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#but then I look the game model and its so funny looking

chailovesu · 6 months

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Random things u can add to your script if you are manifesting being famous

i think ima separate this into careers

model:

being on the cover of magazines

always knowing when a camera is on you + never have awkward pictures get popular

being considered one of the best new gen models and one of the best of all time

being signed to desired company

being the muse of a very famous designer

very photogenic/videogenic

have an iconic walk that everyone loves

you could be wearing something absolutely hideous but make it look good

singer/rapper:

every single song u make blows up on every platform

kind of rapper/singer that once u feature on a song its ur song now

if u cover a song the cover gets more famous bc it sounds better

popular dance trend being made to your songs

immunity to getting sued for copying a song

perfect stage presence

be able to dance and sing/rap at the same time

constantly be nominated for awards and win

any song u make constantly goes platinum and charts for months

having a song featured in a popular tv show/movie

be good at taking selcas and they always go viral on pinterest

easily hit high notes

unreleased music never gets leaked

being talented on a beyonce level

be invited to perform at places like the superbowl and coachella

be able to write ur own songs with unique lyrics

game streamer:

clips of u playing always go viral

have a connection with your subscribers + be everyones comfort streamer but not in a forced way

be really good at the games u play effortlessly and look good while playing

having merch that always get sold out

being seen as the main streamer for desired games

be entertaining to watch + funny things always happen on stream

subscribers always donate alot of money and give you gifts

collab with other famous streamers + everyone enjoys playing with you

have access to unreleased games early

have partnerships with really big brands

be gifted free games often by companies for promotions

people know u by face AND voice

if u wanna be a faceless streamer at first your face reveal blows up (in a good way not the dream way) and ur subscribers double bc of it

actor/actress:

being fancasted for your favorite cartoon character so much that u act in the live action version of it

always get paid a lot for your roles

have chemistry with your co-workers

be good at all type of acting (voice acting too)

easily attract roles

never get hate for the roles u act

always get awards for your acting

easily be able to do things like cry on command + be able to make your audience feel the emotion through the screen

be a very versatile actor like your range is crazy

applies to all:

seeing edits of yourself by talented editors often

pristine reputation + never being canceled

being that one celebrity that everyone defends like their life depends on it

Immunity to weird ppl finding out abt u

being likable in general any hate you receive just feels so forced

being alot of celebrities ideal type

being everyones celebrity crush

never having your xxxx exposed (or revise never taking any)

eye contact with u makes interviewers nervous like that one jhene aiko clip

people from your past only have good things to say + other celebrities love meeting you and only have good impressions of you

this one applies to acting and singing and modeling but being a highly sought-after person in that field

a fortnite skin? or being featured in your favorite game

still being safe going in public alone + fans respect your privacy

and if ur manifesting being a nepo baby

everyone supports you

in your childhood u were featured in alot of movies/shows (or just in the spotlight often) so people feel like they watched you grow up and adore u

being more famous than your parents + people feel like even if ur parents weren't famous u still would've gotten famous

having famous childhood friends

if i think of more ideas or careers ill make a pt2 but thats probably unlikely idk yet

#law of assumption #loa blog #loassumption #loa #loa tumblr #neville goddard #scripting #void state

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bogleech · 3 months

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For me the most disappointing thing about Palworld is the designs being so boring and bland that you'll never have cause to review them. We deserve better from a creature collecting game, especially one making this much money!

Yeah here's the most opinion I can possibly muster on any of them:

DUMUD: it's a big fat shark-like mudskipper and that's a good concept, it just doesn't really have the charm of any Pokemon it shares anything in common with.

WUMPO: resembles the fur-wearing "werewolf" pokemon that got cut from the first or second generation, crossed with Tangrowth. One of the more okay designs because those are two good pokemon.

SIBELYX: this is supposed to be their Gardevoir I guess and I think it's an owl? Or is it a moth? Well it ends up one of the slightly cooler looking ones a little less obviously derivative of specific pokemon. Maybe they were also going for a Dimitrescue knockoff with the hat

CAWGNITO: an alright one because plague doctors just generally look cool. However the simple formula of plague doctor + actual bird would have been far too obvious and underwhelming as a Pokemon. There's no novelty or twist to this.

HANGYU: this is the one that's a ghostly noose canonically used to execute people. It's a funny little send-up of the darker pokemon pokedex entries, though the design is uninspired compared to object-based creatures in Pokemon, Digimon or any other monster franchise I can think of.

LOVANDER: this is one that fucks people, and they possibly borrowed the topography of Salazzle's official model. I want to think they did intend it to be freaky and unwholesome looking with the rubbery goblin hands, but I suspect they intended something actually sexy by furry monsterfucker standards and just weren't good at it. Yes I know that likely does not stop people from being into it anyway.

TEAFANT: I was going to say this is the only pal that looks better than its closest equivalent Pokemon, because they would be Cufant, and I gave Cufant a pretty negative review back in the day.

......But actually, now I kind of like Cufant. A lot, come to think of it! Teafant is cute and competent in the most paint-by-numbers possible way. It's what almost anyone would draw in ten seconds if asked to make a cute marketable teacup elephant pokemon. Cufant is an awkward, messy design but it is comparatively cute in a goofy, dorky way that's rare among the Pals, and more importantly, it is unique. I don't think they used AI to generate any Palworld models (the tech isn't there yet) but I can see why people assume they used AI just to get the initial ideas, because it's very easy to find people who have more a more creative eye for character design. I'd say even if not ESPECIALLY people with zero experience in art would have made the Pals look more interesting.

#palworld #pokemon

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amjustagirl · 1 month

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title: to rebuild a home pairing: kuroo x f! reader genre: angst / fluff, post timeskip! wc: 6.8k m.list

a/n: companion piece to the original love knows not its depth, from kuroo's perspective.

Kuroo Tetsuro is doing alright.

He’s deftly juggling the roles life has handed him. His tenth wedding anniversary is coming up. He’s gotten a nice pair of earrings and a reservation at Tokyo’s hottest omakase for you to celebrate. The girls are doing nicely at school - Aiko’s grades are excellent, and Fumiko’s not gotten into any schoolyard fights unlike Bokuto’s trio of sons. His bosses seem happy with him too, paving the way for him to climb the corporate ladder rung by rung. He’s earned each promotion by burning days in the office, nights in the izakayas schmoozing with his bosses, but it’s worth it, even if it admittedly comes at the expense of being with you and the girls.

It’s a sacrifice he has to make so he can provide you with the fairytale life he’s always promised you. Not that you’ve ever complained about the trade-off.

“She’s the best wife and mom I could’ve asked for”, he tells Kenma, when the former setter asks about you. “I don’t know how she does it.”

Kenma frowns. “You make her sound like a video game character.”

“That’s cos she’s amazing -”

“Kinda sucks that she pretty much has to juggle a full time job and the kids on her own most of the time.”

“She manages perfectly well”, Kuroo enthuses, oblivious to the barb in his friend’s words. “By the time I get home, the girls are in bed, the house is clean, and there’s even a lunch box packed for me each day. She’s a rockstar at work too - should be up for a promotion next financial year.”

“Huh”, Kenma sniffs. “I wonder when she gets a break.”

Kuroo’s too distracted by the round of beers that’s delivered to his table to think deeply about his best friend’s apprehension. When he stumbles through the front door that night, he finds you crouched over the coffee table, frantically typing at your laptop. As expected, the girls are in bed, there’s nothing out of place.

“All good?” he asks you in passing, his mind already filing the tasks on his plate for tomorrow - organising a publicity event jointly held by the JVA and Bouncing Ball Corporation to introduce new national team members, reviewing the proposed budget for this year’s international competitions, popping by the under-19 team to see if there are indeed any promising candidates - he’s already one foot in the bedroom, ready to call it a night.

He doesn’t notice the violets blooming under your eyes.

“Mm.” You don’t look up. “Have a good night.”

Kruoo Tetsuro thinks he’s doing alright.

Bokuto Kotaro, for some reason, doesn’t think so. “Mitsuki said you’re lucky you’re not married to her cos she’ll skin you alive”, he informs him, as if Kuroo shares his love for women capable of chomping his head off in one bite.

Maybe the Bokutos operate on a different metric - because yes, they’re the model of egalitarianism with Mitsuki the high powered general counsel for Kenma’s Bouncing Ball Corporation (based on his referral, he likes to add, cos’ it’s funny to watch Mitsuki growl) and Kotaro the part time coach, full time stay at home dad to his wolfpack of sons, but that doesn’t mean his marriage is on the rocks.

As a child, he was the unwitting witness to his parents’ fights, which culminated in his mother walking out of the door, his father crying over a thick stack of divorce papers. His grandparents took him in, gave him stability and love and comfort but he swore to himself he’s never going to put his daughters through that.

Sure, it’s been a while since you’ve had a night to yourself. The last time he remembers you taking time away from the girls was to go out for dinner with him to celebrate his latest promotion - his conscience stings a little that he can’t remember the last time you’ve taken a break from everything you’ve been doing for him and the girls, but he’ll make it up to you once he has time. You always understand.

Still, just to be sure, he checks in on you again.

“You alright?”, he reaches for your hand, when he climbs into bed that night.

You’re lying in bed. He should find it odd that you’re still awake at this time of the night, staring up at the ceiling as if there’s something to be found there, but he falls asleep in the slow seconds, doesn't hear your response. When he wakes, you’ve already taken the girls to school. He gets himself ready for work, loops his tie around his neck, grabs his briefcase and the bento you’ve so lovingly packed for him, and hops on the train. He runs through his routine like clockwork, but there’s a niggling feeling that he’s missed something important, possibly something to do with you.

Did you say something to him last night?

It doesn’t matter. He makes a mental note to purchase a spa day for you - but that’s promptly forgotten when he’s greeted by a flood of emails and an invitation from his boss to go out for drinks that night.

Kuroo still thinks he’s doing alright.

“You’re lucky”, his boss toasts him. “Your wife doesn’t complain like mine when I go out drinking, even though I tell her I need to do it for work.”

“She’s an angel”, Kuroo replies, quietly bursting with pride. “Never complains.”

“Lucky man”, his boss says. “My wife is such a nag.”

He misses the last train home that night, drops you a text not to wait up and stumbles around Shibuya trying to find a cab. It must be a busy night because by the time he manages to flag down one, it’s three a.m. and his head is pounding from the excess of alcohol and lack of solid food and water. He fumbles with his keys, almost falls through his front door when the lock gives way. “Tadaima”, he says out of habit, too-loudly, before his stomach lurches and he has to make a mad dash for the kitchen sink.

“Tetsuro?”

He wants to respond, but he’s too busy emptying out the contents of his stomach. He shouldn’t have woken you up. He shouldn’t greet you with a mess for you to clean up. He shouldn’t lean so heavily on you that you stagger beneath his weight.

He shouldn’t do all of that yet he does so anyway. You tuck him, a grown man, into bed.

Tomorrow, he’ll apologise. Tomorrow, he’ll make it up to you.

Tomorrow comes. He wakes up.

You’re gone.

Kuroo Tetsuro is not alright.

He’s ashamed to admit that he doesn’t even notice you’ve taken off until it’s way past lunch when your mother drops him a text to ask if he’s picking up the girls or if he intends to leave them with her overnight.

“What d’you mean?” he texts her, confused.

His heart stops when your mother responds to say you dropped off the girls at her place without much of an explanation, an overnight bag slung over your shoulder. You don’t pick up your phones, his calls going straight to voicemail. For the first time in forever, he sheepishly asks his boss for urgent leave from work so he can rush home to figure out what’s going on.

You always take your laptop with you, but it’s sitting at home. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy, but he types in your password (his birthday), and your web browser reveals a booking for a ryokan in Hakone, where the both of you honeymooned almost a decade ago. It’s an hour away by train, far too much time for him to sit and stew in his thoughts. He wonders if you’ve become sick of your life with him, whether you’ve found someone new, and by the time he’s reached the ryokan and charmed the receptionist to let him into your room, he’s teetering on the edge of giving into his frustration, entertaining thoughts about yelling at you for being so goddamned irresponsible, cos how could you just walk out on him and the girls -

Until you walk in, thankfully alone.

It strikes him that it’s the most refreshed he’s seen you look in a very, very long time. Your cheeks are glowing, your eyes sparkle, and there’s a spring in your step that he hasn’t seen since you’ve had the girls.

Still, he can’t help but remain a little peeved. “I’ve been calling you all afternoon”, he informs you. “I was worried.”

He immediately regrets his words as he watches the light die in your eyes.

“Were you?”, you ask, as if you were addressing a stranger. “Really?”

“Of course”, he frowns, slowly getting up to approach you, concerned when you start to sway. “You’re my wife and the mother of our girls, of course I care.”

Laughter spills from your lips, an undercurrent of bitterness and contempt that’s threatening to drag you under before his very eyes. “If you really cared, you’d have noticed that your wife is broken”, you tell him between gasps, your shoulders caving in. “I tried fixing myself with a break, but you can’t even give me that.”

He’s starting to realise that things aren’t alright at all. You flinch when he takes a step towards you, an action which stabs him clean through his heart because he’s your husband, your Tetsuro, your person. Tea, then, a neutral offering that manages to calm you down enough to take a seat, even if you’re still shaking, falling to pieces while laughing, laughing -

“Tell me what’s wrong”, he begs. “Tell me what I can do to fix you.”

You take a sip of tea. It’s hot enough to burn you, but you don’t seem to notice.

“I can’t do this anymore, Tetsuro.”

“Don’t say that”, he snaps, his inner child recoiling because he can’t bear to have his girls go through what he went through, wondering if it was his fault, his very existence that caused his parents to split up. “The girls and I need you -”

You don’t seem to hear him.

“Princess”, he falls back on his pet name for you, rusty from lack of use. “Come back to me.”

You’re unmoved, your eyes unseeing, deaf to his pleas. Sip after sip, you gulp down scalding tea, each action jerky, mechanical. Frozen, in an impenetrable placidness that he can’t read. You’re sitting right in front of him but you’re not really there at all.

“Let’s talk when you’re back home”, he finally says. “Have a good break.”

The immature little boy that still lives in his psyche is still unconvinced that it’s a bad idea to drag you back home with him posthaste, but you asked for a break, and it’s the least he can give to you.

You allow him to roll out your futon for you, to swaddle you in layers of blankets as if that would keep you from falling apart any further. As he kisses your forehead to bid you goodnight and goodbye, he feels the brittleness of your bones, the thinness of your skin beneath his palms and he spends the hour-long train ride home wondering how he managed to look away long enough for you to turn into a shadow of your past self.

He goes straight to your mother’s house to retrieve the girls. As penance, he stands at the front door, head bowed, letting your mother yell at him in front of the neighbours for being a useless husband and an irresponsible father. After all, he deserves every word she flings in his face. He’s just thankful that she doesn’t ream him out in front of the girls.

“Where’s mama?” Fumiko mumbles half asleep into his neck. “Want mama.”

He cradles her closer. “She’ll be home tomorrow”, he tells her, hoping with every fibre of his being that that does not turn out to be a lie. Aiko, older and wiser, just stays quiet, so he forces a smile on his face for her sake.

Kuroo Tetsuro is far from okay.

The strain of the day wears on him and he’s sure there are burning emails in his inbox for him to firefight, but there’s a long list of chores to be done in your absence. The girls’ school bags need to be packed (in the case of five year old Fumiko) or checked (for ten year old Aiko), their uniforms to be laid out, the laundry sorted and folded. He barely gets any sleep before he has to hop out of bed to throw together a cold breakfast of milk and cereal that makes Fumiko burst into tears and Aiko’s face droops. By the time he shuffles his two cranky children out of the house and into their respective schools, he’s late for work.

He meets Bokuto and Kenma for lunch since there’s no lunch bento waiting for him in the fridge, though he regrets the decision to leave the refuge of his work desk for the boardroom of Bouncing Ball Corporation when Mitsuki joins them and, sharp-eyed as ever, sinks her talons into him.

“You look like shit”, she says to him as a greeting.

“Thanks”, he grounds out. The girls demanded he work their hair into the neat braids they insisted you always do, so bedhead would have to do for him today.

“I’ve never seen you without hair gel before”, Bokuto marvels. “You look weird.”

“I had a crap morning, okay”, he snaps, biting the head off the karaage fish in his store bought bento, which he resents for tasting worse than those you usually make for him. “So I’m sorry if I look slightly less than presentable -”

“You look like a man whose wife just left him - “

Mitsuki’s just stepped right on the wound he’s tried to keep hidden, festering and bleeding beneath his skin, so like an animal lashing out when it’s hurt, Kuroo slaps the table with both palms and snarls.

“Don’t - don’t fucking say that, okay? She’s just taking a break. She’ll come home.”

He can’t stand to see the shock and pity on his closest friends’ faces. “She’s coming home today”, he repeats softly, almost to himself, as if he’s little Fumiko in need of reassurance that the person she needs most in the world hasn’t just abandoned her. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Perhaps it’s the maturity that comes with fatherhood, because Bokuto is the first to react. “That’s right, you’re gonna be okay”, he soothes, pulling Kuroo into his seat. “Kenma’s gonna call your boss and tell him that you’re gonna spend the rest of the afternoon here to plan some event - “

“Sponsorship for the Under-19 team, done”, Kenma snaps his phone shut.

“Guys, I’m fine - ”

“Pretending everything’s okay isn’t going to help.”

Kuroo deflates. “Thanks, Kenma.”

Shelving his worthless pride to lay bare the situation he’s found himself in, that by neglecting his duties as a husband and father, he’s forced you to the brink of a mental breakdown, bad enough that you’ve left him - temporarily, he hopes. In the span of a few hours, he’s already found himself at his wit’s end, struggling to handle both the demands of the kids and his job, something that he realises he’s left you to bear, alone.

“But I can’t figure out why she didn’t just tell me she was feeling overwhelmed”, he says, pulling at a fraying thread in his shirt. “I would’ve listened. I would’ve done better.”

“She shouldn’t have to tell you to do your part”, Mitsuki waves away Bokuto’s desperate gesture for her not to kick a man when he’s already down.

“But I didn’t know -”

“Y’know, I really can’t stand men like you. You guys are amazing at work, able to anticipate your bosses’ and clients’ needs. At this point, you don’t even need to be told by your bosses to jump, you don’t even ask your clients ‘how high’ - yet, for some reason, you manage to turn off your brain the minute you walk in through the front door at home.”

“Maybe I should ask her for a list of things I can help her with -”

Bokuto claps his hand over Mitsuki’s mouth. “Ehhh..you might not wanna finish your sentence or Mitsuki might really bite your head off.”

Kuroo winces, snapping his mouth shut.

“Maybe you can think of it in a different way”, Bokuto says. “Instead of ‘helping’ her - cos that’s just placing the mental burden on her - at least, I think that’s the term Mitsuki-chan used when she explained it to me -” the affronted lawyer nods begrudgingly, and beaming, he continues - “you gotta do your half of the work!”

“Level up”, Kenma provides, rather unhelpfully.

“Open your eyes and use your brain”, Mitsuki says bluntly, rolling her eyes, though her tone is less sharp.

“Where do I start?” Kuroo asks.

Step one.

He picks the girls up from his mother in law’s place, bears with the lecture that’s awaiting him, and sheepishly asks them what their mama usually feeds them for dinner and breakfast, making a mental note of it. Tonight, he’ll cheat by feeding them gyudon at Sukiya, but he drops by the supermarket to procure the ingredients he needs for tomorrow’s breakfast and a bouquet of pink roses, even though he knows it’s probably too little, too late. He counts himself lucky that Fumiko loves bathtime, only needing supervision to wash and dry her hair, and Aiko’s responsible enough to work through her homework without prompting, but he’s still exhausted by the time they both head to bed.

His job doesn’t end there. Running through the checklist Mitsuki begrudgingly allowed Bokuto to give him, he surveys the apartment, comparing it against the mental image of how everything was before you left it. Toys scattered, to be put back in place. Dust on floor, to be vacuumed up. A heap of laundry in the basket, to be hung, dried, ironed.

Just as he finishes all these tasks, the front door swing opens.

“Tadaima”, you call out, voice hushed.

He nearly trips over his feet in his haste to relieve you of your luggage, usher you into a seat by the kitchen counter. “Okaerie”, he breathes,

“The girls?” you ask.

He’ll buy Bokuto lunch next time. “I picked them up from your mom”, he responds. “Don’t wake them up, I just put them to bed.”

You peek into their rooms nonetheless. “Thanks”, you say, heading next to the fridge. “By the way, I’ll pay you back for the hotel room from my own money, don’t worry.”

That’s the last thing on his mind. Besides, his sin is being a neglectful husband, not a miser. “It’s fine, I’ll cover it”, he scratches his head, embarrassed that you’re even bringing it up. “I should’ve realised you needed a break.”

That makes you frown, but you accept anyway. He watches you stack bread, eggs, ham, cheese, and it strikes him that you’re already worrying about the girls’ breakfast when you look as if you haven’t even had your own dinner.

“You haven’t had dinner?” he asks.

You reply carelessly that you’ve had a bento on the train back. You don’t even bother to look at him.

“I’ll take the girls in the mornings from now”, he tells you. “Sleep in and take a break.”

That gets your attention.

“Really?”

He plasters a confident smirk on his face to reassure you that he’s got it all in hand.

“Oh”, you’re adorable when you’re confused, but he hates that he’s given you reason to doubt him. “Wake me up if you need my help?”

“I won’t”, he promises.

It’s time for him to level up.

Step two.

He’s not going to lie to himself that he finds it difficult to do even half of what you used to do. Taking over the responsibility of wrangling the girls out of bed and into school, coming home early enough for dinner with you, that requires him to have hard conversations with his boss about not being able to go out for drinks or come in early anymore which probably hurts his chances for his next promotion, forces him to give up an hour or two of sleep, but it’s worth it if it allows you to heal.

“Don’t expect a gold star for your efforts”, Mitsuki warned him. “It’s just what you should’ve been doing before, so it’s time for you to go above and beyond.”

He takes her words to heart. You deserve to go to work well-rested, to wind down at night with a hot bath. He’ll buy a robot vacuum and pour over its manual that’s thicker than a textbook, do laundry loads while hopping on and off conference calls, wrestle the iron to press down his own shirts.

You seem baffled by the sudden shift in the winds, but he just pretends everything is normal. Business as usual. Things are just as they should’ve been.

In his next push to right his wrongs, he organises a Saturday dinner date with you. The girls are packed off with your mother, he makes the reservation, books the cab, compliments your dress. He asks you about your work (tiring), your boss (a micro-manager), the books you’ve read recently (nada, zilch). In the uphill battle to keep the conversation from being stilted, he makes a fatal mistake.

“We can make it work if you want to quit your job and stay home full time with the children.”

In his mind, that was a reasonable suggestion to make since you seem to hate your job and boss with a fiery passion. But you stare at him wide-eyed, your initial confusion hardening into anger.

“Did the guys at work tell you it’s easier to have a housewife instead of a working wife? Are you saying this because you don’t think I’m a good enough mother to our girls?”

You don’t give him a chance to backpedal, shooting a sarcastic apology for being selfish enough to refuse to be reliant on him, so he just slumps back in his chair in defeat.

“I just want you to be happy”, he murmurs. “Forget I ever said that.”

Step three.

To figure out step three, he schedules an emergency lunch meeting on Monday. The troops convene in Kenma’s boardroom to listen to his sorry tale with Mitsuki in charge of the post–battle analysis.

“And remind me again, where did you two meet?”

His face lights up at the memory of his first meeting with you. “Finance 102”, he replies. “We used to be academic rivals turned teammates after I convinced her I was smart enough for her to work with on projects.”

“What made you fall in love with her?”

“As much as I hate it, I have to admit she’s probably smarter than me”, he says, though the fond smile that creeps onto his face betrays the fact that he loves that about you. “She’s just - her, she’s headstrong and funny. Did I tell you how she tried to stab me with her fork when I stole food off her plate -”

“Only a million times”, Kenma interjects.

“She’s always been independent and ambitious, with big dreams and an even bigger heart.”

“Well”, Mitsuki says, adopting the mildest tone she’s used on him this month. “Does that sound like a woman who’d choose to stay home and depend on her husband? Not that there’s anything wrong with being a stay-at-home parent - Koutaro makes my career possible, and I’m the luckiest woman in the world to have him as my husband.”

“Babyyyyy.” Bokuto bawls, looking at MItsuki as if she hangs the moon in the sky.

Gross. Kenma seems to agree. “Let’s get back to Kuroo’s failing marriage”,

“So I shouldn’t bring up the suggestion that she quit her job again?”

His three person council shake their heads in unison. “Just keep what you’re doing”, Bokuto pipes up. “Sounds like you’re already doing the right things! Just gotta keep making sure she’s not holding up the sky herself.”

He can do that.

“And maybe talk to her?”, Kenma offers.

That’s the suggestion that he wants to dismiss right off the bat because he’s too much of a coward to even face the possibility that you might leave him. He doesn’t want to become his dad so he resolves to keep his head down and continue pushing ahead with his efforts to prove to you that he can be the husband you deserve, so you won’t wake up one day and decide to walk out on him again.

But his subconscious fears force his nightmares into overdrive. Dreams of packed bags and stacks of divorce papers makes him yelp loud enough for you to roll over and shake him awake. He’s a terrible husband for disturbing your sleep, but in his sleep-dazed state of confusion he just sinks back into the pillow, exhaling a sigh of relief.

“Thank the gods you haven’t left.”

“Why would I leave?”, you mumble, turning away again. “It’s my home, isn’t it.”

He sits up, rubs the nightmares away from his eyes. “I was afraid you left me.”

The silence nearly suffocates him. The sudden need to know exactly where you stand eats away at him and he crawls towards you. “Are you going to leave me”, he asks, praying to all the gods in the universe that you’ll reassure him otherwise.

His heart breaks anew when he hears a small sob, buried in the bedclothes. “I don’t know, Tetsuro”, you finally say. “I’m tired of being alone in a marriage when it’s supposed to be us working together.”

“I’m sorry.” There’s nothing much he can say.

A broken whisper. “I’m tired”, you exhale. “I think I deserve better.”

“I’ll make it better”, he promises.

He will. He will.

Kuroo Tetsuro is trying his best.

He takes a cooking class on the weekends to learn how to prepare bento boxes that are nutritious and easy on the wallet. He takes over the ferrying of Fumiko to her swimming lessons, work on Aiko’s art projects with her. He hires a part time cleaner to pick up the deep cleaning, so you and he have time to take the girls out on weekend outings instead of spending all day on a week’s worth of cumulated chores. A dishwasher appears in the house. He makes it a game for he and the girls to load and unload dishware each night.

“There’s a networking wine night for finance next Wednesday”, he tells you casually. “I’ll make sure to be home so you can go, if you want.”

You goggle at him.

“Go schmooze so the world knows you’re as amazing as I know you are.”

You trust him enough to leave the girls behind in his care and go. He counts that as a win.

Some nights he still can’t get home in time for dinner, but he always makes sure he’s home in time for a bedtime story and a goodnight kiss. Aiko avers that at the grand old age of ten, she doesn’t need her papa to tuck her to bed anymore, but she sidles into Fumiko’s room everynight and sits in the corner of her little sister’s bed as the littler girl listens to his tall tales.

“I met a princess when I was eighteen”, he says with a grin when he notices you listening in. “Instead of a crown, she armed herself with a fork, ready to cut down anyone who’d cross her.”

His heart skips a beat when he hears your voice from the doorway. “Don’t be dramatic”, you interrupt, a small smile growing on your face. “You were trying to steal my food and didn’t stop ‘til I stabbed you.”

Fumiko huffs, unhappy that her story’s being interrupted, but he can’t seem to tear his gaze away from you. “You left it on the table, princess. I consider that fair game.”

“Let ‘to-san tell the story, ka’san.” Aiko grumbles.

He savours your laughter. It tastes better than the finest wine.

“I can’t believe I have to fly all the way to Italy just to meet Kageyama-kun”, he huffs. “At least Hinata is meeting us there, I’ll revolt if I had to go up to Brazil as well.”

“You know it can’t be helped”, you reply. “The promotional activities planned need your presence, and it’s only for a week.”

“Will you be okay when I’m gone?”

His fears melt away when you hand him his suitcase, a flask of his favourite tea. “I’ve always managed fine. Nothing’s changed.”

His little monsters, realising that he’s about to leave, decide to launch a synchronised attack on him. Aiko throws herself at him in a bear hug. Fumiko yanks at his sleeve demanding a thousand kisses.

“Yes, well. I’ll be home soon. Please wait for me” he says to you when the girls finally release him. The expression on your face is unreadable, but you don’t pull away when he takes the liberty of taking your hand in his.

He feels your heartbeat accelerates. You glance up at him, almost shy. “I’ll see you soon.”

He’s so tempted to call his boss and pretend that he’s too ill to get on that damned flight, but he’s pretty sure that would get him fired. Instead, he calls you and the girls every day, and brings home a luggage full of presents for all of you.

When he’s home, he celebrates by putting on the frilliest pink apron he’s ever seen (courtesy of Yaku, who sent it to him all the way from Moscow as a joke) and throwing an elaborate takoyaki party, replete with customised toppings - octopus, cheese and shrimp, which the girls enjoyed even if he burnt the first batch and had to call Fukunaga frantically for tips to rescue the rest. It turns out to be such a success that he makes it a weekly event. Okonomiyaki is next, which he flips with expert confidence on a hot plate to the applause of you and the girls.

“Itadakimasu”, you clap your hands together. “It tastes good.”

He nearly melts into his pan. “Thank you”, he replies. “It means a lot, coming from you.”

His nights are still plagued by nightmares.

Things are better with you, he likes to think. The violets beneath your eyes are replaced by roses in your cheeks. He hears you humming about the house again. You pick up reading again, the shelves in the house start to groan under the weight of books belonging to the girls and you. You’re as eager as the girls to go on the next adventure, whether it be a summer night out in the park with sparklers, or a nerf gun battle at home on rainy days.

Still, he doesn’t know for sure what he’s doing is enough for you and he’s too much of a coward to check. So he’ll wake up almost every night, fumble in the dark just to make sure you’re there.

You’re there, until you aren’t.

It’s three in the morning. The space beside him is cold and empty.

He throws off the blankets, trips on his bed slippers. He crashes through into the living room and oh, there you are - sitting at the dining table, typing furiously at your laptop while mouthing off to yourself about the ridiculous demands your client makes.

“What’s wrong?” you frown.

He walks towards you, trying to discern that you’re real, you’re there, not some trick of the light..

“You’re - you’re still here.”

You nod slowly, eyeing him strangely. “My boss called and asked me to send out an urgent email. I was just about to go back to bed.”

He exhales, tries to force his trembling heart back into his chest. He thinks he’s doing a good job trying to act nonchalant, smoothing back his frazzled mane of hair, but you see right through him as you always do.

“Tetsuro”, you say slowly. “Is everything alright?

The truth tumbles out of his mouth. “I thought you were gone.”

Then he hangs his head, looks at his feet, afraid that he’ll only see rejection in your eyes. He’s a pathetic failure of a husband who has a decade’s worth of sins to make up for, and there’s no justification for him to selfishly to seek your absolution.

It comes anyway, in the form of soft hands pulling him forward.

“I’m here”, you say, pulling him into your embrace, letting him rest his heavy head in your lap.

He doesn’t allow himself to sink into your warmth. “Are you happier now? Are things better for you?”

“Yes”, he hears you say. The tension he’s been carrying around these few months lifts. “Thank you, Tetsuro. I appreciate it. I really do. You don’t have to work yourself to death - that’s never what I was asking for. If you’re tired -”

He shakes his head at your suggestion. He’s got a long way yet before he earns any reprieve.

“Tetsuro -”

He sits up abruptly, takes your hands in his.

“Promise you won’t leave me”, he pleads. “I know you’ve had to carry what must’ve felt like the weight of the entire world on your own, and I don’t have any excuse for that.”

“You don’t”, you agree.

He accepts the blow but he takes comfort that you don’t pull away. “I know that now. I know now how fucking hard it was to do it all alone.”

“It was hard. It was so, so hard, Tetsuro. I became numb to the pain. I don’t think I was functioning, I haven’t been for a while. For a long, long while.”

“I’m sorry”, his voice cracks.

“I know.” You cup his face in your hands, offers him comfort he doesn’t deserve. “That’s a chapter of our marriage that’s past, that can’t be unwritten. But the past few months have been different. You’ve shown me that you’ve changed.”

The first glimmer of sunlight after a long, dark winter. Hope blooms with your smile.

“I think”, you say. “I think we can make this work again.”

He stares at you, dumbstruck. Then the fact that you’re giving him another chance dawns upon him, and he crashes forward to rest his head on your shoulder, unashamed to cry tears of relief.

“Thank you”, he exhales brokenly. “I won’t fuck this up again, I promise.”

You press a kiss to his forehead, curl up trustingly in his arms. “Don’t thank me”, you laugh. “Thank yourself for making me believe in you.”

He drinks up each drop of your affection, falls asleep in the cradle of your arms.

“Is this what flirting is like?”

He wakes up to Aiko’s impertinent question, her hands on hips looking distinctly unimpressed at finding her parents asleep on the sofa, entwined together.

“Who taught you that word?” Kuroo asks, aghast that his ten year old daughter even recognises the existence of the opposite gender.

Aiko sticks her tongue at him, and he’s too distracted by Fumiko taking a flying leap onto the sofa with them, chattering a thousand miles an hour about what’s for breakfast and whether they can go to the zoo this afternoon - though he pins his suspicions on Bokuto’s trio of sons.

“Monsters”, he says. “Can’t even give your to-san a break to snuggle up to your pretty ka’san.”

The girls shriek in dismay - Aiko, at being a witness to further gross displays of affection between her parents, Fumiko, at being called a monster despite being a self-proclaimed princess. You prod at the soft flesh between his ribs.

“Don’t be mean”, you admonish him.

He sniffs, taking the chance to draw you closer. “I’m cranky in the mornings unless I get a morning kiss.”

You snort, swatting at him. “You make it sound as if kisses contain caffeine.”

The girls giggle, but he protests.

“Full of nonsense”, you tease, but you kiss him, again and again and again.

Things settle into a steady, sustainable pace.

You refuse to allow him to bear the weight of the household on his back alone. There are frank conversations to be had about what each of you can realistically handle without burning out. He leads the charge in the mornings, whipping up breakfast with the aid of his two sous chefs, building an expertise in braiding and french twists that could possibly allow him to moonlight as a hairstylist. You, on the other hand, take charge of evening pick-ups, cooking dinners, supervising homework and art projects until he comes home and tags you out.

Chores are evenly split. He doesn’t allow you to assume the mental load of organising the household by yourself. “We both have a degree in business management”, he likes to remind you, because he now knows that remembering to run errands, scheduling appointments - all of this is work too.

You force him to take breaks. If you get to relax with your friends, so should he. “If you get too stressed, you’ll lose your hair and we can’t have that.” He yelps when he imagines himself bald and obediently complies when you call Kenma up, talk him into getting him and Bokuto and Akaashi (when he’s feeling less morose about his singlehood) to go for a round of pick up volleyball. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself”, you note wryly when he returns home crowing about how he stuffed an Olympic player with a kill block.

“I did”, he replies, catching your hips to pull you in, cheekily ignoring your complaints that he’s sweaty. “But I enjoy coming home to you even more.”

“Gross”, you grumble, but you seem content to remain in his arms.

It’s another small moment he treasures. Life, he learns, is made of moments, both big and small. He’d made the mistake of only focusing on the big ones - graduation, playing at nationals, the day he was lucky enough to marry you, each of his daughter’s birthdays. Now, though, he cherishes each moment, each second he has with you and the girls, no matter how little, no matter how small.

He likes to come into the bathroom each night, leaning his elbow on the edge of the bathtub as you chat to him about your day, luxuriating in the bath he drew for you. You and he take turns to complain about life’s inconveniences as you clear emails once the girls have gone off to bed- colleagues who shirk their work, bosses who nitpick overmuch, washing everything down with steaming cups of herbal tea.

“Are you happy?”, he asks you, night after night.

“Mm”, you say with an impish grin. “I’d be happier if you let me put my toes on your calves.”

“They’re freezing”, he groans but scoots over anyway. “Better?”

“Much better”, you hum, content. “Life is good.”

He’s not remiss in planning the big moments too.

A year passes quickly to your wedding anniversary. He packs your suitcase, books the train tickets and whisks you back to the ryokan in Hakone, though this time he upgrades you both to their largest suite. “I feel like a princess!” you exclaim, twirling about the room.

Your happiness is worth every yen he spent.

You spend the day strolling down avenues lined with cherry blossoms, Mount Fuji looming in the backdrop, the evening exchanging heated kisses in the private onsen he booked. You’re older now, with laughter lines creased into your forehead, grey streaks in your hair, but you’re still the same girl he fell in love with all those years ago.

“And you couldn’t wait ‘til we got back to our room?” you smack him.

He also loves how there’s fire burning bright in your eyes, the way it always used to. “You kissed me first!”

“You kissed me second!”

“I don’t hear you complaining”, he cackles.

You try to shush him, to no avail, as he draws the attention of everyone around him.

“What a happy couple”, an obaa-san remarks out loud. “They must be newlyweds.”

Well, she’s not wrong. You’re as radiant as you were fifteen years ago, his spring bride, but he’s an old man doddering on, hopefully with his edges sanded off with time. “Just your regular old, married couple”, he chortles when you’re safely back in the room.

“A happily married couple”, you reply, serenely sipping your tea. “That obaa-san definitely got that part right.”

There’s a lump in his throat that he can’t swallow. “Are you happy?” he manages to ask anyway.

“With you?” Your smile is warm, bright. Always.”

Both of you are doing alright.

a/n: it's been a while, hasn't it. i've been alright - how are you guys doing?

#kuroo x you #kuroo x reader #kuroo testuro #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

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devsgames · 9 months

Text

As a dev who didn't really follow Baldur's Gate 3's development I was incredibly surprised at the number of people who have been making really sweeping and baseless claims about its success: stuff like "the game is made well by people who are passionate", or claim that other devs "just have to make good games", or that it's successful "because it doesn't have microtransactions". It's not that surprising I guess since Gamers tend to say these things about any product they happen to like and agree with, but I guess it was surprising to me how much people were saying it about this game specifically.

I'm sure the devs were passionate and I've sort of been enjoying my time with it, but frankly the success of BG3 absolutely does not feel like a design or development thing to me, but it's an obvious marketing and business one.

Having a good game obviously very much helps, but the fact of the matter is that rhetoric like this intentionally overlooks or downplays the real industry success factors: that BG3 is the third game in an already-popular and established legacy CRPG series that is built on an engine and mechanics by a studio which already made two other (unrelated) financially successful games on of the same genre, with all of it built on a back of a TTRPG franchise that has for the past few years been undergoing a huge resurgence in popularity and in no doubt funded through that partnership and licensing deals. Franchises like safe bets to make a profit, and this feels like the safest of bets. It really isn't successful because the game isn't adopting user-hostile monetization or because it's approach is radically different from any other game's development, it's successful because all these business factors.

To that end, whenever someone implies that other devs should just make games the same way...it's really funny! Like, the stars have aligned to make this product a hit and this doesn't implicitly make it a bastion or model for equitable game development just because it sold well and doesn't adopt hostile monetization schemes.

The fact of the matter is there's lots of games that are well-made by passionate devs and don't feature microtransactions or hostile monetization schemes, and they don't implicitly do well because of these design decisions alone; usually it's because they failed at marketing or didn't have the AAA budget to promote themselves like BG3. I'm also willing to bet that like every AAA studio, the devs at Larian likely weren't equitably compensated for this success, since most productions on a game of such a massive scale like this only really turn a profit because they undercut those working on it - huge profit and equitable compensation aren't often compatible concepts in game development. It's not like that would be any different here, so the "other devs should look to this game on how it should be made ethically" is a strange pull to me as well.

Basically this is all to say I think it's incredibly reductive to hold a product up on a pedestal by virtue of sales figures and choosing not to enact hostile monetization schemes. After all, I'm severely doubtful a product like BG3 would have done poorly assuming it had microtransactions in the first place. There's just way too many other factors that guided it alonge.

Do we need big budget games to move away from predatory business models that attempt to exploit the most vulnerable players? Absolutely yes I think we do, but I think people would also value from staying aware of real factors at play that define success in these sorts of situations, and not reduce development to "why don't developers simply make GOOD video games!" which I think is fairly baseless and confirmation-bias-y in its own way.

#it's capitalism #it's always capitalism #gamedev #thoughts #t-minus three hours before I mute this one #its a gut feeling

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lowkeyrobin · 2 months

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Mcyt with an s/o who's a voice acter for video game characters? They mostly do voice characters in horror games n stuff(like until dawn, where the characters are also modeled after the voice after if I remember correctly)

I just think their faces would be hilarious if the choice they make in the game ends up with y/n getting killed lol

OH MY GOD YESSSSS ; also tried to use different games and not the same for everyone but I'm not the heaviest story game gamer LMFAO ; also don't talk about how timeliness wouldn't make sense shhhhhh

MCYT ; video game voice actor

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & foolish gamers

warnings ; language & fictional violence and death/murder

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

somehow the topic of mc story mode came up and how you actually voice acted a few characters + one of the Jessie variants (whichever you picked as a kid 🙏)

"WHAT? WHY DIDNT I KNOW ABOUT THIS?"

"I mean I was like, fourteen. I don't think I even knew you yet"

"absolute betrayal"

he literally speeds to his office, downloads the first game and proceeds to stream for three hours playing it (he selects whichever Jessie you voiced of course)

"OH MY GOD THAT IS MY PARTNER, HOLY SHIT, LISTEN TO THEIR BABY VOICE!"

the tweets never end

"spot the difference" and its an old/new pic of you compared to jessie

💀💀💀💀

once he gets to the save Petra or Lukas scene he straight up pauses and playfully yells at you like you made the game?? 💀🙏

he dies so many times it's not even funny

love him tho

TUBBO

red dead redemption two 💀

forget the qsmp, once he finally downloads the game its all he's playing for a straight week

again, how the hell did he not know about this??

it was only 2018??

you voice a few of the townsfolk and a few of the supporting characters

everytime he hears your baby voice he's like "omg you sounded like that??" obviously he's been friends w you for a while so he doesn't notice voice changes

as an Easter egg, the player can actually kill one of the random townsfolk solely for being annoying with no consequences

it's modeled after you as well 💀💀💀

the npc just shouts annoying shit and doesn't shut up and is encouraged to kill the kid

tubbo kills the kid and unlocks the secret achievement

RANBOO

Detroit become human

the moment he finds out you voiced a minor character he speedruns trying to find you

the character is also modeled after you, so he's begging chat to keep an eye out for you too

you're basically just some very friendly person trying to help Connor but no matter what route he/the player takes, you wind up dead for the angst

ouuuu the heartbreak, the angst

if it's by being shot, betrayed, or committing your own death, you're gone bro

"y/n why the fuck does your character die in the worst ways possible?"

you shrug

"that genuinley hurt my feelings. I don't wanna play this anymore"

"you didn't get to Connors possible death scene yet!"

"WHAT?"

FREDDIE BADLINU

TLOU 2 (I don't support the makers zionist views, I just thought this fit. free Palestine and do your daily clicks)

was literally cheering you on the whole time when you were bts for voice acting your character

you had to take like scream classes to upgrade your screaming abilities lmao

you gave the voice to a character modeled after you, an infected teen who runs into ellie on her way through the game

she/the player is forced to put you down because you're not immune

he plays through the game and turns to you like "dude do I actually have to kill you to progress?"

you just nod

"I'm sorry, I didn't wanna do this"

THE DESPERATE SCREAMING GOT HIM

literally looked at you in horror

"...are you okay?"

you smile and nod

NIKI NIHACHU

life is strange

mf you would've been like 16?? damn get ur bag, okay

she plays through and you va (whoever you choose) and everytime she hears your voice she smiles

"omg that's my partner! that's y/n, you guys!! :D"

the cutest

literallt cries at the end of the game

"y/n, were you in life is strange two?"

"why?"

"Cause I wanna play it but I don't wanna get my hopes up about you being there"

"just play it, just play it. trust me"

ALEX QUACKITY

twdg s4

basically clem/the player gets really close to your character and ends up having to kill them after they turn into a walker

the angst, the heartbreak

he's never done a full let's play / game play like that before and especially with a full game series

when he got to s4 and heard you for the first time he literally started jumping around and screaming

now when you die... it's jumping and screaming alright (in anger and sadness)

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? I PLAYED ALL THOSE GAMES JUST FOR YOU TO DIE?"

"I mean there's an option to prevent me turning, you're just a dumbass"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN? IM RESTARTING"

FOOLISH GAMERS

dead by daylight

you va'd multiple characters/killers

and the devs wanted to show appreciation by giving you your own playable character with your natural voice

when foolish finds out, he gets tubbo, quackity, tina & niki in a call to play dbd + stream for like 6 hours

loves seeing all the death animations you'd be given and all your voicelines

"OH MY GOD! guys this is my partner, they're so instantly talented at voice acting, holy shit!"

"we get it foolish, you love y/n"

"It's more than love, quackity, it's an obsession"

"my brother in christ, calm down"

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #ranboo x reader #quackity x reader #badlinu x reader #tubbo x reader #alex quackity x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #niki nihachu x reader #nihachu x reader #foolish gamers x reader #gn reader #gender neutral reader #mcyt x gn reader #they/them reader

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buckleysbitch · 2 months

Note

Streamer!Hazel inviting her fan favorite girlfriend to play stardew valley and having to fight chat bc they keep calling her their girlfriend too

WHO TOLD YALL ABOUT MY STARDEW VALLEY ADDICTION 😭

reqs are open!!

listen to hazels spotify here ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

once you and hazel moved in together, her already chaotic streams were bombarded with curious messages about who the gorgeous girl bolting across the background was. you didn’t mind though, hazel found such confidence and joy in streaming, so you were happy to support her, even if it meant sprinting or crawling across the room to avoid making a fuss of your presence.

as you grew more and more used to hazels life being in front of the camera, you began to warm up to appearances, which to your surprise was oddly…a hit. her subscribers were obsessed with the way her girlfriend would scruff up her headset hair and the witty one liners she would shout from the kitchen when hazel would scream bloody murder at her screen.

you became a sensation, a staple of hazels streams being highlighted by the floods of comments when you would make an appearance to comment on her gaming skills while lounging in your pink chair.

she had been hyping this up all damn week. you are somewhat of a gamer yourself, just not as invested as hazel is, so she decided to revive her stardew valley farm that got her viral in the first place from screeching at the screen when she finally found the mayors ‘shorts’.

“so chat, i know i’ve been hiding who our special guest is tonight….but i think you’ll find the wait worth it!” as hazel excitedly drags your iconic pink gaming chair into frame, the chat blows up, with gay keyboard smashes galore.

HOLY SHDITNJEJWE

ITS HER

IM TOO GAY FOR THIS

you giggle from offscreen; the fact that just your chair can set them off like that is too much for you, it’s incredible and hilarious and heartwarming all at once.

“okay, okay goddamn….come on in babe.” she nods over at your chair, as you flounce over and plop in it, slipping your pink headset on.

“hi guys!”

“you wanna tell them what we’re playing?” hazel ponders.

“oh, yeah! okay guys so….drumroll my love?” you glance over at your girlfriend, who pounds on the desk. “we’re starting stardew valley tonight!”

the chat erupts.

damn, gays really do love stardew valley.

as you boot up the game, hazel scrolls through the chat, and notices a comment-

she’s our girlfriend now bestie 🤭🩷

“hey! she’s mine guys, get your own!!”

“haze, what are you talking about?”

“someone said you’re all of chats girlfriend!!”

“rightttt….okay honey.” you giggle as you click through the startup screen, creating a new save file.

“okay, so…what should our name be?”

she sniffs and gets this shit eating grin on her face, while your jaw drops realizing exactly what she’s thinking.

“you can’t say pussy hazel.”

“damn it!”

she settles on naming and modeling the character after you, but insists on taking control for the rest of the customization.

“hazel!!”

“what!!”

“you can’t say my favorite thing is ‘this strap!’”

“but it’s true!!! stop looking!!”

you sigh and turn back over to the chat, where you’re stifling back laughter over the comments.

hazel can’t handle her she’s OUR girlfriend now

OUR GIRLFRIEND FOR REAL

petition for us all to date hazels gf she needs a break 😭

“hey, what’s so funny?” she puts her hand on your back as she skims the chat. “HEY!! SHES MY GIRLFRIEND!!! MINE!!” the smile spread on her face is unlike anything you’ve ever seen from her before. she truly loves streaming, and she loves showing you off in them, but of course she’d never confess that to her subscribers.

never xoxo 💋

sorry she’s not our girlfriend

she’s our wife

“FUCK!”

this is gonna be a long night.

#hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #hazel callahan blurb #hazel callahan fanfiction #hazel callahan headcanons #hazel callahan imagine #hazel callahan x you #hazel callahan brainrot #bottoms 2023 #hazel callahan au #hazel callahan smut #hazel bottoms #streamer!hazel #streamer!hazel callahan #buckleysbitch writes #taking reqs #taking requests #reqs open #requests open

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onestepbackwards · 8 months

Text

I've been following the Unity situation and its so fucking insane like holy shit. We have everything! - Absurd fees for devs! That may or may not be retroactive and illegal, but we won't say until you cause a stink about it! (We totally aren't shh we wouldn't break the law. Totally :) ) - Getting rid of one of their levels of subscriptions during all of this, The 'Plus Plan', and allegedly putting you on the more expensive 'Pro' subscription if you auto renew! - Insider trading! Selling their stocks not even a week before they released this new change in their company! x x They've since backpedaled from what their original plan was. Originally, they told everyone that every Install, reinstall, dlc, demo, and pirated copy would now cost a fee (with few exceptions, such as charity games and bundles) It's not hard to see how this could tank an indie company with ease. Mad at a dev/company? Just mass install/uninstall. Now they are apparently saying that 'nonono! We only meant the original install :)' Which also opens the door as to how they are tracking installs. They so far have seemed to be avoiding as to how on earth they are going to do that without breaching privacy on a computer. Especially when it could just be easier to make a fee based on purchases, but no. x

So you know, don't worry guys, they have their own 'proprietary data model.' But so far (As i type this, or am aware of) have not given details about how that model works. When asked about stuff such as Xbox Gamepass, Unity mentioned it would be Microsoft paying for the fees. As of now, I have no idea if Microsoft was even told this, and I doubt they are going to agree to it either out of nowhere. x Another fun thing, is if you change your Unity plan, you are added to the revenue threshold immediately. Interesting that this is after they sneakily got rid of their Plus plan, which a lot of devs seemed to use.

And interesting enough, they seem to contradict themselves from their QnA and their official twitter post regarding Demo's and Early Access, or at least tried to be sneaky about the wording?? x x

They won't charge for demos or early access, until they do, apparently. Or if the demo has data that can be transferred to the main game, anyway. Unity also claimed this would only affect 10% of its users. Which is funny when you look at all the Indie devs and studios who are coming out on twitter saying that this actually directly hurts them. Not to mention all the people that have spent years learning this engine, for themselves, or so they can apply to companies using it. And now all of that was just spat on by Unity themselves. There's also the games that have been out and are built on this engine, and can't just be tossed and rebuilt. Such as Among us, Genshin Impact, Pokemon Go and the Diamond/Pearl remakes. Overall, it's a huge mess. Unity majorly screwed up. I'd recommend looking into what games you like, and if they run on Unity. If you don't have them yet, you may want to purchase them so they are in your steam library, or whatever console you play on. With the uncertainty of all of this, I wouldn't be surprised if some companies delist their games on steam. If you buy from them now, you'll still be able to support the devs before Unity implements this new fee plan. Plus, since you paid for them, they will still be on your console/in your steam library. Please stay safe ya'll, and support your local game devs during this storm. They need it.

#unity #unity3d #indiegame #indiedev #game development #unity engine #video games #sorry for the long post #but i felt this was important #long post #zed.talks

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eroset · 1 year

Note

hello!! hole ur doing well, can i request top!m reader w beel from OM? smth involving lingeries n feminization maybe? tyyy<3

TYYYY FOR REQUESTING THIS I GOT CARRIED AWAY CZ I LUUUUUUV BEEL + LINGERIE + FEMINIZATION IT MAKES ME CRAZY KISSES KISSES u accidentally hit one of my favvvv things so idc that its outrageously long <33333 the typo is so funny i would be doing better with a hole. anyway i am doing well here is a gift just 4 u my love hee hee i hope u like itttt🙈

cw: chest/nipple play (c. receiving), chestjob (r. receiving), oral (r. receiving), feminization, praise. ended up making reader more of a soft dom than just a top so 4give me if you did not want that <33

minors dni!

"what is this?"

on his knees in front of your closet in the aftermath of a failed stashed snack raid, beelzebub holds up a fine strip of fabric; a shimmering piece from a lingerie set that costed more than your life, probably.

"oh, that's from asmo. he said i could break it in."

beel gives you a blank look as you speak. "break it in?" and you see his hands tense toward the literal, flexing in a manner as if he intends to shred the fabric. your hand shoots out to grab his wrist, though you know your own strength won't stop him.

"as in use!" you breathe out a sigh of relief when he stops.

"why couldn't asmo use it? isn't it his?" he holds it up to inspect it properly. it's a white, lacy thing with a delicate trim that catches in the light. it's transparent and gauzy in places, with silk ribbons to hold it all together. it's pretty.

not functional, though. asmo had been given a boxed promotional set in an array of sizes, many of which were much too big for him, and much too expensive to just brazenly throw out. he'd opted instead to pawn gift them to you.

beel frowns when you explain this. runs a thumb over the fabric, thoughtful. "it doesn't look too big."

you grin. "he said the top half was way too big for him. he doesn't like women's lingerie, says it fits weird on him. it'd probably fit you, though." you stand from your crouched position beside him, ruffling his hair. "your chest is like a girl's, anyway. guess you're luckier than he is."

and something clicks.

...

it takes months from then for him to work up to this.

for someone like beelzebub, who is simple in his pleasures, who doesn't bother thinking over what he would and wouldn't theoretically like (what's the point?), who is instead content in sticking to what he knows feels good and basks in it, this is a step in a direction he doesn't know what to make of.

but he doesn't see the point thinking too much about it, because if it feels good, then what does it matter?

and it does feel good. it felt good when you said it so easily with him on his knees: your chest is like a girl's, anyway. and when you joked during levi's boring tabletop roleplaying game on your character's twist royal lineage, when asked who your princess would be, your hand flirtily on his knee under the table: beel, i guess. and after one of his work out sessions, when his shirt rode up and you zeroed in on it like a moth to a flame, smoothed a hand thoughtfully over his waist: like one of those bikini models in mammon's fashion magazines.

and it feels good now, when you have him seated on your lap on your couch like something precious, dressed up for you in white lace and silk.

beel doesn't feel self-conscious, even when he's wearing so little. the lingerie fits him well, as you'd predicted. the bralette of the dress clings to his chest, stretched tight over his pecs and fanning out in a pretty skirt that he can't help but fidget with. the suspender belt and stockings were a fight to get on, but they make his legs feel smooth, and he likes the way your eyes darken when you gaze over his skin pudging out of the tight straps crossing up his thighs.

"no," he says with a shake of his head, and he leans forward a little, into you, still towering over you. it's a wonder how you can make him feel small and cherished when he's so much bigger than you are. his thick thighs splay across your hips, and they tense when you run your hands over them.

"you look like a doll," you say with a smile, and that look is in your eye again. it makes his stomach hot. your finger hooks under one of the straps on his thigh and pull it taut. it pops back against his skin with a snap!, and he jumps. you smile at that, too. it makes his stomach hotter.

he sits still while your hands work over him, smoothing and cupping over his body. sometimes over the lingerie and sometimes under, and the touches are long and hot enough for him to end up with him starting to get hard, tense in the way he always gets when he wants friction but wants even more to behave for you. it feels weird to be stroked like this, like you really are admiring the craftmanship of a doll, or maybe just groping him like a pervert, but it's not unpleasant.

"it fits you so well." you pinch and stoke up his waist, just under the hem of the bralette, and he finally realizes your intent when he sees your eyes fix on his chest. "especially here." oh, but he's always too quick to get worked up when you play around with him like this.

"um, wait," he says, hands flying to circle your arms, but your palms are already cupping the meat of his pecs firmly, and he jerks forward without meaning to. instead of pulling them away, all he can do is cling to your forearms when you make a massaging motion. heat coils in him and he releases a heavy sigh. "i..."

you look back up at him, feigning innocence. "is something wrong?"

"no, i just- ah," he mumbles, suddenly embarrassed. his knees try to knock together but only end up squeezing your hips. "my chest..." his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.

beelzebub doesn't continue. your hands continue their motions, kneading his pecs with the firm intent of making him blush and shudder in your lap, and of course it works - his chest has always been sensitive. his arms shake when they circle your head to rest his forearms along the back of the couch, leaning into your touch.

he chokes out a sound when your thumbs finally press over his nipples, and his hips stutter into yours. you rub them in short, firm circles that make him purr, boneless against you, feeling much too hot to really lament getting hard so quickly. you've always liked to exploit this weakness of his.

your hips cant up into his hips and he whines against your neck open-mouthed as you roll them between your thumbs. "that was fast."

"uh-huh," he pants. he rolls his hips firmly and without rhythm, just seeking friction - you haven't reprimanded him for it, so he's not doing anything wrong, right? he continues rocking eagerly.

"i was right about what i said before," you coo into his ear, a distraction from your nips and squeezes at his nipples between your fingers. "your chest is like a girl's." and you press down on them again, hard, and buck your hips up just right, and he melts against you with a sweet moan.

it's a short-lived pleasure. he grumbles a confused sound when you push him back, leaning him back in your lap. his cock is hard and heavy, straining up against his white panties, but they must be enchanted to stay in place. he jerks forward without meaning to when you give his chest one final squeeze, a glint in your eyes.

"i wanna see what else i can do with them."

...

beelzebub sits dutifully between your spread thighs, ignoring the fire in his gut in favor of staring in anticipation at your cock tenting against the zipper of your jeans.

"it tastes weird," he complains as you swipe your thumb under his lower lip, wiping away any wayward pink. but his eyes remain glued to your cock, and he swallows reflexively.

"not about how it tastes. it's supposed to make you look pretty." you cap the lipstick and set it aside. (or was it lip gloss? he doesn't know the difference.)

beel squirms a little and finally tears his gaze from your bulge, hands tentatively squeezing your knees. "do i?" he asks quietly. he looks away when you meet his gaze, bashful. "do i look pretty like a..." you've called him pretty in the past, but this time...

your hand catches on his jaw and force his head back to look at you. "like a girl?" you clarify, and your grip softens with a fond smile when he slowly and bashfully nods. your thumb presses against his lips, despite being so careful in your application of color, and he opens it pliantly. "you look like a very pretty girl, beel."

"oh," he breathes, your thumb pressed firmly on his tongue while your knuckles hold under his chin, keeping his mouth open. he squeezes your knees again and clenches his own together and his eyes once more fall down when your other hand drifts to your zipper.

he should be embarrassed about the way he salivates when your cock springs free, especially since you can feel it when you hold his mouth open. you fist your cock and stroke it slowly, watching as he swallows reflexively around nothing, and his spine tingles when you chuckle lowly.

"sit still, beel." you warn, and pull him toward your cock and angle it properly for him, just enough to almost graze the hot head of it against his tongue. you say something else but just the smell of you so close to him has his brain sparking. all he can do is nod to whatever you said, sharp and jerky, eyes wide and begging.

but you still don't release him. you keep your grip on his chin, holding him in place as you slowly and firmly stroke yourself, head angled toward his tongue, so close, as if you were just going to cum over his tongue and he whines low, now confused. you knew how much he loved you in his mouth- what were you doing?

you smile as beel squirms, this time shifting to angle your hips up a little. but when you pull him forward, you pull him up- away from your cock, and the momentum pulls his chest forward, cushioning it against your stomach. you sigh at the feeling and release his mouth, which is drooling freely.

"like this," you murmur, your hands guiding his to the sides of his chest. he pushes his pecs together as you direct him to, wobbling a little on his knees before he steadies himself.

his eye snap from your cock sandwiched between his pecs to your face a little frantically once he realizes that you aren't, in fact, going to throatfuck him. "but-"

"not yet, baby," you croon, like he's so silly for wanting your cock in his mouth instead of between his tits. "said i wanted to play with your chest more, didn't i? you're doing so good."

one of your hands grips his hair at the back of his head, not enough to hurt, just to steady him. the other wiggles between where you're connected; you fiddle with the ribboned straps of his bralette, feeding your cock underneath it to hug it firmly between his pecs, and he shudders when you rub one of his nipples with a thumb for good measure before you lean back.

like this, you direct, and beel can't help but obey you when you manhandle him in in how to move. it's a much tighter fit than he thought it'd be- the meat of his chest already pops a bit between the ribbons, made all the tighter with the heat of your thick cock pulsing between them. he's clumsy at first, not sure how tight to squeeze or how fast to move, but he gains a slow and steady rhythm after a while, one that makes you coo in approval.

the sight of it is mesmerizing, your fat cockhead thrusting in and out of his pecs with a slick pop every time it reappears. it's hot and sticky from his drool, which makes for an easier glide, and soon he's getting into it too, panting a little every time he goes down.

and with you groaning above him, his own arousal is long forgotten in favor of chasing yours.

you thrust your hips up once when he strokes down and your cock hits his chin, smearing against his lips; he gasps and heat floods him at the taste, the way it always does. his tongue sticks out reflexively, swirling around the head of your cock, and when you don't scold him he moans around it, head bobbing down.

from this position he can't take much, but even just the inch he gets in his mouth is amazing. he sucks it dutifully, reverently, and massages his chest around you, coaxing your cock to spit more delicious precum against his tongue.

"fuck," you wheeze, and beelzebub gargles a moan when you thrust up higher. "your mouth's so fucking hot." your tone makes his hole clench, but before he can really get into it, the grip you have on his hair pulls his head off. he suckles at your head as you pull out, a strand of saliva connecting your pulsing head to his mouth.

he licks his lips greedily, savoring the flavor, and pants open-mouthed when you thrust between his chest. "more," he whines, tongue hanging out to catch your cockhead every time you thrust up. he squeezes his pecs together and bounces them on your cock, eager for your cum, and moans when you hiss in pleasure.

"jus' like that," you slur, rocking your hips with him. "so good, you're doing so good."

he sucks at your head greedily whenever it reaches his mouth, tonguing your slit and laving it with care, all the while pinching and rolling you in his chest. his hips buck against one of your calves clumsily, more of an afterthought to the pleasure of his mouth, and he chokes on his spit when you abruptly shove his head down, feeding your cock in deeper.

"take it," you grunt, and he sucks you into his mouth as deep as he can with his chest in the way. it's wet and sticky from drool and precum, and your balls slap noisily against the underside of his pecs every time he bounces them down. it's lewd but he doesn't care, too caught up in the wet heat of everything to focus on anything else but your voice and your cock throbbing against his chest and the way your free hand thumbs at one of his nipples. "that's it, take it, swallow it all like a good girl."

he does so obediently, moaning all the while, swallowing down the thick load you give him, hot and sticky in his mouth, like a good girl. he can feel everything, every throb of your lipstick-peppered cock between his chest as you thrust into him, every pulse of your heavy balls against the satin ropes crossing his chest as your cock spits rope after rope of sticky cum over his tongue and the back of his throat. he doesn't stop, milking you for as much cum as he can get; swirls his tongue against your head as he sucks, head bobbing, massaging his tits around you. the extra attention makes it last longer than most of your orgasms, and you grunt and roll your hips with him, prolonging it for as much as you can. his eyes roll. he's in heaven.

finally, you eventually pull beel off, this time with more effort- he suckles you all the while, greedy to keep you in, and finally separates with a final yank and a satisfying pop. “tastes so good.” he drools, still panting, rubbing his cheek against your thigh, a slow, satisfied look creeping into his dewy eyes.

he rubs his cheek against your palm happily when you settle it down on him, like a cat, not caring about the smearing of drool or lipstick or cum. the heat in him hasn't quelled, but he's more sated now with a bellyful of your hot cum. his favorite snack. your other hand fidgets with his chest and he squeaks when you tweak his nipples, pulling your cock free from under his lingerie with a lewd, sticky sound.

he almost thinks you're done until you knock your calf up, right against his cock- he moans suddenly and jerks his hips down to meet you, gripping your spit-stained jeans.

"we're not done yet, don't worry." your fist returns to his hair and pulls him up higher and higher, knee firm between his legs, until you can pepper his jaw with kisses. "don't you want me to fuck you like a good girl, too, beel?"

#dom reader #top reader #male reader #top male reader #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me beelzebub #ro writes

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saprophilous · 2 months

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just letting you know that that ask you rb'd about glaze being a scam seems to be false/dubious. I think they're just misinterpreting "not as useful as we had hoped" and interpreted it maliciously, based on the replies?

not positive but yeah!

Ah yeah, I see people fairly expressing that being “debunked” as in, not a scam; I wasn’t personally particularly aligned to whether or not its “dubious origins” are true or not… so sorry about that.

From what I’ve read, I was more focused upon the consensus that it doesn’t work, and therefore isn’t worth the effort. So having a positive takeaway on glaze outside of its “scam or not status”, as potentially saving us from ai learning doesn’t seem useful to pass around.

Correct me if there’s better information out there but this from an old Reddit post a year back is why I didn’t continue looking into it as it made sense to my layman’s brain:

“lets briefly go over the idea behind GLAZE

computer vision doesn't work the same way as in the brain. They way we do this in computer vision is that we hook a bunch of matrix multiplications together to transform the input into some kind of output (very simplified). One of the consequences of this approach is that small changes over the entire input image can lead to large changes to the output.

It's this effect that GLAZE aims to use as an attack vector / defense mechanism. More specifically, GLAZE sets some kind of budget on how much it is allowed to change the input, and within that budget it then tries to find a change such that the embeddings created by the VAE that sits in front of the diffusion model look like embeddings of an image that come from a different style.

Okay, but how do we know what to change to make it look like a different style? for that they take the original image and use the img2img capabilities of SD itself to transform that image into something of another style. then we can compare the embeddings of both versions and try and alter the original image such that it's embeddings start looking like that of the style transferred version.

So what's wrong with it?

In order for GLAZE to be successful the perturbation it finds (the funny looking swirly pattern) has to be reasonably resistant against transformations. What the authors of GLAZE have tested against is jpeg compression, and adding Gaussian noise, and they found that jpeg compression was largely ineffective and adding Gaussian noise would degrade the artwork quicker than it would degrade the transfer effect of GLAZE. But that's a very limited set of attacks you can test against. It is not scale invariant, something that people making lora's usually do. e.g. they don't train on the 4K version of the image, at most on something that's around 720x720 or something. As per authors admission it might also not be crop invariant. There also seem to be denoising approaches that sufficiently destroy the pattern (the 16 lines of code).

As you've already noticed, GLAZING something can results in rather noticeable swirly patterns. This pattern becomes especially visible when you look at works that consist of a lot of flat shading or smooth gradients. This is not just a problem for the artist/viewer, this is also a fundamental problem for glaze. How the original image is supposed to look like is rather obvious in these cases, so you can fairly aggressively denoise without much loss of quality (might even end up looking better without all the patterns).

Some additional problems that GLAZE might run into: it very specifically targets the original VAE that comes with SD. The authors claim that their approach transfers well enough between some of the different VAEs you can find out in the wild, and that at least they were unsuccessful in training a good VAE that could resist their attack. But their reporting on these findings isn't very rigorous and lacks quite a bit of detail.

will it get better with updates?

Some artists belief that this is essentially a cat and mouse game and that GLAZE will simply need updates to make it better. This is a very optimistic and uninformed opinion made by people that lack the knowledge to make such claims. Some of the shortcomings outlined above aren't due to implementation details, but are much more intimately related with the techniques/math used to achieve these results. Even if this indeed was a cat and mouse game, you'll run into the issue that the artist is always the one that has to make the first move, and the adversary can save past attempt of the artists now broken work.

GLAZE is an interesting academic paper, but it's not going to be a part of the solution artists are looking for.”

[source]

#artist asks

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