#and accidentally seduces like five different men

[phoenixkaptain]

In my personal opinion, there just aren’t enough stories about someone transmigrating into the opposite gender and being just super okay with it.

Like, a woman who becomes a man and just keeps living life the way she used to. A man becoming a woman and just keeping on keeping on. I love these types of stories where there’s an unrealistic lack of body dysmorphia and the mc just enjoys living.

[zoeykallus]

Okay, First, LOVE YOUR STORIES. THEY'RE MY FAV❣️

AND SECONDLY AFTER SEEING IMPERIAL TECH SUGGESTION OF YOURS… *squeals like a fan girl*

I’m sorry for making this dumb request (and please ignore this if you must..) But female reader accidentally seduce Imperial bad batch all of them separately! IVE SEEN IMPERIAL HUNTER, CROSSHAIR, TECH BUT NEVER SEEN ECHO OR WRECKER AS IMPERIAL BEFORE!!! *fans with a red blush*

Aloha!

THANK YOU SO MUCH❣️ :))

Not sure how you accidentally seduce a person, but I'm gonna try something....

The Imperial Bad Batch x Fem!Reader - Dangerous Seduction HC's Part 1 Of 5 -

Warnings: Suggestive / Sexual Themes / Strong Language / Dirty Talk / Angst / Dub-Con / Filthy / Smut /18+

_________________

You belong to the resistance. Unfortunately, you have fallen into the clutches of a special unit of the Empire, Clone Force 99 also known as Bad Batch. The interrogation goes completely differently than you expect, between you and the soldier who is supposed to interrogate you, a strange intense tension arises.

AC: These HCs probably don't make much sense, and mainly consist of sexual tension and spicy incidents. Summed up; these HCs portray TBB like an upside down universe, they have still some of their very own traits, but they are "evil", so to speak. Yes, I do have a very dirty mind. It's never boring in here. Probably the most extensive HCs I have written to date. It's more like Five spicy One-Shots.

_________________

Following Parts:

Part 2 : Echo

Part 3 : Tech

Part 4 : Wrecker

Hunter

You've been sitting alone in an interrogation room for several minutes. The room is illuminated with bright, sterile-looking light. The handcuffs have been removed from you; there is no escape from this room anyway. There are certainly guards in front of the door, and the door itself is locked with a code.

You look up hastily as the door opens with a hiss. One of the men who caught you, enters, you recognize him by his armor. It's black like most of the Empire's special forces, but it's still not standard. At first sight, it looks to you as if it were made of different armors.

The man moves slowly, confidently. He moves with the confidence of a hunter who has cornered his prey, a predator that you can't escape.

He takes off his helmet, and you are surprised by the face you see under it. Masculine, prominent nose, a dark tattoo covers half of his face. His hair is a bit longer and tied back with a black bandana.

You flinch as he noisily puts the helmet down on the table with a swing. His dark gray eyes look at you piercingly. He reacts to your defiant look with a smirk that gives you goosebumps.

"You can act as much as you want, you can't fool me".

He stands up, comes around the table and bends over you from behind, his mouth close to your ear, his arms to your left and right at the table. His voice creeps under your skin as he says almost suggestively, "I hear your heartbeat, I sense your every movement, smell your fear"

His voice is deep and slightly smoky, the way he talks so calm and firm, intimidating as well as stimulating. You feel his hot breath on your ear and on your cheek. The tingling under your skin becomes more intense and the temperature in the room seems to rise.

Somewhere hidden deep inside you, you find the courage to tell him, "I'm not going to tell you anything".

You barely get the words past your lips, you feel paralyzed by his presence. But when he grabs you, pulls you out of the chair and pushes you against the wall, a startled cry escapes your lungs.

His body presses you against the wall, one of his thighs between your legs. His thigh touches the triangle between yours, only for a second, almost ghosting over it, but you feel the touch very clearly through the thin fabric of your pants.

Like a pulse, heat shoots between your thighs against your will. His strength, his self-assured presence that takes over the room, has befuddled your mind, otherwise you can't explain your body's reaction to him.

You feel moisture gathering in your panties and bite your tongue as he suddenly pauses and takes a deep breath.

He laughs softly, a beautiful, sexy and at the same time blood freezing sound.

"I can smell your arousal as well as your fear".

You swallow, actually you can't imagine it, but why else had he just taken such a deep breath and known exactly what you were feeling right now? Coincidence?

You are still paralyzed, you don't fight back, don't try to escape either. One part of you wants to feel him, the other hates you for it. When his hand starts to unbutton your blouse, you keep very still and look at his fingers as if hypnotized.

His hand lays flat on your bare breastbone, and he says, "It's throbbing as hard as it is fast."

A single, soft word passes your lips, "Please"

He looks up into your face, and you can barely withstand his piercing dark eyes.

"Please what?" he asks quietly, almost tenderly.

You don't know yourself what you wanted to say. If he should touch you, leave you alone or not hurt you. You didn't really know what to expect, all you felt was his closeness and the heat spreading inside you.

He moved his leg, rubbing his thigh, the armor plate, over your pubic. It instantly began to tingle in your pussy, more of your juice gathering in your panties and already seeping through the fabric, leaving a trail on his armor.

One of his hands clenches around the back of your neck, the other on your right hip as he continues to move his thigh, back and forth, back and forth. He takes another deep breath and growls softly.

Very suddenly, he lets go of you, and you almost topple forward as he squats in front of you and unzips your pants. You don't say a word, just watch him as he pulls the fabric down from your hips, slips them over your ankles and tosses them aside, just like your panties.

You can't believe that he is now looking directly at your naked pussy, the wet flower, the scent of which attracts him so magically. You have no idea how hungry this imperial soldier is for you right now.

Another deep breath, he sputters the breath out again. When he looks up at you, his eyes are so dark, almost black, from his dilated pupils.

Then his tongue shoots out, and he begins to lick you greedily. A hoarse gasp comes out of your mouth, automatically you open your thighs a little wider.

When he starts to drill his tongue into your pussy, you can't help but automatically grind against his face. He lets you, not bothered at all, on the contrary. As his prominent nose rubs over your swollen clit, he drills his tongue further into your moist heat, your juice running down his chin, dripping onto his chest plate. His hands grip your buns tightly, pressing you against his face. You hear him slurping again and again, taking in your arousal as if he needs it to survive.

Your thighs tremble, your swollen pearl pulses under the friction, and the feeling of his tongue darting into your hole again and again is overwhelming. But when you reach into his hair on impulse, he stops, jumps up and stares at you. His gaze is wild, different from before. He whirls you around, pressing your back against the tabletop.

With one hand on your sternum he pushes you down on the table, with the other, he loosens his codpiece and pulls the pants of his blacks down a bit. His hard length pops out behind it, thick, proud and pre-cum leaking.

He's still holding you down on the tabletop. You willingly open your legs for him. As he reaches for his cock with his free hand and rubs it over your damp folds, you moan softly, expectantly.

"You want my cock, don't you?"

With a nod, you say softly, your cheeks heated, "Yes."

"Louder," he demands.

"Yes!"

"Yes, what?"

"I want your cock inside me!" you outright scream at him, ashamed, aroused, heart racing wildly.

The smile on his face isn't warm or friendly, it's knowing and deceitful.

"Then tell me where your shuttle is hidden, the shuttle that has the goods you stole from the Empire".

Your hesitation angers him. He pushes against your entrance, but doesn't penetrate you.

"Tell me, and I'll fuck you senseless, that's what you want".

You tremble on the table, from arousal, anticipation and shame. He dips his tip a tiny bit and withdraws from you again.

"Come on, tell me, we both know you want this".

When you finally tell him the coordinates, he penetrates you, long, slow and deep, stretching your little hole with his thick cock, with a deep moan. It's overwhelmingly good.

"Good girl," he coos before he starts pounding into you, making good on his promise.

Ko-Fi (If you feel like giving me some coffee)

@rintheemolion

@andyoufollowyourheart @clone-whore-99

@brynhildrmimi @kaliel2310

@misogirl828 @tech-deck

@meshla-madalene

@chxpsi

@thebahdbitch

@nahoney22 @ladykatakuri

@darkangel4121

@ttzamara

@arctrooper69

@padawancat97

@agenteliix

@allsystemsblue

@palliateclaws

@either-madness-or-brilliance

@ortizshinkaroff

@andy-solo1

@hunterssecretrecipe

@heyitsaloy

@greaser-wolf

@extrahotpixels

[myinconnelly1]

Pizza Roses and Guns

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 487

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Summary: It's Valentine's Day and you are struggling to decide what moves to make on Dean.

“Hey stud,” you let your voice be as husky as you could as you put one hand on your hip and laid on your side on the bed. “Ugh, stud….”  You groaned throwing yourself back onto your pillow. 

You had positioned yourself on the bed no less than five different ways so far.  You had taken three showers to reset your perfume and make up and hair style.  You had tried on lingerie, ribbons, and your birthday suit but nothing seemed to be the right thing to do.

It wasn’t like Dean, and you were an item, you hooked up with him in your fantasies several times but had never taken that step toward the hunter.  To be honest you had never considered yourself great at seducing men.  It was just so awkward and a lot of work to set yourself up as the most desirable thing in their vicinity.

It was 7pm on February 14th, you were kidding yourself if you thought you were actually going to succeed in approaching Dean.  Your hair had air dried after a terrible attempt to do some kind of messy top bun that looked more like spaghetti noodles than anything else.  Your skin had the clean scent of the generic soap you used, and you had donned one of Dean’s shirts that you had managed to snag in some weird attempt to seduce him in his own clothing.  Dean was probably out on the town or hooking up with someone from a nearby bar, you were just going to have to accept that this was not going to be the year that you made the move.

A noise outside caught your attention and a shadow out the window spiked your paranoia.  You grabbed your pistol, the one Dean had helped you ‘acquire’, and quickly opened the door.

“DEAN?” you asked, your voice in a high squeal of surprise.  He was holding a box of pizza with a single rose on top of it, his hand raised as if he was about to knock on your door.  Quickly, you used the door to shield some of yourself.  Dean’s shirt was long on you, but not long enough for comfort in front of the whole parking lot.  “What are you doing here?”

“Uh, I was gonna…. I mean I wanted to… Do you want some pizza?”  He asked as he quickly grabbed the flower from the top of the box and presented it to you.  You turned the safety back on and took the rose with a smile that you would later decide was giddy excitement bubbling up.

“Sure, you want to come in?”  Dean stared at you, his mouth open in a cute, dumbfounded expression and you realized that you had accidentally dropped back into the husky tone you had practiced earlier.

“Sure,” He maneuvered the pizza box to walk in the door before you closed it behind him.  “Is that my shirt?”

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 2

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren’t a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner’s 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: heavy/shameless flirting, provocative actions, dirty talk, aggressive-ish sexual advances, female!reader

Song → 18 by Anarbor

Previous →Part 1

Next →Part 3

“Too old for you, sweetheart.” 

Those words repeated in your head over and over again, pissing you off more than they probably should have. Even though Keishin had yet to explicitly tell you how old he was, you were already well aware that he was probably a good four or five years older than you at least. Him pointing out that simple fact was not what was grinding your gears—it was the way he had said it.

With that devilish smirk on his face, he had practically said it as if he were taunting you with it. The way he had shut down your question was like he was holding his superiority over you; he might as well have just laughed in your face and said, “You couldn’t have me even if you wanted to.”

It was awfully bold of him to assume something like that with his tone of voice, because you didn’t even want him . . . well, back then you hadn’t wanted him. Now was a different story, and even though you knew it probably wasn’t the best idea in the world, the blatant ‘you can’t do it’ that screamed at you in his dark brown eyes was more than enough to make you change your perspective. 

So now your mission was to wrap Ukai Keishin around your finger just to prove that you could. 

At first, you hadn’t been sure how to go about accomplishing said mission because Keishin was rarely at the shop at all, which was how you landed the job in the first place—to take over for him. So, you really only had a short window at the beginning of the day when he was leaving and in the evening when he was coming home, but he was usually in too much of a rush or too exhausted to even look in your direction, let alone give you the time of day to make him fall for you.

Nevertheless, you used the few minutes you were graced with each day to the fullest. 

Leaning against the counter, your eyes kept flickering to the clock above the counter and to the door that led to the back room and, in turn, the stairs up to Keishin’s apartment. After working at the store for a few weeks by now, you had come to learn Mrs. Sakanoshita’s and Keishin’s schedules pretty well and knew that Keishin was due to come down the stairs, grumbling about how he was running late, any second now.

Right then, almost as if on cue, you heard heavy footsteps stomping down the stairs and got ready for your morning routine. When the door opened and Keishin emerged with a granola bar stuffed in his mouth and a cup of coffee in hand, you were quick to greet him.

“Good morning.” You smiled as you perked up. 

“Goog morngnan,” his speech was mumbled over the entire granola bar in his mouth, but you caught the gist anyway. He barely paused to acknowledge your presence, his mind completely focused on getting out the door.

A smirk playing at the corners of your mouth, you leaned over the counter, cleavage on full display from your tank top and apron, which hung low on you, and gently grabbed his arm. “Will you be back later tonight or should I wait for you before locking up?” you asked.

Keishin just rolled his eyes at you. You asked him this every day, and every day he gave you the same answer. “Just leave when you’re done. I have keys to the store . . . just like I did yesterday . . . and the day before that.”

“Just checking.” You let go of him, but not before you let your fingertips ghost over his forearm. “Have a good day, Keishin.”

“Yeah, you too.” He never returned the sentiment by using your name as well, but you still persisted, hoping that he might change his mind one day. 

As he turned his back to you and headed out the door, you watched him leave. Although men who pretty much wore track suits exclusively were not usually your type, there was just something about the way Keishin’s ass looked in track pants that did it for you. As you wondered whether he was as nicely sculpted everywhere else—and whether it came from volleyball or if he worked out sometimes in secret—he had disappeared from sight. 

With your short-lived window of opportunity having come and gone, resulting in the same pathetic outcome as always, you sighed heavily and got back to work. As much as ogling the boss’ son was entertaining, you still wanted to keep your job because you did really like it, so you still had to actually get the job done. 

Like every other day, you spend your shift helping out customers, manning the front counter, and cleaning when cleaning needed to be done. The days were usually more or less the same, so by now you could predict when a heavy customer flow would hit—like around lunchtime and after work/school hours—and when the store would be dead, giving you time to take a break, eat some lunch, and get some chores done. 

Sometimes the days went by in the blink of an eye and sometimes they dragged on painfully slowly. Today was the former, probably because it was a Friday and the store tended to see a higher than normal customer rush in the afternoon when people stopped by on their way home to grab snacks and drinks for the weekend. 

Today, however, ended up being unusually busy, even for a Friday, and before you knew it, it was almost time for your shift to end and you still had quite a bit of shelves to restock. You were a little bummed about having to stay late on a Friday night, but you knew that if you went home you would just end up eating some leftovers in the fridge, taking a shower, and lying in bed, scrolling on your phone, until you passed out. Unfortunately, you didn’t have any exciting plans for the evening, so it wasn’t a hard decision to choose to stay later to get the work done instead of having to come in earlier on Saturday morning. 

With the radio playing in the background, like it always was in the evenings when the customer flow was practically nonexistent, you locked the front doors and worked through box after box, restocking the shelves and doing some of the remaining cleaning that you hadn’t been able to get done during the day.

Half an hour or so later, you heard a slight commotion from the front doors and instinctively looked up at the clock, noting the time. It was well past closing time by now, but this also wouldn’t be the first time you would have needed to deal with someone who couldn’t tell time and send them on their way empty-handed. 

Just as you stood up from where you were kneeling in front of one of the back shelves, the familiar sound of the front doors sliding open filled the store. Confused and a little on-edge, you approached the noise. Ever since your first day, you refused to be snuck up on again and always had your ears sharp and listening for people. 

Rounding the shelf, you spotted a figure with its back turned to you. However, you recognized that ass and poorly dyed blonde hair instantly and calmed down. It was only Keishin.

“You’re back late,” you commented. Sure, he always reminded you that he had a set of keys for the store, but he had never returned after you had locked up and actually had to use them before. 

When Keishin turned around after locking the doors behind himself, you noticed he was a little wobbly on his feet and couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, so that’s why you’re late.” You stood back and gave him a wide birth as he slowly stumbled over to the counter and sat down on the stool behind it. 

Keishin narrowed his brown brows at you. “What’s that mean?” he inquired, his speech completely unaffected despite the fact that he was moving like he was tipsy, which he seemed to be.

“Oh, nothing.” You shrugged, brushing off his inquiry. “At least one of us had a good night.”

“Mmm . . . very good,” he sighed before folding his arms on the counter top and resting his head on them. 

You watched him for a minute or so, watching his back for rising and falling to prove he was still breathing when he went silent and still. “You should probably go to bed,” you told him, afraid he might pass out right there on the counter, leaving you to deal with his unconscious body. 

“Yeah . . .” He paused for a while before continuing. “Just rest here for a little bit first.”

“Okay.” You nodded slowly before turning back toward the shelves you had been stocking. “Well, I’ve still got some stuff to finish up so just call if you need anything.”

“Kay.”

Normally, you would be using this time to try to seduce him some more in whatever subtle way you could think of, but since he was pretty drunk, you decided against it for tonight. Besides, you were a little too exhausted to try anything anyway. Maybe this had all worked out for the best; a night off to just be in the same room as him and maybe you could gather some information to aid your pursuit that would resume the following day.

As the radio continued to play softly throughout the store and Keishin rested on the counter top, you quickly finished up stocking the shelves, noting that you would need to do some sweeping the next morning due to how dusty the tile was in the back corner. 

Standing up, you dusted off your hands and began patting your black pants off as you strolled back to the front. Surprisingly, Keishin was sitting up now, leaning back against the wall and typing something on his phone. In about twenty minutes, he seemed to have sobered up quite a bit.

“Damn, you bounce back fast,” you said, eyeing him and the nimble movements of his fingers while he typed. When he didn’t respond at first, you just went back to dusting off your pants.

“You missed a spot,” he finally spoke, his fingers ceasing movement while his eyes flickered over his phone at you.

Trying to inspect the back of your pants and failing miserably, you huffed. “Where?” You patted a few more spots, starting to wonder if you had actually missed a spot or if he was just messing with you.

“No, not there. On the side-” He tried to point out the spot he meant, but when you kept turning and twisting, it was impossible for him to pinpoint the area for you. “Oh, for fuck sake.” He set his phone down, stood up, and approached you. 

Right as he extended his hand to wipe away the smudge of dust on the side of your thigh, you turned again and he ended up brushed his hand across your ass. You both froze immediately, and when you looked up at him, you noticed a light dusting of pink across his cheeks.

Out of all the fruitless plans and days you had spent trying to get any reaction out of him, in the end, all it had taken was a few drinks on his part, an accidental encounter, and a misunderstanding to see any sort of progress.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered slightly, but you knew it wasn’t from the alcohol . . . or, at least, it wasn’t just from the alcohol. 

“It’s okay,” you told him, shrugging it off right away. It really wasn’t that big of a deal and you were slightly surprised to see such a reaction from him after something as trivial as an accidental butt touch. 

“I-I was trying to brush your thigh but you turned and then-”

You giggled. “Really, it’s okay.” You found his embarrassment endearing. “I think I’ll survive.”

“It’s not about that.” He groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Workplace harassment is taken pretty seriously these days. Not to mention . . . sexual harassment.”

This time your giggle turned into a full blown belly laugh. “Do you honestly think I’m going to report you for an accident like that?” you questioned. “Besides, who am I going to report you to? You and your mom own this place, right?”

Furrowing his brows, Keishin seemed pretty disgruntled about what had happened. “You’re sure you’re not upset about it?”

“You’re really bent out of shape over this, aren’t you?” You rolled your eyes playfully. “Okay, how about we make it even?”

“What are you-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you had reached around and gently planted your hand on his ass. It took every ounce of self restraint you possessed not to give it a squeeze and test to see if it truly felt as great as it looked, but in the end you just left it at a light touch like he had done to you.

“Now we’re even,” you told him softly. “You gonna be okay now?”

Just like before, there was a faint blush on Keishin’s cheeks. But this time, in addition to the pink hue, there was a hungry look in his eyes, and you truly couldn’t tell if he was actually hungry after drinking so much or if he was hungry for something else . . . for you.

The two of you fell into silence for a few moments, breathing heavy and eyes locked. The way he was staring at you, you were ready for him to lunge at you at any second, but he never did. His hand twitched slightly by his side and his tongue ran over his bottom lip, but he never stepped closer.

Since this seemed like your best chance, you were forced to make the first move. If he didn’t want this, you would stop right away . . . but you were half convinced he did want this.

“You work so much . . . has it been a while since someone has touched you like this?” you asked in a hushed whisper, slowly removing your hand from his behind and moving your fingers to toy with the hem of his shirt. 

Keishin, whose face and neck were bright red at this point, didn’t answer. Instead, he swallowed hard and wrapped his hands around your arms. Then, he stepped backward, sat back down on the stool, and pulled you to stand between his legs. 

“Do you want me to touch you?” Your hands began travelling up under his shirt, nails lightly scratching over his lower stomach. “Say the word and I can make you feel good.”

Keishin’s lips parted and it looked like he was seconds away from practically begging for it, but before he did, something flashed in his eyes and he came to his senses. Running his hands down your arms, he snatched your wrists, pulled your hands out from under his shirt, and held you at arms-length. 

“I know that you think this is all fun and games, sweetheart, but you’re seriously biting off more than you can chew here,” he warned, eyes dark and serious.

You were taken aback. How had he done a 180 so quickly?  “How do you know how much I can fit in my mouth?” you teased, choosing your words carefully. “You haven’t even let me show you yet.”

He just shook his head. “26.”

You cocked a brow, unsure if you had heard him correctly or not. “What?”

“You asked me how old I was,” he elaborated. “I’m 26. You’re 18. That’s an eight year age gap. Eight years is a lot when you’re 18.”

You felt your blood begin to boil in your veins. “Why does everyone think they know what I can and cannot handle?”

“Why are you so adamant on refusing to acknowledge that people older than you might have some useful advice?” he said plainly. “I’ve been 18 before. I know what it’s like to feel like no one is taking you seriously, but making stupid choices in order to pass as independent is not the way to go about rectifying that situation”

Groaning in frustration, you pulled your hands out of his grasp. “I’m not trying to ‘pass as independent’. I am independent! I can make my own decisions and if I want to have meaningless sex with a 26-year-old I should be able to do that!”

“Why is this the hill you want to die on?” he inquired.

“Because it’s the only hill I have!” 

Untying your apron from around your waist, you yanked it over your head and threw it harshly onto the counter. After grabbing your belongings from the back room, you headed for the door, ready to be as far away from Keishin and the store as possible.

“Just my luck that I stumble across the only morally-responsible 26-year-old burnout in the fucking world,” you spat at him on your way past him to the front door. “I’m going home.”

“Okay, goodnight,” Keishin responded calmly, definitely completely sober by this point. He watched as you struggled with unlocking the front doors, waiting a reasonable about of time before offering his help. “You have to turn it the other way.”

Taking his advice without a word in response, you shot a glare at him over your shoulder as you pushed the doors open. You wanted to hurl one last insult his way, but by then, you were too emotionally exhausted and mentally flustered to think of anything appropriate . . . and if you were being honest with yourself, his words were sinking too deep for your liking and you needed to be away from him before you did something truly horrible . . .

. . . like admitting he might be right. 

[hellspawndoodles]

I realize that I’ve managed to write like three (four or five if you count platonic) different variations on Snucius throughout my AUs.

I’ve written:

-Two broken men try to fix each other with a side order of Unusual Kink (Off-Script AU)

-Old friend accidentally comforts the widow (Bronze Trio AU)

-Incubus accidentally seduces Veela, is unsure how to feel about it (Creature Inheritance AU)

-The God of Death and a fuckoff huge Opal Dragon happen to be drinking buddies (Gods and Monsters AU)

And

-Depressed Man slogs through hordes of monsters to process his best friend’s death (Silent Hill AU)

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

[tomione thing] Thanks for the recs! I actually was looking forward to the rant, I like how you break things apart so they make sense in a very unique way.( I don't have any strong feelings to the pairing if that was your concern, I just think the stories about them have the potential to be fantastic because I enjoy intelligent characters going through life and solving problems and, usually, in fanfiction there's focus on only one smart character.

So, you people are just poking me with sticks to see what ridiculous opinions spew out then. I’m onto your game.

With that said, let’s get to answering then, and know that you bring this upon yourself.

I loathe Tomione. I put up with it, sometimes, because I will read almost any fic featuring Tom Riddle as a main character. (Want the Carnivorous Muffin to read your fic? Tom Riddle as a main character. Even if I disagree with 110% of your premise I will probably still read your story.)

However, it’s extremely telling that my recs the other day were hilariously small, and one was actually Hermione/Loki. The Tomione exists, I just hate it.

This is for two main reasons. First, I just don’t believe the ship would ever work under any circumstances and the pair are naturally doomed to loathe one another. Second, fanfiction has a collection of tropes associated with Tomione that are in unbearable (likely caused unconsciously by the first, Tomione doesn’t really work, so we do terrible things to make it work). 

Tomione Doesn’t Work: Change My Mind

So, remember we’re living in Muffin-land for this. I’ve explained some of my headcanons regarding these characters, and I’ll offer brief explanation for why I think what I do here, but I’m not going to expand on it too much.

Tomione has appeal under the premise that either you or someone else previously mentioned: they’re both so smart, of course they belong together.

The trouble, Hermione’s not nearly as smart as she thinks she is. What we see of Hermione’s cleverness boils down to having a very good work ethic and reading a lot of books. She tends to outsmart Ron and Harry because she actually puts in the work to do her homework and, my god, read her text books. Also, as I’ve covered before, Harry’s an idiot, so that’s a low bar.

Because Hogwarts can be passed by the likes of Crabbe and Goyle, and the curriculum seems to boil down to “pronounce this fake Latin correctly, ooh look, a spell”, actually reading her books not only gets Hermione by but skyrockets her ahead of her peers. Who, apparently, have no ear at all and don’t understand the swishy motions are important and probably never bothered to read their books.

This isn’t to say she’s stupid, she’s by far one of the more intelligent characters in the series, but it says a lot of not so good things about Hogwarts that Hermione is the “brightest witch of her generation”. In my mind she has never compared to characters like Tom Riddle, Lily Evans, Severus Snape, or Albus Dumbledore.

Hermione never questions how magic exists, why wands work, or why pronunciation is so weirdly important and why we’re using spells that are gibberish Latin instead of English or simply Latin. She never takes that step outside the box I would expect a truly intelligent person to take.

An example, Hermione completely throws out the entire discipline of divination. This is part because she believes it’s stupid, but she also only spends about two seconds thinking about it, and she doesn’t appear to be any good at it. If Hermione’s not good at it then it must be a stupid subject for stupid people.

Now, that alone doesn’t doom her, but it does put a huge chink in the major appeal of Tomione: they’re both just so brilliant that they’d be great together.

What dooms them is that Hermione both a) thinks she is as brilliant as all these other people and b) has this pervasive need to be the smartest person in any room she walks into. Hermione comes across Tom Riddle in the past or just chills with Voldemort in the future, she will inevitably try to show him up. This isn’t just to assure us that good is better than evil, but because she can’t help herself, because being the smartest is how she defines herself.

As a result, especially if we’re in the time travel/school setting, she would inevitably get in competition with him to prove she’s so much better/smarter than he is. It would undoubtedly be on her terms, probably revolving around school work, and she’d throw a fit when Tom wins because he understands the value in being concise where Hermione would quite easily write a hundred page Potions’ essay (that had a five page limit) with the subtext “PRAISE ME” written on every page.

I can’t imagine Tom Riddle would find this anything but completely obnoxious and a waste of his time.

Now, part of this goes into headcanon land, but I have always imagined, 100%, that Tom Riddle in Hogwarts was treated like a muggleborn, that he didn’t find out his ancestry until at least part of the way through, and he never confessed to being the Heir of Slytherin. I can back this up, but that’s another story for another day, I’ll just say that no matter what Dumbledore says any other backdrop makes no damn sense.

So, Tom has clawed the respect of his peers into reality with bleeding hands, he came from nothing in a way that even the ‘good’ purebloods wouldn’t have sympathy for. Even the muggleborns I imagine thought they were better than him. Tom is an impoverished orphan, so poor he has to stay at Hogwarts over the holidays, he was not having a fun time at school.

Tom has ambitions, is mired in hatred, and is not really all that wrapped up in Hogwarts except to get him where he wants to go.

Now, imagine Hermione suddenly shows up in front of this Tom. Suddenly he’s being challenged to essay competitions, she probably leaves cryptic remarks all the time about how evil he is and how amazing she is because she’s not evil and smarter than he is, and if he thinks he’s smarter than her then he better find time to prove it.

It’s like talking to a Dumbledore he can never escape from.

Tom doesn’t have time for this bullshit.

Tomione not only insists that he does but that he lives for this bullshit. Forget Voldemort, Hermione making weird comments about how Tom has a mutilated soul, or that Dumbledore is so much cooler than he is, is where it’s at. 

As for Hermione, ultimately, I don’t think she’d ever really be attracted to Tom Riddle because he’s too much competition. The guys we’ve seen Hermione with are all safely much dumber than she is, Hermione likes being in relationships with men she feels in some way better than. Tom Riddle is not that guy. 

Add on top of this that Hermione’s righteousness would never allow her to even think about dating someone like Tom and we get her, at best, trying for the sake of destroying him (if she seduces Tom then she destroys Voldemort!) but ultimately failing.

Because the thing is, circling back to where we started, there are different kinds of intelligence, different levels of intelligence, and intelligence alone isn’t a reason to get along. Smart people might gravitate towards smart people, but they still have to have compatible personalities. Reading books isn’t magical glue that can bind people together.

No matter what way I look at it, Hermione and Tom would absolutely loathe one another in every capacity. 

Hermione ends up back in time accidentally and goes to Tom with Hogwarts: utter loathing.

Hermione ends up back in time on purpose and tries to save Tom’s troubled soul or else murder the shit out of him: utter loathing with an extra dash of “what the fuck?!” on Tom’s end.

Hermione ends up back in time after Hogwarts when Tom’s a store clerk: utter loathing (Hermione walks into Tom’s shop to tell him how cool and interesting she is to enter into the typical Tomione mind games, all Tom wants is commission.)

Hermione enters into deals with devils with the horcruxes: utter loathing complete with Tom’s triumphant/Nelson laugh when he inevitably betrays her to get his own body.

A young Tom Riddle somehow winds up in the future and is forced to attend Hogwarts because Dumbledore does what he wants: utter loathing (Tom has to sit there and enjoy Harry and especially Hermione telling him how evil he is and how Hermione’s so much smarter than him because she’s muggleborn and reads books.)

Lord Voldemort takes Hermione hostage during the horcrux hunt: utter loathing (though this would be sadly less irritating to Tom than the others, I imagine, if only because Hermione would probably be more terrified and less righteous. But she’d hate him with the fire of a thousand suns and inevitably pull a horrific revenge scheme on either him or his Death Eaters. No one crosses Hermione. No one.)

You name it, I think it’s going to end with the pair hurling chairs at each other and just being completely and utterly uninterested in every capacity. 

Now, onto how Tomione is typically written, which just makes it so much worse.

Tomione Fics Breed Awful: Change My Mind

Tomione, to me, is born from a few things. It’s born from the author’s desire to have an intelligent, female, borderline SI lead and to shove her together with another edgy smart person with some degree of a bad boy persona.

In this way Tomione fics are very similar to Snape/Hermione fics, are similar to Lokane from Thor/Avengers, are similar to Zutara back in the earlier seasons of Avatar the Last Airbender, etc. 

As a result the fics almost invariably spiral into: “Hermione is so smart, she’s so much smarter than everyone else, she impresses Tom because she is so smart. Tom is so smart but so evil, he sexy growls at her, and confesses how much he hates love every other chapter.” 

Only, as I noted above, while there are many interpretations of Tom’s character (and mine certainly doesn’t agree with the vast majority) I can’t help but think every single version would hate her.

To make him not hate her the author will often turn him into one of two Tom Riddles: Emotionally Deficient Robot Tom or Growling Sexy Sociopath Tom. Emotionally Deficient Robot Tom will often have paragraph long tangents to remind us he doesn’t compute your human emotions, “Beep boop” but despite this Hermione’s out of control hair makes him feel urges “bloop bloop”. Growling sexy sociopath Tom usually goes on a rant about how love is beneath him, backs Hermione into broom closets, and growls as he sexily makes out with her in a non-romantic manner because “ew love”. 

In other words, Tom is made an unbelievably flat character. He becomes a base archetype of sexy villain character. He never really gets redeemed, even if the story insists he does, he usually doesn’t have a reason for the way he is (”um, love potions!” the author often cries), and he and Hermione always think they’re much more important than they are.

The story rarely, if ever, goes anywhere because the entire point of the story is mind games between two sixteen-year-olds who think they’re smarter than everyone else. So we get a lot of chapters of Hermione and Tom running around, being very clever to each other, but doing nothing.

Sometimes authors do deviate from this, we will have an actual plot where we’re not just in Hogwarts again or it’s not just centering on ridiculous mind games. However, even then, Tom is usually is some variant of a very flat cartoon villain while Hermione is... Well, one would think the way she’s described that she’s the smartest, best, most beautiful, most brilliant thing to ever grace this earth.

TL;DR

Tomione is not my jam.

[movedlovelyhashiraa]

                           𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐂 : 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐈

NAME: Unknown ( she can’t remember )

Alias: Mitsuri

AGE: 19 ( physically ), 170 ( chronologically )

PERSONALITY: Mitsuri is known for being incredibly manipulative towards others, humans and even other demons. She is very childish and outgoing, though it’s far from innocent. Because of her pretty features and very feminine and sexy physique she uses that heavily to her advantage, her main source of feeding and getting attention being from using these traits of hers and seducing men. She gaslights and manipulates her ‘fans’ into believing if they loved her they wouldn’t watch her go hungry, that they’d even go as far as sacrificing their own bodies to satisfy her hunger. It seems as though she doesn’t have a violent bone in her body, but like every demon she can be driven to the point of unfathomable anger and she can go berserk. Though it takes a lot to truly get her angry, she likes to maintain the innocent and coy persona.

BLOOD DEMON ART: Her blood demon art consists of releasing numerous different fragrances from her body in a mist-like consistency. It is used to warp humans ( and low to mid-level demons ) minds, having them consumed by whatever type of emotion Mitsuri has released within the mist. Her main use of her ability is to brainwash tougher and strong-minded people into believing they’re in love with her, abling them into doing her bidding. It’s so efficient that a small whiff can have a regular human captivated for almost five days. When in combat she can use her demon art to make people feel overwhelming fatigue, hesitation, and even have them have temporary memory loss depending on how much they’ve inhaled. 

BACKGROUND: Born into a large family, Mitsuri took the brunt of her alcoholic fathers wrath. As the oldest sibling, and being as physically strong as she was, she believed it was up to her to protect her siblings and her mother. Although she was the strongest in the household, that didn’t mean Mitsuri could use her strength, certainly no against her father who she was frightened of. She was beaten almost daily for just protecting her siblings, but her father had always had it out for her because of her ‘oddities’. Being born with her unique muscle composition, her parents believed they were being punished for the sins they’d comitted in life, so Mitsuri didn’t have a good go of things from the very beginning. Because of her huge appetite, her family was forced to buy more food, often leaving them without money which then led to Mitsuri being treated like a burden, so she’d only get fed the same amount as her siblings, sometimes less. So she then began to steal food. The day she was kicked out was the day her hair changed colour, a mutation from eating a plethora of different foods which caused her to become ill and her hair to change. Her parents believed she was a witch and kicked her out of their house. Her siblings who she protected and looked after for years turned their back on her too. Now living on the streets, Mitsuri had to steal and fight for food. She would often rob and easily beat up bakers, but because she was ‘pretty’ a lot of people gave her money and food quite easily. One night after accidentally killing a young woman for her money she was approached by Muzan, who admitted to having been watching her for a little while and was fascinated by her hair colour and her strength. Muzan offered Mitsuri the chance to become a demon, he told her of all the things she could do and how her life would be compared to how it was at that moment, and she agreed. After becoming a demon her life changed drastically, and the first people she ended up killing happened to be her father when he tried to attack her on the street. She ended up going through the entire village before happily trotting her way to the next.

ADDITIONAL FACTS:

Mitsuri is an incredibly strong demon, on par with the twelve kizuki. She was offered a position but kindly turned it down, telling the demon king that she would like to aid him without the title as she believed she wasn’t strong enough to be given a rank as high.

After gaining more blood from Muzan over the years her appearance has slightly altered. Her hair colour remains the same, as does her eye colour, although the whites of her eyes are now a soft pink to match that of her hair, and she has strange little lime green swirl markings across her lower body, and pink coloured hearts with wings across her upper body. 

Although her target prey is men, she feeds on women when she needs to, but she grows quite emotional when feeding on children. She feels a horrible guilt ( due to being so protective of her siblings while human ) so she no longer feeds on children.

[legallyharrie]

BERLERMO ALTERNATIVE UNIVERVE : ART GALLERY IN PARIS

Hello,

I’m sharing with you my first Berlermo AU in wich Andrés is the owner of a art gallery in Paris. He met Martín who came to buy some paintings for his new place.

Sorry for the mistakes, I was tired when I wrote it and english is not my native language !

***

Since his primary childhood, Andrés has always been in love with art. It is the only way he has found to express his feelings. Art helps him to feels love, joy, sadness. Painting and sculptures are the only things to which he let his true self exposed. Even if Andrés is now in is forties, he never said “I love you” to someone. Not even to his parents, or to his little brother, Sergio, or to one of the five women he married. The fact is that Andrés is also extremely ill at ease with shows of affection.

After running the world for fifteen years as a consultant in Renaissance art, Andrés decide to settle five year ago in Paris and open his own art gallery. He found a little gem in the heart of the Marais, a fancy neighborhood of the French capital. Andrés decided to name it “La Galerie Berlin” in reference to Berlin, a city full of artists and in which is sell his first drawing.

In a lovely spring afternoon, a green-eyed man opened the door and cried out in a broken French “ Bonjour !”. A big smile was now invading Andrés’ face. The man was slightly younger than him and seemed very dynamic. He also immediately recognized his Argentinian accent.

“ Buenas Tardes amigo !” Andrés said.

« I’m Martin Berrote. I am an Argentinian engineer sent to Paris for a one-year mission. I lost myself in the neighborhood and then I saw your store front. Could you help me to select some painting, I really need to garnish my apartment! “

Martin was a very talkative person. During his speech, he looked Andrés straight in the eyes with his two-sapphire iris. His accent was also very melodious, and you can hear Italian intonations.

It needed some seconds for Andrés to come back to his senses. He coughed in his fist before answering to Martin.

“Nice to meet you Martin. I’m Andrés De Fonollosa. I’m a Spanish art expert, established for five years in Paris…” without stopping talking, Andrés moved with a rare elegance between the multiples sculptures, glass boxes and showed to Martin every painting.

Even if to them it seemed like only ten minutes have passed, the two men talked about lives for two hours straight. Martin’s childhood in Buenos Aires, the violence of his father, Andrés’ travels, and his unperishable memory of Argentine, his history of art studies. They found a lot of common in each other.

After this long discussion, Martin choose three paintings all of them were abstract art. Vivid colors. Anarchic paintbrushes. It was a pretty realistic representation of his mindset and his thoughts. As nature gifted him with a great intelligence, it was also born with a brain fill with ideas and unable to rest for more than thirty seconds.

“Are you free tonight?” Martin asked.

“Hmm. I just divorced from my fifth wife some weeks ago and I have only a cat at home. So, I guess that I have nothing planned. Why?

“Would you do me the favor to take a drink? Some friends told me that The Marais was full of bars and places to go out.”

At this moment, Andrés was not able yet to put words on what he was feeling but he was mesmerized by this Argentinian guy. It was a magnetic force, something that no one could see. It was unusual, unique, for Andrés to be this confused.

“Of course. Just give five minutes to close the gallery. Let me store your paintings there and I will help you later to grab them to your place.”

A soft wind was now diving into the streets of Paris. The two men were giggling in their way to a little bar. It was crowdy and filled with pride flags and rainbow crosswalks. Even if it was a fancy neighborhood, Andrés preferred the chic of Saint-Germain-Des-Près. They both sat inside a little pub and ordered tapas with a pricy bottle of wine that Andrés recommended to Martin. If he had had the choice Martin would have only ordered a regular beer but he could not disappoint his new friend. They continued to talk about themselves, the highs and downs of each other lives. Martin confess to Andrés how disastrous and toxic was his last relationship with a Sicilian guy. Andrés reviewed his five weddings, all of them sold by a divorce. He admitted to Martin that he really loved women but in the end that he never understood them. He covered them with flowers, luxurious hotels, and jewelries but it seemed that it was not enough for them.

At several moments, they both stopped talking and stare each other in the eyes. But at no time, it became weird. They both needed calm. In these silences, both of them could red the other thoughts. It’s been less than half a day since they met but is seemed like they have known each other for years. Martin understood Andrés. Andrés understood Martin. They were born in different continents, shared a different culture but they shared the same point of view on most of subjects. For the first time in his life, Andrés opened up to someone, naturally. It was like a flood barrier had been broke.

Shortly after midnight Martin asked Andrés if he was not too tired to go back to his gallery and pick up home the paintings. Martin’s flat was 2 miles away from there. As the engineer he was, Martin had a secret plan in mind.

During the way back to the gallery and his place, Martin became quite touchy with Andrés. He touched his arm and then he started to put a hand on his back. Andrés didn’t objected and didn’t moved either. He thought that the feeling was pleasant and showed a knowing smile.

After climbing the four floors which separate the street from Martin’s place, the little Argentinian offered to Andrés a tour. Immediately, Andrés argued with Martin about which walls the paintings should be hang on. At the end, they decided that two of them would be perfect in the hall. The largest one will take its place upon Martin’s bed.

Martin was leaning to the framing of the bedroom’s door staring at Andrés four feet away. Now, they both had sleepy eyes. Today had been intense but none of them have the intention to end it now.

Even though Martin was not a shy person, his arms were full of goosebumps. On top of that, the little butterfly he started to feel sooner did not stopped to grow in his stomach. In fact, thousands of butterflies were now flying in his body. Before, Martin never believe in love at first sight. He was a bit misogynistic and, in his mind, it was for girls and for fairy tales. What he did not know yet is that the supposedly straight men, five times married to women, was also devoured with strange butterflies. And he that he was submerged by the same sensation even if he tries his best to burry it. In any way, Andrés thought that he was uncapable to have feeling for someone. To genuinely love someone.

Martin inhaled a big bowl of air and made a step. He looked Andrés straight in the eyes, smiling.

“Andrés. I wanted to thank you for this wonderful evening. Since I left my country, I felt very alone. But then, I met you and your crazy passion for art and beauty. I never get along so fast and so well with someone.”

“ I have to admit that it’s a first time for me too. Sorry if I bothered you with all my problems and everything. I never felt that connected with a total stranger. But I find in you someone who listens to me and who understand my point of view on life. “. Andrés said with glazed eyes. This, was a first time for him too. He never cried in front of someone. Maybe he even never cried since is childhood.

“ Cariño, you didn’t bothered me.”

Martin made a new step towards Andrés. Then, another one. The distance was now quite close between them. Martin gently wipe Andrés eyes with a comforting “shhh”. His hands were now wandering on Andrés’s cheeks and he brushed the back of his hair. For sure, since the moment he saw Andrés when he first entered in the gallery, Martin thought that Andrés was a very charming and seducing men. Now, he was staring at him and the distance between them was only of twenty centimeters. This close, with the moonlight transpiercing the curtains, Andrés was even more sexy and Martin craving to taste how soft was his lips.

In order to finally break the distance, Martin slowly approach his nose to Andrés’. Andrés raise a eyebrow at first, surprised by Martin boldness but then, they begun to rub each other nose. It was pure, it was soft, it was new. Time was frozen around them. Andrés closed his eyes; he was one hundred percent confident in Martin. He puts his hands on Martin’s hips and pull him closer to break the distance once and for all.

Shortly after, Martin gently kiss Andrés lips. As he imagined they were beautifully soft. Andrés responded to the kiss and their lips began to move synchronically and it became less and less innocent. No words were needed and like they both already learnt today, they didn’t had to speak to understand each other.

“There is no accidental meeting between soulmates”

[demyrie]

On the Resourcefulness, Intelligence and Grit of Fic Writers

My beta and starmate @rainbowstarbird and I have been writing fic since we were preteens. I specifically remember straining, in my seat, toward my screen and my 13th birthday so that I could Very Legally sign up for ff/net. Wild, right?

We are also students of narrative, specifically radical queer storytelling. One of our favorite things to do is go on errands (we’re old be quiet) and just brainstorm ideas with characters we love where they share our identities and struggles and do things we need or want to see. Or just ... get kinda horny, as today.

Rae exclaimed at some poor driving on our way to the house and accidentally said “room for two” and our brains went south, toward the double penetration line of thinking. We laughed, and laughed, and then Rae shrieks MAKE IT A PORN, GO and thus began the game.

Me: uhhh uhhh uhhh OH OH okay so, it’s!!! a bed and breakfast!!! and the hot married owners court and seduce a guest and DP them! ROOM!! FOR!!! TWO!!! it works on both levels!

Rae: Aaaaaaaa someone hasn’t made this a porn yet?! make it a fic!

and we did.

Me: oh shit who’s an OT3 we can play with?

Rae: WHITE COLLAR 

(for those who don’t know, White Collar is a delicious drama action procedural show where a white collar FBI agent, Peter, teams up with one of the greatest con men ever. A con man he’s tailed for YEARS, by the way, that HE put in jail, and together they solve art crimes and slowly rehabilitate Neal. Peter is amazing, soft soulful masculinity to a t, and has a very frank, beautiful, nurturing wife named Elle who is also amazing and Neal has never belonged anywhere and there is a LOT of tension as Neal edges closer and closer to letting himself be loved but then NOPES out to return to his scammer ways. The cast joked about a threesome. It’s heavy. Both Peter and Elle would do anything for Neal, and struggle with his inability to believe he’s worth love. Its. Ugh.)

Me: YES!!! SO!!! to theme, it would have to be married couple Peter and Elle running a cute little Bed and Breakfast that Neal stumbles upon and then he gets fuuuuuuuuucked

Rae: But I want peter to be a FBI agent?? Who is he, if not a lawman?

Me: AH! RETIRED cop/FBI agent peter, swayed into peaceful AND swanky bed and breakfast life by his canonically talented event designer wife Elle in the hopes of giving him some calm and space to come to grips with himself

Rae: YES! AS HE DEALS WITH HIS PTSD. his career took a slightly darker turn -- we can take one of the harder cases and imagine how it would have gone without Neal and how it would have shook him -- and necessitated a retirement from the field.

Me: and Neal is very off his track. He broke up with whatserface. Maybe he just got out of prison, or narrowly squirmed out of it after one of his art blackmail schemes went south. He doesn’t know whether he wants to go back to crime/art forgery, but he’s out of money and out of ideas and he pulls up at this small unassuming (BUT VERY TASTEFUL) bed and breakfast and immediately tries to scam Elle with a fake credit card to stay the night. 

Rae: Yes, he’s charming, but he’s off his game due to the recent upset and fumbles the delivery. Peter scents it immediately, being a cop, but Elle takes pity on him and just says honey let it be. Maybe he’s having some trouble. She’s so nurturing, and says ‘remember what we talked about in therapy, Pete?’ and frames it as letting go of hypervigilance, and being more centered like they’re learning in therapy. Because they need therapy. And the idea of a sexy older established couple openly talking and communicating to deal with their pain but also their boundaries is amazing. But also it’s hilarious how it becomes “Neal is a walking test of Peter’s ability to Calm Down” because Elle leverages it like REMEMBER? THERAPY? and Peter stomps off flustered and lets her get her way just like in the show

Me: yes and so they get attached to poor lost Neal, and extend and extend his stay night after night while he figures things out. so of course everyone gets to talking. Peter feels his Old Buried Gay Feelings awakening with such a beautiful guy hangin out, bein’ all charming and sweet -- which is an opportunity to bring up the “remember what we talked about in therapy?” line in a different context, a la dealing with neglected parts of ourselves and not just “problem” parts of ourselves to create a WHOLE self -- and Elle spots it from a mile away, as well as Neal crushing right back but being on his best behavior with this awesome couple just sorta letting him live with them. 

Rae: YES, like, he doesn’t want to mess this up, and he’s also not used to ... being good. Behaving. Or ... being trusted. All of this is fucking him up on a lot of levels, bringing him face to face with his hollow conceptions of self-worth, and it’s delicious. They LOVE HIM. and there’s so much angst about him dying to confess that he never really had the money to stay here in the first place, that he tried to scam them, as a metaphor for his intrinsic worthlessness.

Me: yes. they love him. And then they love him. At the same time. DP. Room for two.

[screams, high-fives, then contented silence. horny, contended silence]

Rae: But wait. ... it’s ... DP?

Me: *shrugs* Elle gives the strap. You know she does.

Rae: holy shit she do. DONE ITS A THING WE MADE A THING WOOOOOO

SO!

This is why fanfiction is magic. We took these characters and fit them to a cheap porn scenario just for the hell of it, and yet its much more than a scenario, and so much more than fitting a square peg into a round hole. It’s about the characters interacting AROUND AND WITHIN the scenario, the way all of their problems and complexes interlock in the new setting or AU, which enriches the scene and lends it emotional weight and momentum. It’s that amazing quote about “i don’t want porn in my LOTR, but LOTR in my porn”, but obviously it doesn’t always have to be an explicit scenario to reflect this amazing ability to ADAPT, IMPROVISE, AND OVERCOME in order to create incredible content!

Fanfiction is about learning identities and ways of being. Fanfiction requires a top view of characterization and a grasp of narrative flow: The important components of a character, and how many parts you can tweak or change and it Still Be the Character. It delves into those weird grey areas where you see THOUSANDS of different iterations of a character and some of them hit the spot, and some don’t, and we learn what we like. What we value, personally, and in these characters, as well as how OTHER people see traits that become HCs that let us learn about those populations, like a prevailing hc that someone is trans, or deaf, or nonbinary, or a spoonie, or etc etc etc and our world view gets a little wider, a little richer, and a little more empathetic.

It also means understanding the tiers of characterization, like what are defining traits versus secondary traits, and thus what (environmental) aspects you can change to bring out secondary character traits but still retain the core of the character while exploring material never approached in the show, just because you want to. Because you see something of yourself in this character and want to SEE YOURSELF in this character. It is amazing. IT IS AMAZING.

Yes, fanfic is the ultimate sandbox for “for the sake of” fantasies/stories and part of the transformative value is there’s no real NEED to adhere to characterization. There’s no pressure. We can go wild. It’s a blank slate, IT’S WHATEVER, but I think we consistently underestimate how fanfiction itself is an adaptive and analytical gladiator-ring-slash-orgy that we can emerge from MASTERS of characterization, exploration and expression, and just about every day is a study of What We Like and What We Want to See. Even, or especially, if the higher ups aren’t gonna give it to us off the cuff.

It’s amazing. Fic is amazing. I dunno. I’m just super happy with this thing we do.

So if you’re feeling weird about that fic you want to write, don’t. Just do it!

Rae and I are gonna make a podcast where we talk about this stuff. I’m excited. You in? :)

[gabriellerudessa]

I was thinking and reflecting how dumb am I because of how many WIPs/ideas I have for Written Things. Besides the books being written in my mother language (pt br), I was sucked into the Interactive Fiction universe in the last... Five years I think. As expected my brain went nuts with possibilities and I was like "oooh this idea works well with this medium" and as of now I have 11 ideas/wips for IFs that By God I hope to be able to share with all of you one day (14 if I take into consideration that one of them will be a series of 4) (all will be written primarily in en)

Miss America: more in the lines of otome, you control the urban legend Miss America, known to seduce and kill men, running from her country of origin to Brazil from an unknown person that apparently has been chasing her. Very comedy horror and comedy gore at some points, I would say, besides the kinda dark and manipulative romance . Please don't judge, I had the idea years ago when I went into my creepypasta phase (not at all abandoned, I must say). It was supposed to be Visual Novel at first, but uh I don't have enough patience for the sprite side of drawing and coding, so it will only be written as an IF in Twine 🤡(working on this one)

Broken Pieces: Started on CS, even posted first chapter on the forum years ago. Being ported to Twine at a slow pace because the code 🤡. Scifi cyberpunk-y space opera with romance, this thing will be so huge, the story spanning four years and with so many possible endings that I'm asking myself what was I thinking 🤡 (also working on this one)

I-We: Same universe of Broken Pieces, you play as someone that is part of a hivemind species and that has to deal with some things consequences of BP. Not a direct sequel, you will control a different MC and with a different cast of characters in general.

Mission Control (provisory name): Still same universe of Broken Pieces, deals with some consequences from I-We and BP, not a direct sequel still and different characters. Leans more into spacehorror than just SciFi.

Child From Kansas: ... I won't tell details because there is a lot being planned and that depends on some other things I'm writing but it is scifi space opera oldwest-y kinda, definitely in the far future of the universe of BP

UpDown of Glass: High fantasy universe with some mystery and action and angsty. You play as an orphan that is sent to be trained into an order of monster hunters that accidentally gets turned into a werewolf during training phase. Also, the transformation is permanent and there is no way of turning back into a human... As far as everybody knows.

GodHunter series: Inside, Downside, Upside, Outside (I may have mixed up Downside and Upside). It is a mostly superhero-supervillain story, that happens in a high-fantasy world with strong divine forces at play, gods talking with people daily kind of thing. Superheros and villains as presented, with powers non-dependent from magic and divine energy, are actually a very recent development. You play as a superhero incriminated as a supervillain during their journey to both discover how it was done and to reach vengeance.

Echo: more romance focused, urban fantasy and supernatural, soulmate-y things but not exactly in a romantic way???? Hard to explain when there is still so much to plan and it depends a lot on how I'll be able to finish writing some other things.

De-Evolution: 200 years after a zombie apocalypse, focusing on how communities tried to rebuild and adapted. Happens in Brazil. You play as someone that was part of a maintenance team sent to make sure a nearby communication tower would remain in good condition; the team was attacked during the return trip by zombies... Way more organized than they ever saw. The story just evolves and gets more strange after this. (Resisting the temptation to start working more on this one 🤡)

Walking On My Grave: high fantasy world full of mysteries. You play as either a Necromancer or an Undead from the independent city of Bravo; you and another (if you play Undead, a Necromancer, and so on) are sent by the governing powers to consult with the famous Blood Prophets on the other side of the continent when problems beyond their knowledge and capabilities starts to make their Undead forces go mad and to destroy their technologies. (Working on this one the more, very hyped to be able to reach a point were I can share with you. Between getting the hang of twine and planning the major points of the story and having to fight the goblins in my mind wanting to write other things, the writing has been slow but I hope to share the first chapter soon)

Not even a provisory name yet 🤡: literally my most recent idea, same universe of Walking On My Grave, in another independent city. This one basically is the only place able to grow a certain fruit with strong healing properties that can be turned into, basically, health potions. The place is at the brink of civil war 🤡. You play as a bodyguard for a foreigner Mage contracted by the monarchy to try and improve the refining process of the fruit. This Mage is actually your Mother, reference in the Known-World in anything magic-machine, and you are Tired of Always Traveling (this one may seen to have A Lot, but actually has Very Little. I kid you not when I say I dreamed with the monarchy reunions and prison visits that gave me the general plot and three ROs 🤡)

All of this is being made/will be made in Twine. All of these happens in universes were I already have written/will write other things, mainly in ptbr for now, just so I won't go too much crazy trying to keep everything in their own boxrs. I'm trying to plan and write everything in a way that can be enjoyed in an independent way from anything else. 🙃 Will I be successful? Heck if I know, I have very few things finished in this life 😅😅😅

Also all of the scifi ones have/will have aliens and androids as ROs. Most will have non-human ROs in general 🙃

(Tumblr tags crazy, or is it my phone???? I fought to write some and then I let a crazy one as an example, I was trying to write "so many wips" ????? Anyway let's pray and try to write at least some and start sharing with all of you.)

[ellanainthetardis]

Could you please write a shot based on the shower scene from colony that you reposted!!!

Here you go [x]

Of Bugs, Showers & Pretending

Haymitch sat at the small table in thecompartment Thirteen had allotted him, turning a pen between his shaky fingers.His eyes kept darting to the lamp in the corner where he knew the bug to be.

He hadn’t been looking for listening devicesand, clearly, Coin’s men hadn’t made a huge effort to hide it. He hadaccidentally knocked it off while cursing the lack of space and it had fallendown almost right into his hand. He had put everything back after a moment ofdwelling between thrusting the proof under the President’s nose and pretendingnot to know.

Confronting Coin would bring him nothing butprobable denial and fishy explanations.

Pretending not to know… It would give him anedge.

He rubbed his face, feeling the headachestarting to throb at the back of his head. Sometimes he thought if he could geta glass of liquor the whole rebellion would be a lot damn easier.

He wasn’t exactly surprised. He wouldn’t evenbe surprised to find out every compartment was bugged. Thirteen couldn’t afforddissent or spies. But this Districthad been supposed to be a safe place, their haven in the storm and…

The door was slid open and closed just enoughfor Effie to slip through the crack. Given the scowl on her bare face, hesupposed she hadn’t had a better day than his.

“This woman is impossible.” she hissed without another form of greeting. “I do not know who elected her but let me tellyou she makes a ridiculous president.Why, if we manage to win this war I am not certain how long she will remain in…What are you doing?”

Her sentence ended in a screech when he pinnedher to the wall. She gave in to the kiss easily enough but seemed a littlesurprise by the violence of it.

That was another thing he was angry about. Theyhad let themselves slip. Not only regarding the nature of their relationshipbut also in what they said out loud. Neither of them would have been stupidenough to discuss politics in the penthouse or in her apartment but, there theywere, spending hours criticizing Coin and Thirteen and sharing their warinessabout the President’s plans for the kids indoors… They had been stupid. They had let themselves thinkthey were safe when really…

“I need a shower.” he mumbled against her lips.“And you.”

“I already spent my allotted five minutes ofhot water this morning.” she complained. “And there is  no waywe can do anything in that shower.Certainly not within your five minutes timeframe.”

“I want you, Effie.” he insisted firmly, in atone that brought no contradiction. “Now.”

It was the use of her name that truly got toher. They exchanged a long stare and she giggled, kissing him again, almostpushing him toward the bathroom, her hands already unbuttoning his shirt.

“I love when you are this passionate.” shepurred in a sexy tone that had nothing to do with her usual seducing voice.

He relaxed when he realized she had picked upon what he was trying to do and he followed her lead, tugging at the too biguniform she had on. After all, showering together to have a privateconversation was nothing new. “You get me hot.”

“Do I?” she grinned. “I better do somethingabout it, then.”

They were down to their underwear by the timethey reached the bathroom. It was a very small room, barely larger than acupboard in which a toilet, a sink and a shower were crammed. If it could becalled a shower. It was only delimitated by the square of white tiles on thefloor and water tended to spill everywhere in the small room. The plumbingwasn’t great either, just a faucet on the upper wall and no hot and warm tap, just a button to start the water and a scan to pass yourwrist under when you wanted your five minutes of allotted hot water.

She didn’t bother suggesting he put his wristunder the scan. She took off her bra and her panties and turned around. Thebathroom was so small that he only had to take a step to push her against thewall. He wasn’t sure which one of them hit the button but soon freezing waterwas pouring down on them in a cacophony that should cover most of the noisesthey would make.

The cold water wasn’t exactly helping him getin the mood but he still went on with the necessary act, touching her, makingher moan – she was always loud but this wasobviously fake. Eventually, his mouth roamed from her collarbone to her jaw. Hesucked on her earlobe and, then, while she made indecent sounds that reallywere over the top given that they were both shivering and his hand wasn’t thatdeft between her legs, he brought his lips to her ear.

“I found a bug.” he murmured. “Don’t know howmany more. Don’t know if they are watching too. We can’t say anything in thereanymore.”

“Oh, Haymitch!”she cried out as if she was actually getting close. He felt himself twitchdespite how not real it was. Shekissed him hard, her fingers tangling in his hair to pull his head back. Shelicked the water off his throat, retracing the path up his jaw to his ear… Hervoice was controlled when she talked barely over a whisper. “Why?”

He picked her up and held her against the wall,pretending to pound into her even though he was barely half hard. He hopedthere weren’t cameras but he couldn’t be sure. And if he couldn’t be sure, hewould rather be safe than sorry.

She let out small increasingly loud moans andburied her face in his neck. Her damp hair stuck to his shoulder.

“Not sure.” he answered. “Might be about you,might be about me. Guess Coin doesn’t trust us. We put the kids first, sheknows that.” He nuzzled her hair a little. “Might also be a general thing andI’m paranoid.”

She snorted at that but quickly covered it witha loud moan.

“What do we do?” she whispered. “Do we warnKatniss?”

Warning Peeta wouldn’t be useful given how fargone the boy was. Finnick, now… But Finnick was being a good little soldier andso was Johanna to some extent. They were both committed.

Haymitch was the one openly criticizing somedecisions and challenging the President. He was the one who had insisted onbringing along an escort and who was now fuckingher – and he had no doubt that if he hadn’t made it clear she was out ofbounds, Effie would have had a much harder time in Thirteen. He was the onecontrolling the Mockingjay – as much as Katniss could be controlled anyway.

“No.” he said eventually. It would only make itworse. The girl wasn’t overly impressed with the rebels as it was and he didn’twant to tilt the balance. She was reckless and if she did something stupid liketrying to go off on her own… “We play exactly like we used to. Assume someone’salways listening or watching.” He felt her nod slightly. “Good now finish this‘cause I’m freezing my ass off.”

“You and me both.” she grumbled before lettingout a sharp cry that, he supposed, could have convinced someone who hadn’t heardher getting off for years. He added a groan for good measure and let her down,feeling around for the button. Effie had already wrapped herself in a towel bythe time he turned around. Her teeth were shattering. “I just love that sort ofwelcome home.” she grinned, her eyes bright and her tone cheerful.

He didn’t like dealing with her escort persona.She had left that behind a little when she had been forced to abandon herdresses and her wigs. She still hid behind her masks but she also tended to bea little more caustic and smarter than people expected her to. He knew Plutarchhad picked up on the difference between the public image she had given all herlife and the obviously clever woman who had been helping him with propos andKatniss management.

“Home sweet home.” he replied sarcastically.

She pursed her lips at him and twisted the damptowel around her hair, giving a longing glance to the hairdryer that wasattached to the wall. There was no way to use it for now without riskingelectrocution.

“May I borrow your sweater?” she asked, movingback to the main part of the compartment, naked as the day she was born. He hada second of panic because he didn’t remember if the curtains were drawn or not– and why they needed a plasticwindow giving on the corridor was anyone’s guess, it made him feel like a fishin a tank.

He hurried after her, relieved to find thecurtains were drawn, and absolutelynot surprised to see her rummaging in the heap of clothes he couldn’t be botheredto fold or put away properly. She picked out the clean from the dirty and endedup wearing a pair of boxers that were too loose on her hips and one of his greylong-sleeves undershirts. His sweater had been tossed on a chair and it wasn’tlong before she had grabbed that too and wrapped it around her shoulders like ashawl. Then she curled up on one of the chairs, looking a little miserable.Like a drowned rat. Not that he would make this comparison out loud.

He tossed balled socks at her before gettingdressed too, unable to bear the chill in the room. She didn’t even try to tellhim it wouldn’t look pretty, she pulled them up as far up her calves as theywould go.

“Shall we skip dinner and go to bed?” shesuggested.

He checked the clock and then his schedulebefore glancing at the communicuff he had tossed on the table earlier. It hadbeen quiet for too long as it was. He was ready to bet it wouldn’t be longbefore it went off.

“You’re cranky when you don’t get anything toeat.” he remarked. “I ain’t spending the whole night listening to you tossingand turning because your stomach’s growling.”

She made a face at him and wriggled her sockedclad toes, averting her eyes. “Perhaps I should spent my nights in my owncompartment from now on. I would not dream of keeping you up with my tossingand turning.”

Her tone was light but he understood the offerfor what it was: a question about the status quo. They hadn’t really beenhiding in Thirteen. They didn’t flaunt itbut he was pretty sure everyone with eyes knew they had something going on. Thenumber of times Plutarch had come to fetch him in the early hours of morningand had found Effie sauntering around his compartment alone…

When it had been the Capitol breathing downtheir neck, hiding and denying had been the safest thing but now… It dependedon who was under observation there. If it was just Effie… It if was her theywere watching then she was safer as his… whateverbecause nobody would touch a victor’s whatever.If it was him, then it was business as usual and it would be safer for themboth to keep her at arm lengths. The same went if it was about both of them.

Was it worth it to take a step back now though?As it was, Thirteen had months of proof that they had a relationship. Sure,they had talked and joked about its casual nature often enough in either oftheir rooms but lately it had been all it was: talks and jokes. They had foughtabout how jealous she was of the refugees she perceived to be trying to seducehim. He had told her as plainly as he was able that she was the only one he wasinterested in. They crawled in bed together without having sex first. He hadnever worded it but his feelings… His feelings were obvious, he figured. And ifit had already terrified him before, at least he had thought in there they hadsome sort of leeway. And now… Well…

“Nah, I need you to keep me warm.” he deniedafter a second of hesitation.

She looked back at him, lifting an eyebrowbecause she was certainly not keepinghim warm at night. She was always cold and her feet were always like two blocks of ice.

“Well, we cannot have you getting cold.” shehummed, fighting off a smile.

“No, we can’t.” he snorted, tugging the blackbeanie low on his forehead over his wet hair only to see her purse her lips indistaste at the hat.

She was so busy glaring at it, she didn’t seehis approach.

She wasn’t really reluctant to respond to hiskiss though.

[nevillwallace97]

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[evolutionsvoid]

When it comes to myths and legends, many species are guilty of turning simple creatures into grand, impossible monsters. You get one or two bad encounters, and suddenly the whole race is taking about invincible monstrosities that destroy towns, abduct virgins and live off a healthy diet of babies. I cannot pretend we dryads are above this, as the Planggalan scares in the past have led to quite a few executions. I must say, though, out of all the races I have encountered, the one that is most susceptible to this weird mania seems to be humans. This probably shouldn't come as a surprise to you or or me, since humans have quite the healthy paranoia when it comes to other creatures. You wouldn't believe the amount of human villages that have barred me from entering, believing I had come to seduce their men, lure them into the woods and turn them into apple trees (yeah, apple trees. Beats the heck out of me why). It seems like every other species they encounter is suddenly hyped up as some monster sent from the gods. Be it Trolls, Ogre Spiders or Ningen, they often act like practically everything is a spirit of the dead or an unholy abomination sent by devils to steal their souls and innocence. Pretty strange. Explains why their settlements always have such high walls. The purpose of this entry is not to mock humans for their paranoia, but for something else entirely. Though humans have the tendency to make monsters out of everything, they aren't always wrong. An example of this can be found with the changlings. Changlings are quite strange looking creatures, making it quite hard to figure out if they are mammal, reptile, amphibian or even some kind of malformed insect. They bear a rough resemblance to a humanoid, but there are plenty of differences that are quite obvious to the eyes. The outside of a changling has two different types of flesh/skin/exoskeleton. There is the gray flesh that composes most of their body, which is surprisingly spongy and malleable. It is quite off putting to touch, as poking it with a finger will have it sink in a good ways. One fun description of their flesh that colleague brought up was that it was like "if pillows were made of meat." Changlings do indeed have muscle, but it is much thinner and tougher than normal, and are buried deeper in their bodies. The second kind of coating they have is found on their arms, legs and spine. It is a tough exoskeleton made of chitin that sits quite close to the bone. A thin layer of tough muscle hides beneath it, which allows them to move and hunt. These parts of their body are quite sturdy, despite their emaciated look. The claws on their hands and feet are quite sharp too! The reason for this odd amalgamation of parts is mainly because changlings live in caves and dark, rocky environments. Their thin, sturdy limbs aid in climbing, while their soft flesh allows them to absorb the impact if they fall or are struck by a falling rock. What also helps with their dark environment is their enormous eyes, which take up quite an amount of space on their face. These huge eyes help capture what little light there is, and aid them in navigating through the dark. They also help when hunting, as they can pick up tiny details and subtle movements. 

Changlings live in family groups, which are often referred to as a "pod." Numbers of individuals range from three to eight, though they prefer to keep it around five or six. They make their nests in caves, often finding nooks and crannies high above so predators cannot reach them. When not hunting, changlings prefer to groom one another and file their claws on specific stones. It seems that the chitin on the tips of their digits and stingers continuously grows throughout their life, so they must wear it down and shape it so it does not hinder them. Though they form pods, changlings are asexual creatures, having no distinct male or female parts. All carry the same organs and arrangement, which allows them to mate with any other member of their species. Reproduction is a group wide event, where a "carrier" is selected to bear the offspring. The individual who is chosen will then be stung by the tendrils of every member of the pod, which is how they transmit their reproductive fluids. It is believed that this group mating allows them to "mix up" the breeding process enough so that their pods do not face inbreeding problems. Offspring are released from the "carrier" in a cocoon-like structure, which some have described as an "external womb." They will grow in there for a few months, before hatching and joining the pod. Baby changlings are quite pudgy, doughy creatures, which look quite comical. Since their proboscises do not develop until a few months later, family members feed them by injecting the nutrients into them directly. This leads us to the hunting methods of the changlings, which I am sure many were waiting for. Changlings are quite infamous for their method of obtaining prey, so much that other species are accused of doing the same thing. Changlings are capable of feeding off of small animals, but that makes up a small portion of their diet. What they mainly feed off of is young prey. Out of all the options, changlings prefer to hunt human children for prey, for what reason I am not sure. When the pod is hungry, changlings will leave their caves at nightfall and travel to nearby towns and villages. There they will execute their first stage of the hunt: harvesting. With agile, silent movements, they will sneak up on prey and jab them with their barbed tentacles. These inject a fast acting paralytic that will knock out prey in seconds. While the victim is unconscious, they will use their proboscis to suck out a small amount of blood. Once they have what they want, they swiftly flee the scene , leaving the victim to wake up minutes later with no memory of what happened. Once the changlings have taken blood samples, they will return to their cave and begin the next stage: decoy making. As I said, changlings are asexual creatures, and thus any one of them can take on the role of male or female. Those who collect the blood will mix it with their own fluids to create a fast fertilizing, quick growing embryo. A cocoon will form within their body like their normal offspring, which will be expelled and turned into an external womb. Within it, the "decoy" will form and take on the appearance of their prey. Babies that hatch from these cocoons will look like the offspring of the target species, but will actually have a mixture of both species within. After the few days that require the procreation of the decoys, the changlings will take the decoys and return to town. They will then find accessible homes that have young prey in them, and find a way in. They are quite stealthy and good at noticing details, so they are quite skilled at breaking into homes. They will knock the child out with an injection, take it from its crib and replace it with the decoy. With prize in hand, they will scurry off into the night. The decoy will serve as the replacement for a couple of weeks, but something inside them does not last for much longer. At some point in time, the false child will sicken and die, their death blending in with the other children who perish from disease and poor nourishment at an early age. The stolen child will be taken back to the caves, where they will be kept alive on cave moss and small critters while the changlings feed on their fluids bit by bit. The life span of stolen children varies, mainly depending on how many changlings feed on them. Some children have been known to live for years within these caves before they succumb to the feedings. To prevent accidental death, changlings often create some kind cocoon with their secretions to keep them immobile. Once the children die, they must return to town for another food source. While changlings are indeed interesting creatures, it is sad to say they are quite a menace to humans and other susceptible species. No one likes having their child stolen and fed on, so removal or elimination of these creatures is top priority whenever a nest is found. The problem with finding their nests is that they hide in hard to reach spots and often disguise their caves. Unless you have a helper who can track their scent, you will never find the entrance. That is even assuming that you notice children being taken. Decoys are hard to spot, and not many think to check their child every single morning. Decoys can be detected by locating hidden pouches in their bellies that store their tendrils. When reeled in, these pouches are hard to find, as they are just tiny slits on the child's stomach, easily blending in with wrinkles or creases of the skin. Applying pressure in just the right area will force them to pop out, which breaks the disguise and reveals that the child is a decoy. When it comes to rescuing stolen children, it is obvious that one should retrieve them as soon as possible. The dark cave environment is not fitting for human babies, nor is their immobile lifestyle. If the child is not recovered within a few months, they often are permanently changed from their environment. Children who have been held by changlings for years are often pale, malnourished, feeble in their limbs and cannot stand sunlight without going blind. Many communities find death to be a mercy at this point. Not wanting to leave this entry on a downer, I wish to bring up the odd cases where changling decoys have actually survived longer then intended. In rare cases, they do not grow sick, and actually live healthy lives for years. In these cases, families often don't detect the swap, or the just don't care (this is even rarer). As the child grows in age, the other half of their lineage will start to become more obvious. Their limbs will be much thinner than normal, and the skin around their arms and legs will turn dark and black. Their eyes are a bit larger than a humans, though not obviously so. The tendrils inside them will grow to a normal size, which makes them harder to hide. Human-changling hybrids often appear fatter than others, as their stomachs are storing these extra appendages. They are also often bald, as something in the changling heritage makes hair growth difficult. This hybridization is quite bizarre, but also rather interesting. The problem is that it is difficult to study, as most decoys that survive past their supposed deaths are eventually found out and killed. Very few escape the horrified parents and vengeful mobs. Even then, those who have not been killed live shorter lives than either of their parents and are sterile. How strange! I have never met one of these hybrids in my life, so far, but the tales make me wish that I get the chance someday! Chlora Myron Dryad Natural Historian

[chuchisushi]

Ragethirst Highlights - Dragon Inn/Dragons Gate Inn

I was drafted by Hal and Dream into writing the highlights for this stream, so I preface this by saying that I had to ask @paint-the-wall-with-bullets​ for the plot a fourth of the way through, upon which I connected the dots.

The ragethirst was visited today by a smol, who graced us with kpop for a short time

ling tried to make moves on everyone assembled, as per usual

donnie appeared for all of five minutes in the beginning of the movie to look very pretty and to torture an official to death to establish the plot

many disparaging comments were made about his makeup

which were equally balanced out by those who liked it

(personally I think it was a bit Much, but he did resemble a peacock dressed in gold filigree, so 50/50, could take or leave it)

outfit 1

donnie’s playing a eunuch, which lead to us trying to goad @evocating​ into writing Forbidden City fanfic starring ballsless sex, because the rest of us don’t have the research background for this brand of historical erotica

the official’s entire family was killed except for one boy and one girl

our heroine, played by Brigitte Lin, who I referred to for the rest of the movie as ‘the lady drunkard who crossdresses and fights well’ appears at this point with a band of renegade mercenaries to snatch the kids off

donnie watches all of this from the cliffs above from the middle of his entourage

no really

outfit 2

there’s a lot of fighting on horseback and by ‘fighting on horseback’ I mean people turning horses around in circles, yelling, and waving around prop swords while the wind kicks up sand everywhere

donnie gets to use the Force

our heroes, kids in tow, sojourn to this inn in the middle of the desert near a pass through the mountains they can use

as framing for said inn we’re treated to a scene of Maggie Cheung, playing the role of the cannibal (more on that later) innkeeper mistress seducing a man and then brutally murdering him via several throwing knives to the face

down the chute he goes

for those interested, he gets turned into meat buns (that was the later)

the butcher is very skilled at chopping (I swear to god this becomes salient even more later)

our innkeeper Immediately susses out that the crossdresser is crossdressing because she is not attracted to her womanly ways

I say this but the next scene after the obligatory This Meat Tastes Off, Don’t Eat It bit is something like twenty minutes of a fight between our crossdressing heroine and the innkeeper in the bath that consists of knives shredding cloth and stealing clothes off of each other

words were exchanged to the effect of ‘you have a very lovely body’ ‘as do you’

the innkeeper loses

she ends up topless

while vaulting onto the top of the inn(??), the innkeeper is interrupted in the middle of her bawdy(???), topless(??????) song by the arrival of a third party

Tony Ka Fai Leung plays a doctor romantically involved with our crossdressing heroine

he arrives on two camels. Take this as you will.

He Banters with the innkeeper, who promptly decides she wants to keep him

there was so much crosstalk about “the weather” and “candles”

alas, this perfect setup for poly is not used

at some point all the asians in chat completely derailed the conversation by expounding on all the different kinds of meat and how good they were

Bone Marrow. Bone marrow was elected universal king

Special mention goes to the consumption of insects. Excellent source of protein!

At some point during above conversation government officials acting at donnie’s behest arrive at the inn, where they’re all conveniently trapped by the desert weather (it wasn’t Entirely a metaphor)

two of the officials’ party get struck by lightning and dragged off to be turned into meat buns

maybe a goat too

a very fake roasted goat makes an appearance

the butcher gets to show off his skills via deboning the whole thing and turning the meat into deli slices (I swear this is also salient)

there’s a very tension-laden showdown wherein two tables are broken and the doctor and the main official end up having ‘a toast to nothing’

our party is still stuck because of the weather and the officials keeping an eye on them

the doctor does a reverse honeypot to seduce the innkeeper into letting their party use the secret tunnels out so they can transport the kids

the seduction involves a one night stand after getting married by the government official of said standoff before

the doctor also does some Investigation at some point and discovers the people-chute

also terrifies the butcher by turning out to be alive

somehow the honeymoon turns into a fight

which quickly turns into a full-out brawl between all parties in the inn

shoutout to the innkeeper who literally grinds up one of the officials’ men in the fight, fills a bucket with his blood, and then throws in the old man official’s face before stabbing him while screaming about making him eat his own blood

so much fake blood everywhere

donnie and the army he’s leading arrive in the middle of this

the inn gets stormed by said army

horses ride all over it

in the ruckus of the fight above, our crossdressing heroine (who is no longer crossdressing and is probably a bit drunk from drowning her sorrows over the honeymoon that doesn’t involve her), tries to get the kids out

she runs into said army and gets shot by an arrow and has to come back

the innkeeper, faced with her imminent bodily safety, gets everyone through the tunnels (everyone being the kids, the doctor, the butcher, the crossdressing heroine, herself, and a kitchen sink)

the tunnel pops out behind the front line, but one of the kids accidentally lets go of a red sash, which Happens to drift back to where donnie’s sitting

upon which he Ｐ Ｒ Ｏ Ｍ Ｐ Ｔ Ｌ Ｙ   Ｆ Ｌ Ｉ Ｅ Ｓ onto a horse and starts chasing after them

outfit 3

his makeup has gotten Worse

donnie loses the horse to a stiff breeze and ends up chasing after the party on foot

the kids are sent ahead with the butcher while the rest stay to make a stand against donnie, who is naruto running across the dunes to them

A Fight Ensues

we can’t see shit because of the goddamn sand blowing everywhere

it’s mostly just dramatic swordplay at this point, but donnie loses his hairtie to a stray cut and also gets nicked in the face at some point??

???

he’s really rocking the chirrut colors here

there is a pause to regroup

upon which there is a long pan

it’s from donnie’s chest down his skirts to his ankles

why? we’re not initially clear

AS IT TURNS OUT THE PAN IS TO SHOWCASE THAT THEY’RE APPARENTLY IN QUICKSAND.

EVERYONE IS SUNKEN UP TO THE CHEST

INCLUDING DONNIE, WHO HAS HELD ABOVE POSE ALL THROUGH IT

Immediately after we realize the above fact, donnie changes his pose

he fucking. Landsharks through the sand

I honestly have no other words to describe it

he carves his own trench?? the sand flies up???

he fucking nyooms through the sand my guys

DO WE REMEMBER THAT VIDEO OF THE MOOSE JUST FUCKING CARVING ITS WAY THROUGH THE CHEST-HIGH SNOW IN CANADA

BECAUSE IT WAS LIKE THAT

“MOVE I’M GAY” - donnie in this fight

we have been laughing ever since donnie lost his hairtie because his goddamn face when it happened was ATROCIOUS, I hope someone screencapped it for posterity

BUT AT THIS POINT WE TOTALLY LOSE IT

I AM LAUGHING SO HARD THERE ARE LITERAL TEARS IN MY EYES

“MOOOOOOOOOO YAAAAANNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!” - the doctor, dramatically, overwrought, as the crossdressing heroine is stabbed

attempts to drive off donnie are made. they’re not very successful.

Breakdancing fighting ensues

the innkeeper leaves mo yan in the sand to die as she tries to help with the fight

“MOOOOOOO YAAAAANNNNN!!!!” - the doctor, as he dives for mo yan, sinking into the sand, and misses her hand in time to pull her out

she deserved a better death, honestly

the fight is REALLY not going well. Donnie makes a move to charge at the remaining party

upon which

a fucking second landshark

pops out of the dune to engage him

IT”S THE BUTCHER.

THERE ARE A LOT OF TERRIBLE SOUND EFFECTS? THERE’S A LOT OF FLAILING?? WE DON’T REALLY KNOW WHAT’S GOING ON

until the butcher disengages and scuttles off to fucking. Bury himself back into the sand in true landshark style

donnie tries to move, halts, looks down

“MY LEG!!!!!!!” - donnie in this movie, discovering that he has an EXTREMELY BADLY DONE skeleton leg from the knee down replacing his left leg?!?!?!?

THE BUTCHER DEBONED HIM

THIS IS WHERE IT BECAME SALIENT

“MY HAND!!!!!” - donnie in this movie, discovering after falling over that he has an EXTREMELY BADLY DONE skeleton hand from the elbow down replacing his left arm?!?!?!?!?

THE TEARS OF LAUGHTER ARE OVERFLOWING.

Oh my god, he gets up Somehow because the landshark butcher is coming for the rest of him

they exchange some blows

donnie stabs him fucking just shy of the crotch THROUGH THE SAND

THERE IS A GEYSER OF FAKE BLOOD

THEN FUCKING HAULS HIM OUT OF THE SAND AND PROCEEDS TO SWING HIM AROUND LIKE A SHIRT STRIPPED OFF AT A CONCERT MOSH PIT WHILE SCREAMING AT THE SKY

?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!?!??!?!?!?!

there’s a quick interlude for the doctor to Resolve Himself with the innkeeper THROUGH WHICH YOU CAN STILL HEAR DONNIE SCREAMING

the doctor and donnie have one last dramatic clash that involves FLYING ACROSS THE SAND

DONNIE GRABS THE SWORD THE DOCTOR IS USING AS IT’S COMING AT HIM AND BENDS IT INTO A PRETZEL ONE-HANDED??

THERE IS FAKE BLOOD EVERYWHERE????

THE DOCTOR PULLS A STRAIGHT DAGGER OUT OF THE HILT OF THE SWORD AS DONNIE IS HOLDING IT AND STABS DONNIE THROUGH THE NECK

@twentyeightghosts​ is extremely mad about this still. Swords Do Not Work Like That

DONNIE IN A FINAL ACT OF DEFIANCE STABS THE DOCTOR IN THE CHEST WITH HIS BONY SKELETON FINGERS???????????

the doctor fucking FALLS BACK onto the sand COVERED IN FAKE BLOOD with this RIDICULOUS PROP SKELETON HAND AND FOREARM ATTACHED TO HIS CHEST

SOMEHOW DONNIE IS STILL STANDING

HE DOES A RIDICULOUS ONE-LEGGED HOP TO STAY UPRIGHT

THIS MAN.

donnie has one last dramatic yell in him. we’re treated to a shot of his skeleton leg crumpling to bits under him. He finally falls over. he’s dead. The evil has been vanquished.

There is a dramatic pan on mo yan’s flute on the sand with music going in the background as the doctor looks appropriately anguished and the innkeeper appropriately jilted by death

said doctor takes the kids through the pass on the other camel

the innkeeper and the butcher go back to the inn and burn it down

‘let us leave this evil place’ LADY, YOU WERE THE ONE TURNING DUDES INTO MEAT BUNS IN THE BASEMENT????

@xanderxcagex had a great joke about swordception [BWOOOOOM]

hal came back after having to take a break right as the movie finished

WE REWATCHED THE LAST TEN MINUTES AGAIN

JUST FOR DONNIE

THIS MOVIE IS APPARENTLY A TREASURED CLASSIC???

seriously, thank you so much for streaming for us @greymichaela​ and hosting our absolute madness. This was a ragethirst to remember, if nothing else for it being the strongest ending to a donnie movie I’ve caught thus far.

Kim, to Hal: you’re going to ask ‘What? Was that - ?” a lot in the last ten minutes, and the answer, every time, is going to be ‘Yes.’ Hal, Immediately: DID DONNIE JUST - Everyone in the chat, through their laughter: ＹＥＳ

[ciathyzareposts]

Missed Classic: Deathmaze 5000 – WON! and Final Rating

By Will Moczarski

Adventurer’s Journal #3: I finally found a secret passage that got me out of my previous conundrum – I got to kill the monster eventually and even found a sword. When I thought that I was in for the home-run the monster’s mother came out of the woodwork and taught me otherwise. I also did away with this beast, though, and poisoned a vampire bat on my way out only to be killed no less than four times in the most painful ways imaginable. My guardian angel (or rather guardian demon) kept on resurrecting me, however, and I finally got out of this mess. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s to cherish the safety of escape rooms… The third day in the maze starts with a facepalm moment. While examining the perfect square I accidentally press the up button and reappear on the other side. Is this “puzzle” nothing more than an unconventional door? On the other side, I discover the usual essentials: a torch and food, as well as a ball of blue wool. Will there be a vicious cat to accompany the vicious dog from level 2? I have to drop some items, too, so I want to put everything that seems like a treasure – the ring, the ball, the paint brush – in the same square and head out to re-explore level four. Unfortunately, dropping more than one item in the same location results in the hallway being “too crowded”. I’ll have to pick a whole corridor, accordingly. The next minutes are spent experimenting with all the items. I finally find out that I can play the flute for the snake and it rises out of the box. Moving towards it results in it biting me and me dying once more, though – not exactly breaking new ground here. Reading the usual message about the game again I suddenly know how to cross the pit in level 2 and get the magic staff! Maybe that is the item I am missing? I restore back and fart my way across the pit, thus avoiding the second vicious dog. Still, the staff doesn’t have any effect on my remaining puzzles – not the wildest success I could have come up with in my dreams.

In-game graphics for the snake!

I experiment with the snake some more and figure out that I can climb it to reach the ceiling, resulting in another death message as I hit my head and subsequently get bitten by the snake. But isn’t there some place I couldn’t reach otherwise? Yes, the top-right corner of this level – this must be the solution! I hurry back there and…encounter the monster again. I save the game and try to attack it with everything I’m carrying – but the verb “attack” is not really viable in this two-word parser that doesn’t leave room for the variable “with x”. Hmm, what else could I do? I try giving items to the monster next but no matter what I do, I die trying. Finally, I try to throw the dagger and at least the command “throw” appears to work. Without giving it any more thought, I restore time and again and throw everything I’ve got at the monster – the dagger, the calculator, the flute, the jar, the snake in the box, the blue wool. After so many unsuccessful attempts, I even hesitate to throw the wool but do it anyway and…the monster gets all tangled up and falls down. Success? Not yet, but a quick final attack with my dagger (“kill monster”) results in the strangely elegic message “The monster is dead and much blood is spilt!” Alas, poor Yorick. With another puzzle out of the way I am eager to get upstairs via the snake and it works! My dagger vanishes in the meantime but what I discover up there should make up for it: a sword! Unfortunately that’s about all that I manage to do. I set about collecting the other items, playing the horn, trying to put the yoyo to good use but I seem to be stuck and starve yet again after a while. As I have saved before slaying the monster, I have to go through it again and find it in the same spot as before – maybe it’s not a random encounter after all. This time, however, I notice that the message does not tell me that the dagger has vanished as I’d previously assumed, but the monster’s body. Is this somehow important? I restore back with the intention to search the body this time. Also, I try to create a save game just before confronting the monster but am told that it was currently impossible. The monster kills me once more and I have to restore – I’ll have to save just before entering that corner of the map. Searching the body results in the game telling me that I don’t make much sense (I beg to differ, naturally), and if I try to examine the dead monster the body vanishes right away. Maybe it’s not important and I might be seeing things but the fact that the monster’s blood is so explicitly referenced makes me think otherwise. I restore again and try to pick up the blood in various different ways but the parser doesn’t know the word blood and is generally unhelpful about the whole situation. After minutes of restoring and trying out different wordings I try to fill the empty glass jar with the blood – in two words: “fill jar”. That works and I’ve now got a jar full of monster blood to my name, although the reason for it is beyond me.

Unfortunately that’s it: I don’t find a way down to level 5, I don’t find a use for any of the other objects, I run around the empty maze pointing my sword at everything and don’t know what to do next – at all. I experiment with the elevator (a lot) but it only gets me back to level 3. As the built-in hint system doesn’t have anything that applies to my situation, I decide to consult the official hint sheet and decode hint number 9: “Are you stuck on the second floor?” Oh yes, I am, and how! The answer is somewhat baffling: “press two.” How on earth should I have come up with this? What does it even refer to? It is the only number on the calculator’s display I haven’t used yet, okay, but how would that make me press it three floors down to magically teleport somewhere else? Of all the unfair puzzles in Deathmaze 5000, this is so far the worst. At least I didn’t take a hint for nothing: I’m on the final floor!

The limited inventory makes me change my plans a little – as I probably won’t be able to travel back and forth between the fourth and fifth levels the way I could between the third and the fourth, I go back to the beginning and create multiple savegames carrying different items before attempting to map the fifth level. Luckily, the endgame is pretty straightforward. Many of the items prove to be unnecessary and it’s rather easy to figure out which were not. Mapping the fifth level is a pain since it mainly consists of dead ends. There is only one item – a golden key –, no food, no torches, two more monsters as well as another elevator trap. I have to restore a few times but work out the “puzzles” pretty quickly. The most painful obstacle is that my torch is perpetually blown out the moment I entered level 5. I first assume that I have to find my way in the dark until I figure out that this is what the ring is good for. If you hold it above your head the torch-hating ghost vanishes and exploring is much less difficult.

After a few corners I encounter a vampire bat that attacks me right away. Throwing the blood at it predictably puts it off my scent and somehow the blood appears to be poisonous and the bat dies. At another point I am attacked by the monster’s mother. Having no more wool I try the frisbee in one of the savegames and the horn in another – and the latter is the solution. The horrible sound of the horn somehow seduces the mother and I am able to kill her in cold blood. Even without any graphic representation this kind of stirs me – the game is not only brutal for the player, it seems.

The final stretch is also straightforward – sort of. The golden key fits in any of the five keyholes but opening four of the doors kills me right away. At least I don’t have the chance to react to any of the fatal traps, thus the wrong doors are very clearly marked and don’t make me waste any time. Behind the first door, I am taken away by three men in white coats, interestingly prefiguring the topic of (in)sanity that will be so central in later Med Systems games. The second door contains a 600 pound gorilla that rips my face off. Door number three kills me with a 20000 volt shock and door number five – yes, the fourth one actually lets me live – drops a wall on me. Having been slain four more times, I pick the right door and the key starts to tick like a time bomb. As the dungeon map has a strange nook in the bottom right corner I assume that something must have happened down there as I am not able to enter the now open door number four. When I arrive down there another keyhole has materialised and I am able to enter the final stretch of the dungeon. The game warns me not to make any unnecessary turns, really turning up the stress level. At the end of the line there is another elevator but this one stumps me. I try all of the items I haven’t previously used to not die inside and throwing the crystal ball somehow does the trick, don’t ask me why. The game ends with a trivia question about the name of the monster. Yet one more obstacle and it really makes me think and almost makes me go back – was that mentioned somewhere in-game? Should I have talked to the beast or to its enamoured mother? Phew, another restore seems very likely but then I remember that I read somewhere in preparation to the game that a passing knowledge of the medieval epic “Beowulf” would be necessary to solve it. I had actually been wondering at which point the “Beowulf” references could be found. My knowledge of “Beowulf” extended as far as to remember that Beowulf first killed a monster and then the monster’s mother seeking revenge – like me. But what was the monster’s name? I decide that consulting outside knowledge is fair game (the Trickster established a precedent when he looked up the name of Roy Rogers’s dog) and correctly come up with “Grendel”, winning the game with one in-game hint, one look at the official hint sheet and one instance of consulting Wikipedia.

Ha, that’s easy! I’ll just google it…:“name of the monster”

Had I not accidentally read about the “Beowulf” connection, I don’t know…probably it wouldn’t have occurred to me, so let’s mark that down as a third hint of sorts. Deathmaze 5000 is really brutally difficult but I actually had a lot of fun playing it – for its simple story it’s at least not one of those dreadful treasure hunts (the remaining items are not mentioned at all and there is no scoring system) that made up so many early text adventures. The final message was another hint that the deathmaze may have been connected to mental issues of sorts, again setting the stage for later Med Systems games like Asylum and The Institute: “You have survived! RESET TO SANITY!” Thanks…I think.

Session time: 2.5 hours

Total time: 6 hours

Hints needed: 3

Emmanuelle? Is that you?

You’ve got some nerve to tell me that after throwing the Byrds at me…

It’s time to apply the PISSED rating to Deathmaze 5000 and I suspect that the fun I had with the game will probably not reflect here. Let’s see how it turns out…

Puzzles & Solvability: Deathmaze 5000 does not have very many puzzles but the few there are really made me rack my brains. I had to peruse three hints and stumbled on some other solutions (“raise ring”, I’m looking at you) by pure luck and parser juggling. I don’t believe that anybody actually solved this game without the official hint sheet (it was sold for $1, if you’re interested) or the in-game system. The challenge was kind of fun but it’s still a very, very punishing game: 2.

Interface & Inventory: As basic as it gets. While the idea of setting an adventure game inside a 3D maze was revolutionary for the time and the game makes excellent use of the TRS-80’s very limited capabilities, the inventory is only a list of items and most of them cannot be examined. The two-word parser is also very simple and the words you type actually appear right within the frame that is meant to depict the maze – I have to say that I’ve never seen that before: 1.

Story & Setting: All bones and no flesh, really. Escape from the maze. Why? No idea. Where from? Not mentioned. Where to? Who knows. I liked that it was no conventional treasure hunt but the game truly doesn’t have a story longer than two sentences and the setting is pretty sparse, too: 1.

Sound & Graphics: In 1980 and on the TRS-80, Deathmaze 5000 was sensational. It didn’t feature the tutorial from Rat’s Revenge (see post #1) anymore but rightfully trusted in its abilities to depict a (very, very simple) 3D environment. Then again, there is no sound and the graphics are limited to walls, pits, elevators, keyholes, a perfect square and boxes. Enemies are not visually represented, so how do I rate this? Even if it’s a technical feat for 1980, it’s still pretty basic: 2.

Environment & Atmosphere: In spite of all its simplicity, Deathmaze 5000 somehow grabbed me. The atmosphere is really claustrophobic and the environment has all the positive qualities of its early peers (Dungeon/Zork, Advent) without much of the silliness. Mapping the maze is more fun than work, too, so this is where Deathmaze 5000 sort of shines: 3.

Dialogue & Acting: No acting, of course, and the dialogue is very sparse. Sometimes it’s mocking, sometimes it’s absurd but it’s still okay and contributes to the atmosphere. I liked the fact that it’s not overly silly and I even liked the cryptic final message. In keeping with the times: 2.

11 / 0,6 = 18

This low score does not reflect my enjoyment but I already suspected that the PISSED rating would not be favorable. Deathmaze 5000 is definitely an interesting beginning for Med Systems adventures and I’m already looking forward to playing Labyrinth next.

source http://reposts.ciathyza.com/missed-classic-deathmaze-5000-won-and-final-rating/

[lorriemelancon9-blog]

Do Player Games Discuss Dangerous Inspirations?

Nowadays it is difficult to find addictive and awesome flash games. There are so many new games every day that it is hard to find the addictive ones, because most of them are not addictive . These not well made games may not have music, have only a few levels or gameplay bugs and many other problems. In this article, you will learn how to discover addictive games for you to play using a games index. Firstly, I would like to explain what a games index.is. It is like a list of flash games. They are normally listed alphabetically or by date. They can display the thumbnail (a small image that represents something) of the listing and/or their titles. When you are visiting it, you should search for a game that interests you. The addictive ones normally have pretty thumbnails and captivating titles. You should look for them. When you find one that interests you, go play it. If you do not like it, go back to the page and search for another. Keep doing this until you find one that interests you. An games index includes games from many categories, like action, adventure, puzzle and arcade. They may be mixed or sorted by categories. If you have a preference for a type of them, search for one from this category. You will more likely appreciate playing it. In conclusion, searching in a games index is very useful. It helps if you want to find a good game to play. A games index with addictive games is available at PlugB. Visit this page to find a good games index .

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Amongst these the vehicles you can choose become 18 move monster other vehicles and fundamental x different monster pickups. Children love which can drive cars along with big trucks nevertheless , cannot as this company are young. It definitely is an in thing each of these days to play dvds for achievement rather in comparison indulge inside of other games. Furthermore, it can become more seducing to listen to them because these discs never need any application software programs on order of be caused. That simply wrapped the ultimate gaming experience. To get this reason a check out is warned so the fact you generate the safety of your computer. Defend a person's treasure additionally your time while the customer are operating in pursuit. If you love playing car games, the internet has you an choice to try the perfect variety of themselves. The equitable of pickup driving online casino games is intended for you that can reach the particular finish row before your opponent. The most important very best part is, it is usually totally safe and secure to your entire program. As a speed of movement, more dangerous to ride a bike itself, so we engaged in this sport, they must pay attention to three does not fit. 1, three kinds of people don't fit. First of all men will be riding a bike is not suitable as a long-term exercise program. Because narrow bicycle seat, if men ride a long time, testis, prostate and other organs will be there long after extrusion ischemia, edema, inflammation and other conditions, thus affecting the generation of sperm and prostatic fluid and semen of normal secretion, In severe cases, may even lead to infertility. Secondly, although the number of domestic and international research shows that cycling can be beneficial to prevent cardiovascular and other diseases, but without the guidance of a doctor, and unscientific bike games to people who have been suffering from high blood pressure high blood pressure, coronary heart disease patients burden the heart, deepening the severity of hernia patients, sequelae of cerebral concussion and epilepsy patients are also prone to accidental fall of the situation, so with these five diseases are often not suitable in this campaign. Finally, the youngsters are in the growth and development stage, bone soft. If you choose to use in pursuit of fashionable exercise bike lower handlebars, a long time will affect the curvature of the spine, affecting physical development, it should be noted that young people with correct posture exercise bike. 2, Exercise is not suitable for the busy road Do not choose bicycling as exercise urban street locations, as car exhaust and dust on the movement of people great harm. Riding a bike, due to increased physical activity, heart and lung function increases, if you cannot avoid the gas and dust, then the passive inhalation of harmful gases will be enhanced with the heart and lung function and quickly spread throughout the body, thus poisoning the body organs. Short-term heart makes people feel uncomfortable, dry cough; a long time people headaches, exhaustion. Bicycling on the road all year long, passive inhalation of the gas may cause lung disease. In addition, in the female menstrual cycle, because the body resistance is weak, it is not suitable for heavily polluted roads in the sport. Summer sun is strong, easy to heat stroke, not suitable for the road as the venue chosen. 3, Equipment not suitable for uneven Because the car fell off the helmet can reduce the risk of cerebral concussion, so the Insurance Regulations of the United States must wear bicycle helmets, accidents or no compensation. But in China, cyclists rarely noticed. In addition, commonly used in protective gear when riding there knee, ankle, elbow pads and wrist guards, can prevent occurrence of traffic in sprains, contusions and other injuries.