#Like cr wouldn't have without them

[stardustedknuckles]

I'm willing to bet none of you work for non profits. I'm just contracted with one and even I know. Moving money properly pretty much never takes less than three fucking months. It takes planning, it takes contracts, it takes considering taxes that will be removed from it, and weeks to implement. It requires meetings, it requires votes, and a bunch of things even I don't know and neither do the rest of you. Having an emergency fund to be able to react immediately is great when the thing you're reacting to is a natural disaster with pre-established organizations you can trust to use that money. This isn't that.

If you're acting smug that maybe you said something to the CR cast on Friday and then now "suddenly" they're donating and you think that was your doing, you're wrong and you look silly. 3-6 months is the usual timeline to move shit. They've been working out logistics, they've DEFINITELY been making sure that the place they put that money will REACH its intended recipients (remember when aid couldn't get in?) and fucks sakes guys. We deal with bad faith assholes from the outside all the time. Doesn't need to come from the inside too.

[crickwater]

I don't have any strong feelings abt matt mercer dming for d20. I am enjoying seeing the intense reactions of everyone else tho

[lamortwrites]

SICK of people referring to fully professionally filmed ttrpg shows as podcasts. Taking the audio from a video episode and uploading it as a separate file is NOT the same as producing a podcast and we all know it!

[wesstars]

love, at second glance

tara carpenter x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: that’s what you do when you love somebody else… wc: 1k tags: all characters 18+; no ghostface au. angst, horribly excessive use of italics (seriously, everything in italics is either a quote, a thought, or actual emphasis. it’s terrible) a/n: what’s up y’all (title from 715 - CR∑∑KS by bon iver)

masterlist

Tara wondered when it all began.

You and me, me and you.

A mantra that used to be comforting, it now left her mouth dry, mind frantic. 

Sometimes, when it got real bad like it did today, she’d drive out to your—our—deserted garage, and look up into a pitch black night, blinking away tears. It was easy to scream at the sky: how could you forget about me about us about milkshakes shared about distances closed about how I love you and love you and love you—but to you, she’d say nothing.

She couldn’t say anything, while you basked in the glow of a new hand to hold. It was all over in a helpless shrug. That was it, and really, it wasn’t your fault. Nobody’s fault. You couldn’t help it, Tara reasoned, you weren’t cruel. Even at the very end, you were endlessly kind. Commitment was a choice, but love, love happened to you away from Tara and she couldn’t do anything but watch.

Tara switched the engine off, leaning back in her seat. The stars shone barely brighter than the city lights. It was strange, the way that when she was on the brink of losing everything, the world looked that much more beautiful. Every breath in that particularly cold winter felt like it was being swallowed up by the vastness of air itself, precious in its scarcity. 

“But I love you.”

You said nothing for a moment, a troubled little frown twisting on your lips. “Tara, I—”

“I love you.” She heard, rather than felt, herself repeating it. As if stopping you from speaking would make that cold reality any less crushing. “That’s all.”

It was odd, Tara decided, to go online and see your life in the pictures she used to be part of. She put her phone down. From tide pulls to seasons changing, there wasn’t exactly a world where she envisioned herself going on without you. There was something in that sinking feeling, like you were holding her down with a hand on her chest, when she saw you laughing with your friends, with anyone, a smile so brilliant it couldn’t possibly have Tara as the cause. 

You’d always wanted a little cabin in the woods (“not in a creepy way,” you’d insist) surrounded by mist, and it would always be raining. “You’re the only sunshine I need, Tara Carpenter.” She could still hear the way you’d tease her, lying on your side next to her, tracing the bridge of her nose with your fingertip. So easy it was, to tumble back into those shining memories where absolutely nothing would go wrong, you wouldn't let it, because she was yours.

The top floor of the lot was empty, and the moon spilled onto the windshield, into the empty passenger seat. She was lucky, you both were lucky, to have even come as close to the sun as the two of you did. Tara knew, deep inside herself, that if she just let it all go, she would be okay. The blood would rush back into her fingertips—you wouldn’t be there to massage the feeling back into them, the way you often did on winter nights like this—and then she would be okay.

Tara thought that she remembered too much for someone so hurt. Your hand on her thigh while you drove, wiping her lipstick off your cheek, the way you seemed so so so unhappy when you sat her down for one last time. You didn’t even look the same then, like you were somebody else, you weren’t hers anymore. It was getting colder in the car, but Tara didn’t feel anything but the searing coil of shame. 

Sunkissed March found you and Tara lying side by side on a picnic blanket, sodas losing their fizz as time forgot to move the two of you. A breeze ruffled the leaves, and if she really listened, Tara could hear the frogs in the nearby pond. You loved it here—you said it reminded you of hot summers spent in the countryside, the days as long as wildflowers. Not half an hour ago, you were braiding together the stems of daisies into a lush crown. 

“For you, Queen Carpenter,” you said in a posh accent. “A gift from your humble knight—each braid represents a ‘forever,’ and each flower is an ‘always.’” You set the crown atop Tara’s head, kissing the tip of her nose as she rolled her eyes.

“And what has compelled my knight to bring me such a gift?”

“Only all of the love I carry for you, your majesty.” You scooped her up in your arms, smiling as she giggled, rolling the two of you over to settle into the knolls of grass.

There was a certain bravery in the way your fingers wrapped loosely around hers, the way the heels of both your shoes made indents in the dirt—proclaiming, we were here. Even in her doze, Tara could feel you there, each moment stretching on like strings of eternity, unfailingly. 

The moment did end, as moments do. The crown, dried and shrunk, still hung from the rear view mirror in the car. The daisies themselves were long gone, but the dried stems had somehow stayed bound together. Tara’s head dropped into her hands, eyes sore and red. She’d thought so much and so often about where the two of you went wrong, she felt like she had turned over every stone in your path, ones that didn’t carry with them the weight of a goodbye. Tara would give anything to even know what it would take for you to stand in the sun with her one more time.

The abrupt knock on the window should’ve startled Tara more than it did, given that it was four in the morning in an empty parking lot, and she was supposed to be all alone. But all she could do was watch with wide eyes as the knock came from you, at your tight lipped smile. She rolled down the window, unable to feel anything but shock as she took in your mismatched shoes with untied laces, your shirt way too thin for the cold night. You weren’t looking at her, guilt evident in the hunch of your shoulders. Your voice comes out exactly as she remembered it. 

“Hey… can we talk?”

--

a/n cont'd: don't super feel like i like this but writing it came naturally so

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

masterlist

[usedtobecooler]

If you’re looking for ideas: Riding Virgin Eddie’s face.

what the fuck i'm losing my absolute shit over this.

part one // part two // part three // part four

Pairing | Eddie Munson x fem!reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), oral f receiving, handjobs, corruption kink, dirty talking, lil bit of angst and confusion, lots of words of praise (being called pretty, handsome), dumbification (reader thinks eddie is a bit of an idiot).

Word Count | 3k

A/N | at this point i think i need some fucking help because what the hell am i actually playing at doing this again when i literally just posted the last part yesterday. anyway, i need to take a cold shower after this.

Things are a bit awkward for a while after your previous encounter with Eddie, which saddens you. He was acting more awkward than usual, he tensed up whenever you'd brush by him and things in general just weren't quite how they used to be. There was a shift in energy and you'd come to the conclusion that you'd scared him off.

He didn't even catch a ride home with you anymore, his van finally getting fixed just as Winter crept in, which meant you didn't get to corner him anywhere to press him on it.

Maybe Eddie just isn't interested in me, maybe he's gone out and found another girl instead (which is fine, you definitely wouldn't ponder on it too long and you definitely didn't feel a pang of hurt in your chest at the thought), maybe it had awakened something in him and he decided he wasn't interested in sex at all.

Either way, you were giving him his space and waiting for him to come to you when he was ready. Because, irregardless of how you felt about him and how you ached to have his fingers and mouth all over you again, you also were respectful of boundaries and you knew not to push him when he wasn't ready.

It's a particularly quiet Monday shift, Christmas had been and gone and that left the January slump. You're sitting perched pretty on a twirling stool, swinging it back and forth a little with your foot that's resting on a bit of wood below your feet. Your chin is in your hand as you lean onto the counter, big jumper drowning you to block out the chill of the cool, snowy air blasting through the drafty door every so often.

Eddie is... well he's Eddie. Keeping himself occupied arranging some new tapes that had come in just before Christmas when you had no time to sort them. He wasn't usually so quick to actually do the work you were paid to do, usually sat on his ass all day like you did and would flip through his weird comic books.

You break the almost tense silence with a loud sigh, getting agitated with watching and hearing Eddie doing his work, "Eddie, honey, you've been rearranging A through D for the last hour, there can't be anything left that you've missed."

He actually has the nerve to roll his eyes at you, not daring to look up and face you but you catch him doing it. What a little brat.

"Eddie, what have I actually done wrong?" And oh, there it is, tumbling out of your mouth like an intrusive thought let loose before you can catch it and swallow it back up.

"You've done nothing wrong." He mutters, letting his curls fall over his face to hide himself from your view, "I just feel... awkward, is all. Like I can't look you in the face because I keep picturing what we did."

Oh.

Oh.

"Did you not like it or somethin'? Cause to me it seemed like you did." You're huffing and puffing like a spoilt kid, if you were standing up you'd of been stomping your foot.

"I-I did like it, that's the problem," Eddie sighs, defeated as he throws his head back and looks up at the ceiling like it's the most interesting thing in the world, "but how can I look at you and go on like before when you made me, well."

He's such a virgin. He can't even get the words out right without cringing and you're caught halfway between endeared and annoyed.

"You jizzed in your pants, Eds. Jesus Christ." You spit it out for him and it comes out harsher than you had meant, you inwardly cringe at yourself when you see the downtrodden look on his face, like a puppy that's been kicked, "Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean it like that, handsome. It's just... it happened and I enjoyed it too."

"Why are you doing this?" He asks eventually, looking at you now with his big, wet puppy dog eyes and your legs turn to jelly, he's just so fucking pretty, "Is it... is it like a joke or something? Did somebody put you up to it?"

You gawp at him open mouthed for a second, "Ouch, that hurt. Are you that oblivious to how much I actually like you? I've literally had to stop myself pouncing on you from the day we met. You're just so goddamn pretty. I sort of guessed you were kinda inexperienced but I didn't know you were a virgin until you admitted it to me that night. I jus' wanna show you how to make a girl feel good. You didn't even need my help, you fucked me with your fingers so good all on your own."

You can't help it, you squeeze your thighs together as the heat creeps up your neck remembering just how well Eddie had fingered you, how he'd brought you to the edge so fast with little instruction. He was perfect.

He looks at you for a second, all dumb and wide eyed, before glancing at the clock, noticing the time and realising you should've shut ten minutes ago. He prances over to lock the door, then swiftly exits through to the back where the break room and bathroom were.

You follow Eddie wordlessly, jumping down from the stool and wandering through not far behind. You're gonna talk about this before you lose your nerve and make things worse.

He makes for the bathroom and before he can shut the door you place your hand on it, shoving your way in and slamming it behind you.

It's like a fucking airplane bathroom, you're wedged up against the door and Eddie's back is up against the sink. He's looking at you all bug eyed, in a silent 'what the fuck', but he's not saying anything to get you to leave.

"You just gonna stand there and look all pretty and stupid or are you gonna talk?" You ask, folding your arms over your chest. You notice Eddie's idiotic glance down at your tits, all squished together under the pressure of your arms and you laugh sarcastically - right in his face. Incredible.

"I just wanted to take a piss." He says it like he's dumb and at this point you're starting to question if he truly is as stupid as he makes himself out to be around you.

Eddie's big, wet loser boy eyes have you captured. Have done from the get go. You find yourself relaxing a bit and losing your hard stare as you finally drink in his appearance properly for the first time in weeks. His lips are so full and red, albeit chapped from the cold weather, and his nose is all cute. Suddenly you realise all you can think about is shoving his stupid face into your cunt and riding it senseless.

He makes the first move, which. My god. His hand comes out to grip at your squishy cheeks carefully, thumb rubbing along your bottom lip and his long fingers fanning up the side of your face, the tips resting gently in your hair.

You melt into his touch, lunging forward to capture his lips and instantly you're licking into his mouth. You want Eddie all over you, consuming your entire being.

He's still so shit at kissing but he'll get there eventually with some coaching. It's hot the way that he basically drools into your mouth, tongue lapping at yours gingerly like he's frightened. One day, you think, he'll be confident enough to spit in your mouth and make you swallow it.

Baby steps, you think to yourself, trying to rewind back from that thought.

"Can I, uh, can I do something?" Eddie asks quietly once he pulls away from your mouth, a string of spit following and you have to shut your eyes and clench your thighs at the sight of it.

You nod fervently, gasping out loud when he drops to his knees in front of you like a bitch in heat. Your tummy quivers, anticipating what he's going to do next.

Eddie's hands slide up your thighs, covered in thick black tights this time because it's too cold for fishnets in this damn snow, gingerly resting just below the cut of your big sweater. He's looking up at you again with his big sparkling eyes, leaning his cheek against the meat of your left thigh, and from this angle he looks so submissive. Your cunt clenches around nothing at the sight.

"Are you insinuating what I think you are?" You ask, voice quivering a little, just to make sure you're getting this right, "You wanna lick me out?"

Eddie cringes a little at the way you word it, cheeks flushing red, but he nods and grips onto your thighs in reply, "You could - you could show me how."

"Baby boy," You coo, running your hand over his curls and gripping them a little. You don't miss the way Eddie keens into the touch, a breathy sigh shuddering out of him, "I'll show you anything you want me to show you. Slide my tights down."

It happens in a weird blur, Eddie leans back on his haunches and grips the material of your tights in between his fingers, tugging them down slowly and pulling your panties along. By accident, you'd assume, with the sheepish look he gives you when he realises.

There's no patience for you to toe your beaten Docs off to help slide your tights off, so they're left pooled around your ankles. You take it upon yourself to spread your legs and Eddie eagerly looks, eyes bugging out at the sight of your slick pussy in some real lighting.

"All that's for you, pretty boy," It's true, really. You were wet just from looking at his face and the careful way he spoke to you and asked you for things, "Y'gonna lean forward and put your mouth to work? Just start by licking flat against me so you can feel it out."

Eddie does what you tell him to without question, nudging forward in between your open legs and dipping down to lick a flat stripe up your pussy, his fat tongue gliding right between your folds, catching your clit just barely at the end.

"That's it, Eddie, fuck," You shiver, hand instinctively coming back out to grasp at the curls on top of his head. He's looking at you still, wet eyes glimmering, nose perched perfectly on your mound, he's like a wet fucking dream, "keep doing that and I'll help, 'kay?"

It's almost like Eddie was naturally made to be buried face deep in pussy because his enthusiasm is unmatched. He begins this assault on your cunt like his life depends on it, hands gripping your thighs tight for purchase, as he licks fat stripes up and down your pussy, there's no rhythm at all but that doesn't matter. He finds your clit as quickly this time as the last time and he points his tongue to lick over it lazily, flicking that bundle of nerves just right.

You can't take your eyes off of him, legs shaking and hands tightening in his hair so hard he moans. You'd need to come back to that another time, because what the fuck?

"Shit, Eddie, your mouth is sinful," You choke out, fucking your hips up against his face a little when he sucks at your clit, "you didn't need any help, you - god, right there - knew exactly what to do already."

Eddie finds his rhythm slowly but surely and you finally shut your eyes, thumping your head back against the door. He's licking at your opening, dipping his tongue in and out experimentally, nose pressed tightly into your cunt, rubbing at your clit. You don't know how he's breathing but you don't care and you're thinking he doesn't either.

Your hips move of their own accord, back and forth, the sweet catch and drag of his nose over your clit and his tongue flicking back and forth is bringing you close to your peak ridiculously quick.

You're gonna give him an ego at this rate and you can't risk that. You need him bashful and dumb for a bit longer yet.

Suddenly, a moan grumbles out of Eddie's throat and it vibrates against your cunt. You chance a peek down and you realise one of his hands is gone and pressing tightly against his covered cock. He's a fucking mess, eyes wet from tears and he's panting against you in between devouring your pussy.

"You gonna cum in your, God, pants again? With my sweet pussy in your mouth?" You're losing it but you can't help but tease Eddie, watching intently as your hips rock back and forth, the sweet drag of the bulb of his nose over your clit driving you wild.

He's moaning like crazy and you can feel him jerking into his own hand, still not even attempting to get his hand in, just happy to have the little bit of friction.

Eddie cums quick and sudden, you can tell by the way his mouth falters on your cunt and the whine that escapes him, his eyes finally leaving yours and squeezing shut.

"That's it, cum in your pants again. Fuck, this is so hot," You're whining, rubbing furiously against Eddie's face again, but now he's gripping your thighs again and back to assaulting your clit with intent, nose buried into your mound once again. He's clearly trying to get you there, you can tell by the way his brows are furrowed and he looks like he's concentrating.

"Uh, that's it, keep doing that," You're a whining, babbling mess now, the pressure in your tummy mounting fast, building hot and making goosebumps spread all over your body, "I'm cumming, shit, Eddie, fuck, fuck, fuck."

You moan so loud if anyone was around they'd of heard you clear as day, your grip in his hair so tight it's got to fucking hurt, thighs squeezing around his head as you almost double over on top of him, your orgasm shaking through you so violently your legs are buckling.

It takes you a second to come to, pulling yourself back up and releasing Eddie's hair sheepishly. He's looking at you all dumb with a big grin, his face and neck covered in your release and your cunt squeezes around nothing at the sight.

"You really do have me losing my mind here, handsome," You sigh, helping him up off of his knees and cringing at the cracking his bones do as he straightens himself out.

You can't help it, peaking down to see the wet patch formed on the front of his worn in jeans, but you notice this time his cock is still straining against the zipper, "Are you... are you hard again?" You ask, eyes lighting up.

Eddie nods, "Sorry, s'just. That was so hot and I really liked it," He's all bashful, red in the face and his brown eyes glistening like a puppy who's being played with.

"Don't be sorry," You puff out a little laugh as you bend down to pull your panties and tights back up, snapping them against your belly, "can I touch you?"

"Are- are you sure? You don't have to, shit," Eddie's stumbling over his words, gasping when your hands effortlessly work on his button and zip on his jeans. You didn't have to wait any longer, the green light was there and you were taking full advantage.

You pull down his soiled pants and boxers just enough for his cock to spring out, all flushed red at the tip and begging to be touched. It's so much prettier than you hoped it'd be, matches Eddie perfectly, it's thick and long and you want your mouth around it.

That'd wait for another day, though.

Eddie is flush with embarrassment but he can't take his eyes off of you, choking on his tongue when you lean over to spit directly onto the hot head of his cock.

"Sorry handsome, this'll probably be quick for you," You admit, hand wrapping tight over the head and then spreading the spit down his shaft. You don't miss the high pitched whine that escapes his lips, you don't miss how he looks down to watch your fist fuck him expertly with wide eyes and curiosity.

"God, sweetheart, y-your hand feels so good," Eddie sounds like he's crying, voice wet and needy, but you can't tear your eyes away from his pretty cock sliding in and out of your tight fist to look. He's blurting out so much precum that your hand is slicking up and down effortlessly, you know this is gonna be over before you know it.

"Shit, shit," Eddie's gasping, hand clinging onto your shoulder for purchase. You finally look back up at him now, not wanting to miss the look on his face when he cums, thumb flicking over the head of his cock and wrist twisting, bringing him closer and closer.

"Yeah? Y'gonna cum for me? I know you want to," Your words are hot and heavy, you don't mean to sound as dirty as you do but that's the way it comes out and it works, because Eddie is fucking losing it, moaning and whining all high pitched and cute and cumming all over your fist.

You surge forward and capture his lips with yours, working him through the last of it as his cum drips down your fingers, making a mess of your sweater and his own shirt. He moans into your mouth all hot and needy, fingers still clenching your shoulder tight enough to bruise.

When you finally release his slowly softening cock and take a step back, you take in the full mess in front of you. Eddie is so red in the face, hair dripping with sweat, clothes all crumpled up and dishevelled looking.

He whines, leaning his head on your shoulder and burying his face in, "You're gonna be the death of me. Thank you, thank you."

"Don't thank me just yet, pretty boy. You can do that next time when you fuck me over the top of this sink."

[squoxle]

✏ TNAIT 001: If You Can't Beat 'Em, Join 'Em l.at fanfic

✰ pairing: nerdy!bandboy!anton x cheerleader!fem!reader | ✰ wc: 2.1k | ✰ cw: profanity, sexual themes |✰ plot: after receiving your midterm report, your parents threaten to pull you off the cheer squad if you don't pull your grades up. so, you take the advice of your best friend to seek help. [Series Masterlist]

“If I don’t see those grades going up soon, you’re done with cheerleading,” your dad spat at the dinner table.

“But my team needs me,” you whined. “I can’t leave in the middle of cheer season.”

“Do I look like I care about any of that?” He sneered. “This is an all-A’s family. And your grades are embarrassing,” he continued as he pulled out your midterm report. “Not a single A. And the worst part is that you’re failing math.”

“But that professor is a complete jerk.”

“I hardly ever see you studying. You go to class, come home, play your phone, and goof off with your friends. This university is very expensive and I will not continue funding your education if you’re gonna perform like this. School is about more than cheer.”

“But—”

“No buts. I don’t want to hear another word. Fix it or you’re done,” he said cutting into his steak.

“Listen to your father, honey. It’s very important that you maintain a good academic standing so you can get into a nice law school. Both your father and I graduated with a very high GPA—”

“3.75 and higher,” your father budded in.

“Exactly, so if you need a tutor—”

“I’m not stupid. I can do it by myself,” you mumbled. Even though you desperately wanted the help you knew this was a trap. Your father would not be happy if you were willing to give up that quickly.

“Ok,” your mother nodded. “But remember if you need the help it’s available for you.”

Being honest with yourself, you didn't want to go to law school and be a lawyer anyways. But you knew that your parents weren't going to let you graduate with a career as a cheerleader. They wanted you to have a real profession and since you couldn't pick fast enough, your father chose for you.

A job that was perfect for a sophisticated young woman and possibly a way for you to meet a good husband, or at least that's what your parents were telling you.

You finished dinner and went to bed. But not without logging onto your computer and checking your grades for each course.

• Politics — 79.47% • English — 82.97% • Math — 68.12% • Geography — 75.83%

"There's no way in hell I'm gonna be able to bring these grades up in time," you groaned as you closed your laptop and collapsed into your pillow.

"Is it just me or do you feel like cheerleaders are basically strippers in training," Chanyoung said as he opened his locker.

"Nah, they definitely are. Just think about it. They flip around and shake their asses in skirts so short that a small breeze will be enough to expose everything underneath," Dongmin replied as he leaned against the locker beside Chanyoung. "I'm not complaining, I'm just saying," he mumbled.

"No, you're right. And from what I can see is that the majority of them are brainless bimbos who've most likely sucked their way through school," Chanyoung said pulling out a few tablets to shove into his backpack.

"I bet you'd love to have some brainless bimbo suck you off," Dongmin chuckled. "You can't even lie and say that you wouldn't take the chance if it was given to you."

"I mean..."

"Exactly. I'm not calling you a hypocrite or anything, I just want you to be real with yourself," Dongmin said as Chanyoung zipped up his backpack, lugging it on his back. "Hell, I wouldn't even pass up an offer like that," he added, slightly bumping Chanyoung's shoulder.

"Yeah, I guess," Chanyoung shrugged.

"Anyways, I gotta go. I'll catch ya later tonight at the game, alright? Our usual spot," Dongmin nodded before walking off, leaving Chanyoung behind.

"Alright, see ya," he waved gently before walking down the hall.

Chanyoung wasn't entirely wrong, you knew a couple girls on the squad who did a few "extra credit assignments." After hearing about your situation one of the girls even offered to hook you up with the guy that helped her.

"Honestly, it sounds worse than it really is," Abigail said, her blonde hair falling in her face as she tied her shoelaces. "Having some pervy nerd pull up your grades is easy. Trust me, my grades were even worse than yours. And now I have a 3.5 GPA and nothing lower than a B on my transcript," she smiled before standing up to walk over to the mirror, adjusting her uniform.

"Yeah, but wouldn't it be weird if we use the same guy?" You asked.

"Hmm, I mean...I don't think so. Xoey and I had a threesome with him and he loved it. We also got a perfect 100 on our group presentation without editing a single slide," she beamed.

You bit your lower lip, considering the tempting option that had been placed before you.

"Look, if you don't want to get help from Jake, then you can find your own unsuspecting nerd who's willing to help you out in exchange for some action," she smirked, clipping a bow in her hair.

"Guys! What the hell are you still doing in here?" your brown-skinned cheermate, Nova, spat while waving her pom-poms around as she spoke. "You need to get on the field right now! Coach is already pissed," she said, her curly hair bouncing as she jogged away.

"Coming!" Abigail shouted. "We'll talk about this after the game okay," she said, shaking your shoulder before the two of you ran out together.

You met the sharp green eyes of Coach Sam, who looked about as pissed off as you expected her to be. "If you hadn't noticed by the raging crowd behind these doors, we have a big game tonight ladies! Remember your timing! Watch your step! And please, for the love of god, don't fuck this up!" she shouted before placing her black cap on, covering her shaggy dark brown hair.

She blew the whistle, signaling you all to do your signature walk out onto the field to open the game. You just tried your best to focus as you did the first cheer of the game. After you finished, you and the rest of your squad sat down on the benches.

"Abigail. ____," Coach Sam said tapping your shoulders.

"Yes, Coach?"

"If either of you pull some shit like that again you'll be running laps from sun-up to sun-down. Understand?"

"Yes, Coach," you answered in unison.

This game was important for three reasons.

1. If your university won, that meant you were going out of state for the next game.

2. There were cheer scouters watching tonight and the possibility of being picked increased with your performance.

3. This could be one of your last games if you can't figure out what to do about your grades.

"There's no A in cheer," your father's words echoed in your head.

"But there is in cheat," you thought to yourself.

As much as you didn't want to, you took Abigail's advice and scoped the bleachers for the perfect target. Dorky, lonely, and horny...but most importantly, smart.

Chanyoung and Dongmin sat at the very top row of the second tier, in the seats farthest to the left. You set your eyes on the dark-haired boy and his friend.

Curious to know who they were, you whispered to your cheermate Janice, asking if she recognized him. She knew almost everybody, especially since her dad was the dean of the university.

So it was no surprise that she was also head cheerleader and you were sure she had already secured a spot on a professional football team after college. That’s just how her family operated. Paying their way through life.

“Oh, that’s Lee Chanyoung and Han Dongmin, they're both a part of the university's orchestra. You'll usually see them hanging out together. Literally, like all the time."

Introducing New Target: Lee Chanyoung. Age 20. Perfectly talented brainbot. Not only was he in a highly desired honors society, but he was also a part of the college's orchestra.

You nearly smacked yourself in the face as you thought back to the first week of uni and how you were forced to attend the opening recital with your parents. "Classical music is a good way to lighten your mood and increase productivity,” your father said as you sat sandwiched between him and your mother.

Sometimes you hated the amount of pressure your parents put on you to be perfect. Unrealistic expectations that they couldn’t even meet themselves…at least not without pulling their hair out.

You were trying to find a balance between school and life. Yes, school could prove to be very beneficial for you in the future and a great investment, but you didn’t want to let life pass you by while you had your nose shoved 16 chapters deep in a textbook.

After Janice finished reciting what sounded like their admissions speech, you waited until the game was over to put your plan into action.

You texted Abigail to let her know that you’d be looking for a study partner tonight so she wouldn’t worry about where you were. But she told you to make it quick. She promised to wait around to take you home that way you had an alibi for staying out late.

The stands were clearing out as the game came to an end and you ran across the field to catch up with Chanyoung and Dongmin, throwing your bag over your shoulder.

"Hey!" you called out, hoping they'd hear you.

If they did...great, you could move on to step two, but if they didn't you would die of embarrassment.

"Uhh, are you talking to us?" Dongmin asked, turning around and tilting his head as Chanyoung paused beside him.

"Yeah," you said shyly.

"Oh my god. I can't believe I'm actually crumbling right now," you thought to yourself.

"Umm...well I know we don't really know each other, but I need some help," you tried your best to be confident, but you couldn't shake the fact that this felt like downright prostitution. "It'll just be for a couple of weeks to help me pull up my grades."

"Uhh--"

"I'll pay you for it," you spat. Maybe there was a way to get some assistance without having to degrade yourself--no shame to Abby. She did what she thought was right.

"Well, as much as I'd love to help you, I'm already swamped," Dongmin shrugged before a mischievous smirk crept across his face. "But my buddy Chanyoung is more than available."

"I am?" Chanyoung said, eyes widening in shock. That was the first time you heard his quiet voice since you came over.

"Of course you are," he winked, patting his friend on the shoulder. "He's been telling me all about how easy this semester has been on him and that he has way too much free time and nothing to do with it."

"Really?!" you asked, surprised everything was going so smoothly. Maybe you would be able to pick up your grades without having to lose your dignity after all.

"Oh yeah. Trust me," Dongmin smiled. "He can help you out with your little...issue."

Okay...this Dongmin guy was acting a little suspicious, but you needed all the help you could get. Beggars can't be choosers, right?

"Okay," you said pulling your phone out of the side pocket of your bag. "Let me just give you both my number so that we can keep in touch. I really appreciate your help," you unlocked your phone before opening your contacts.

Dongmin put in both of their numbers while Chanyoung stood beside him not saying a word. "There ya go," Dongmin smiled handing you back your phone.

"Thank you so much," you smiled. "Can I meet up with you tomorrow?"

"T-tomorrow?" Chanyoung stuttered.

"Umm yeah. I want to get started as soon as possible...if that's okay."

"Oh, yeah of course. That's fine. He'll meet you tomorrow in the library," Dongmin reassured you, wrapping his arm around his friend.

“That’s great,” you smiled. “Will you be there too?”

“Me? Oh no, like I said before, this is all my buddy Channie. He’s got nothing better to do than help a friend…well a new friend,” something about the cheesy grin plastered across his face was unsettling, but you gotta do what you gotta do.

“Okay that’s fine. Just text me what times you’re available tomorrow and I’ll meet you then,” you smiled.

“____! Girl come on let’s go!” Abby shouted from across the field. You saw her from a distance, checking her pretend watch, taping her foot.

“Sorry guys, I gotta go now. See ya,” you waved before joining Abby.

You hopped into her bright yellow convertible, leaving the boys behind on the field.

Everything was looking great for you. You had a study date planned with a total book nerd. Hopefully, he will be a little less shy tomorrow, otherwise, you didn’t expect to make much progress.

Thanks for reading the first episode of my series. [Series Masterlist]

Click this link to go to my main masterlist and stay tuned for the next episodes.

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[oh-koenig-my-koenig]

breaking me (not literally)

(cw: age gap 25/41; nsfw, pure smut, MDNI; biting/marking, dacryphilia(ish), d/s-dynamics, sex toys, butt stuff, restrained and gagged, overstimulation)

continuing the part before: wearing glasses

Hanging off König’s shoulder I have a déjà vu, from the first time he carried me to his bedroom last week. Not much has changed since then, but at the same time…

I get torn from my thoughts when he lifts me up, his big strong hands around my waist, and just sets me down on the bed, my front against the mattress. He pulls down my pants and I wiggle my legs to help him with it, eager to get my clothes off.

His fingers are grabbing my ass cheeks as soon as they're free, squeezing and kneading. He leans down while I shimmy back, propping my butt up, and he nuzzles his face against my clothed pussy. His nose is pressed into the damp fabric, his tongue lapping at the black cotton, drenching it even more. He pulls back a bit and I can feel his teeth sink into the supple flesh of my butt, for just a moment, leaving a little mark.

"I have to say, having your ass in my face like that is almost as good as having you sit on me.", he says. He flips me around, so I'm on my back. "But I also like to see your face because it's so pretty when I eat you out." He grins at me, the sexy smirk almost turning a bit sinister. "Especially if your make-up is running down your cheeks like today."

Right. I look up into the mirror on his ceiling. My fucking make-up. I don't wear much, but I feel naked if I leave my house without eyeliner. Eyeliner that is now adorning my cheeks. I already look kind of fucked out, just from sucking his dick.

He climbs onto the mattress, kneeling beside me, and I sit up. Wanting to kiss him again and finally get naked, but he stops me when he starts with: "Before we do anything, I also wanted to talk about something.”

“Yes?”

“When I brought some of your stuff up, I dropped the box and half of it fell on the floor.”, he explains, huffing. He nods in the direction where the box is now standing, on his dresser.

My brows furrow, wondering why he thought this was something to bring up.

“I swear, I wasn't snooping or anything, but I picked the stuff up and saw what you packed.”, he adds, lifting his hands in defense.

My face lights up when I catch his drift. “Oh, you mean the toys!” I packed a small bag with my most trusted stuff into the box with my clothes when I got everything together this morning. On a whim really, even though just thinking about using this stuff with him makes me all hot and bothered. I must have left the zipper open when I put it in.

"Yes, the toys.", he confirms. "I know they're your stuff, but I was wonderi-"

"I didn't pack them to use alone under the shower.", I interrupt him with a straight face, but a little grin fights its way through.

"So, you wouldn't mind if we used them together?", he wants to know, making sure again.

"Quite the contrary.", I say, smiling at him.

He hums, the deep satisfied sound I heard a lot from him by now, and he bends forward to kiss me. But only quickly.

"Now that we got that out of the way... Do you have a safeword? Or some word that will work as one.", he says. His eyes search mine like it’s already written in them.

"I do.", I answer. "Spring rolls." My favourite food. I half-expect him to make a comment, a joke, anything, but he just nods, all serious.

"And what if you can't talk?", he asks.

"I- That was never really an issue before.", I say, a little bit unsure now.

"Can I show you? Non-verbal ones?", he suggests.

I nod in return.

"Either pinch me or snap your fingers. That one you can even do cuffed." He demonstrates the two simple gestures, softly pinching my thigh and repeating the snaps a few times. Easy enough.

But something else got my attention. "Cuffed?", I echo. My interest is instantly piqued, and he can see that on my face.

"Yeah." He grins at me. "Restrained, tied to the bed, you know."

"I would like that.", I blurt out, a light blush creeping onto my cheeks.

His eyebrows are shooting up, he’s straightening up, rolling his shoulders back, the grin getting brighter. "Good to know.", he comments, taking my hand in his. “If you’re tied up, we can also communicate like this.” He squeezes my fingers with his. “Once means green, go ahead, twice means yellow, slow down, and three times red, stop.” I imitate the presses, feeling his strong thick digits.

He lifts our entwined hands to his mouth. “Understood?”, he asks, holding my gaze, while he softly places kisses on the back of mine.

“Yes, Sir.”, I say, earnest, but with an edge. The ‘Sir’ drawn out, the corner of my mouth turning up into a smirk.

His eyes light up like matches set ablaze as he pulls me into him and I lean forward, getting up on my knees to kiss him. He answers, slow and sweet at first, until it gets more heated and sloppier. He breaks away to pull my shirt over my head, also getting rid of my bra, his thumb and pointer snapping the clasp open, fiddling with the hooks for a moment.

He's slowly lying me down on the bed, his mouth tracing a hot trail down to my breasts to toy with them. Licking, teasing. Biting them softly, his canines leaving little marks. His hand is holding mine again, his fingers intertwined with mine, stretching me across the mattress, splaying me out before him.

I'm so distracted by his touches that I don't even realise what he is doing, until he fixes a leather cuff around my left wrist. And then the other side as well.

A pang of excitement hits me, spreading through my body, soft tingles erupting all over my skin. God damn, he'll tie me up. Like we just said.

He gets up from the mattress, revealing straps that are tied to the bedposts that I didn't see before, clasping the cuffs to them and fastening them.

"Can you still do the snapping?", he asks, when my wrists get pulled up and to the side.

I demonstrate it with a quick snap of my fingers.

"Yes, good. And don't hesitate to you use the safewords, if you feel like you need to, and I will stop in an instant.", he reiterates again.

I nod. "I will." He trusts me to tell him if he takes it too far, and I trust him to respect my limits, otherwise stuff like this won't work.

He gives me another kiss and moves down to my ankles, getting rid of my panties as well, but not tossing them aside, before he gets two more cuffs and spreads my legs to tie them to the lower bed posts.

"I see now why you have a bed like this.", I quip while I can see myself splayed out on the mattress in the mirror above.

"I don't know what you mean.", he says, feigning innocence, as he gets one of the plush pillows to place under my lower back, propping me up a bit.

"Yeah, yeah.", I shoot back. My limbs are spread, my pussy exposed, but he just doesn't dive in like I want him to, desperate to finally feel his mouth on me.

When he's done, he gets up from the bed and gets rid of his clothes, shedding the shirt and his jeans. And I can see his dick, hanging between his legs, long and thick, getting hard again, after he just came in my mouth a few minutes ago, downstairs on the couch. The piercing at his tip glinting as his length bops with his steps, and I wanna taste him again.

He stalks over to the box, the box with my things again, not before shooting me another proving look. Taking something out that I can't see because his big hands close around it. All the while I'm tied up here, waiting, needy and impatient, and he is taking his fucking time.

"You done, big guy?", I ask while he is getting something from his nightstand. A bottle of lube.

"Patience, brat." Oh, the look is giving me. "You were being so good, sucking me off, and now all I hear are complaints and bratty comments?", he grumbles, but I can see the mischievous grin behind it. A little hint that he's not really cross with me, just leaning into our little games.

"Well, you know, I'm more well behaved when I'm satisfied, but somebody broke the bed this morning instead of makin-", I start again.

"That's it, no more talking for you.", he states, grabs my panties and stuffs them into my mouth. Pushing the fabric inside with his fingers until I can't talk anymore.

He pulls back, a smirk fighting through the serious expression. "Better.", he says, looking down at me.

My mouth is stuffed full, but he doesn't fasten it any further, so I could still spit it out easily, if I wasn't okay with it. I can see what he's doing, testing the waters.

He places himself between my legs, strewn over the end of the bed and still reaching me just fine. He presses kisses to my thighs, starting down at the knees. Taking his sweet, sweet time. Kissing up and down the one side, while his hand is slowly stroking up the other one.

When his fingertips finally coast over my pussy, I almost come, that's how wound up I am. I pull on the restraint, my mewls getting damped by the fabric in my mouth.

"So fucking needy for my touch.", he drawls, repeating the motion again before sinking one finger inside me. Oh, he likes to tease me like that, and right now I can't help, but just take it. My hips rut back and forth, with the way my legs are spread and the pillow is placed under my lower back, I can’t move into his hand, searching for more contact.

He’s moving the digit oh so slowly, my wetness spreading on it, as he slowly fucks me with it.

König bites me again. Sinking his teeth into the soft skin of my thigh. Leaving kisses and hickeys on my thighs, replacing the marks he left there before.

I come, unforeseen, when he pushes another finger in, curling them against the sensitive spot inside me. My hips buck up as I pull on my restraints. He doesn't stop, his fingers moving faster now, and my eyes roll back while my panties are drowning out my groans and screams.

I look down again, after the bigger waves have subsided. The corners of his mouth are turned up into a smirky smile, his eyes are on me, watching, how his fingers are still working themselves in and out of me. His gaze pans up, flitting over my whole naked body, thighs, hips and tummy, stopping for a moment at my tits that are moving up and down with my labored breaths, the peaks hard and sensitive. Up to my face that's adorned with streaks of run down make-up, my undies stuffed into my mouth.

"You're so fucking beautiful.", he almost purrs, his voice deep and laced with pure want. The little praise is shaking me, and my eyelids squeeze shut for just a moment. I will them to stay open, looking at him. Seeing what he'll do.

He pulls his fingers out and lifts them to his mouth, licking my juices off them. Just two quick licks, his tongue darting between them. And I whine. I just want his mouth on me. I would plead for it if I could.

But he doesn't even think about it, taking his other hand and spreading some of the wetness lower, until his fingertips are massaging my other hole. Slow deliberate circles, not dipping inside me before he takes some of the lube he got. Then he presses his pointer inside me, the digit sliding in easily with all the slick.

He is slowly coaxing me to take another finger while the thumb of his other hand is rubbing my clit. When he pushes deeper, his fingers stretching me, a zap of pleasure rips through me.

He pulls them out, leaving me empty, when he suddenly has a buttplug in his hand, my buttplug, the one I packed. Showing me the little thing, before I can feel it pushing against the puckered hole. The cool metal, the cold sensation and the feeling of fullness sending a violent shiver through me as it fully slips into me.

His fingers that were still rubbing over my clit drop lower again, roughly pushing into my pussy which swallows them up easily with how wet I am.

"So pretty with all your holes stuffed.", he whispers, his gaze panning up from between my legs and dropping back again. He pushes his hair out of his face, the long strands falling back over his broad shoulders now, before he leans down and finally puts his lips on my pussy.

His mouth sucks on my clit, and it's just too much. Tears are streaming down my cheeks, clouding my view, as his tongue presses on the sensitive nub, his fingers move inside my wetness and his thumb pushes on the flared base of the buttplug, and I come again.

He pulls back, his fingers slipping out my pussy, and I slump down into the mattress. He crawls over me, his face appearing in front of mine, his hair falling down over me, the tips of the long strands brushing over my sides, my tits. Smirking down at me, stroking over my cheek with his thumb, catching a stray tear that’s sitting there, before the hand scoots further up to the restraint. He squeezes mine, and I squeeze back, just once, to signal him that everything is okay. A go-ahead, not wanting him to stop at all and thinking he’ll finally fuck me.

He presses his lips to my cheek, but he just scoots down again, leaving a trail of kisses down my body, the soft touches sending shivers over me, the smallest stimulation making me gasp for air. My mouth is still gagged with my panties, my breaths shallow.

It's not over, something that becomes clear, when I see my vibe in his hand. Oh fuck, he is pulling out all the stops.

"Come on, you can give me another one.", he drawls, and I don't think the sounds coming out of my mouth would have made any sense, even if I wasn't gagged like that.

Still, I don't think about using the snaps a little bit, just losing myself in the pleasure. The sweet, sweet torture of being made to come over and over again. My thighs are shaking, and it gets only worse, when he places the buzzing head against my clit.

He's watching me, taking in every little bit, my writhing body pulling against the restraints around my wrists and ankles, my hips moving of their own volition. My back is arching and my head falls back.

“Schau mich an.”, he says, his voice alone getting my attention, though I don’t understand the words, my chin dropping to my chest. “Yeah, look at me, just like that, Liebes.”

His look is on me, finding my eyes that inevitably turn up again from the intense stimulation, but I try to hold his gaze. Also seeing the vibe in his hand, the device so small in his fingers as he presses it against my pussy, the familiar vibrations stoking my arousal again.

He doesn’t let up until I’m cumming again, the buzz of the vibe intermingling with my muffled moans and the strain of the leather cuffs. When the vibe shuts off, I relax into the sheets, still not taking my eyes off him.

“Good girl.”, he whispers, deep and soft, his usually furrowed brows turned-up, relaxed.

He’s taking everything away, pulling the plug out and putting the vibe to the side. I’m bare, writhing, overstimulated. Wetness is dripping out of me, covering the pillow beneath my hips.

His head dips between my legs, licking it all up, taking his sweet time eating me out. The sensations of his tongue and mouth and lips are so much more intense, the scruff of his beard against the sensitive skin almost makes me lose my mind.

By the time he gets a condom, my mind is hazy and filled with clouds and my pussy is overstimulated to high heavens.

He grins at me while he rolls the rubber down his length. "No pesky brat teasing me while I put on the condom.", he says. "Maybe I should tie you up more often."

My only answer is a whimper. He drops onto the mattress, crawling over me again. Pulling my panties out of my mouth, the fabric soaked with my spit. He lets me breathe for a moment, his thumb softly caressing my cheek as his hair falls into my face before he leans down to kiss me.

"You okay?", he asks softly.

"Mmmh, yes.", I mumble against his lips. "I'll never complain about not coming again, though.", I add, sighing.

He laughs a little. "Good.", he hums.

His dick slides into me, easily with how wet and relaxed I am. I groan, feeling so full, my pussy now clenching around his thickness. It's feeling sensitive, overstimulated and sore, but still so good. Little bits of pain that only make the pleasure so much higher. Intense, even more intense than usual. The stretch has my walls fluttering around him.

He starts to roll his hips into me and slowly gets rid of all the restraints on my wrists until it's just us two fucking again.

His hands are grabbing me, positioning my hips just how he likes it, my lower back still propped up on the cushion. His hair falling forward like a curtain. His dick moving inside me, deeper than his fingers were before, the girth filling me up.

He's going slower than usual, dragging himself out and in, his head turning up and his eyes rolling back when I squeeze down on his dick. My hands hold onto his arms that are propped beside me, my nails digging into his biceps.

And I can't believe I'm gonna cum again. The ones on his fingers and tongue, with the vibe, were different than this one. Starting so much deeper, wrecking through me, when he bottoms me out.

My eyes turn up, my mouth contorted into an O-shape, but the sounds are barely audible mewls. He leans down again, his hand tangling in my hair as he presses soft kisses to side of my face while I convulse around his dick. His moans and grunts spilling from his lips right next to my ear. My arms are reaching around his waist, my fingernails digging into the muscles on his back, adorned by black ink.

Finding my lips and kissing me, while he’s still thrusting into me, fucking me through the orgasm.

“I'm so close.”, he says quietly, his voice hoarse and deep.

“Please, I want you to come all over me.”, I whisper into the kiss. Simply saying it, telling him what I want, like he told me to yesterday.

He groans, pulling out of me in an instant, and I’m already propping myself up on my elbows, when he removes the condom. He sits back on his knees and pumps his hand a few times, then he cums all over me, moaning deeply, as the creamy liquid coats my tummy, boobs, some drops even hitting my face.

Thick ropes of cum are adorning my body as I smile up at him, sitting up onto my knees. I lean forward, licking the last of it from the tip of his dick, which makes him shake a bit because it's sensitive.

He pulls back and bows down, his hand grabbing my neck softly to pull me in before pressing his lips to mine. I hum into the kiss, feeling the little possessive gesture. When he pulls back, all I can do is sigh and look up him.

"Shower and food?", he suggests smiling down at me.

"Yes please." I get up from the mattress, but when the soles of my feet hit the floor and I try to stand on them, my knees buckle a bit. I stumble forward into him and his arm catches me, while I hold onto it.

"Whoops.", I exclaim, steadying myself.

“Everything okay?”, he asks, a hint of worry on his face, his other hand caressing my cheek.

“Yeah, just wobbly legs.”, I tell him, getting on my tiptoes to give him a kiss. “Somebody made up for breaking the bed and really did a number on me.”, I tell him.

“Yeah, he did?”, he asks, dropping another kiss onto my lips.

“Mhm.”, I mumble.

I wobble into the bathroom, my legs shaking a little bit, while he is putting new sheets onto the mattress. I make my way to the shower and catch a glimpse of myself. Black streaks down my cheeks, my makeup completely gone.

My tits and stomach wet and shiny from his cum against the soft skin. The grin on my face. The stupidly bright grin on my fucked-out face.

König passes me, his butt naked frame between me and the mirror, his broad hairy chest right in front of me. “Come on, sweetcheeks.”, he says, patting my butt. “Gotta get you cleaned up.” And pulling me with him into the shower.

After we've showered, we order something to eat, sitting back on the couch right where we started.

His glasses are placed on his nose again, the nose that has been broken at least twice. Our hair is still wet from the shower, I can feel the damp strands of his long hair against the back of my hand as I’m scratching his back, stroking over his bare shoulders.

He’s just in some shorts and me in a simple t-shirt, some Chelsea Grin merch. Together we're wearing one whole outfit.

I sit on his lap, both of us looking at the screen of his phone, the device so small in his hands, picking out what to eat. He is just adding everything that sounds good. So, basically everything.

This day started with him breaking my bed and now I'm staying at his place and chilling with him on the couch after he fucked my brains out. Once again.

Exclusively dating him now, even though he has to leave at some point to go on his next mission. Something that stirs a little in my stomach. But it is what it is.

I look at him, my eyes taking in the serious expression on his face while he adds another portion of spring rolls to the cart because I like them so much. The corner of his mouth turns up into a little smile while his eyes behind the glasses are still fixed on the phone screen. My fingers push back one strand of his long hair hanging into his face, the tips brushing over the stubble on his jaw, before I press a kiss onto his cheek.

You know what? I still wouldn't have it any other way.

How did the two cuties end up here? Check out the next chapter: lazy evenings or the full story in the Masterlist ~

[homebeyondstars]

Shifting with OCD: a rant.

Too many people are too fast to label symptoms of mental illness as a "victim mindset", when you cannot will your way out of feeling trapped, depressed, scared or paranoid.

Changing my mindset as a person with OCD is very challenging, and it requires self love, time and patience and simply powering through it is not an option.

If youre tired of being called schizophrenic or people insisting youre in psychosis by anti shifters, i want you to *really* self reflect on what you think a victim mindset is.

It's a common thing that is said in the manifesting community that "feeling like a victim is easy", which always infuriates me to hear because its almost always followed by an example of escaping an abusive home. (And they dont consider poc struggles, class struggled and disabled struggles)

Being a victim can lead to chronic struggle, and as a REAL victim - neo spiritualists need to SHUT the FUCK up about victim mindsets.

If you wouldn't tell someone with no legs to shift to a different cr where they have legs, don't boss mentally ill people around and tell them the only reason they haven't shifted is bc theyre lazy. That is so embarrassing and is such a boot licker thing to say.

I avoid scrolling through shiftblr because its exhausting reading tutorial after tutorial that's just spiritualsplaining and regurgitating the same things over and over again. Atp I'm only posting to motivate others.

I want to repeat one more time:

You can NOT force yourself to stop being mentally ill.

And I do mean symptoms of fatigue, lethargy, apathy, loss of interest, frustration, emptiness, paranoia, chronic discomfort and pain etc

The best thing you can do is take care of yourself and nuture yourself, understand your limits and how not to cross them by overcompensating for others. Just be kind to yourself.

If you don't shift now, you've got the rest of your life to achieve that goal — no rush. No rules, no boot strapping, no growing up, no sucking it up, no dealing with it. Just let yourself grow and offer yourself space without shame to do it.

[burr-ell]

With respect to the previous reblog—I sped up almost all of the Otohan combat to 1.5 and only put it back to normal when Sam started FCG's last turn. And it's not that I can't be invested in climactic combat or even really difficult climactic combat! I watched the fights with Ripley, Thordak, Raishan, Vecna, the Iron Shepherds, Uk'otoa, and Vespin Chloras, some of them multiple times, and I was invested the entire way through.

But here's the thing: I do not currently play DnD, and prior to watching CR I knew very little about the mechanics. I learned with the cast as I was watching C1, and as the show went on I paid more and more attention because I could see how the mechanics of combat interacted with the story. When there's a moment where the crunch of combat powerfully reflects a character's arc? That hits, even as someone with little personal knowledge of the PHB. I am not, however, invested in just watching three hours of combat for its own sake...and Otohan's build feels like combat for its own sake.

Obviously the cast is really invested in the story; it's their characters and they're the ones making the choices and rolling the dice. They've been doing this together for over a decade, and they're really impressed by the raw power of Otohan's build. But as a viewer? This simply is not fun to watch. I mean, there are some great moments for the Hells—all of Orym's nat 20s, Fearne using the power of Rau'shan and deliberately casting Blight through touch, Chetney's last words—but I don't know anything about Otohan. I don't know why she's here. I don't know what her motives are. I don't know why exactly she's so OP—"Legend of the Peaks" is just set dressing to me because none of the characters care about the Apex War and Matt has never forced the issue.

Like, sure, they're an exaltant Ruidusborn, but...okay? Why do they get legendary actions and resistances? Where'd their goofyass lil Lands End backpack even come from? Why are they here? No one can do a swagless villain monologue like Ludinus; no one can evade child support like Liliana. But who cares about Otohan, as a character and not just the scary hero-killer? That role in the story could be occupied by any well-built level 20 melee combatant and the narrative wouldn't miss anything.

Without all of the necessary development to get me invested, this just seems like she's OP just to make her "hardcore" or whatever—and Matt's never made a villain like that, so I know this could have been portrayed better and simply wasn't. As it stands, she's had more presence in the stupid Moon Moms fanon (which seems to have been found dead on Ruidus anyway) than she has in the actual canon of the show. I'm always happy when a villain dies, but in this case, it's just good riddance.

[mirrormazeworld]

Silver, The Knight of Dawn and "Sole, Luna, e Talia"

A while ago I came across a tweet on X where the writer was disappointed because Silver's dad has the same face as Silver and accused twst for being lazy (and maybe some of you have been thinking this way as well). But here I have a feeling this is yet another subtle "Easter egg" as tribute to "Sun, Moon and Talia", a literary fairy tale in which it was an inspiration to the original Sleeping Beauty by Charles Perrault (which later Perrault's version is the main inspiration for Disney's Sleeping Beauty)

From the main story, particularly from Lilia's dialogue when he found and blessed baby Silver, Lilia said "The golden hair that shines like sunlight was caused by the blessings of the day" and Silver's hair turned to be silver colored as if it had been "lit by the moonlight with the night blessing"

"Sun, Moon and Talia" also has a similar synopsis to the Sleeping Beauty we know as this was what inspired the original "Sleeping Beauty"

However, it's widely known that most Disney fairy tales are from folktales all over the world. And those folktales are really dark that Disney must revise them so the animation would be acceptable and safe for children. (Like the Evil Queen in the original Snow White who danced wearing red-hot slippers in the prince's and Snow White's wedding until she dies for example). Sleeping Beauty is without exception, as its darker version, "Sole, Luna e Talia" tells about the "Sleeping Beauty" (Talia) who got r4ped while she was under the curse and gave birth to twins, which she named as Sun and Moon"

And of course twst also knew it wouldn't be appropriate if they wrote book 7 and included something about r4pe somewhere inside of it, so instead of writing the "Sun" and "Moon" as baby twins, they used the same baby (baby Silver) to represent both Sole and Luna with the changing color of his hair, and also purposely make both Silver and Knight of Dawn like twins, with Knight of Dawn represents as the "Sun" and Silver as the "Moon", even Silver's name was inspired from the moonlight itself.

Personally I admire how twst team revised a once inappropriate and dark folktale about a sleeping beauty that was r4ped by a lustful king becomes a story about family bond beyond time and blood ties that can make you cry...and I wish they will continue their work this way and exceed my expectations.

Cr: Screenshot translations by Otome Ayui

[misc-obeyme]

Where do you think Mc is going to go if they died..? Heaven? or Hell?

Personally, i think Mc is going to roam Earth for all for eternity as a wandering Ghost/Soul, neither going to Heaven nor Hell. Basically, it's just like Jack O’Lantern.

This is a really interesting question, anon.

The game implies that heaven and hell are separate from the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, so if we assume that's the case then in the end MC would be alone no matter where they went.

Since the demons and others can't follow them. However, if it's like you suggest and they wander earth for all eternity, then that's almost less lonely. Because now I'm having visions of Solomon, returned to the human world after MC has died, and randomly finding their wandering ghost just to talk to them. It's both heartbreaking and special - he's probably the only one who can find them.

I personally don't think MC will ever die. And not just because they don't even bother to bring that up in the game. But because if you think about all the power and magic that MC has now, it seems unlikely that they wouldn't be fundamentally altered (though still human).

I wouldn't attribute that to the pacts, since that would've been more than enough to make Solomon immortal. But I think it's more about the whole "ring" situation from season two of OG. It's like by connecting the three worlds the way MC does, they manifest the power of all three worlds within them and connect them. It's so powerful that things start to go haywire. I can't imagine that MC would be able to hold all that magic without it changing them.

It's just a personal headcanon, of course. There's no reason to believe that anything has happened to MC on a physical level. It just makes the most sense to me.

That being said, I also really like the idea that MC could potentially become an angel or a demon in their afterlife. If MC died and went to hell and became a demon, then they'd be with the demons forever, right? Similarly, MC could die and become an angel, then either choose to stay in the CR or fall on purpose just to return to the Devildom. That feels like such an angsty scenario. Imagine the brothers reacting to either of those situations... oof!

But I like your lonely MC wandering earth as a ghost theory, too.

[maenjiro]

cookiE and cream 𖦹 headcanons

ft. wakasa x afab!reader

synop + cw: wakasa and his oral fixation aka pussy drunk wakasa is the best wakasa. oral (reader receiving) and everything that may come with that

a/n: hmu if this is any good

old news but this man has THE oral fixation

so he dives in, he takes without asking. anywhere, anytime no matter what.

the gym, mostly the changing rooms otherwise he knows his friend would give him shit for it also he really is trying to be more mindful of other people but again, he has no shame when he's hungry

his house, your house, any place you can have some alone time

he makes you wet with all the shit he’s saying about eating you out

might not even be something extremely dirty but he’s so straight forward he can make you pretty flustered.

gets all frantic when he needs his mouth on you but you're wasting time talking

might pin you against the wall and just get on his knees

lift one of your legs on his shoulder to have more access, closes his eyes and the first moan he lets out is pure bliss

your legs shaking will never be enough for him to stop

or on the bed when he's on top of you, this bitch would lower his head down to kiss you and stop abruptly smirking “whoops, wrong lips”

next thing you know he has your legs on his shoulder and is worshipping your cunt

the rare times he's not in a frenzy to have his tongue make circular motion between your folds he will spread them with his fingers and smile at the sight

low breathy moan against your pussy

moves his tongue like he's starving, he is pussy drunk and he shows it

makes sure his tongue is keeping you all wet and hot

he's messy yet very precise, he knows where to lick and how much pressure will make you see stars

also will prod at your hole with his thumb and keep teasing you around your entrance with feathery touch that will make you clench around nothing (the bastard will smirk against you)

soo i bet he has some tooth rotting nicknames for you and i swear i know he would non ironically call you oreo... and you would tell him to stop calling you that

and he looks at you almost offended “not when i have your legs spread open for me and i’m about to lick your cr-” either you cover your face with the pillow or push his head against your core

endless cycle of him sucking on your clit and poking it with his tongue

overstimulates you and he doesn't even do that on purpose he just loses tracks of time (will make you cum at least three times i'm sorry but i don't make the rules, he does)

you can't even pull away cause his grip on your legs is tight, holding onto your thighs for dear life not to spiral

i wouldn't be surprised if he ended up falling asleep between your thighs

[septembermonologues]

everyday I think about how dorian constantly asked if things were ok with orym or if things were what orym wanted to do or how much dorian checked up on orym in the beginning of C3 and JUST. AUGH. I don't want to assume how dorian would have been like if he had stayed, maybe he would be swept up with everything as well. maybe as someone who doesn't feel comfortable talking about himself he would give orym space. or maybe orym hides his feelings well and dorian wouldn't even notice BUT SOMETHING. SOMETHING!!! tells me that there would be moments where dorian would check in with orym more often and and AHHHHHHHHH GET THEM BACK TOGETHER PLEASE CR PLEASE

anon i think i would have a heart attack if i had to see the date that you sent this because it has been months and also dorian is fully back. however. my excuse is that you got me working on a compilation i was thinking about making anyway and because im perfectly content with crumbs its 9 minutes long only two episodes of exu in so who's to say if i'll ever actually get anywhere with it.

BUT. to your point hopefully. i'm thinking about how in episode ONE of exu dorian was really kind of the only one who didn't shrug off orym's hesitation about stealing something for poska and even tried to find another option that he would have been more comfortable with. to me even if there's not a 'real' heart-to-heart dorian is right there to give orym actual space to air out his frustration/hesitation without like. idk. talking over him or it going in one ear and out the other so he has to constantly repeat himself.

[utilitycaster]

In the end, it is misogyny but in the form of that Imogen (and most of the female cast, if we are being fair) gets reduced to just being a woman to the point that criticizing any real flaw, wrong doing, or "hey i personally maybe perhaps don't like that she did this" is turned into an attack on her because she is a woman, because after all, all women are perfect and so so dainty they must be protected (sarcasm)

Without mentioning the attacking real women in the name of the fictional one

It really is the "God forbid a woman do anything" but in it's worst form

Sorry for venting, been having thoughts about the fandom for the past 5 years

YUP. I do recommend Unlikeable Female Characters by Anna Bogutskaya which I devoured in like, one sitting over my winter break and posted a bunch of excerpts from but this discourse is extremely not limited to the CR fandom. I mean, think about all of the endlessly churning nonsense about the women of Gone Girl and Midsommar. I am going to see Love Lies Bleeding tomorrow and have steered well clear of really any discussion because I simply would like to see buff lesbians in a crime drama but apparently the discourse is rancid.

Of course there are people who assume ill of female characters while excusing men. That is absolutely a big problem. But again, we can barely talk about that. I recently made a post about how Laura is not a particularly chaotic player, and indeed is one of the most cautious players in actual play, and again I think there is a serious and important conversation to be had about how there's probably a reason why, say, Travis and Taliesin are more likely to make extremely bold moves, because they didn't get raked over the coals during C1 for stealing a cool broom from a guest character! I actually think Marisha has managed to hang on to some of her boldness and it makes her a stronger player but I would not have been surprised if she retreated after the hate she got from Keyleth. But yeah, in actual play, bold moves are pretty important. We can't even talk about how real-world misogyny holds back the actual actors without some moronic wretch being like "FIGURES THAT A MISOGYNIST CUNT LIKE YOU LIKES A MALE ACTOR."

When a character who is a man - or in some cases, characters who are not men but are played by men - does something people don't like we can say "wow, I didn't like this, but it was an interesting choice by the actor!" but we aren't allowed to either talk about the reasons why a real world woman might hesitate to play a character who does ugly things - because of the misogynistic backlash that will land specifically on her as a real person - nor can we compliment her for going for it and playing a complex flawed character, because how DARE you say a woman is anything less than some kind of Divine Feminine ideal. At best you're allowed a two-dimensional caricature of She's So Sweet And Good But Sometimes Gets Angry (this also happened to my friend Keyleth).

And this might reveal my own biases but like. I as a woman don't love being called self-centered, but that, personally, would probably lead me to some reflection. If you call me a girlfailure, even jokingly, I am going to break your nose. It's really telling that like...one of the absolute no-brainer "hey stop calling grown women girls" feminist tenets has gone by the wayside particularly with the set of people who think that meta that fails to put women on so high a pedestal they are untouchable is misogynist. They are awful towards women, fictional and real.

A line that always stuck with me from, bizarrely, a book about wordplay, was that Victorian men would treat women of their same classes as their superiors, but never their equals - they would coddle them and protect them but they wouldn't actually engage with their thoughts and foibles. (This happened to my friend Jester).

Anyway my personal solution is to keep going. On some level, as my previous post indicates, while I don't want the harassment it also only underscores my point, that a lot of these people are way more invested in being a dick to women on the internet than writing meta about the pretend women they think they like. I have to imagine they're doing this because either think they're entitled to meta they like from people who can actually fucking write it because god knows most of the people making this complaint have the most "if you can't dazzle them with brillance, blind them with the most purple-prose bullshit you can muster" attitude; or because they literally are just champing at the bit to attack women online with the ostensible veneer of "but it's FEMINIST to call THESE women cunts because they said my blorbo wasn't saintly and flawless." However, again, I know that I'm pretty bullheaded and forcibly unlearned the uh, patriarchal idea that women should not be confrontational. I do not blame people who look at this whole situation and say "I'm going to keep my thoughts to myself because this is so unpleasant."

[ahamkara-apologist]

Okay I kinda get being dissapointed at how they rushed the Sov sibling reconcilliation with just one conversation after drawing it out for months but y'all...this really isn't the end-all-be-all of Crow's character arc, nor is it necessarily out of line for him. His biggest weakness is that he's a bleeding heart who lets people walk all over him- remember how he decided not to get revenge on Spider despite Spider very literally keeping him as a slave? Or how he killed a psion because he was too empathetic to a hive guardian? As much as I love him, and as much as his love is a terrifying force when weilded correctly, he's soft and weak. He always has been. He was bound to forgive Mara eventually, esp. since they have a psychic twin bond going on.

I think y'all are also forgetting the fact that Mara has had quite a bit of character development over the past year or so and has very notably been more open about her emotions and better about keeping herself out of Crow's life- because she got bitchslapped by the reality of what she'd done to him in Season of the Lost and then got shaken to the core by her confrontation with the Witness in Witch Queen. She hasn't been 'defanged', she realized that the way she was acting qualified her to be a Disciple (aka the worst of the worst, the enemy she'd been hellbent on fighting this whole time) and that in tandem with Crow's rejection upset her deeply enough for her to change her behavior, which hasn't been as apparent until now. Idk how y'all can forgive how Uldren Sov slaughtered hundreds of Awoken citizens and wreaked havoc on the Reef but is changed as Crow without also acknowledging the fact that Mara herself changed as well. It's not as dramatic of a difference because it happened more gradually and without intervention from a Taken Ahamkara and the Traveller, but its still there and is the most apparent its ever been right now. It wouldn't surprise me if the reason why Crow is forgiving her now- apart from the fact that he's a softie and discounting potential Riven bullshit- is because she's proven she's changed by both keeping her distance and being more emotionally open with him, as well as open about how she knows she fucked up. That's the second thing Uldren wanted other than her approval, after all.

Also, it's been like, 2 years of Crow being pissed at Mara and avoiding her, so them starting to make up now is kinda necessary even if it feels a bit rushed. I personally would have loved to see more snark and nettling from Crow's end, bc I love conflict and sibling angst, but it really isn't out of character nor is it throwing away Crow's character arc. It would have if Mara hadn't changed, but she has. And while I myself love storylines where victims don't need to forgive their abusers and can exert their wrath upon them as they wish, the fact of the matter is that how such a situation needs to be dealt with varies immensely on a person-to-person basis, which the writing team has already proven they're capable of understanding. Just look at Calus's and Caiatl's relationship! That ended with no reconcilliation because Calus simply refused to change, while Mara has spent the past year trying to get Crow to feel comfortable with her as an equal in conversations and open up to him more and trying to break her habit of watching him like a hawk- aka, acting like an actual sister rather than the pseudo-mother figure she'd picked up from Osanna. Ofc Crow the softie is going to respond to that, esp. since he's got a psychic connection to her via Awoken Twin Magic and seems to have been walking Uldren's memories as of late. He just genuinely is really fucking bad at holding a grudge.

(And while its easy to go 'oh the writing is lazy and rushed', I also think its kinda sus that Riven specifically talks about the human wish to reconnect with family right after the Sov sibling talk happens. It wouldn't surprise me if she picked up on Mara's desire to reconnect with her brother and pushed Crow towards forgiving her. It seems like she's been trying to pull Uldren's memories to the forefront everytime she talks with him and that could be a big factor as to why he's been reflecting on them a lot recently)

[monstersdownthepath]

Milestone Monster: Ragathiel, General of Vengeance

CR 26

Lawful Good Huge Outsider

Bestiary 6, pg. 114-115 (image taken from the cover of Chronicle of the Righteous)

There are many things in common between this Empyreal Lord and the last one we looked at on this blog. In most ways, Ragathiel and Vildeis couldn't be more different; Vildeis was born a perfect angel, while Ragathiel was born a devil and fought against his own nature and his very being to become one. Vildeis was so traumatized by the existence of Evil that she tore out her own eyes so she wouldn't have to see it, while Ragathiel's only wound of note was caused by his father, the Archdevil Dispater. Vildeis bears her scars openly and eschews any armor but the miles of bloodstained bandages over her form, while Ragathiel shields himself in gleaming golden armor to give the impression of an impervious, faultless soldier. Vildeis wields a simple dagger with terrifying effectiveness against single foes, while Ragathiel wields a dramatic two-handed, flaming blade.

But at the end of the day, both of them have the same goal: The eradication of Evil. And they both have the same problem: They're worryingly single-minded about it. Other Archons even worry about Ragathiel's bloodlust, something possibly justified considering how unfortunate his Divine Obedience is, demanding a death every time it's invoked. Despite whatever worry they may have for him, though, Ragathiel seems wholly committed to the battle against fiends of all forms, but especially against the devils and their ilk, whom he executes with impunity and without mercy. His mission is tireless, but one he performs without hesitation or regret. So long as Hell continues to reach its greasy little hands beyond its borders, Ragathiel will be there to stab at its fingers until it retreats... and, on occasion, venturing into the infernal lands to strike it directly.

The General of Vengeance is among the fiercest of all the Empyreal Lords, not afraid to lead his armies from the front at every opportunity, but his approach has some key differences from Vildeis'; she tirelessly wanders with no home or lair of her own, striking down Evil as it crosses her, effectively launching spontaneous campaigns which last only as long as they must in order to eradicate immediate foes before moving on to the next target. Ragathiel is more careful and arguably more thorough, retreating to a grand military base in Heaven to carefully plan his every assault to maximize its impact and the length of time it will take Hell to make another move. He's noted to be a brilliant tactician whose plans have rarely failed, but his prowess truly shines on the battlefield. Once he's landed in the fray he's a sight to behold, as though holy fire itself took up a sword to burn away the corruption trying to infect the world.

Let's see just what that looks like...

Let's start with the basics, since I feel like I have to bring it up every time I spot it: as an angel, Ragathiel projects a 20ft Protective Aura which shields everyone inside (himself included) from the forces of Evil, granting a +4 deflection bonus to AC and a +4 resistance bonus to saving throws against them. The aura also hedges out Evil summoned creatures, grants additional saving throws against charms and compulsions, and blocks hostile spell effects if they're 3rd level or less. No Fireball, no Slow, no Magic Missile, no targeted Dispel Magic, Blindness/Deafness, Silence... The list goes on, with both Ragathiel and any of his nearby allies benefiting from the protection.

It goes without saying that his allies aren't restricted by this; they can throw out all the Fireballs they want! In fact, Fireball specifically is encouraged, but we'll get to why in just a moment...

For now we'll continue with the basics, and it's hard to get more basic than Ragathiel. You take one look at him, and you can immediately tell what he is and what he's going to do: respectively, he's an angelic Paladin in specialized full-plate (Golden Armor, in fact; +5 full-plate with no downsides to his speed or checks!), and he's going to hit you very, very hard with a very, very big sword. His +5 Evil-Outsider-Bane Flaming Burst Holy Bastard Sword is a paragraph of a weapon created for the express purpose of beating devils back to Hell, dealing 3d8+21 damage at base, +2d6 vs Evil creatures and an extra 2d6+2 against Evil Outsiders specifically, and 1d6 Fire damage (1d10 if the sword critically hits, and it threatens a critical on a 17 or higher) as a ribbon on top. In addition to swinging his sword upwards to four times a round, he's got five Burning Wings that can be used as part of his Full-Attack, each one dealing 1d8+5 plus 1d6 Fire damage per hit and forcing a struck enemy to succeed a DC 39 Reflex save or burst into flames for 1d6 more damage a round.

And of course, he wouldn't be a Paladin if he didn't have Smite Evil. He's got it 7 times a day, in fact, and any of his allies within his Primal Aura can expend 2 uses to give all of his allies within the 30ft aura the benefits of Smite Evil against a single target. That's +9 to AC, +9 to attack rolls, and +20 to the first damage roll a given creature makes each round for a whole battalion against one specific target, +40 to damage if the target is an Evil Outsider (and ONLY Evil Outsiders; Ragathiel doesn't get bonus damage against Dragons and Undead!). If the General of Vengeance is leading a charge against a specific diabolic power, all his allies need to do is invoke his Primal Aura, and suddenly even meager footsoldiers can be hitting the main boss as hard as a Barbarian five levels above them! With health to match, as he can freely use Shield Other to help tank hits his more fragile companions would normally fold to.

Even if he has no reinforcements to invoke this power, he's got Gate 1/day to open a doorway right to Heaven to bring them in, shielding and empowering them with his auras. A quick Time Stop also lets him run around and use his 3/day Blessing of Fervor with no lost time to give two dozen plus Turbo Hastes out with each use, and throw out his 3/day Quickened Blade Barrier between each use to trim the battlefield into something more accommodating and prevent an easy enemy retreat.

Ragathiel fights best when surrounded by allies, for more reasons than just his long list of buffs and auras. His Righteous Mantle directly notes his bloodline relation to a demigoddess of fire, granting him numerous fiery blessings; namely, he absorbs Fire damage, treating all incoming Fire damage as healing instead, AND his Fire damage completely ignores any Fire Resistance and Immunity possessed by devils while dealing double damage to them! This is an INCREDIBLE ability... and would be far more useful in a vacuum if he had more than just token Fire damage on his attacks. Indeed, Ragathiel has only one bit of fire in his kit that isn't attached to his wings or weapon, a 1/day Meteor Swarm he's incentivized to drop directly into his own space once he's in melee with a bunch of devils, damaging them (and everything around them) while restoring a good chunk of his own HP. It also means his allies can freely throw Fireballs, Walls of Fire, Meteor Swarms, and other such effects of their own directly at him, which not only harms enemies, but restores his health!

No, his at-will Fire of Judgment doesn't deal any Fire damage, I checked; it burns an Evil creature for 1d6 (1d10 if they're an Outsider, Dragon, or Undead) damage each round with 'cleansing positive energy.'

At the very least, absorbing Fire damage means a great deal of devils suddenly have portions of their arsenal taken from them... though it, ironically, doesn't aid him against his own father, Dispater, who has no Fire damage in his kit. Rather, his Devil's Bane kicks in; this ability gives him +4 to caster level checks against devils, to his own saving throws when saving against diabolic magic, and to the save DCs of all his spells when a devil is being targeted, and this bonus becomes +8 when against Dispater. Dispater actually cannot affect Ragathiel with any of his spells thanks to this, and the General himself has a small chance of landing his own abilities against his father's otherwise towering saving throws!

And while we're on the topic of resilience, why not see how sturdy Ragathiel is? Because, as you may have guessed, the man's nearly impossible to harm in a way that matters. His DR 20 can't be pierced unless the weapon is Epic and Evil, while his Regeneration can only be suppressed by the powers of a deific or Mythic being. He's got the Demigod Suite of status immunities (notably NOT immune to disease, fear, paralysis, stun, or sleep, but those will be rendered non-issues soon) as well as immunity to Acid and Cold damage, and though his saves are ALREADY high, just look back upwards at everything he's got to bolster them!

And then. there it is, the penultimate quality listed on his statblock right before it gets into the rest of his abilities: Lay on Freaking Hands. 10 times a day as a swift action, Ragathiel can give himself an encouraging slap on the chest to restore 17d6 health to himself. Except it's not just 17d6! Righteous Mantle grants him +2 HP per healing dice rolled whenever he magically regains any health, which has no effect on his own healing spell (because it's freaking Heal at 3/day), but it means every LoH use grants him 17d6+34 HP. He can also apply ANY Paladin Mercy to his ability without restriction! And... well, here's the best part:

He can use Lay on Hands no matter what. There is NO condition or effect in the game which prevents him from using this ability as a swift action to wipe away whatever is inhibiting his actions. This means even if he's nauseated, stunned, paralyzed, asleep, staggered, or unconscious due to HP damage, he can wipe the condition off with all the difficulty of a particularly stubborn scab. Thanks to his empowered Lay on Hands and his own demigod immunities, there is NO status ailment in the game besides outright death that can inhibit him unless all 10 of his uses for the day are burned through, because he can use his swift action to break himself out of the effect and still have his entire turn afterwards.

It is probably not surprising that most of Ragathiel's enemies view him as an unkillable juggernaut, ridiculously durable even by the standards of demigods. In high level Pathfinder, rocket tag is ever-prevalent; you need to be able to shut down your enemies before they do the same to you. Well, when battling the General of Vengeance, it's likely you can't. He's all but guaranteed to get his round off, especially if he's high in the initiative order. Unless, I suppose, you put him to sleep, then nauseate, stun, and paralyze him in a single round, since as-written he can only wipe off one a round. Good luck with that, especially if you're a devil!

You can read more about him here.