If you’ve read my stuff before, you know the drill.  


You thought it would be fun to work in sales after you graduated from university; you would travel around the country, meeting new people, holding meetings in fancy high rise office buildings in big cities, wining and dining clients at gourmet restaurants while you closed deals and made boatloads of money.  The reality was that you were selling industrial wastewater management systems, making a moderate income, while traveling four days a week to factories and chemical refineries in some of the least glamorous locations on earth.  You didn’t mind the work itself, but the evenings alone in small town hotel rooms were dull and disheartening, so you would frequently head out to a local movie theater or neighborhood bar to distract yourself from the loneliness on the road.   

 It was pouring down rain outside and you decide to run to the closest place you could find to grab a drink, rather than risk driving around and getting lost.  That’s how you found yourself sitting alone at the bar of the Applebee’s restaurant that was adjacent to your hotel, sipping on something called a Blue Hawaiian, in a town you couldn’t even remember the name of.   

Unruly children sat with their families having dinner in the nearby booths, while innocuously bland pop songs played overhead.  You took one sip of the cloyingly sweet blue cocktail in front of you and immediately regretted your decision to come here tonight. Given the lousy week you had experienced, you would have been better off drinking cheap whiskey at a dive bar filled with unapologetic alcoholics.  Here, the family friendly atmosphere mixed with the empty promises of a fruity cocktail that was designed to trick you into thinking you were on a tropical island vacation instead of in your real life.  Your real crappy life. 

You had totally blown the sale today.  The clients had a million questions about the technical specifications of the products you were trying to sell, but you kept tripping over your words and making yourself sound like an idiot.  You blamed your poor work performance on lack of sleep.  And you blamed the lack of sleep on your boyfriend, David.  Actually, he was your ex-boyfriend now.  After more than a year together, you dumped him for cheating on you.  

He claimed he was faithful, but you were certain he was lying.  He never picked up his phone when you called him from out on the road.  He would eventually call you back, but his stories about where he was and what he was doing always sounded a little off.  The final blow came when your friend Stephanie told you she saw him going into a movie theater with another girl.  David claimed Stephanie was mistaken and that you were just paranoid and jealous for no reason.  You wanted to believe him, but deep down you were sure that Stephanie was right.  All the unresolved questions you had about what David was doing while you were working could easily be answered if he had been cheating on you.  David cried when you told him it was over, he begged you to reconsider, but you were resolute and just walked away.

That had been a week ago, and every day since then, you questioned whether or not you made the right decision.  You had no hard proof that he had been unfaithful.  Sure, Stephanie said she saw him, but she only saw from a distance.  Maybe she was mistaken.  Maybe it was just someone who looked like David.

“Is this seat taken?”

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advocacy: have some perspective, don’t throw your own people under the bus

I’ve seen a lot of discourse lately about how Blizzard is handling Emily/Tracer wrong - how there’s no sign of it in the game, etc. etc. And there isn’t, yet. There isn’t any sign Tracer is gay in the actual game, so it’s fair comment. I’ve also seem what is pretty unfair conclusions about why this is thrown around, I’ve seen really nasty snark disguised as witty criticism., and it… leaves a bad taste in my mouth, really. 

A very close friend of mine works in an AAA studio. She’s worked in gaming for 10 years. She literally works herself to the bone trying to push social justice in games - and it’s like pushing a fucking boulder uphill forever, let me tell you. I’ve watched what this tireless advocacy is doing to her. Nevertheless, she keeps going. 

It’s because of people like my friend that Overwatch exists - people who have persistently, tirelessly, at threat to their relationships, livelihoods and careers advocated for diversity and representation in games. 

I can only imagine how fucking hard it’s been to change the culture in Blizzard into a company where they publish an AAA game that is as diverse as Overwatch. It’s because of people like my friend, allies, and other supportive people that we have Overwatch at all.

Let’s review some of the great things about the game: a variety of diverse races, ethnicities and identities - consultation was pretty fucking good for most of those. And they listen to our comments about what’s missing, too. We didn’t like that Pharah’s VA wasn’t Egyptian, so what did they do? They got an Egyptian VA living in Egypt to voice Ana. We didn’t like the lack of black characters, and they’ve promised more, and the latest new character is an Omnic created by child genius Efi who is black - and they got a black woman for Orisa’s VA.

Blizzard has handled female characters very well. We complained after they’d released their initial characters that the body type of the female characters was generic and not diverse. So what did they do? They gave us Zarya and Mei. We complained that Tracer was being objectified in one of her poses. What did they do? They changed the fucking pose. They have given us a Muslim single mum who’s 60 old, still a soldier, has sexual agency and is more than just her role as ‘Mum’. The spread of female characters isn’t 16-25 as per most games that have female protagonists, but 19-60, with the majority of them being in their 30s, and that is fucking great

And all of this is aside from the fact that Tracer - the face of the fucking game - is canon, confirmed lesbian in those words by both the devs and in ¾ of a big major comic. She’s in a healthy adult relationship. Plus, there’s more to come. We know more characters are queer, too. 

There’s probably more stuff to add, but off the top of my head - how great is this fucking game?????

Now, it’s not to say that all of this has been done perfectly - there’s always room for improvement. They always could do things better. But the tone of some of the posts I’ve read is as if none of this exists. As if Blizzard has spat in our faces, somehow, by not having Tracer have mentioned Emily in the game yet. The anger, the entitlement, the mockery. 

You’re mocking probably a bunch of queer people, people of colour and women who have pushed and pushed and pushed the gaming industry for decades in order to get a game like Overwatch. You’re mocking people like my friend who has slogged her fucking guts out to get what we’ve got in the games her company produces. Can you imagine what it must be like for those people, responsible for these changes in Blizzard and in the industry, to read people bitching about the fact Tracer doesn’t say anything about Emily (yet) when they’ve pushed so fucking hard just to get what we’ve gotten? 

Do you realise how horribly ungrateful and rude that sounds? You may not be aiming your criticism at these people, but they’re among us. They read social media. They’re real people with real feelings. 

Can we please have some appreciation for just how far Overwatch has taken diversity in games? Because there’s a bunch of minority folks behind this push, mark my words. 

This post is not to discourage criticism, but please, please think of the tone of voice you give it in. Don’t be cruel or unfair. Don’t mock. Don’t be ungateful, please. 

“It’s as if Emily doesn’t even fucking exist, I wonder why that is lollllll fucking blizz” works so much better as “Hey Blizz, I love that Tracer has a girlfriend! Let’s have Tracer mention Emily in the game? :D” 

There are ways to deliver suggestions and feedback that don’t shit all over the people who’ve worked so hard to bring this game to you. Please take an extra 5 seconds to consider not sounding entitled and awful, and think about how else you could deliver this feedback so you’re not hurting the people who have worked their whole lives so you have it <3

Marks--Billy Hargrove

Written by @rune-of-a-writer

Request: Honestly god bless you for writing for billy… it’s so hard to find stuff for him. would you be interested in writing a billy piece where he and the reader are sort of fwb and both assured the other that feelings wouldn’t develop but the reader catches feelings hard… ending can be angsty (billy doesn’t feel that way about reader/just wants sex) or fluffy (mutual admission of love lolol) I’ll let you decide THANK YOU you’re amazing ❤️❤️

Warnings: Smut, cursing

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader

Summary: You and Billy both promised each other that during your arrangement you wouldn’t grow feelings for one another. But now that you’ve broken your side of that deal, it’s getting harder by the day.

Word Count: 3,190

Listen To: Meet Me in the Hallway by Harry Styles

You had given Billy a call after waving goodbye to your parents. They were leaving for the weekend to head down to the casino for their anniversary. The second their car pulled out of the driveway you were dialing his number and telling him to come over. It was late, almost 7 o’clock— part of you wished he’d stay the night, but you knew he wouldn’t.

After calling him you rushed to the bathroom to get ready. It’d take him ten minutes to get to your house which was enough time for you. You brushed your teeth and put fresh lipstick on, fixing your pajama shorts and tank top. Once you had finished getting ready, you sat yourself down on the couch and waited for Billy to show up. You didn’t have to wait long because almost two minutes later your doorbell was ringing. Biting your lip to withhold your smirk, you got up and answered the door.

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In Motion (M) | 01

Character / Genre / words: Jeon Jungkook x reader (with POV switches) | Smut, Mature scenes, Masturbation Club!au | 7,721 words

➼ Summary: The rule is simple - you can look but you can’t touch. You’ve been attending the event for a few times but it was only when a certain boy arrives at one occasion did you feel the fire of lust burning inside

➼ Warning: exhibitionism, public display of masturbations, graphic smut scenes, mutual masturbations, mentions/use of sex toys, language

➼ Warning 2.0: this is only the beginning

➼ a/n: This is a revamped/edited version. I have decided to not scrap the whole thing when there is no scenes or plots being changed in the process. Feel free to reread this chapter before the next chapter is out. More story fillers will be added in the upcoming chapters.

➼ Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03


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birds

Corvids

  1. Crows and ravens are not bad omens, as much as people may want you to think they are.
  2. If corvids are following you, they’re there to protect you.
  3. If bad things happen when corvids are your guardians, those things were made to make you stronger.
  4. They won’t let anything get to you that you aren’t strong enough to handle.
  5. They will lead you into liminal spaces, but they will not lead you back out. Enter only if you are sure you can find your way back out again.
  6. Crow Girls will play games with you, and they may hurt you, but they mean no harm. They do not know their own strength. Treat them with kindness, but also with playfulness, and they will reward you in kind.

Owls

  1. Owls are wisdom, but they are also folly.
  2. They will try to lead you down the wrong path, not out of malice, but as a test to your convictions. Stick to your morals and you will find loyalty.
  3. Owls will protect you during the Thirteenth Hour, but only insofar as you are of use to them. Be sure you can offer enough to keep their protection for that long.
  4. Owls will bend those laws you understand, and break those you don’t.
  5. They are regal for as long as you revere them.
  6. Only when they are humbled are they truly wise. They are not humbled easily.

Parrots

  1. Parrots are shits, but they can be controlled.
  2. They will eat your balcony and crap on your car and cheat with your wife.
  3. If you give them enough shiny things, they’ll eat and shit and fornicate somewhere else.
  4. If you give them more than enough they’ll let you pick where that is.
  5. If you give them nothing, you’d better get used to five a.m wake-up calls.

Gulls

  1. Gulls are dirty, scrappy creatures.
  2. Gulls will fight you in the Woolworth’s car park at three in the morning, but only if there’s a cashier taking a smoke break by the bins and a clear sky overhead.
  3. If you win, you become part of their cabal.
  4. If you lose, they get claim over your gizzards. They can collect at any time.
  5. Becoming a Gull gets you protection by the colony from all dangers, and gives you privileges. Be certain you need them before fighting.
  6. Fighting without certainty that you need the colony ensures your loss.

Doves

  1. Doves are lies wrapped in decadence.
  2. Pigeons are the only truthful doves, but their words are wrapped in riddles.
  3. When you hear a dove speak, assume the opposite is true, if you can understand what is being said in the first place.
  4. Doves will give you gifts, but each will only be valuable to one person in the world. If you are very, very lucky, you’ll be given one that means something to you.
  5. Doves watch over the spirit, but do not protect it. They are there only for information.
  6. Doves are bad at their jobs.

Swans

  1. Swans are evil.
  2. No matter what, do not let a swan into your home.
  3. If you find yourself stalked by swans, they will coerce you into something.
  4. They will trick you using any means necessary. They are vengeful and do not forget a grudge, do not forgive a slight.
  5. Swans will lure you with pretty words and promises of riches and love. Beware the shiny plumage; beneath lies the sharp beak, powerful talons.
  6. Do not follow the swan song, do not dance with the swan, for it will steal you away to the Other, and you will not find your way home.

anonymous asked:

17. Jungkook, fuckboy au

thank you for requesting! i hope you like it!

17. “I want you to keep it.” 

WORD COUNT: 1,346

Originally posted by foreveryoongz

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9

This isn’t about trying to prove anything to anyone - not anymore. This isn’t about me chasing after some boy. This is about me having hope, about saving the one person who’s ever given a real crap about me. This is about keeping promises; about being a hero.

STEPHANIE BROWN aka THE SPOILER / ROBIN / BATGIRL - A Celebration of 25 years! (1992-2017)

I’m tired of being sad and having no clue as to why I am this way, so I’ll write about the happy bits of me and why I smile. I dance when I’m alone, when the music gets just right and I’m sure that no one is watching, it’s okay to feel lonely, I used to not like the idea of it, but once you’re comfortable in your own skin even depression starts to feel like a breeze. I’m reading a book that says we are the beliefs and thoughts that we think and believe in. So if I say that I’m happy a thousand times, one of those will come back as true. So if I say I’ll find the love of my life some day, some day she’ll appear in front of me while I’m writing another poem. It’s good to have goals, the only goal I’ve ever had up until recently was to keep myself happy with someone else, that’s not a goal, but an illusion. You can’t live your life for someone else, it’s called your life for a reason. Happiness must happen when I say so, so I’m saying so. We bring into this world the kind of kindness that we’ve been dealt, so when I fake a smile, my mother is omnipresent. Although it’s not real, fake it until you make it, right? The book also says, spend more time doing things that make you lose track of time, so I decided to write again and more often than not, to not compare myself to others because once you start doing that, there’s no going back. I don’t write like someone else, I write like myself. I don’t think like anyone that I know, there’s just you and the beautifully twisted world, we’re all trying to find redemption inside of coral skies and trustworthy friends. I would break my own hand to contain my anger, it is contained. Happiness is what we make it, so if I say that it exists, then it will be so. Listening to your guidance, that makes me happy. You know who you are. Breathless to the words, you paint the sunrise with your pinky and promise that as long as I’m here today, tomorrow will not be filled with sorrow. I keep writing letters to the future person that I will be, I wonder if I’ll change. I probably will, we all do in one way or another. I’m the kind of person that snaps a picture of the sky while I’m driving, I’m reckless, but we’re still alive. Life’s too short and I need to be more careful, I’m certain that death has given up a few passes for me. Do you ever feel like you’re running out of time? Like there’s something trying to make a statement, a lost word that even google couldn’t even get its hands on. Do you ever feel like no one’s really listening? We’re all selfish in the end, but the ones that truly listen– they are the ones that I live for. I maintain online friendships better than I do with my siblings, I guess our thinking is just on different frequencies. On the topic of frequencies– the you that you would like to be is out there, you just need to listen. Hear the right words said by the right person and you’ll be in the right spot to be the you that you’d want to be in this life. Do you ever feel like you’re not good enough? Remember that thing I said about thoughts? Sometimes we just need to let go a little bit, embrace the art of it. To be left to the wind, the unknown will bring us to more adventures and you may not be loved by many, but there’s a chance that you will be– why not take it? I would like to break out of this, I want to smile more and to laugh a little louder, I just want to make myself proud of who I will be versus who I used to be. And you can’t turn back the hands of time, you cannot change your mistakes– they are permanent, but you are not. There is a fire inside of your chest and if you keep suffocating yourself with an indescribable pain then you’ll only suffer in a incomprehensible way. I just want to fill this world with more love and less pain, I see a butterfly and I’m easily distracted– how beauty will fly past you if you’re not even paying attention because you’re so damn sad all of the time. So I drop all signs of negativity and lean towards the positive, I am the only vibe that’ll alter my moods, so I must feel more wealthy than a million silver spoons even if I don’t have any, so I must create the art that likes to spill from my fingertips, we live such short lives– why not be the best version of yourself? Who will you be if tomorrow was your last day on this planet? Will you cry because it’s over? Or will you search the ends of the earth until you’ve found the fountain of youth? I’ve got a secret to share with you. You can be a 100 years old and still have the sweetest smile, you can be in your 20s and have a soul heavy enough to sink the titanic, life is strange, life is strange. We live our youth to buy pretty things, but live our oak days trying to make up more time– it waits for no one, the wrong turn will break you, a simple kiss will turn your thoughts into poetry and a life of self-hate is a road that needs constant validation– why not be your own way out? Be your own lover, be your own brand of music, be your own kind of poem, be your own story of kindness, and if you’re not perfect just look around– nobody is. I’m tired of dreaming, I want to build it instead. You can’t be who you want to be if you’re still having the same thoughts from last year– you can’t change or heal in the right way if you’re not willing to break a few pieces of your heart because the clutter inside of our minds often match the attitude that we give off. So like a quote, so like a poem, so like a bedtime story. If I repeat it enough times, I’ll be happy. I just want to be happy. I just want to let go of the bad feelings. I just want to love myself enough to see a brighter day. You can’t change the world if you can’t even change yourself, right? If I repeat it enough times, then it must be real. I will be happy. Sadness is a crucial emotion because without it, being delighted and euphoric wouldn’t be so dense, but that’s the beauty of the intensity to which we should love ourselves. I want to be so fucking glad to wake up today that it’ll just drown my depression into the white noise. I want to glow in the dark and live like the jellyfishes, give my poetry the immortality to always bring a smile onto the faces of those that love who I am even if I’m a bit flawed because at the end of the day– you’re the only one sleeping on your bed, you’re the only one who’s going to determine if you’ve got enough room to breathe, you’re the only one to have the last say if you’re art or not.
—  I wanted to write something happy for you–
yes, you. The person that’s reading this.
i. i hope one day you miss me
i hope one day you wake up and it kills you that you didn’t try harder
that you didn’t love me more
that you didn’t give me what i deserved
that you let me go
ii. i want you to feel it in your blood
remember that time i kissed you and everything seemed okay for a little while?
hold onto that memory
don’t let it go
iii. remember how it felt to hold my hand when she’s in your arms and feel like you’re reaching for me through her
realize no one will ever give you that in your face, in your hair, in your bones kind of love the way that i did
understand that when we were 15 i would’ve given you the world and then some but we’re older now and i will never give you anything again
iv. i built our future in my head and you burned it to the ground when you left
i managed to save a few good memories that still make me smile but i get heartburn every time i think of the times i let you touch me
i promise ill never think of you again as long as you miss me every once in a while
v. i cried for you every night but i don’t think you ever shed a tear for me
that time you told me you didn’t think you’d make it through the year i had an anxiety attack and couldn’t stop shaking but i tried to be calm
i tried to enjoy the time we had together if it was going to come to an end
you never told me we didn’t have any time because she was on the other end of the line and i never told you that i loved you because i knew you’d never really love me back so i guess we’re both at fault here
—  teenage love stories