#how to make a platform fighter

[shawnthebro]

Time out! Sometimes we need to pause the game and take a break. Let’s create the Pause Menu!

[vexwerewolf]

If we talk about the aesthetics of technology in Lancer, we can divide each of the Big 4 along lines of form and function.

IPS-N: Pure Function

IPS-N cares only what a mech does. It doesn't need to look good or pretty doing it - it only needs to be able to do that thing well. It's notable that the Raleigh, arguably the most form-oriented of the IPS-N frames, is also considered to be the company's biggest commercial failure - they strayed from their core design principles and got punished for it.

Harrison Armory: Form Follows Function

Harrison Armory still leans pretty heavily towards the functionality side of things, but it isn't satisfied with doing a good job alone. Yes, the mechs have to perform well, but they also have to look good doing it. There's no practical application for the Sherman's sleeveless coat or the Tokugawa's dainty little tassels, but they don't hinder combat functionality and they make the mechs look dashing. In comparison to IPS-N's coarse, industrial, almost unfinished look, HA mechs look stern, austere and imposing. There's a smoothness to them that you just don't get on IPS-N frames.

SSC: Function Follows Form

SSC is where we start to plunge into aesthetics-forward mech design. The Death's Head isn't six-legged because it's a sniper - the Death's Head is a sniper because it's six-legged. SSC came up with a mech design and asked: "what would this do best?" A six-legged chassis provided a more stable firing platform for precision weaponry, so that was what it did. Shapes and appearances are invented, and then a use case is discovered for them.

HORUS: Pure Form

It might seem weird to classify HORUS as "pure form" when their mechs largely don't have a consistent visual identity outside of the examples in the book. However, if we look a little deeper at the definition of "form," the explanation becomes clear: in some ways, HORUS is in the business of making statements, not mechs.

For anyone who's actually played a HORUS mech in Lancer, you may have noticed how awkward they are to actually pilot. Their statlines are, on paper, often very poorly suited to the sort of work they have to do. The Gorgon is built to attract attention and draw fire but has no armor. The Manticore is meant to be a front-line fighter but is quite slow. The Minotaur is meant to be a tech platform but has a low sensor range. The Pegasus' one functional trait doesn't apply to any of the weapons in its equipment package!

This is because HORUS mechs are designed purely as a testament to a certain discipline of technology. I remember expressing irritation with a friend's NeoGeo-for-X-Box emulator once, that you couldn't reconfigure the controller mapping so that it was easier to play with the X-Box controller. He remarked that it was meant as a historical preservation tool that perfectly duplicated the functionality of the NeoGeo, and that the only reason you could even play games using it at all is because that was a function of NeoGeo arcade cabinets.

That's how HORUS mechs are - their usability as chassis is broadly a side-effect.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

I am so glad about your booktube post. Their entitled, condescending and frankly bigoted behavior is something I am frustrated but utterly powerless about.

I am particularly crept out by just how many of them use social justice language to both justify their hatred for everything and everybody out of the norm and make it harder to spot.

The most blatant and most disturbing example I saw for this is someone named crowcaller. If you don't look at the bigger picture and don't know these books it seems like she criticizes sexist, ableist and queerphobic tropes in obscure bad YA books from 2000-2010. Very necessary work, and without context her criticism seem reasonable and rooted in real life problems.

Then she did that with books I had actually read. And oh by did she not just interpret it in the most bad faith possible and completely ignored the Zeitgeist and conventions and history of the genre, she also just. Did not pick up anything but the most obvious plot beats, character motivations and messages, and then got condescending about the book being too shallow and openly cheered on the downfall of this series.

She also constantly presents herself as this fighter for minorities rights, especially disabled peoples rights, but then I caught her talking about a mental health issue she never had and has no experience with as if she 100% knew how this works and how this needs to be portrayed. I know this issue, and what she claims is only something a small part of the community feels. However, it is what aligns with neurotypicals automatic horror about this, so these opinions are the only ones that spread.

After that, everything fell into place. How she writes "I've seen it all" about tumblr, quirkily saying how good she knows this site without being one of *those* tumblr users. How she made her entire career out of mocking books targeted at girls. How she doesn't acknowledge the things that are progressive about these books at all. How she never outright says how teen girls are so silly and stupid and inferior for liking these books, and how [insert ableist slur] people who hyperfixate on uncool things like these are, but it resonates in every video she does.

I am queer and autistic too, and as I was still too naive to spot it, I was so glad that someone like me for once managed to create a platform and be heard. Turns out she could only do that, because unlike me and most other queer autistic people, she is confident to the point of not being able to see just how unqualified she is, and even more, she only says exactly what neurotypicals (and the more assimilated queer autistic people) want to hear.

And I get it, it feels good to think you are superior to those pathetic boy obsessed girls. Which probably makes this such an effective tactic.

I hate how platforms only ever push people like this. And I hate that people like this are able to shape the publics opinion when they have the least skills for that.

I hate how they get away with hiding their loathing behind feminism, or anti-ableism, or queer advocacy while mocking everybody in these groups who doesn't manage to conform.

Now, crowcaller is far from the only Booktuber who uses these tactics. But it struck me particularly much because she as an queer autistic person really should know better than behaving like this. Peak Pick-Me. And also... using your minority identities and progressive beliefs to hide your bigotry behind is just so gross.

And I hate just how little people seem to pick that up.

I'm gonna be real dude I think my nitpicks of various videos and whatever you've got going on specifically with this crowcaller person are like. maybe totally different issues.

I'd also like to point out that re: your first sentence, referring to the entirety of booktube as "entitled, condescending and frankly bigoted" as if every person posting about books on youtube is sone sort of hive mind is exactly the kind of unsubstantiated overgeneralization that I have been dogging on various booktubers for making. I am by no means trying to expose all of booktube as corrupt or innately bad, namely because that's impossible to do for hundreds if not thousands of unaffiliated creatives with wholly different styles and interests.

[brucewaynehater101]

I raise you really tall tim drake. (This mostly comes from being tired of the uwufication/twinkfication/babyfication that some fans give tim. Kinda hate that)

Tim is currently 17yo. At 18 he is tired of his so called family, Dick only cares about damian, jason always bickers around him. Bruce is bad at parenting as always... so he leaves gotham city.

At 18 he starts getting growth spurts. (Males stop around 23 or so) and Tim is half thrilled half mad because he now is stumbling. Also it hurts like hell. He goes to a doctor approved by the jl, because getting tall so suddenly and at that age can mean something bad is going on inside. Then he goes to magic users. But nothing gives bad results. So he is just getting taller and his clothes no longer fit him neither his custome. And he cannot get another inmediately because he keeps growing. So he is benched by his friends for like half a year and Tim is mad. He stops at 6'5 when he hits 21 (up to you how taller are bruce and jason) and finds himself as the tallest in his family. He has to train everything again as his body is no longer the same.

Just Tim getting tall as a treat.

(I agree about the uwu-ing of Tim Drake not being my flavor of fic. It's why I avoid a *lot* of the "Tim Drake Joins the Batfamily Early" tag. There are some very good Kid Tim Drake fics, but there's also a tendency to uwu him in that tag. I don't mind Tim being pathetic as long as he's also badass :( He can be both, y'all!!!)

Anyways!!!! Tall Tim Drake!

I do love him being a short king, but him being tall is a rare treat ^^

To add onto this AU, the batfam try to drag him back to Gotham after 3-4 years. To be nice to Tim, we'll say he's had to chance to grow more accustomed to his body and is a formidable fighter (no more of the awkward stumbling he struggled with while adjusting).

Let's say Jason is 6'3", Bruce is 6'1", and Dick is 6'0". Damian has grown in those three years. Since the age gap between Tim and Damian fluctuates, let's say Damian is 15 at 5'11". Damian was looking forward to lording his height over Tim (not in a mean way. More like teasing).

Tim goes back to Gotham for some world-ending event or whatnot, and it's the first time they Bats have seen him in years. They're expecting a slightly more mature looking 5'6" 21 years old [And also, poor fucking Tim. Nearly a foot of height in 3 years?? Ow].

What do they actually end up seeing?

Since Tim is there for hero work, they meet him in his vigilante getup.

Tim learned from Bruce that intimidation works wonders on Batman's foes. Tim learned from Dick that there are multiple ways to intimidate someone.

So, doesn't bulk up. He doesn't add fake muscles or thick armor. He studies fashion design and the subtle ways it can influence people's perception. He's naturally 6'5" and a lithe guy. He makes those intrinic qualities work *for* him rather than against him.

He wears 4 inch platform boots and tricks the eyes (with his fashion design) to make him look even slender.

Suffice to say, Tim shows up to meet with the bats and appears as a tall fucking cryptid.

Tim rolling up to the Bats all like:

[leyavo]

Nikolai’s Weapons!Assistant x Gaz

“Devushka, the girl with no name,” Nikolai introduces you like that to everyone, because you refuse to give anyone your name, even him.

You were a freedom fighter when Nik first met you. A girl with a mask, but he liked your attention to detail and knowledge on the weapons you collected/stole from bad people.

It’s not till he runs into you a third time does he offer you a job. That and you’re trying to steal from one of his clients. Yelling about freedom and how Nik’s stifling a whole city by giving weapons away.

“You know freedom? Never constant Devushka,” he says, shaking his head and hooking his finger under your chin. “Ahhh, you’re stubborn. Perhaps not learnt your lesson?” Only something you’ll learn the longer you live in this world.

“And what you’re going to teach me?” You snarl, tearing away from his hold.

Nik scoffs, “no.” He circles you where you stand, leaning down to whisper in your ear. “Better, you could fly with me Devushka.”

The mask is gone, freedom coming and going in exchange of flying. Stealing weapons and collecting some of your own - a particular set of throwing daggers. Nik can find you in the evenings throwing knives at the platform of the hangar.

You’re the one unloading the weapons and picking them apart, scraping the identification number off so they can be resold. Your fingernails never clean enough, no matter how much you scrub them. Oil and rust beneath them that you bite them down short, but the dirt still stains the top of your nails and cuticles.

Nikolai gifting you a dainty gold necklace with his initial pendant (got a tracker in it which you don’t realise).

Making bullets and testing them in the wilds behind the hangar, it’s out in the middle of nowhere so no one can hear the rounds of bullets firing. You’re not allowed to touch the grenade launchers though after the last accident.

The mask is still tucked beneath your mattress, worn only when you step on to the helicopter or a plane. And of course you love your missions with a certain sergeant or Gaz which he prefers to be called.

Gaz the only smooth one that got you to tell him your name. You did threaten to slit his throat if he told anyone. “Don’t threaten me with a good time now.” You wanted to both strangle and kiss him. He whispers your name in your ear as he fucks you, promising that everything’s just between the two of you. You two against the world.

Maybe flying is freedom.

Kyle finds your oily fingerprints on his gear as he sits on the helicopter ride back to base. A few swipes of the grime on his jawline or just beneath his collar. The scent of gunpowder and grit under his nails reminding him of you. Sometimes he procrastinates, the shower running for an hour before he steps under the harsh spray of water, not wanting to erase your touch. A pile of his dirty clothes in one corner still holding your mark.

His tattered cap hangs from your bedpost, a piece of him so you know he’ll return. You wear it whenever you’re testing the weapons under the scorching sun, finger tracing the flag on the front. Hoping he’s thinking of you as much as you think of him.

[Masterlist]

[ikeuocean]

crush/boyfriend headcanons ꕥ kwon jae-sung

synopsis : kwon makes a lovely boyfriend despite his cold demeanor towards everyone.

genre : fluff, mild angst

warning(s) : creepy men implied

𝜗𝜚 kwon jae-sung who absolutely hates sweets. he prefers spicy foods all the way but he can’t help but devour the homemade chocolates you gift him every year for valentine’s day.

𝜗𝜚 kwon jae-sung who sucks at baking. white day falls a month after valentine’s day so he decides that the only gift suitable for such occasion was homemade pastries. only one problem though, kwon can’t follow recipes to save his life. so after a few attempts he calls you for help, turning it into a fun baking date.

𝜗𝜚 kwon jae-sung who insists on walking you home every night after practice. he knows your a good fighter better than most of the guys on the team but it helps ease his mind that he’s there to protect you from the evil of the world. he needs to know that your safe because he can’t imagine what he would do if you ever got hurt.

𝜗𝜚 kwon jae-sung who says words of endearment in korean. although kwon is a confident guy he can’t help but feel shy when it comes to telling you how he truly feels.

𝜗𝜚 kwon jae-sung who can’t communicate. at the beginning of the relationship kwon hated being vulnerable, especially with you. he can’t seem to tell you about the things that bother him. which leads him to ignoring you. after a much needed confrontation conversation on your part, he decides to open up about his worries.

𝜗𝜚 kwon jae-sung who struggles with affection. as much as he loves you, it still feels very foreign to him to receive verbal affection. sure he’s had his fair share of admirers but with you it’s different. he’s still not used to the compliments that dig into the very core of his being.

𝜗𝜚 kwon jae-sung who thinks social media is stupid. he claims he doesn’t care for it because he’s such a busy guy. like who needs social media anyways? he does. his feed is filled with pictures of the two of you, making it abundantly clear to everyone that he has the most amazing girlfriend ever.

𝜗𝜚 kwon jae-sung who loves to match. at first he thought it was embarrassing. why would a tough guy like him want to have a matching pink sanrio keychains with his girlfriend? but it started to grow on him after seeing how cute you looked while asking him. who is he to deny his lovely girlfriend?

© icbgwy all rights reserved. do not repost, modify, steal, plagiarize, or translate my works on any platforms

[brookediamonds]

I can’t thinking about this but please a Axel Kovacevié x shy!reader? Shy!reader is a member of iron dragons. Axel and shy!reader are dating and she’s best friends with Tory and she’s the older sister of Miguel Diaz but their mother gave her up for adoption as a newborn baby to give shy!reader her best chance but unknowingly for everyone, Sensei Wolf adopted and raise shy!reader as his own little princess until years later the miyagi-do, including Daniel, Johnny and Miguel finally found his older sister at Barcelona, Sensei wolf lets her keep her last name Diaz. At the last tournament, shy!reader won the sakai takai and sensei wolf has always been proud her since he adopted her as a newborn baby. The miyagi-do/Cobra Kai especially Miguel and his family can’t help but feel happy for shy!reader. Unknowingly for Sensei wolf, if he retires as a sensei, shy!reader will make iron dragons a better dojo, less harsh you know. Bonus: Miguel and his family wants to meet and get to know shy!reader but it’s pretty obvious shy!reader isn’t really interested meeting and getting to know them.

you found me | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: Things take a turn at your tournament when you run into someone new, someone you surely hadn't anticipated ever meeting. The current men in your life can't help but be protective when this situation arises.

Word Count: 2.4k Warnings: None, fluff, some angst, shy!reader

gif is not mine

Miguel is the first to notice you when you're fighting on the platform alongside your boys' captain Axel Kovačević.

The Iron Dragons took their place on the platform, standing tall, composed. Among them, you stood beside Axel, body relaxed but eyes sharp, waiting for the fight to begin.

From the Miyagi-Do section, Miguel stood alongside with his team and sensei Lawrence waiting for the next match to take place.

Johnny clapped a hand on his shoulder, nodding toward the platform. "Check it out, next team up."

Miguel turned, expecting just another fight. until his eyes landed on you.

He straightened unconsciously, brows knitting together as he watched you step forward with Axel.

There was something about your stance, the way you carried yourself. The way your hands flexed just before the fight started, your weight balanced perfectly on the balls of your feet.

The ref signaled the match to begin.

It was instant. You and Axel launched into action, a perfect balance of aggression and control.

Every move was sharp, every counter calculated. When one opponent lunged at you, you dodged at the last second, twisting effortlessly to sweep their legs.

Another fighter came at Axel, but you were already there, striking hard before they could land a blow on him.

It was seamless. Precise. Efficient.

Miguel leaned forward, eyes narrowing. Why did it look so familiar? Why did you look so familiar?

"Something wrong, kid?" Johnny’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Miguel didn’t answer right away. He was too busy watching you land a brutal spinning kick, sending your opponent crashing to the mat. below the deck.

The match was over. The Iron Dragons had won.

He swallowed hard.

"I don’t know," he murmured. "Their captain, she fights like—"

He hesitated. The thought felt ridiculous. But the way you moved, the way your strikes were fast and powerful yet controlled…

It reminded him of himself.

Johnny raised a brow, following Miguel’s gaze toward you as the Iron Dragons exited the platform. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

Miguel didn’t respond. Because deep down, something told him that this wasn’t just a coincidence.

But then they announce your names.

"Another win for Axel Kovačević and Y/n Diaz from the Iron Dragons!"

Miguel froze.

Diaz.

Johnny’s head snapped toward the platform. Miguel felt his pulse in his throat, his mind racing.

The name, your face, the way you fought, it all crashed into him at once. Everything clicked.

Johnny exhaled sharply, realization washing over him, too. He remembers Carmen revealing how she had given up her first born for adoption because she was scared for her life and afraid she wouldn't be able to provide.

"Holy shit…" Johnny breathes out.

Miguel couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know how, but he knew.

You weren’t just another fighter.

You were his sister.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

The adrenaline from your match had finally started to fade, leaving you with nothing but the steady hum of exhaustion and the distant echoes of the crowd.

The arena was still alive with energy, but you preferred the quiet, something about the solitude of heading toward the locker room alone was grounding.

You kept your head down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you weaved through the competitors.

The Iron Dragons were still reviewing strategies with Sensei Wolf, and you figured you had a few minutes to breathe before heading back.

But as you neared the hallway leading to the locker rooms, a voice called out behind you.

"Hey! Wait!"

You stopped instinctively, turning slightly to see a boy with dark curly hair, jogging up to you.

He looked… familiar. You weren’t sure why, but something about his face made your stomach twist in a way you couldn’t place.

"Uh, hi," he said, slightly out of breath, as if he had debated approaching you until the last second.

His brown eyes were warm, searching, but you didn’t understand why he was looking at you like that.

You hesitated, shifting uncomfortably.

"Hi…" you said quietly, your voice barely above a murmur. He rubbed the back of his neck.

"I, um, my name’s Miguel," he paused, eyes flickering over your face, like he was waiting for a reaction. When you didn’t give one, he added, "Miguel Diaz."

Your stomach dropped.

Diaz.

Your breath hitched as the realization crept in, slowly, like a puzzle coming together piece by piece. The name.

The way he looked at you. The way his face, his nose, his cheekbones, looked just a little too much like your own.

It clicked. Your dad had explained your backstory to you a few years back when the kids at school started pointing your differences from your father's appearance.

Being adopted was no secret to you, but it didn't mean you wanted to be reminded of it.

"Oh." The word barely left your lips, barely made a sound. You blinked, unsure of what to say, unsure if you should say anything at all.

Miguel gave a small, nervous laugh, like he wasn’t sure what reaction he was expecting.

"Yeah. I, uh— I think we’re…" He trailed off, shifting awkwardly. "I think we’re siblings."

You swallowed hard, gripping the water bottle in your hands. Your heart was racing, but your voice stayed small. "…Okay."

Miguel seemed caught off guard by your lack of response, his expression flickering between cautious hope and uncertainty. "I—look, I know this is probably a lot, but I just—"

"Is there a problem?"

A new voice cut through the air, sharper, more certain. It was your boyfriend, Axel.

Your shoulders relaxed slightly as you turned, watching as he strode toward you, his eyes locked onto Miguel like he was already assessing him as a threat.

Miguel blinked, taking a step back instinctively.

"Uh, no. No problem," he said quickly, glancing between you and Axel, realization dawning on his face. He wasn’t just your teammate.

He was protective.

Axel barely spared Miguel a glance before his gaze dropped to you.

"Sensei is looking for you," he said simply, his tone softer than before, just for you.

You nodded wordlessly, already shifting your weight like you were ready to leave.

Miguel saw the way Axel stood close, the way you gravitated toward him without hesitation. And he got the hint. He exhaled, taking a step back.

"I, um, I won’t keep you." He hesitated, eyes meeting yours again, searching for something. But you didn’t have anything to give.

So he just nodded. "It was nice meeting you."

You lowered your gaze slightly, your voice quiet. "…You too."

And with that, you turned, walking toward the locker room with Axel beside you. Miguel stayed behind, watching as you disappeared down the hallway, a weight settling in his chest.

He had finally met his sister.

And you had barely said a word.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

The rhythmic sound of fists hitting the heavy bag echoed through the dimly lit hotel gym, filling the otherwise empty space with steady thuds.

You focused on the motion, jab, cross, hook, your knuckles stinging faintly through the wraps.

Normally, the routine was grounding. The repetition, the control. But tonight, your mind was somewhere else.

And your dad noticed.

Sensei Wolf stood a few feet away, arms crossed as he observed. He was always quiet when he watched, letting you work through whatever was on your mind before stepping in.

But after a few more sluggish punches, he finally spoke.

"You’re distracted."

You froze mid-movement, blinking as you dropped your hands slightly. His voice wasn’t scolding, just… knowing. Like he had already figured you out before you had even said a word.

You exhaled, lowering your fists completely. "…Sorry."

He shook his head. "You don’t have to apologize." A pause. Then, softer, "Sit."

You hesitated before obeying, sinking onto one of the benches lining the wall. Your dad joined you, his presence steady beside you, a silent reassurance.

For a moment, you just sat there, staring down at the wraps around your fingers. You weren’t sure how to bring it up. But you didn’t have to.

"What’s on your mind, Xiǎolóng (little dragon)?" His voice was gentle, his usual sharp edge softened just for you.

You swallowed, fidgeting slightly. "I, um, ran into someone today."

His head tilted slightly, waiting.

You inhaled deeply, gripping the fabric of your tank top. "Miguel Diaz." You glanced at him briefly before lowering your gaze again.

"My—my brother. I mean—" You exhaled, correcting yourself. "My biological brother."

Something unreadable flickered in your father’s eyes, but he stayed quiet, letting you speak.

"He introduced himself to me. And he was… nice." You shrug. "Really nice."

Your father nodded once, still watching you carefully. "And how do you feel about that?"

You exhaled sharply.

"I don’t know." Your voice was barely above a whisper. "I just… I don’t know if I want to know him. Or them."

Your dad stayed silent for a moment, as if weighing his words before he spoke. Then, he shifted slightly, turning toward you fully.

"You don’t owe anyone anything," he said, voice firm but kind. "Not your past, not your blood."

His gaze softened. "You are my daughter. Not by chance, not by obligation—but because I chose you."

Your breath caught slightly. His hand rested on your shoulder, grounding.

"Whatever you decide, it is your choice. And I will stand by you." His lips quirked into something almost like a smile. "I would burn the world to the ground before I let anyone make you feel otherwise."

The lump in your throat grew. You ducked your head slightly, blinking rapidly, hands curling in your lap.

"I know," you whispered. And you did. You always had. Your father had always put your first in his life.

It had always just been the two of you growing up, and that was always enough.

Silence settled between you for a moment, warm and familiar. Then, your father exhaled, patting your shoulder lightly before standing.

"Enough of this," he said, his usual edge returning. "If you’re going to be distracted, at least make it productive. Five more rounds."

You blinked up at him before a small smile tugged at your lips. "Yes, Sensei."

"That’s my girl," he the corner of his lips twitches up.

And just like that, the weight on your chest felt a little lighter.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

The roar of the crowd was deafening.

You stood at the center of the red mat, chest rising and falling heavily as the weight of the moment settled over you. Sweat clung to your skin, adrenaline still pumping through your veins, but none of it mattered.

Because you had done it. You won.

Axel stood beside you, carrying the same large trophy that you held. But when Mr. Braun’s voice echoed through the speakers, the finality of it hit.

"And the winners of the Sekai Taikai—Axel Kovačević and Y/N Diaz of The Iron Dragons!"

The entire arena erupted in cheers.

Your teammates swarmed you and Axel, fists pumping in the air as they cheered.

Sensei Wolf stood among them, his expression unreadable for only a moment before the corners of his lips twitched into something subtle, something proud.

Axel let out a breath before turning to you, his eyes shining with something deeper than just victory. His hand found yours, squeezing once before he lifted both your arms into the air, embracing the win in full.

Four-time world champions.

Your heart pounded as golden confetti rained down, the announcers still speaking, but their words drowned under the rush of it all.

Then, before you could even process it, a familiar presence stepped in front of you. Your dad.

You barely had time to react before his hands came to rest firmly on your shoulders, pulling you back to reality.

His dark eyes held yours, and for once, they weren’t as sharp, weren’t assessing. Instead, they were filled with something softer. Something rare.

"You’ve come far, my Xiǎolóng," he murmured, voice steady but thick with emotion. "From the moment I first held you, I knew you were meant for greatness."

He exhaled, fingers tightening ever so slightly. "And today, you proved it to the world."

Your throat tightened, your usual shyness keeping you from finding the words. But he didn’t need them. He never did.

Instead, you simply nodded, blinking the tears away as your hands curled into his sleeves, gripping the familiar fabric.

His lips quirked slightly before he pulled you into a rare embrace, his grip strong, unwavering.

"I am proud to be your father."

You squeezed your eyes shut for a second, the warmth of his words settling deep into your chest. You didn't need anything else. This was your family. This was enough.

From a few feet away, Miguel watched.

He had seen it all, the way your Sensei, your father, looked at you, spoke to you. He saw the way you had found a home, a life, something you didn’t seem to want to replace.

And as much as the ache settled in his chest, he couldn’t be upset. Because you were happy and you had won.

And even if you didn’t want to know him, even if you never spoke to him again, he was still your brother. He was still proud of you.

A soft smile found his lips as he clapped along with the crowd, quietly celebrating you in the only way he could.

You watched as the confetti blew through the air, a soft smile tugging at your lips a you embrace your moment with your dojo.

Then, a familiar presence stepped beside you. Your boyfriend.

"You did it," Axel murmured, his voice softer than usual.

You glanced up at him, finding his dark blue eyes already on you.

"We did it," you corrected quietly.

His lips twitched, but then his expression shifted into something more sincere.

Without warning, he reached out, brushing a stray piece of confetti from your hair before tucking it behind your ear.

You stilled, warmth creeping up your neck.

Then, in a rare moment of open affection, he leaned down, just enough so only you could hear him.

"I knew you would."

He tilts your chin up to look at him, before softly brushing his lips against yours. Your chest tightened, heartbeat stuttering in a way that had nothing to do with adrenaline anymore.

As he pulled back, you ached to say something back, but the words tangled in your throat. Instead, you did what felt right.

You reached out, fingers curling around his wrist before pulling him into a hug.

Axel stiffened slightly, always caught off guard by affection, but then, slowly, he melted into it, his arms wrapping securely around you.

For the first time this past week, the noise, the crowd, the weight of everything faded.

And it was just the two of you.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

part two

Masterlist

Taglist: @ggrgcribg

(a/n: i wasn't too sure how the reader and Tory were supposed to be besties so i apologize on not being able to incorporate that part but this was actually kind of sweet, can sensei wolf be this soft all the time? i loved shy reader too, changes things up. glad i was able to get this out, i'll be out of town till Sunday so i won't have my laptop, i don't think i'll do much writing till i get back. anyway, like, comment, reblog love y'all, hope you're enjoying your spring break! ❤️)

[osakanone]

Crew attire cosplay?

Lately I've been thinking a lot about "what would separate mecha crew equipment from that of a tank crew, or a fighter crew": A lot of military surplus stuff is already really close to what we're going for, and I realized "Motorcycle boots look a lot more like mech pilot stuff than military boots do", which got me thinking what other odd equivalences exist.

The one which really surprised me was how famous mecha live action SF Gunhed used a wetsuit as a stand-in for "generic scifi bodysuit", and that it worked weirdly well, actually?

"Why not latex?"

Latex rips too easily in contact with straps and hard elements, overheats far, far too easily despite having the looks. Thin neoprene works. really well.

So I kept exploring.

One thing I did seriously debate is other than rappelling equipment, would a pilot need something like a rigid knee-brace for hard landings to protect the ACL when they disembark from the robot which is common with high impact parachute equipment.

Some varieties also include counter-weighted springs which make it harder for you to close your knee, but make lifting heavy things on your back and climb much much easier during the ascent phase.

That led me towards Deck Crew helmets, which meet the hood requirement, and of all things, chin wraps which are really unobstructive and you can eat and drink while wearing one pretty comfortably (I say this as someone currently stuck wearing one)

So what we're looking at here is the HGU-24 and HGU-25, often worn by deck crews because it gets along just fine with the famous MCU-2/P AKA "Millenium" mask famous with drone communities as they're designed to be worn together.

Its literally the exact same mask with a minor paint adjustment.

"What's the difference between a drone and a pilot?" "One wears AXENT and latex, the other wears HGU-25 and neoprene." "Anything else?" "Drones have less sex and do as they're told"

Its got the bash-plates you want for an ejector-seat, but it also has the padded foam you want for an impact element, and if it latches properly and the jaw mechanism is well made enough, you could probably include a hans mechanism attached to the jacket which locks into a socket in the pilot's seat to stop a pilot from breaking their neck in a collision.

What do you guys think?

Any suggestions? What I'm really curious about is what you think pilots would remove, customize or alter for practical or decorative purposes.

This is basically the result of roughly a year of casual research into pilot attire, outfits and looks.

The helm and the hood seem to be where the most manual cosplay stitching and 3D printing work is likely going to be required, with the wrap and helmhood.

Addendum:

I've not gone into waste management systems (UCL/FCL human-factors engineering stuff with internal and external recovery systems), since I'm looking at this mainly as an attainable costume or ensemble.

Edit:

I am learning some of you use aquatic mecha and find this unsatisfactory.

And you won't shut up about how the coolant mass flow rate lets you do really wild shit with your weapons my "land-loving" platform even can't dream of

While I am jealous by your sheer tonnage and the output of your reactors, I've got you covered.

Behold: Immersion suits.

They also make surprisingly good sleeping bags, even if you're on water.

They're literally designed to keep you alive if you're forced to abandon an oil platform, and are known to include a radio and even rations and a water filter.

[cowboyschumi]

DIRTY DIANA

Summary: Sebastian is famously known for naming his cars after women’s names. The meaning behind this year’s choice, D.D, still intrigues people.

Author's Note: First Seb fic of many coming (he's my man). The idea in my mind was way cooler than what turned out. English is not my first language sorry for any typos etc. Enjoy the reading, interactions, and suggestions are much appreciated. <33

Warnings: Suggestive, Female reader named Diana, cheating.

————————————————————————

COWBOYSCHUMI | 2025 All rights reserved. Do not copy, translate, or upload on other platforms.

————————————————————————

The morning after could be the best or the worst, depending on who you ended up in bed with. Sebastian had been trapped with the same partner for a long time—and no, not exactly his girlfriend. Guilt was ever-present, but pleasure was the dominant feeling. He hated himself to his guts for this, yet his loneliness was the only excuse he could cling to.

But that wasn’t the real reason.

This woman rocked his world in the most unspeakable ways, making him do things he never thought himself capable of—at the top of that list: cheating.

Both of them were detached from each other, perhaps. Just a flesh-and-blood thing, no love involved. Maybe that was what upset him the most. The coldness of it all, knowing he wasn’t the only one who slept with her. A sharp sword to his ego.

Sebastian didn’t know yet what kept him coming back to her. His suspicion was the lust they carried and how they behaved like a couple in bed, making love with such passion. Maybe it reminded him of the person he truly loved—the one who was far away, the one he was cheating on.

The sun was already hitting through the hotel's curtains, making it impossible not to wake up from the bright lighting. They had slept hugging each other, legs intertwined, very romantic. He didn’t like waking her up, so he took his time admiring her features first, noticing how delicate she looked while sleeping peacefully. His fingertips danced up and down her sides, watching how glowy her bare skin seemed under the sunlight.

Slow and careful, he left the bed with the intention of getting ready for his long practice day.

"No morning kiss?" A sleepy female voice suddenly interrupted. Her tone was usually honeyed, the sweetest to the ear. But in the morning, it always turned huskier, irresistible.

Her waking up took him by surprise. He poked his head out of his gray Red Bull shirt with a smile, golden curls still messy.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

What she demanded, he gave her. Sebastian was pathetically under her spell, easy to manipulate like clay. With Diana, there was no such thing as a brief kiss or a soft peck, everything had to be overwhelming and intense. Her hands pulled him back, almost dragging him into bed with the way she took his lips so fiercely. Sebastian felt so alive and wanted by her side, like a teenage boy experiencing things for the first time.

Then, just as suddenly, she let go of him, as if she’d had enough and grown tired of him. He stared down at her, confused by her sudden shift in mood.

"She texted at midnight, sounded a bit worried," Diana said out of nowhere, as if his girlfriend was no big deal. "You left your keys at home, she said." With a casual motion, she grabbed his phone from the nightstand and tossed it to him gently.

There it was, remorse hitting again.

"You didn’t reply, right?" Now Sebastian was the one sounding worried.

Diana laughed. She knew her place as the side piece and had no intention of interfering in his romantic life. Her profile always remained low, no matter what. On the contrary, she wanted nothing but the best for him. To her, other women weren’t competition, they were equals. Fighting over a man had never been an option.

"I might be a nasty dog, but not in that way." She admitted with a sly smile, biting her lip as she stared at him while getting changed. She wasn't an active fighter because she knew she could seduce and have any man with just a snap of her fingers, including Vettel.

And it was no news she had her way with multiple drivers. Diana was like a myth—everyone knew her, but no one dared to speak her name out loud. She possessed an unexplained power. Surprisingly, she wasn't a wag wannabe; she just liked hanging around, enjoying the attention, and having a good time—leaving them wanting more. Still, even though she was everywhere, she was never seen in the paddock or at the GPs. Her name was a popular topic, but her face was unknown.

She didn’t show a hint of wanting to get out of bed, being a morning person was never part of her routine. Her figure was the living image of Venus, impossible to ignore. He couldn’t help but stare, frozen in place while clipping his belt. Mesmerized wasn’t enough to describe how he felt or how fast his heart pounded just from looking at her. They spoke through their gazes, filled with longing and need. Their imaginations raced, already picturing themselves back in bed together. They had a hold on each other, a silent pull, not wanting to let go.

Diana made things hard for Sebastian, too many mixed signals and emotions that he either couldn't read or was too slow to catch. Sometimes, women were a mysterious territory for him. Why did they say yes when they really meant no? Were all these indirects really necessary? He chose to remain clueless for his own health and safety.

————————————————————————

Today was practice day, which meant not much racing and a lot of press—an awful day, according to him. Sometimes, Seb wished Di would beg him more instead of the other way around. Simple things, like asking him to stay five more minutes in bed or having breakfast together. He would ditch any PR event or interview just to spend even more time with her. She was a nasty dog, and he was a simple hound dog; at some point, they matched perfectly.

For his luck, first dates didn't involve many cameras: it was always Lewis, Jenson, Michael, and Fernando. Malaysia had a sweet turnout, including now Mark, Nico, and him. Today, he wanted to remain quiet and silent, containing any jokes and banter. He had already been warned about not pushing Webber's buttons too much. Oh, how he enjoyed seeing the old man about to explode, it was just so fun to watch.

"No tricks under that sleeve today, kid?" Mark's eyebrows were furrowed. Even he found it surprising, this chill attitude, almost like he sensed something was wrong. He scanned him while drinking from his water, realizing that seeing Sebastian in this indefinite state might actually be an advantage for him.

"Just thinking. Don’t relax too much. Pull those pants all the way up because I’ll have my way with you on track." There was typical Vettel again. Webber just laughed it off, they always pushed each other's limits, testing boundaries and seeing who would break first.

"Am I interrupting something?" Nico joined joyfully, always seeming to have a good day, brightest smile and thumbs-up.

The afternoon progressed as expected—race talk, regulations, and the usual stupid questions about nonexistent rivalries. Until, of course, the typical non-sports-related question came up, meant to stir things up a bit.

"This question is for Sebastian." A female interviewer stood up, her voice shaky, as if she doubted herself or what she was about to say. "Kate was the last name you gave your car. What's this year's name?"

"I don't know. You want me to name it after you?"

The laughter was unanimous. The interviewer turned red as a tomato. Flustering female reporters was such a Vettel thing to do, she should've seen it coming. Being flirted by him was almost an honor.

"I mean, the season is just starting, haven't thought about a name yet." It was the truth. But what was also true was that he had been unfocused the entire press conference, thinking about Diana, barely paying attention to his surroundings. His mind was somewhere else—racing through her curves, tasting her lips, gripping her bare skin as they held each other. There was no doubt about this year's car name. "Maybe... Dirty Diana?"

The comical demeanor lingered in the room, but not all the drivers laughed. That could only mean one thing—more than one of them had already been with her. The thought made Sebastian shiver, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

————————————————————————

The day ended in the most exhausting way, not just because of the long routine, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

Seb wasn’t the type to party during race weekends; he preferred celebrations in a more relaxed setting, away from cars and pressure. That’s why he headed straight back to his hotel room, dragging his feet, head down, the embodiment of exhaustion.

"Schieße," he cursed under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, nearly having a heart attack. His hand clutched his chest as he tried to steady himself.

"Is that a bad or a good thing?" Diana asked, confused, peeking out from behind the bouquet of flowers she held in her hands. "Yellow, they're the closest color to gold... You know, golden boy." She emphasized the last words with a teasing smile.

"You really didn't have to." He didn't reach for the flowers; his hands needed something to do, or it would be too obvious how shaky they were. No one had ever given him flowers before. Was it silly to feel a little excited about it?

Sebastian expected to head straight home after the race, back to what really mattered, his girlfriend. His clothes weren’t thrown everywhere, thankfully, so packing up wasn’t a difficult task.

As he turned to face the bed, there she was—already lying down with the biggest smile, flowers still in hand.

"Don't even bother staying. I'm sleeping early," He said, politely shutting down any second intentions she might have.

"At least let me order some food to the room. I'll pay." Diana insisted, but he avoided looking into her eyes—if he did, he knew he’d fall for it. Instead, he extended his hand, helping her to get out of his bed.

"You're no fun, Vettel." In the blink of an eye, her arms were around his neck, pulling him close. She really had a spell on him because his hands didn’t hesitate to hold her waist firmly.

"You know why I don't want you to spend the night here, Di." His voice carried a hint of shame, it felt so wrong but yet so right.

"You really think I knock on your door just for that?" Her tone was teasingly sly as she slipped from his grip, gracefully making her way to the room's phone.

Diana wasted her time with Sebastian—spent so much of it, in fact, that she could hardly be considered a vixen. Mornings were spent reading in bed while he trained, afternoons were quiet, sometimes even filled with watching free practices if she was in the mood, and nights? They talked about their day, if they weren’t too busy devouring each other.

The truth was, he had it all wrong. Diana genuinely enjoyed his company, maybe even liked him, just a little. She was starstruck. But Sebastian was too blinded by her reputation to see it.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." The Red Bull driver murmured against her perfumed nape, his lips brushing against her skin as he planted subtle kisses along the side of her neck. Meanwhile, she remained focused on the phone, ordering their food.

————————————————————————

Amazingly, the food was incredibly good—especially considering it came from a hotel kitchen. They barely spoke, too busy stuffing their mouths with pasta.

"So..." Seb’s lips were stained with sauce, a complete mess. The young lady shook her head with a smile and quickly wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin. Her gaze softened. He was a kid trapped in an adult’s body, and she loved it.

"When did you realize you were attracted to… all this?" He gestured around himself in a slow, exaggerated circle, as if his body were some kind model-like sculpted masterpiece. His self-confidence was ridiculous. She couldn’t help but chuckle.

"You're certainly hot, I won’t lie to you." Diana began, determined to make her point. "Remember that driver's meeting last year? When you started rambling about how bad the chassis was? So passionate and full of knowledge, but at the same time completely unserious." She smirked, leaning in slightly. "That’s when I realized, you’re just a big kid who happens to drive incredibly fast."

"Is that so?" His classic cocky smile was crystal clear, ego boosted and skyrocketing.

"I won't compliment you or open up ever again," she huffed, but before she could say another word, his lips crashed onto hers. They needed each other like air. That torturous tension lingering between them could only be relieved through contact.

The only sound filling the four walls was their shallow breathing, broken only by muffled whimpers. They satisfied each other's desires like two perfectly fitted puzzle pieces, connecting seamlessly. Diana craved his hands roaming her body with devotion, while Sebastian longed for her lips to explore him like something sacred.

Her hands gripped his clothed hips, pulling him closer, while her legs locked around his waist, keeping him exactly where she wanted. The heat between them demanded more than just friction, but everything had its pace. His mouth was occupied with her neck, tasting every inch, getting drunk on her scent, and leaving marks, claiming her as his own. Deep down, they really didn't belong to each other, but right then, they forgot that.

His mouth trailed slowly down to her clavicles, while one of his hands instinctively enveloped her breast, kneading relentlessly. The sensation made her back arch off the mattress involuntarily. She hated when he played dirty, so she grabbed a fistful of his blonde strands, tugging just hard enough to force his sight upward. "I thought we weren’t doing this today," she murmured, her voice laced with slightly irritation, though her lustful eyes told another story.

"Bad news for you, I guess." His blue doe eyes looked up at her playfully, a teasing grin at his lips. He had no intention of stopping—not until they were completely done with each other, pleading for mercy. "I think I'll stay a few more days here, I need my lucky charm by my side."

[band--psycho]

Sevika x Fem!Reader - Before Things Changed

So this is based off a request from @arevik2345 who requested an enemies - lovers trop with Sevika; but I decided to change it slightly to the lovers -enemies - lovers trope! (So don't worry there will be at least 4 parts to this series)

This is my first Sevika story so please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Requests are still open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over (thank you to everyone who's requested a story so far, I'm working my way through them!)

I hope you all enjoy this! Thank you all for the continued support!💛

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Sevika Masterlist / Arcane Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Warnings: Overthinking!reader, mentions of loss, smut, fingering, overstimulation, dominating!Sevika, edging (18+)

You knew Sevika was angry, you could feel it radiating off of her even when the two of you arrived  home. 

You didn’t agree with what she said to Vander, about him being weak; but you understood why she’d said it.

Having the Enforcers down in the Lanes was making everyone uncomfortable. 

The disrespect the Enforcers showed everyone down here was horrible, but it wasn’t Vanders fault, the Enforcers were just arrogant shitheads. 

You also knew that Vander meant what he said, when he said that he would protect anyone in the Lanes; he wasn’t just protecting the kids because they were his kids, he was protecting them because they were from the Lanes.

Though you did have to admit that you could see how people were coming to this conclusion. 

“Don’t you think you were a bit harsh to Vander?” You asked Sevika softly from the sofa, watching as she grabbed a bottle of alcohol from the cupboard. 

“No,” Sevika answered bluntly, taking a large swig of the drink before sitting down next to you. 

A soft sigh left your lips as you shuffled slightly in the seat so that you were closer to her. 

“He’s just trying to do what he thinks is right,” you countered back, grabbing the bottle from Sevikas hands and taking a few sips of it before handing it back to her. 

“He’s wrong,” she stated bluntly, taking the bottle back from you

“He’s just trying to protect us." 

Sevika let out a small scoff at your words; as she turned to look at you, “You agree with him?” 

You did. 

Vander was your friend. 

You trusted him

Besides, you weren’t a fighter; not like Sevika..

You didn’t like the Enforcers, that was a fact. 

But you knew what another uprising meant. 

It meant that there was a risk of losing people you cared about…

It meant that you could lose Sevika. 

And you didn’t want that. 

So no, you didn’t want the uprising to happen. 

Did that make you a coward? 

Probably. 

But you didn’t care. 

You’d already seen enough death, suffered enough loss, that the thought of losing her, made your heart feel heavy.

“You know what happened last time…” you began, reaching out and tentatively stroking her arm, your eyes meeting hers, “I just don’t want to lose you.”

You watched  as a small grin grew on her lips as she placed the bottle down on the table beside her. 

“You worry about me so much, angel,” she hummed, savouring how delicate your fingers felt on her skin as she leaned in closer to you, “But you’re never gonna lose me.”

You wanted to believe her words; and put this down to your mind just jumping to the worst case scenario as it so often did.

But this wasn’t one of those scenarios. 

And no matter how much you wanted to trust the woman in front of you, you couldn’t. 

She was a skilled fighter, but that didn't make her untouchable. 

Your thoughts were halted when you felt Sevikas lips softly kissing up your arm.

“Sev, what are you doing?”

“Getting you outta your head,” she breathed, her lips trailing kisses up the side of your neck.

You hated how she could do this. 

How she could distract you from your thoughts with such ease. 

“Just relax, baby,” she whispered, her lips now only inches away from yours; as she ran her other hand under your oversized tshirt and up your chest to your breasts, “let me take care of you,”

 it was almost embarrassing how easily you complied with her orders. 

“Sevi,” you whined in response, laying back on the sofa,  the anticipation of her touch making your core ache with desperation. 

You needed her.

Needed her touch. 

Her lips. 

Something. 

Anything. 

You were so desperate for even the slightest touch.

It was all you could focus on. 

Sevika was all you could focus on; your thoughts and worries from earlier drifting further to the back of your mind with every blissfully torturous touch she left on your skin. 

“That’s it baby, just focus on me,” she praised, noticing how your body was squirming slightly beneath her, a clear sign to her that you needed more. 

“So needy,” she smirked with satisfaction. 

She’d barely even touched you and you were already a mess. 

She knew what she was doing to you; and she couldn’t help but revel in it. Revel at the little noises that were falling from your lips with every little touch she left on your bare skin; revel in how fucking beautiful you looked right now, with a look of desperation forming in your eyes.

Sevikas hand, the one that had been on your chest was now slowly drifting down to the place you craved to be touched the most. 

Even in the dimly lit room, you noticed a twinkle in her eyes as her thumb softly massaged your swollen clit. 

You could’ve cum just from that single touch alone; and you almost did, until Sevika quickly withdrew her hand from you. 

There was no denying that Sevika found it addictive, seeing you like this. 

But she needed to see more. 

That’s why she made such quick work of effortlessly removing your panties and oversized shirt  from your body, tossing them aside, so you were completely naked beneath her. 

She couldn’t take her eyes away from you; she was just staring at you, completely captivated. 

You opened your mouth, to beg her to just touch you; but your words morphed into a loud moan when she pushed two fingers inside your dripping pussy. 

You attempted to cover your mouth with your hand, but Sevika made short work of pinning both of your hands above your hand; her fingers pumping inside you at a relentless speed, ensuring to hit your sweet spot every time. 

“Need to hear you, angel,” she whispered in your ear before lightly biting the crook of your neck, eliciting another moan from you. 

You’d lost track of how many times you came. 

All you knew was that it was enough times to make your head feel all woozy. 

But Sevika didn’t stop; she just kept going. 

She kept pushing you over the edge again and again and again.

“Sev-Sevi-”you panted as you came down from another high, “I can’t-”

Sevikas pulled her fingers back to the entrance of your pussy, her thumb (unbeknownst to you) hovering over your clit once again. 

“Awh have you had enough, baby?” She teased, kissing the side of your mouth, flicking your sensitive nub with her thumb lightly, “I think you should be a good girl and cum for me again.”

You were so far gone; lost in the bliss of your countless oragasms, that you couldn’t deny her. 

Especially not when her fingers started pumping in and out of you again. 

Her words mixed with the fast pace of her fingers in conjunction with the occasional taps on your overstimulated clit, had your back arching once again.

“Sevikaaa fuck,” you moaned as she sent you tumbling over the edge of your own pleasure.

“Such a good girl,” Sevika praised against your skin, before placing a delicate kiss on your lips as she removed her fingers from your core. 

“So beautiful,” she whispered to you, making a tired chuckle fall from your lips. 

Beautiful? 

You were certain you looked a complete and utter mess. 

Despite your thoughts, Sevika just continued to whisper those words to you, as she pressed her lips over the bite marks on your neck as she laid next to you on the sofa, your legs intertwining with each others.

You were completely and utterly exhausted and you could feel yourself slowly drifting off to sleep, but you fought to keep your eyes open and yourself awake, desperate to give Sevika the same pleasure she’d given you. 

But when you went to touch her, she lightly grabbed your hand, halting your movements.

“Sevika-”

“Shh, just relax baby,” she muttered, pulling you closer to her. 

“But what about you?” You whispered softly as your thumb rubbed small circles into the back of her hand. 

“This was about getting you to relax,” she stated, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck. 

You could’ve argued with her; but one, you knew that was going to be like fighting a losing battle and two, you were too tired to disagree with her. 

It only took a few minutes for sleep to take a hold of you; meanwhile Sevika was still awake. 

She understood your worries about another uprising; but things were getting out of hand now and someone had to do something about it, to protect the Undercity. 

Sevika thought Vander was that man, until tonight, now she doubted he was, which meant she needed to find someone who could do the job Vander couldn’t do. 

Tagging:

@xacatalepsyx @barbersjoy @conretewings @the-lone-librarian @cass-brightwood @fortune-fool02 @arielpanda1 @mothratic @simping-ella @stickyrice5096 @levis-butterfingers @lesbianinyourarea @vvampirelust

[shawnthebro]

If we can play the game, we should be able to exit the game!

[primofate]

About boycotting Genshin Impact: Natlan skin colour issue and McDonalds.

(Read if you care about these issues and care about what I'm doing.)

If you are only here for a TLDR and want to know if I'm still writing Genshin fanfiction here's the short story: (I appreciate all the encouraging messages and all the love, but I may need to find another platform if things aren't working out here. If that day comes I will surely post over here and let you know where I've gone, but for now, though it is quite unpleasant, I do like and am used to the tumblr format. )

Long post starts here:

Decided to finally say something about this, because I feel like I've read up adequately about things.

First off, to the anon who claimed that I didn't care (who revealed their real identity in my inbox and apologized) I appreciate your bravery and also appreciate the apology. But I'm not going to lie to you, I don't really care for your presence around here, specially after what happened.

About the Natlan issue and the lack of tan/brown/dark skinned colour characters,

I understand why people are upset. I had a conversation with someone about this on tumblr, on how me, myself, I get upset when there is a lack of FEMALE main characters in games (I am mostly talking about the Persona Franchise, the main characters are always MALE, time and time again I always wait for a FEMALE MC, but am always disappointed that it hasn't happened EXCEPT of course, for P3 Portable and P2EP. Finally you had the option to play as Female, but that was it. I mean, it's 2024. WHY is there a lack of FEMALE MC in Persona? Anyhow, that is a different topic altogether.) so I can see how it could be disappointing for POC to see less or even NO characters that are POC.

That part, I totally understand.

All of your actions, boycotting, not rolling, not playing the game, being free to play, I UNDERSTAND all of that.

Now, recently there has been a big issue with Genshin Impact collaborating with McDonalds, because the chain supports Israel (but McDonalds is a franchise... and different owners have different ways of using their ownership of the chain/profit they make off it, so idk how that equals to all McDonalds support Israel. Educate me on this if I'm wrong.) People are saying that they are uninstalling the game because of it.

Again, I UNDERSTAND why you would do that.

I think what I need to address is what I am going to do.

And I'm not gunna lie to you, I don't think I'm going to stop playing the game (and I don't spend much money in game in the first place).

Does it mean that I support the bad situations they've put themselves in or the bad choices they've made? No, but of course there will be people who will say I play the game = I support their thoughts. Can it not just be simply I play the game = I enjoy the game/story?

I am being transparent and I think that's better than some of the people online who keep saying they won't play anymore but you KNOW some of them still do. Like, come on. Don't lie.

If that makes me a bad person according to you judgers out there, then so be it. Who really are you to claim I'm a bad person just because I play a game? Do you know what kinds of things I do in real life? What groups I help out and what organizations I donate to? What really do you know about what I do in real life? Maybe think about that before pointing your finger at someone online, and maybe think about what YOU are doing in real life too, instead of just being keyboard fighters, have you done anything to enhance the lives of other people?

Am I still going to write Genshin fanfiction?

Honestly if I stop doing it, it's because the interaction here on tumblr has been so toxic. LESS people commenting and interacting, I don't really mind much because I enjoy writing in general, I don't do it for you, I do it for me.

I am STILL writing, but at a slower pace because of my real life plus everything that's surrounding the game and the toxicity at the moment. I am even considering not posting on tumblr and just releasing stories like Ruthless Prince, stories that would be available through physical copy or ebooks that you have to pay for (that way I don't get nasty interactions and messages and those who really want to read my stuff can just pay and enjoy it) but as you all know, I'm not money hungry, I still post a lot of free stuff over here, but again, I'm not going to lie, there isn't much reason for me to post on tumblr anymore, specially with all the controversies and attacking going on.

I appreciate all the encouraging messages and all the love, but I may need to find another platform if things aren't working out here. If that day comes I will surely post over here and let you know where I've gone, but for now, though it is quite unpleasant, I do like and am used to the tumblr format.

The End.

[22ayla21]

hi! could I make a request for Jing yuan x fighter pilot reader? no pressure tho🩵

Maybe reader is from another ship and gets transferred to the Loufu, very confident/badass, and the General finds himself annoyed by their reckless behavior but can’t help being attracted to them.

love your writing so much! your works are always so fun to read <3

The General and the Pilot

It irritated him. The way she looked death in the eye with such audacity. But it also attracted him.

Xianzhou Luofu greeted a new day under a clear sky, reflected in the shimmering domes of aurotechnology. Order was maintained, mechanisms worked flawlessly, and every ship in the air docks fulfilled its purpose. Everything was as it should be.

Until today.

Jing Yuan, one of the seven Arbiters-Generals of the Cloud Knights, possessed impeccable composure. He didn't succumb to emotions, maintained self-control in the most alarming moments, and never allowed external chaos to disturb his inner peace. But watching the newly arrived pilot in the reddish Yaoqing Xianzhou uniform land on Luofu at such speed that even experienced guards turned around in fear, he felt irritation.

The ship, piloted by this woman, entered Luofu's atmosphere at a reckless speed, ignoring prescribed safety protocols. She drove the machine with such audacity, with some kind of reckless challenge, as if deliberately testing his people's patience.

The general stood on the observation platform, hands clasped behind his back, watching this disgrace. As soon as the ship finally came to a halt, shaking the hangar with the blast of overheated engines, she jumped out of the hatch.

Tall, with a defiant glint in her eyes and a stride that spoke louder than any words. Her entire posture screamed of complete self-assurance. She didn't apologize. Didn't even glance at the officers exchanging worried words. Just smirked, as if she knew her maneuvers would cause confusion, and enjoyed it.

Jing Yuan felt a slight pain in his temples.

She was one of those who challenged everything and everyone. Too assertive, too self-confident.

And, even worse, he couldn't deny that she attracted him.

The woman proved herself on Luofu with the same audacity as during her landing. She was an excellent pilot—no one could dispute that. But her approach to combat operations was dangerously aggressive, too bold. Where others followed tactics, she charged headlong. Where his warriors analyzed the situation, she relied on intuition.

Jing Yuan saw how she laughed in the face of danger, how she accepted challenges that others would consider reckless.

And it irritated him.

Because he knew that if her luck ran out one day, the consequences would be catastrophic.

But it also attracted him.

Because he saw in her that spark of life that he himself had long allowed himself to lose.

He watched her movements—light, almost dancing, even in battle. Her confidence, her defiant behavior... All of it was both irritating and mesmerizing.

Jing Yuan was used to people who showed respect for authority, who followed orders. And her? She simply looked him in the eyes with a defiant half-smile, as if questioning everything he said.

He should have reined her in. Explain to her that her methods could cost lives. That he wouldn't tolerate such recklessness in his army.

But every time he was about to do it, he met her gaze—lively, filled with challenge—and realized that saying the right words would be much harder than he anticipated.

She was fire.

And he... he already felt that fire starting to burn him.

[chososwifey24-7]

Resisting Death

Tojix fem!reader.

Cw: NSFW, rough Toji, bondage, protection, creampie, mating press, pussy eating, fondling, pet names (doll, ma), manhandling, overstimulating, mentions of violence, mentions of drugs, mentions of alcohol, mentions of neglect, mentions of murder, swearing.

"Stay in your room."

"Go play outside."

"Leave me alone."

Those words are the words you've heard from your father your entire life. You were almost sure that those were the only words in his vocabulary. He was a busy man, he claimed. A busy businessman. Although he was a major asshole.

He was always shoving you out of his office as a child. He was always handing you toys as a child, and as you became an teen, he was throwing money in your face to leave him alone.

Where did he get all this money. One word. Drugs. That's what he sold. That was his whole grand scheme of a business. Suck the money out of people, get them addicted, and when they couldn't pay him anymore? He kicked them to the curb.

He was truly a monster. Even with being a monster, he had people surrounding him treating him as if he were a god. He was nothing of the sort. They did anything for him. Risked their lives, ran the factories, and sold the drugs. Even taking the downfall to prove their worth to your father. Peice of shit.

Even though he had those willing to sacrifice their lives for him. There were those who were willing to sacrifice their lives against him. He took, and took, and took until there was nothing left to take. Money, collateral, lives. He didn't care. He took it all. That's what made your father a hated man.

Where was your mother? Gone. She left before you even got the chance to meet her. Your father even once blames you for it, but you knew it wasn't your fault. You were simply your father's scapegoat.

That's why as soon as you turned 18, you got your ass out of there. Taking the money you had saved from your father throwing it at you and leaving. You had gone to Japan. Even went as far as learning Japanese so that you could blend in with society.

That's how life went. It was smooth.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

You had left three years from today now since you had left from that house. It was your birthday, and you were sitting in a library finishing off some college work. Your father had gone as far as sending you money to ensure you stayed away.

You weren't complaining.

Typing up your third essay of the day sipping on a warm cup of tea, you relaxed a bit. Life was going smoothly. Recently, though, your father had been calling you. Only in suggestion that you get some bodyguards, but you refused.

You weren't getting tied up in his business.

Finishing the essay slowly, but surely you leaned back in the chair and stretched, feeling your back pop a bit. You packed up your belongings in your backpack and made your way to your apartment.

It was a fairly nice apartment, very spacious and in a nice complex. It was well taken care of. It was home.

The walk home was fairly quiet, considering it was later in the evening. Not terribly late, but enough so that parents were getting there children home and put to bed.

You had a route. One that got you home quickly and fairly safely. Cutting through alleyways instead of waiting at street lights all the time.

That's whe.n you felt it, that unfamiliar and eerie feeling of being watched. You stopped as you rounded the alleyway corner and looked around you, but there was nothing.

Trying to shake off the feeling of being followed, you make your way towards the subway. There were more people there. No one would try anything at the subway.

As you make your way down the stairs to the platform, you wait. You look around you once again, paranoid, and you spot a man with black hair watching you from a distance. Just staring.

He didn't approach you, but if he did, there was nothing you could do to fight back. He was tall, large, and must have been a body builder or a fighter. Because with that physique, no man could challenge him.

Seeing as the subway had stopped, you stepped on, taking the way back home. You never did shake that terrified feeling, but you felt somewhat better in the subway. More people, more protection.

That's what you thought. Until you turned your head to see that same man on the subway, but closer to you. He was looking elsewhere this time instead of on you, but he still had a bad feeling to him.

So when that train stopped and those doors opened, you ran. You ran like your little life depended on it. You didn't know if he was following, didn't care to look back. Only horror movie idiots did that. You just ran.

You arrived at your front door and fumbled with your keys, and then you felt it. A gun on your lower back and a man whispering 'boo' into your ear. You didn't dare move, didn't even flinch. No screaming, no more running. You were caught.

"Aww, come on doll, scream, turn around, and hit me. Or ya know, try too."

He snickered and mocked you, shoving the barrel harder into your side.

"Please don't kill me, I'll give you anything you want. Drugs, money, you can have it."

He only snickered at your response again, grabbing you by the hair and leaning right next to your ear. The pain in your head was throbbing, but you could handle it if it meant life.

"Drugs? Really? I'm actually here regarding that. Someone wants ya dead doll. All cause of ya stupid drug dealing dad."

That's when it hit you. You'd never made enemies. Your dad had. What a bitter sweet lesson to be relearning.

"But about the money, I'm already getting paid a pretty penny to kill ya, so I couldn't care less about no damn money."

His hand moved up and down your side, though. He hummed in thought.

"But you're so damn pretty, I wouldn't wanna kill ya. So I wonder..."

He paused again and you leaned back into him to alleviate the feeling of pain in your scalp. He still had a grip on your hair. That'd when you chimed in.

"If you want sex we can have sex. Your hit, you think I'm pretty, I live and pay you, and you have money. Deal?"

You shivered as he let out a low growl.

He liked the sound if that.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

That's how you found yourself tied to your bed and being put into the meanest mating press you'd been in. He grunted and groaned as his cock slammed into you.

It was heavenly.

He was so damn bug he filled you full. Even while he was wearing a condom. Something about he didn't need another brat. He just kept plowing into you.

Some drool hung out of your mouth, and your eyes were in the back of your head. The funnier thing is you didn't even know his name.

"Ah yeah, keep going, ma. Take my cock. You got it."

He kept pounding into you and praising you as he gripped your hips hard. He reached up and grabbed one of your breasts, palming it and groping it.

"Tits are so pretty ma. Just like you, fuck!"

He had cum again for the third time that night. How and why he carried condoms, you didn't know, but you were tired and spent. You had already come about four times.

You thought it was over until he untied you and roughly flipped you onto your hands and knees.

Wrapping his arms around your thighs and pulling you onto his mouth. His tongue circled your clit before he began to sick it roughly.

Your body trembled and shook as his hands held you down and held you still. You moaned and screamed at the over stimulation. Tears rolling down your cheeks as he kept going until you were cuming on his tongue.

You were fucked out and completely stupid. The last thing you could remember was his voice in your ears and his fingers in your tight can't.

"I read your file, almost forgot."

He made you cum one more time before your eyes were closing and your conscious was slipping. It was all too much.

"Happy birthday, doll."

[stestylius-arts]

What in "Hell" is Bad - Kaos Arcadia Legion Prologue (5)

Satan wasn’t happy. 

“You never greet Solomon like that!?” He grits his teeth altogether, anger flaring up. Laneila let Nakia go. She stood by herself, looking at the scene unfold. Sitri got up like it was nothing, dusting the concrete walls dust off his uniform. 

“I did it because I wanted to.” What a blunt response coming from a stranger she just met. Nakia feels a huge chill down her spine. 

“Ms. Nakia, who is the person next to you?” It caught the attention of Satan and Sitri. 

“...ah.” Nakia stuttered. “It’s Laneila. My elf companion.” A positive reply without telling the entire truth. Satan didn’t take it seriously, strutting to Laneila’s side, Nakia slapped Satan’s hand. “Hell no you don’t.” Nakia is frowning, protective of Laneila. 

“Haha!” Satan bursts out laughing. “This is a new one. Solomon’s descendants are possessive.” Nakia’s face turns sour when he mocks her. His grin only makes her blood boil. 

“Your Majesty.” Laneila puts Nakia behind his back. “I am one of her contracts you mentioned earlier before they arrived here.” Satan stopped laughing. “As such as the rest of the stones on her belt.” The elf sigh. “I am her first contract since we knew each other. Our bond… is different from your late friend. If Nakia is a descendant of them, they are not the person in question.”

“Hm.” Satan hums, folding his arms over his chest. “How many contracts do you have, Nakia?” His tone has changed from talking about serious matters all of sudden. Nakia’s face remains unchanged from earlier. 

“Counting the ones I have here and the other left in my homeworld, eight in total. Why?” Nakia is still standing behind Laneila. Satan is pondering his decision. Sitri and Ppyong exchange looks. “Right now I have three including Laneila…”

“I knew it.” Satan concludes. 

“Huh?” Everyone speaks at the same time.

“Solomon’s blood is running through your body. Maintaining so much mana, forging contracts with other forms of life, and being able to jump worlds without breaking a sweat - it is all based on his skills.” Satan enumerates all the exploits of his friend, his grin comes back on his face. “Also, having the gut to face an angel alone… you are such a good fighter.” 

“If it is supposed to be flattery, drop that shit out of your mouth.” Nakia commented with a scowl on her face. Laneila blocked her mouth out of habit. Nakia frowned, looking up at Laneila. 

“Feisty.” Satan comments with a wider grin. Laneila warns Nakia with a gaze. She sighed and looked away. He let her go. Sitri walks up to look at Nakia’s injury.

“We will get you bandaged up first before-” 

An explosion cut Sitri off. It rang strongly around the area. They were on higher grounds. 

“Let us leave this please first and discuss the next course of action, your Majesty.” Sitri changes the subject. “We should regroup to another place and find where Belial has been taken.” Laneila stepped in with Nakia. 

“If it is about fighting, we might certainly help.” Nakia steps up. “We have experience on many types of battlefields. If angels are the same flying type as avians in my homeworld or any other worlds I visited, it should be handled easily.” 

“Easily?” Satan scoffs. “Get it through your thick skull, you are human, you may be a mage of all talent but angels exceed your current level.” Satan had a point. “I’m not letting you fight.” Satan turns his back towards the door.

“I am not fighting alone.” Nakia points out. “Technically speaking, I am not.” 

Satan stops his tracks, turning slowly towards the Demelvian duo. Nakia did not know how this world worked, that was a given. She would be having some sort of guidance. Satan told her earlier she was stuck here in Hell until the Sigil of Gabriel would be removed. 

“You don’t know what I am made of.” Nakia argues back to the devil king of Wrath. “You felt the mana is big. Flowing. Demanding. You did not witness it until you came on the clear platform where I faced that guy, Gabriel, alone.” 

Another explosion happens, making the room shine its brightness. For a second, Satan and Sitri swore they saw golden eyes shine with the blow from the explosion. “I am a human, that’s true. So what?” 

“You could have ended up killed.” Satan finally says, his arms crossed. 

“Was I ?” Nakia questions back. Laneila puts a hand on her shoulder as a sign for her stop. Arguing with royalty was a flaw Nakia had, and her tendency to prove herself made it worse. With years of learning and witnessing, Laneila knew her speech pattern after a while. He pulls her backwards. 

“The best we can assist with for now is to heal people. My speciality of that field that I assisted her with during her knight studies.” Satan is about to laugh, Laneila holds his hand up. “Our world isn't as technology advanced as yours. We are what you call in the Medieval times… with our own set of inventions. So, yes, knights exist and Nakia is one of them.” Laneila was serious when it comes to saving face for their home, and he described himself as very diligent. 

“You are not old enough.” Satan sarcastically scolds. 

“I am aware of that, your Majesty.” Laneila replies calmly. “I’m precisely 223 years old.” Satan chokes his spit, biting his lip too hard. Nakia, Sitri and Pyong check on Laneila’s calm face. No one ever replies that swiftly to a king’s mocking. Nakia looks away. Sitri walked forward finally bowing in the duo’s presence.

“Welcome to Gehenna, Solomon, Mr. Laneila.” Nakia sees the state of Gehenna outside. It’s beautiful…yet tragic as Ppyong had put it earlier. Maybe her plan might have to wait.

[elucienweekofficial]

DAY THREE ACOTEN BRACKET

It's time to choose another favorite! Today's poll has some of the absolute best features on the Elucien album... how do you even pick just one?

QUOTE 1: Lucien waited until the glass door had opened and closed before he loosed a long breath. “There’s a bond—it’s a real thread,” he said, more to himself than us.

QUOTE 2: I could have sworn his ruby hair gleamed like molten metal as his temper rose. But it faded, his russet eye fixing on me. “Take her to the sea. Take her to some garden. But get her out of this house for an hour or two.”

Make sure to head over to our Instagram to cast your vote there, too! We'll be keeping the results separate, so feel free to participate on both platforms!