#extraterrestrial tracks ;

[stuckinapril]

Literally my last relationship word for word ….. situationship hell is universal

[estrelladeishtar]

Posting this here bc its the. Headcanon song I have that I figure would play in Ishtar’s district for their charter verse, that being the Astral Aether District !

(yk how each district kinda has its own sort of theme playing for when you’re in the district area that leads up to hijacking a concert? Basically this is for Ishtar’s district)

Zion's would be here, meanwhile!

[taxi-davis]

The Grey Train Robbery by Jeffrey Bess

[baaldigital]

Apr 19 - What is the "Big Event” That Tall Whites Predict for Earth?

Earthfiles!

[asswiper]

how the hell do amateur astronomers map asteroids n shit. i can barely find the moon in my telescope

[seventeenpins]

the stranger the better

pairing: Dieter Bravo x Reader word count: 5.6k summary: Dieter gets tentacles. That's the fic. content/warnings: uhhhh this one has a whole lot: importantly--TENTACLES!, lots of viscous body fluids, slight dubcon due to tentacles with a mind of their own??, buckets of cum, piv, tiv 👀, dieter is a switch, sex parasite, anal, masturbation, body horror, idk they're freaks and it's great, reader has a vulva but gendered language is not used a/n: this is basically just a crackfic that i've taken far too seriously. Also, shoutout to Ozzie @ozarkthedog for listening to all my dumbass thoughts and helping me finally get this finished!! ☺️😚

Dieter doesn't know exactly how the idea came to him, but he knows the important bits. It was, he reasoned, a sign- nay, a prophecy. He wishes he could replicate the exact cocktail of stimulants and psychedelics that allowed him to see this glimpse into greatness, because the results were eye opening.

Somehow, the universe injected into him an understanding of That Which He Sought.

He sketched it, painted it, utilized every descriptor he could think of, and sat down his PA, Todd, using every medium he had adequate command of to illustrate as clear a picture for his employee as was possible.

He was very thorough.

Todd, who Dieter often found unsettling due to the degree to which he was able to stay entirely un-rattled by anything, raised an eyebrow.

(Dieter didn't want to ruin the moment, but this was a fucking win.)

The PA's first response was "Excuse me, you want me to find you something that definitely doesn't exist because you had a drug-induced hallucination about it?"

On day five of Dieter waxing poetic, Todd needed it to end. He was already well adept at navigating the dark web--this was not the first time Dieter had had him track down something weird--but he had absolutely no doubt that Dieter was about to get scammed for a whole lot of money.

No skin off my nose, he reasoned, and negotiated the definitely-not-legit sale anyway. Whatever Dieter wants, Dieter gets. Hopefully, he'll be willing to accept the truth when no magical prophecy thing materializes at his door.

It's over a month later, when Todd feels confident nothing would turn up, and just as Dieter begins to accept this crushing defeat, that a strange, perfect cube of a parcel arrives.

It was a sleek box that felt somewhere between aluminum and heavy cardstock, with a heavier, equally sleek box inside. Something about it seemed almost extraterrestrial.

Todd placed it on the least cluttered corner of Dieter's immensely cluttered coffee table and made a prompt exit. If this thing was somehow the thing Dieter was after, he didn't want to be present for even a minute of the aftermath.

Hours later, when Dieter discovers the parcel, his heart begins to pound. With shaking hands, he unwraps it.

It's a bitch to open, almost akin to one of those puzzle boxes, but even more confounding. There are no visible seams. No obvious opening. He's halfway ready to take a hammer to it when, all of a sudden, it unfolds itself in elegant, silvery, petal-like plates.

Inside is a glass-like cube. Glass-like, but definitely not glass--it didn't have enough weight to it. Not plastic, either. The density wasn't quite right. Inside the cube is a strange, pulsating something.

It's the thing from his dream.

The pulsing thing is a little revolting, but mostly intriguing. (Todd would argue the reverse.) Shape wise, it's grub-like, maybe a handspan long, with its body made up of many near-identical segments. Both ends of it taper to a rounded bulb, and both ends are absolutely dripping with some sort of viscous fluid. No flared base, Dieter notes, and then decides it’s a nonissue.

As well as being, well, somewhat disgusting, it's also quite beautiful. It's iridescent, reminding him of some kind of shimmery beetle. It looks soft, and with every strange pulse, the sheen catches the light and throws rainbows in all the crevices of its little body.

Dieter immediately pops the weirdest boner.

For a man who's impulse control is about as ingrained as his commitment to abstinence, he's incredibly proud that he manages to wait until after this Friday's particularly tedious production meeting wraps up before getting started.

He has this weekend off, and gives everyone on his team the weekend off too. When the last person steps out the door, he locks up and promptly gets naked.

If his prophecy is anything to go off of, he expects this to get messy.

The shower pressure is perfect, and the temperature is just right. Slowly, tenderly, he works himself open. Sometimes he does this even when he doesn’t intend to put anything in his ass, sometimes it’s just for the sensation. This time, though, he absolutely does. 

He isn’t sure if he should run the -thing- under the tap first, cause it’s dripping so profusely he’s worried he’ll shoot it across the entire length of the bathroom like an errant bar of soap. In case the lubricating properties are necessary to the efficacy of the process, however, he holds it gently but firmly with one hand as he lifts it out of its, fuckin, transparent aluminum box, holding his other hand beneath it.

It’s slippery, that’s for certain. And when he presses it against the rim of his asshole, he experiences a very new feeling.

It wriggles. As if the nose? Tail? Indeterminate-and-hopefully-not-sentient-end of the thing seems to respond with enthusiasm the second it’s within sniffing distance of his favorite hole. He feels it pulse in his hand, gushing more of the fluid. For a moment, he’s certain the thing is going to evade his grasp and slip away but instead, as if burrowing, it slides itself up, up and away.

Dieter suddenly feels very full.

If he’s honest, this isn’t quite how he expected it to go. He thought he’d be more involved, for one. For another, he didn’t realize it would scurry so quickly into his butt. He thought he’d be able to hold onto it a little. Fuck himself with it. 

Gently, he presses a finger into himself to see if he can feel where it’s gone. Nothing. He switches from his pointer to his middle finger, slightly longer than the former, and presses even deeper, spreading his cheeks with his fist, sinking in as far as he possibly can.

He doesn’t feel it.

This may be precipitating a (not unfamiliar) ER trip, but he’s not ready to give up yet. Besides, this thing seemed at least a little organic. The likelihood of it perforating his bowel seemed pretty safely nonexistent, so maybe this one can be something of a wait-and-see.

Besides, maybe this is just the process! Little in life was actually straightforward, and his vision was pretty nebulous.

Maybe, to move it along, he needed to start by busting a nut. So he takes his cock in hand and starts pumping, feeling the hot spray of the shower on his back, working out all the kinks.

He’s hard, yes, and it does feel good. But after fifteen minutes of stroking himself, he realizes he isn’t experiencing pleasure, nothing that’s building or arousing, which is in itself a new experience. He can always feel pleasure. It’s the goddamn thing that’s gotten him into trouble more times than he can count.

Now, however, the shower’s started to run cold, his dick’s rubbed raw, and he’s no closer to an orgasm than he is to becoming an elected official. He’s been beaten by his own meat.

It’s absolute bullshit, but as he feels himself start to panic he manages to tamp it down a little. Nothing good will come from spiraling. Instead, he luxuriates in covering his entire body in a particularly wonderful-smelling body oil (for combination pampering and sore skin smoothing) and smokes a fat, fat joint. 

This was Tomorrow Dieter’s problem. 

He gives himself a couple more half-hearted tugs, just in case the oil makes a difference. It doesn’t, and it kind of burns, but he can at least go to sleep knowing he did the best he could.

Tomorrow’s a fresh start.

He slips into bed, takes a moment to appreciate the fabric against his bare skin. With a sigh, he drifts off to sleep.

Hot midday sunlight blasts through the gaps between the blinds. He should really get some of those non-gappy blinds installed. Or drapes. Nothing beats a good drape.

As he wakes up, something feels… off. He tries to sit up, but there’s something of a mass at his abdomen. He tries to brush it away–probably some detritus he’d left in his bed and forgotten about. Instead, though, the mass doesn’t budge. Instead, he’s suddenly overwhelmed by an intense, blinding pleasure. It hits him and takes over everything, and by the time he comes back down a whole minute later, he’s certain he must’ve just creamed his pants.

He pulls back the covers to check. 

Instead of the view he expects; his fat, hard cock, thighs, and tummy coated with cum–he finds a writhing, twisting heap of squirming tentacles.

He must still be dreaming.

Dieter slams his eyelids together. Presses the palms of his hands against his sockets till his vision goes brown and black spotty. Opens them again.

The tentacles are still there. 

Not knowing what else to do, he reaches out and touches one of them, gingerly. The same blinding pleasure hits him again. It’s only a gentle touch but already he knows that this isn’t just some wayfaring… squid that’s decided to make a home on his belly.

Nope.

This is definitely a part of him now.

He tries tensing and untensing his core muscles. One tentacle slaps out and hits the bed. Another two tangle themselves together. A fourth smacks against one of his nipples and, with a viscid sucker, pulls a desperate whine from him. Though some of the tips seem to always be emerging from him, he’s able to unfurl even more at will. He’d only noticed seven tentacles at first, then tensed, and a second row exploded from him while the outer layer smacked against the bed like a radial motif made of party horns. He thinks there might be even more. A third layer? A fourth?

When he’s able to relax a little and re-focus his attention, shaking, the inner layer sucks back in and he notices that the outer limbs have the same rainbow iridescence as the thing. Of course. Of course!

It takes time, more than an hour to start separating the new sensations from one another. To divide the writhing limbs and control them each individually. When he finally manages to high-five each of his outer tentacles, one-by-one, he’s certain he has at least enough control to avoid causing injury.

By this point, his cock is aching. He wraps two of the lowest tentacles around his length. The tentacles are thick, but his dick is too. They’re quite cold in a way that’s actually delicious. It feels like the cousin of the sensation he experiences when he slips ice cubes in his ass, only way, way more intense.

Just like that thing, too, the tentacles are dripping with the same viscous slick.

He works himself up. It's so intense, soo much stimulation, he half-expects to cum in a fraction of the usual time.

Instead, he finds himself hours later on the verge of tears, not a single orgasm in sight. 

His body simply will not allow him to cum.

It’s miserable, and clearly a horrible, horrible mistake. Will he be like this for the rest of his life, rife with tentacles and unable to clutch at his own pleasure? His dick is sore, having tugged at himself with every limb available. He has sucker marks on his nipples and throat. One tentacle is still squirming around inside his tight little hole and still he can’t reach his peak.

He needs a fucking break.

And maybe some food.

He checks the time. It’s later than he thought, nearly dinnertime. He’s spent his entire day on this.

He starts to formulate a new plan. Order food. Eat. Hydrate. Maybe he’ll scroll through his phone for booty calls and see if he can pinpoint one single person who might not get him sent away to Area 51. Maybe it makes a difference with another person? 

He barely thinks as he fills up his virtual bag and places an order. Leaves a massive tip because he’s getting into hangry territory and needs his food now. 

He shoots Todd a quick ‘I have tentacles now’ text, and closes his eyes.

It’s been a long day. A bit slow, which makes you itchy, but it hasn’t been too bad.

You’re about to call it a night. Grab yourself a bite to eat, and curl up at home.

Then your phone vibrates in your hand.

A delivery order pings on your phone and the tip is substantial. It’s incredibly close to you, too. You accept immediately, not wanting anyone else to get to it first. The tip alone can keep you afloat till after rent is due.

You rush, heading to the restaurant and, miracle of miracles, it’s a quiet night. The restaurant’s already working on the order and it’s only a matter of minutes before it’s ready to go. 

Twenty minutes from accepting the order, you’re walking up the footpath through a well-manicured succulent garden. The house is ostentatious. An enormous lazy river wraps around the home, and you have to cross over a bridge to get to the fucking door . When you get closer, though, you notice surprisingly beautiful carvings, spandrels, and various other decorative details that make it more than just a generic multi-million dollar cookie cutter home. It’s weird, but it has personality to it.

You get to the door and check the order details. It’s not a no-contact delivery. Instead, the message reads:

very sleepy. need food. 1) knock, if no answer 2) ring doorbell, if no answer 3) bring me food and wake me up and i’ll double the tip for your trouble the door code is 6969

Frankly, it seems a great way to get lured in by a wealthy eccentric and hunted for sport, or recruited to join a cult, or something else equally unfortunate. But self-preservation has never been a priority for you, and life is made to be lived.

You knock. You really want him to open the door himself. Even with permission, going in feels like an enormous invasion, and especially if this guy is sleeping, you really don’t want to tiptoe through this stranger's house.

On the other hand, though, you really can’t see yourself turning down that tip, if it comes to that. Definitely lends itself to your ‘this person is crazy’ theory, but you’re committed. You’re seeing this through.

You knock a second time and wait. Nothing.

Thankfully, after ringing the doorbell, you hear the shuffle of soft footsteps. The lock clicks and turns, and a moment later, you’re face to face with a rather disheveled individual.

His hair is mussed, sticking out in all directions, and, you realize, he looks familiar.

But it only takes a moment to forget that thought entirely.

At first, you hadn’t noticed that anything amiss. He was wearing a striped dressing gown over a crop top and sweats. The stripes, though, looked like they were rippling. And it wasn’t an actual crop top, either, no; the shirt had just been pulled up to accommodate what was on his midsection.

It took every effort not to drop the bag of food when you realize what it is.

“Oh,” he says, noticing your expression. He rubs at his temple, infinitely exhausted as he looks you up and down.

“You’re-” you start.

“Yeah, I’m Dieter Bravo-” he finishes.

You blink, shaking your head. He is in fact Dieter Bravo, you realize, but that doesn’t seem like the most significant thing happening here. “You’re covered in tentacles.”

“Oh,” he says again. “Yeah. I guess they are tentacles."

“Um, are they… yours?”

He shrugs, disinterested.

You fumble to find something to say, instead giving up and thrusting his bag towards him. 

He takes it after a moment.

“Thanks,” he says, not making eye contact. 

Apparently, putting on a robe was this man’s idea of concealing them. Now, he’s not trying to be discreet. The tentacles unfurl, most of them hanging heavy from his abdomen, nearly brushing the floor. Several, however, reach into the food bag and withdraw a burrito and a sauce container.

"Are they--" you watch as two of the tentacles start to unwrap the burrito. The foil tears a bit more than he intends, and then he dunks it a little too heavily into the sauce, which shoots out from the grasp of another tentacle. Salsa verde splatters everywhere. The limbs’ movements are apparently uncontrolled. "Are the tentacles new.. to you?"

He sighs. "Yeah. They just showed up this morning."

You’re not sure what to say. “Huh,” you venture.

“Yeah,” he agrees. But then he looks at you, surveys you, and narrows his eyes. He seems like he’s weighing something.

“Uh, this might be weird, what with this-” he gestures at the tentacles, “Situation. But-”

He hesitates, and you nod, encouraging. “But what?”

Dieter winces. Takes a deep breath, and lets it out.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

You look at him. At his tentacles. This is admittedly a lot. It’s almost certainly a bad idea.

But you made a promise to yourself and to your best friend years ago: If you ever have an opportunity to fuck an entity that has tentacles, you’d better say yes.

And it’s Dieter Fucking Bravo. You’re not backing down now.

“Yes I do.”

It starts surprisingly gently. You lean towards him and he cups your cheek in a broad hand, pulling you in.

This isn’t your first time kissing a stranger. If you’re honest, it’s something of a hobby of yours, so the experience of feeling a new give-and-take was familiar despite its novelty. 

What you’d never experienced before, however, was that from the first moment his tongue stroked into your mouth, you felt the most delicious pull.

You were already a little excited, but before even a moment had passed, you now felt yourself drench. Your pussy was drooling, the slick pooling between your legs.

You’re certain he can feel it too.

What had been a look of pleasure and curiosity twisted  into absolute hunger. You swear you can see his eyes dilating. After a moment, you’re certain yours must be, too. The room suddenly feels too bright.

Whatever disinterest he’d shown when you’d turned up at his door has dissolved, replaced with an urgent enthusiasm. “Fuck I’ve been needing this all day.”

From the front door, all down the hallway to the bedroom, a trail of clothing marks your path. 

Between kisses he explains.

“Ever since-” a kiss, “the tentacles–”

You grab him by the hair and he moans.

“I can’t cum. I’ve tried, for hours-”

You hop on one leg and then the other, peeling your socks off as Dieter steadies you by the waist.

“Been jacking off all day-,” he peels his own shirt off, hands flying frantically to make quick work of his clothes, “But I think I need someone else. My body just won’t work. Been hard as fucking rock but nothing happens-”

You slip an arm around his waist and drag your teeth along his collar, grinning when he melts into you.

“You poor thing,” you tell him, and you look in his eyes when you make your promise; “I’ll try and help, much as I can.”

"Amazing," He grins. “I feel better already.”

Dieter’s entirely bare, but you’re still wearing clothing. Something, you both realise, is passing between you. It’s a strange electricity that heightens every sensation. You feel the scruff of his beard against your cheek, you feel your underwear soaked. When he pinches at your nipple, you nearly howl at the pleasure that washes over you. 

As you feel each touch, the sensation builds in a way that’s totally alien to you. He shoves a hand in your pants and groans when he feels the thatch of hair at your cunt. He rubs two fingers along your slit, not stimulating your clit and not even trying to. He’s just warming up what feels like every single nerve ending in your entire vulva till you’re bucking against him.

He pulls his hand away and touches a finger to his tongue, tasting you. Two tentacles make fast work of the button of your jeans. Another wraps around your waist, lifting you up from the floor and suspending you in the air to peel the denim from you, unceremoniously tossing the garment behind you somewhere.

He’s fully naked. His cock hangs heavy and a little to the right, and there’s so much precum, it streams down his thigh where his tip meets the flesh of his leg.

You reach forward and wrap your fist around him. At your touch, he shudders. It’s a beautiful, desperate noise, and already, there’s so much more slick leaking out of him that any suspicion that this amount of oozy fluid isn’t normal is entirely confirmed. You wrap your hand around his length and he melts into your touch with a whine. 

The tentacles wrap around you. You’re not sure how many there are, and their movement is fast and intentional. The man in front of you is essentially a walking sex toy from your sickest, wettest dreams, and you will not waste this.

You reach for one of the tentacles, whatever is nearest to you. For a moment you think it’ll pull out of your grasp, but then it relaxes at your grip. You stick your tongue out and lick the tip, getting the suckers at the end nice and wet. Then, you realize it’s superfluous; the tentacles themselves are already leaking, oozing a pearlescent, cum-like fluid. For all you know, it is cum.

With your thumb, you swirl the slick around one of the larger suckers, and look Dieter right in the eye when you pull one of your bra cups down and press the sucker against your nipple. With barely a flick of effort, a tendril unhooks your bra, pulling it off of you before slicking up your other nipple and pulling a throaty moan from you.

His breath catches just watching you. It’s perfect suction, slick and firm and oh-so steady. 

“How many do you think you can take?” He asks, pink-faced and restless. The flush is so endearing. He looks desperate.

“Give me all you’ve got,” you tell him.

He whines and hisses. You think he might be deliberating, but after a moment it’s like a switch has flipped, releasing any inhibitions he may have held onto, unlocking his filthy tongue.

“Lemme see that wet little snatch,” he purrs, “That’s it, open those legs for me-” 

As if simply willing it–and that may as well be all that it takes–you both watch as one of the fat tentacles splits from the tip, sticky goo trailing between the trifurcated ends like an aloe vera leaf sliced apart. The three new tips writhe apart before slamming into your mouth. Two others pluck at your skin, marring the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

You yelp, muffled, as your legs are spread wide by slick, strong limbs, smaller tendrils prodding at your slick panties before giving up and tearing them apart. Elastic slips loose from your hips, and the gusset of the underwear is a ragged hole.

He steps closer, holds you effortlessly. You’re suspended by a whole mass of tentacles, the suckers pulsating against your skin, dark purple blooms beginning to bruise beneath them. Dieter’s face is so close to your cunt, your first instinct is to close your legs. He holds them open further, though, and breathes deep. “You smell like a fucking dream,” he praises, running a think finger along your folds, dipping in gently, stroking along you, finding where you’re most sensitive.

After a thorough examination, he steps back. “Gonna play with you, baby,” he tells you.

"Jesus Christ", you breathe. The tentacles in your mouth slip out and another tentacle presses at your opening. It slips with a lewd squelch and little resistance, pumps in a couple times, and pulls out to wrap around Dieter’s cock. He strokes himself with the slippery tentacle and lets out a groan.

"Feels like fucking heaven," he breathes, and another tentacle replaces the first, plunging into your cunt and pulsating, filling you so nicely, making you shake. 

You fight against the flutter of your eyelids. There’s so much sensation it’s hard to keep your eyes open, but you need to see him. Need to see this.

“Can you feel with them?” you ask, “With the tentacles?”

“Hmm,” he ponders, “Yes, but–” he slips a second tentacle in with the one already probing your hole and you feel very full. They twist and turn, writhing, pumping in and out of you. You’ve barely gotten started but you can already feel yourself start to build. At this rate, you’ll be squirting all over him in absolutely no time at all.

“I feel it,” he tells you, “And it feels really good, like, fuuuckkk–but it feels like it’s not just me controlling them. It is me, but it’s more than just me. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“Then don’t,” you smile, “Just fuck yourself with them the same way you’re fucking me.”

He lets out another whine. It’s cute, really. Only a minute ago he’d been telling you what to do, and with the slightest prodding, he seems eager to obey. You could get far too used to this.

“C’mon, baby,” you coax, your hips canting, thrusting against the slippery tentacles pressing deeper, deeper-, “Keep going just like that. And open yourself up, too.”

He groans, and two tentacles move around him to start spreading his cheeks. A third prods tenderly at his hole.

Just as a third tentacle presses into your cunt, and another is gently pressing it’s suckers up your throat and holding you in place, Dieter is rendered incoherent as one thick tentacle shoves its way into him. Immediately, he sees stars. If this was the result of an entire day of edging, it was more than worth it.

You’re rutting against the tentacles that are fucking you, meeting each thrust. There’s a pulse pumping through each limb, making you feel impossibly full. When you look at Dieter, you’re certain you can see the bulge of a tentacle in his belly, filling him up so full.

You barely have time to process the build of your arousal before the tip of one of the tentacles suckers against your clit and another twists inside you, hits you in just the right way, and you tip over.

Cum spurts from you, your entire body convulsing. You try to close your thighs, try to pull away from the sensation, but you’re still being held aloft and spread out, fully bared. Instead of stopping or slowing, the tentacles only fuck into you faster and deeper. You can’t stop coming, certain at this point you’ve made a whole damn puddle on the floor beneath you.

Dieter watches, transfixed by the entire show that’s played out before him. He’s red-faced, his skin mottled with purple bruises, cock so hard it looks painful, and has a trio of tendrils ass-fucking him.

When your orgasm finally, finally tapers off, you almost expect your holds to release you. A new hunger stirs in you, though, and when you’re still held tight, you’re oddly grateful for it.

Dieter lowers you, pulling you towards him. He kisses you, open-mouthed and messy, groaning into it. After a few moments he pulls away from you, slick lipped and panting. When he speaks, his voice is raspy and desperate, a monstrous echo following it to create a bizarre, two-tone sound.

The tentacles that aren’t already on or in you both start whipping around, grabbing for purchase and pulling away as if they can’t make up their mind.

Dieter pushes you back. Starts to withdraw.

You hold him in place.

Now you can see his eyes.

They’re totally black. Even the sclerae are gone, murky with inky swirls, glassy and wide and beautiful.

“I- I think you need to leave,” he begs, “It’s too much. They’re taking too much from me.”

You reach out to put a hand on his cheek, and he leans in for a moment before flinching away.

“No!” He hisses, “You need to go. It feels too good, it won’t let me stop. I won’t be able to stop. I don’t know how far it’ll go, but if you don’t leave, I don’t think I can stop it.”

Warmth and clarity floods you. You’re not sure how much is your own mind, and how much is this thing that’s taken over, but it’s sweet, really.

He thinks you could stop if you wanted to.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, and you feel the way he melts, feel the way the tentacles stop fighting and start wrapping around your limbs again, their grasp pulling tighter and tighter, “You take what you need.”

With a sob, he lets go.

The tentacles set you down. Your legs shake, and you barely have time to blink before he’s on you. Any distance you had is gone now, his hands grasping at you, his body flush against yours. You can feel the weight of his cock against your thigh, the strength of his arms holding you. He’s steadying you, or maybe steadying himself. The skin-to-skin contact feels so fucking good and, if the way his hands fly all over you, you’re certain he feels it too.

One big hand grabs at your breast, the other clutching the flesh of your hip. He grinds against you, messy and sticky and so, so delicious. 

He settles you back against a surface, seats you and spreads your legs with his strong hands. A tentacle grabs at your jaw almost tenderly, plucking at the skin, holding you gently.

Dieter lines up his cock and sinks into you, groaning at the hot wet clutch that sucks him in. The surrounding tendrils wrap around you both. You’re certain there are still tentacles fucking into him, but you think another might join, right at the same time you feel the slippery tip of one prodding at your own asshole.

You relax into it, nod to let him know you’re ready, and moan as you feel the slimy length penetrate you. Dieter moans, too, entirely lost in the sensation.

He fucks you fast and deep. You’ve never felt fullness like this before. The pump of the tentacles into both you and Dieter matches his rhythm. 

“Fuck-” he croaks, desperate, “Think I’m getting close-”

“That’s it, baby,” you soothe, “Makin’ me feel so fucking good. Come on, baby, come for me-”

He pulls you into him, presses his lips to your in a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, longer and deeper than it has any right to be. It’s a tentacle, too, you realize, and you moan into the suckers that have started pulling at your tongue. It’s disgusting and absolutely exquisite.

He only manages two more thrusts before he explodes.

You feel his balls pulse, cum flooding your cunt. The tentacles pulse too, though, and soon your mouth is full, your ass, his ass. Like fireworks popping off in quick succession, every tentacle unloads, one after the next, painting the entire room in dripping swaths of cum.

He lets out a noise that sounds like something between a sob and a laugh, final blessed release at last reaching him. 

Dieter pulls out, but continues rocking against you, humping your thigh as his alien limbs continue to surge with spend.

After several long, sticky minutes, you unfurl from one another. With some distance between you, you’re able to see the damage that’s been done. The room is a disaster. You can literally see cum dripping from the ceiling.

Dieter’s looking around the room, too, but he doesn’t look concerned. No, he looks impressed.

“Well shit,” he surveys everything around him. “That was fun.”

You’re still catching your breath as he rummages around and procures a stash box. You can see a variety of substances; baggies filled with powder, assorted pills, a few things you don’t recognise, and a fat pouch full of bud.

He rolls a joint, licks the paper, packs it, and sparks it.

“So, uh-” you start, unsure where you’re going with it.

He beats you to it.

“You wanna stay over?”

You stare at him.

“I mean, it just seems rude to send someone home after sharing some life-altering tentacle sex, right?”

“I was unaware there was standard etiquette regarding tentacle sex.”

He shrugs. “All etiquette is just made up, right?”

A glob of cum drips from the ceiling and lands with a dull splat against the top of your head.

You burst out laughing.

Dieter’s eyes crinkle, and he’s laughing too.

He passes you the joint. You take it, wiping cum from your forehead.

“All right,” you tell him, “I’ll stay over.”

Dieter checks his phone, pulls up Todd’s text thread.

Beneath his tentacles text is Read 1:43pm. He rolls his eyes and follows it up.

you remember those cleaners? the good ones? the crime scene ones?

I need em

soon as they’re free

promise it’s not a crime scene this time

there’s just a lot of cum

After you’re both showered, you go to Dieter’s spare bedroom. Hazy from the weed and exhausted from the hands-down weirdest and best sex of your life, you collapse together.

Dieter’s tentacles look different. Smaller, maybe? Less hungry. Sated.

You fall asleep with his tentacles around you.

When you wake up, his arms are around you instead, holding you close. His abdomen is bare, only skin left.

You start to wriggle, to turn over, but something’s in your way.

There’s something at your abdomen, blocking your movements.

Dieter begins to stir. He stretches, rubs his eyes, and takes you in.

“Babe-” he grins, “You’ve gotta fuck me with those!”

Your own set of shimmering tentacles slip and writhe from your body. You pull him close, suddenly hungry, and get to work.

[otherkinnews]

One anti-furry bill died, the other two wait to be heard

(This blog post was originally posted on the Otherkin News blog on DreamWidth by Orion Scribner on March 24, 2024.)

Content warnings: Rated G. An urban legend that describes an unsanitary situation. Sexism against transgender people, including attempts to prevent them from going to school or using facilities, and outing children to their parents. A straw-man version of furries being used to try to discredit transgender people, in a way that could cause trouble for people who identify as nonhuman.

So far this year, Republicans have proposed three pieces of legislation that are opposed to furries or people who identify as nonhuman. That’s something they started doing last year, inspired by an urban legend about litter boxes in public schools, which they made up in parody of transgender students asking to use school restrooms. We’ve been ending up calling these “anti-furry bills” as we keep track of them in our Otherkin News blog. Furry isn’t the accurate word, but it is the word that Republicans use in the urban legend and usually in the bills too. Every once in a while, I’m checking on the status of the bills, and trying to see if there are any new ones. Here is the update for this week.

1. Oklahoma House Bill 3084 (OK HB 3084) “Schools; prohibiting certain students from participating in school curriculum or activities; effective date.”

Background: We wrote about this bill in detail in a previous Otherkin News post. The bill says that furry students should be taken out of school by animal control. Its only sponsor (writer) is Justin Humphrey (he/him). This seems linked with his opposition to LGBTQ people, as well as his efforts to legalize animal fighting. Later, Jim Olsen (he/him) took over as principal sponsor of the bill. He proposed changing it to have the same text as an unrelated bill of his, one requiring public school classrooms to display the Ten Commandments.

Update: The bill’s current status hasn’t changed since our last update. It’s still at 25% progression toward becoming a law. Its text hasn’t changed from what it was originally, so it's still about furries.

2. Mississippi House Bill 176 (MS HB 176) “Gender dysphoria; require school personnel to notify parents of student who request to be referred to as different gender or nonhuman.”

Background: This was introduced at the same time as the first bill. As we previously wrote about it, the bill is mostly against transgender students in a way that could put them in real danger. It would require schools to out transgender students to parents, and to allow faculty to not accommodate any student who “identif[ies] at school as a gender or pronoun that does not align with the child's sex on their birth certificate, other official records, sex assigned at birth, or identifying as an animal species, extraterrestrial being or inanimate object.”

Update: This bill’s current status is dead! Hooray! It died in committee on March 3. When a bill dies, that means that it won’t progress toward becoming a law.

3. Missouri House Bill 2678 (MO HB 2678) “Prohibits students from engaging in ‘furry’ behavior while at school”

Background: We previously wrote about this bill. The bill says to pull students out of school for being furries or purporting to be animals. The bill’s only sponsor is Cheri Toalson Reisch (she/her). This appears to be connected with her opposition to transgender people as well as her efforts to undermine public schools in favor of charter schools.

Updates: This bill hasn’t changed or moved forward. It’s still the same as it was when it was introduced. A hearing hasn’t been scheduled for it, and it’s not on a House calendar.

-

About the writer: This blog post was written by Orion Scribner (they/them), who has been a community historian and archivist for more than ten years.

[kanatashinkaifr]

here's belphegors selfie story part 1 and 2!!!

had to split it up cuz it was too much text.. I kept everything the exact same, with the exception of occasional mistranslations and making it somewhat gender neutral (but this is afab MC!!). the remainder of this story will be posted soon, i'll put the link below. NSFW below the cut, hope you enjoy!! :3

link to the remainder of the story

@adelaine-rose

Booooom..!!

There was an explosion so loud that even the gravel on the ground trembled and rolled around.

Devil with good hearing: Is that an Angel attack..?!

At a watch house in Hades that was always prepared perfectly against Angel invasions, a Devil with good hearing urgently looked up outside the window, and shouted.

However, the explosion didn't come from an Angel invasion this time.

When all the Devils raised their heads and looked up at the sky in unison...

Something was pouring down from the clear sky; leaving long, thin, rainbow-like tracks.

Devil with good eyes: That's... A rainbow...? No, is it a comet...?

Devil with good senses: Ah..! A rainbow coloured meteor..?! That must mean..!

When everyone was captivated by the meteors with rainbow coloured tails fantastically embroidering the sky--

Boooooom...!!

Once again, an explosion enough to shake the ground below the Devils' feet came from the sky.

At the same time, the clouds opened up in a circle, as though there was a hole; and someone... Appeared from the middle.

The devil who was floating in a somewhat gloomy manner among the magnificent, rainbow-colored meteor shower was smiling with a camera that had lenses as big as a cannon in his hand. --If you can also call the phantasmagoric smile reflected in his gleaming blade a smile...

The man who appeared as though he had forced himself through the universe beyond the sky was overflowing with such tremendous presence that he drew the eyes of all those there.

He definitely had horns, the symbol of devils, growing from his head, but they could feel a more oppressive and extraterrestrial energy from him.

It was obvious that he was no mere devil.

Just then, a few devils shouted almost in unison.

Devil with loud voice: That's... Phenomenon...!!

Excited devil: It's Phenomenon...! It's Phenomenon...!!

The expressions of the devils who were stiff with worry and wariness until just now were all colored with excitement.

No one there asked who Phenomenon was.

Just then, The being called Phenomenon above the sky opened his lips that seemed so heavy that they wouldn't open excruciatingly slowly and almost growled in a low voice.

Phenomenon: I have come... To take a picture...

Overjoyed Devil: Oooh!!! It has begun...!!!

Elated Devil: Phenomenon has come to take a picture...!!

The devils shouted and cheered in excitement as though Phenomenon's single sentence notified them of the beginning of a festival.

...Was something that didn't apply to the devils of Niflheim.

Scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble, scribble...

The room is silent except for the scratching of pens, like a room full of students studying for an important exam.

In a place where the excitement outside was faint enough to penetrate even the closed windows, Gusion muttered.

Gusion: If you take the loudest sound an excited devil can make, multiply it by the population of Niflheim, and trace back the percentage lost when the sound breaks through the glass, then retrace the original value of the disturbance we're feeling now...

Bathin: Why would you do that?

Gusion: Pity those of us who are stuck in our rooms doing work, unlike those idiots outside.

Among the devils who eventually gathered and went about their business, Gusion was the first to grow impatient and grumble.

Gusion: Do you know that there's still a misconception among the devils in other countries? That because we're henchmen of the king of sloth, all we do is nap every day.

Bathin: Gusion, quit scribbling and speak up. I can't understand half of what you're saying because your pen is making such a ruckus.

Beleth: Why do you still insist on usin' a pen? You could use a calculator. And why do you always have to squat on the floor? I said I'd get you another desk.

Beleth clicked his tongue as he looked down at Gusion, who was crouched on the floor next to his chair; unlike himself at the desk, or Bathin, who sat across from him and shared the same desk.

Gusion: You think it's easy to change centuries-old habits overnight? I'm faster at calculating like this.

Gusion said, grumbling and calculating in his mind at the same time.

Bathin: It isn't like you to complain while calculating. Did you really want to enter Phenomenon's photo contest that bad?

Gusion: I don't really care about that. The formula I'm perfecting here is far more interesting.

Bathin: Then why?

Gusion: Because I resent being misunderstood. While everyone else is out catching angels, I'm locked up in this room, thinking about how to make my country stronger. A nap? What a misconception!

Gusion: The truth is, being around Belphegor makes me languid and lazy; and I'm tired of putting up with it.

Belphegor's aura, the king of sloth, was so strong that it was contagious to the devils around him; making even the most sincere of devils like Gusion drowsy.

Gusion: But yesterday, Paimon from Gehenna texted me during the day and then followed up before I could even reply, saying, "Aaah, are you sleepingggg? I'm sorry to disturb you, sozzz ;) "...!

Belphegor: Then say no.

Belphegor's languid voice slipped in, drowned out by the rustling of the blankets, from the side of the bed a short distance away from the desk.

Beleth: Haha, that's right. You could've said no.

Gusion:...Do you find it amusing when you're doing all of his Majesty Belphegor's work?

Beleth: If not me, who will take care of him?

Belphegor: That's right.

When Belphegor mumbled something in his sleep, Gusion decided that further conversation was pointless, frowned, and went back to solving the formula.

But the reason they found it hard to concentrate was not only because they were caught on Belphegor's laziness.

Fap, fap, fap, fap...

Gusion: ............

Bathin: ............

Gusion was purposely scratching his nib loudly, just to drown out that annoying sound.

Gusion: (Don't masturbate in front of all your men...!!)

Gusion thought, but Belphegor was the kind of devil who would let the major devils do all the work in his room because he couldn't be bothered to answer to them one by one.

All the work, even that which was inappropriate to be done in his chamber. For example...

Bathin: So, when are we executing that angel in the back?

Right. Like, executing angels, for example.

In the corner of Belphegor's chamber, there was a giant scaffold that looked like it belonged in a public square, with an angel chained to it, waiting to be decapitated at any moment.

Belphegor: Kill it now.

Gusion: No, killing is killing, but you're asking me to decide how to do it; which is why he's been chained in this room for three days now, waiting to see if he's going to be decapitated or strangled.

Belphegor: You want me to decide now? Don't bother...

Gusion: ... You've been saying that for three days now, too.

Gusion frowned. Because even as he was answering carelessly, Belphegor was still masturbating.

When he glanced up, Belphegor's flat stomach was already glistening with

semen.

It was impossible to tell how many times he'd ejaculated, but he still didn't seem satisfied.

When Gusion and Bathin looked at Beleth almost simultaneously, with the same mind, he paused for a moment, and then said with an expression that seemed to have caught on.

Beleth: Agares is hard at work training Niflheim's army, and we're free and easy compared to the atmosphere over there.

Gusion: What are you talking about, again?

Beleth: Weren't you just saying that we seem to be working too hard?

Gusion: It's not that kind of hardship...

It was then.

Knock knock.

There was a knock. Not at the door, but at the window.

Beleth: Ahh, a long overdue return. Andrealphus. Come on in.

Beleth rose from his seat and opened the window so as not to disturb everyone, and a devil with a long, lean body and wings even larger than it was nailed to his back nodded slowly and stepped through the window.

When Andrealphus came into the room with low strides from his leather

shoes and sat down at the foot of the bed, Belphegor said a single sentence: 'Ey, you're back-' and then fell back to sleep.

Andrealphus: It's quiet in here. Outside it's all festive with Phenomenon's contest.

Andrealphus: Your Majesty Belphegor, I know you're always sleepin', but why don't you stay awake tonight?

A hunter who carries a great scythe and slaughters angels in hiding. That was the public image of the devil that was Andrealphus, but there was a certain boyish innocence to his face as he sat at the foot of Belphegor's bed in the

and woke him up.

With Belphegor sleeping peacefully and the devils burying their faces in their respective desks, it seemed friendly and peaceful like a group of boys gathered at a friend's house after school to do homework.

Of course, there was nothing friendly or peaceful about the sight of an angel chained to the side of the room with his head on the execution rack, or Belphegor sleeping and masturbating nonstop despite the wetness on his lower stomach.

Bathin: Why disturb His Majesty Belphegor's sleep? He'll fall asleep again soon enough.

Andrealphus: Didn't you hear? There's a huge fuss about Phenomenon's contest goin' on outside. His Majesty should be a part of it.

Gusion: ......???

Bathin: ......?

Andrealphus: What's with the looks on your faces?

Gusion: .......How do you know my expressions?

Gusion narrowed his eyes to meet Andrealphus's blind ones, but this time Andrealphus pretended not to notice and continued.

Andrealphus: If His Majesty participates, I'm sure he'll win first place, which is good. Because, if he wins first place, then his picture will be displayed all over Hell, and I'll be able to see his face no matter where I am.

Gusion: If that's what you're after, just carry a picture of him around with you.

Andrealphus: No, it'll get soaked with blood.

Gusion: Put it in your phone, keep it as a photo...

Andrealphus: No, it'll get soaked with blood.

Bathin: Andrealphus's phone done broke more than once because it got drenched in blood. Anywhere, there's no way His Majesty's entering the contest, so we might as well give up hope.

Gusion: Hey, wait. Oi, Andrealphus. You can't even see it even if his Majesty's picture is hung all over Hell...!

Andrealphus: It's to do with the feels. Anyways, it can't be helped if he doesn't wish to participate.

Beleth: You're all bein' too pessimistic. He's still our king, after all.

Gusion: He's not going to do it anyway.

Belphegor: But we can still hope.

Belphegor's sleepy reply further sullied Gusion's impression of him.

Gusion: The one who hates being bothered the most is bothering me...

Beleth: Your Majesty, are you really gonna enter the contest?

Belphegor: It's annoyin'...

Everyone slammed their heads back down on their desks with an expression of 'of course' on their faces, but Beleth suddenly went into 'competent servant mode' again and his eyes began to sparkle.

Beleth: I heard that the criteria for the winner of this contest is to take 'a picture where you're the most obscenely filthy'... Don't you think that'd be a piece of cake?

Bathin: ...It's 'a picture where you're the most obscenely messed up'.

Beleth: Haha. Blah, blah, blah. Yes, Your Majesty, how 'bout you wake up for a moment...

Beleth moved closer to the bed to shake Belphegor awake, but Belphegor only lifted his head slightly in annoyance, a frown on his face.

Belphegor: You're the one who should be doin' that, if you'd just stay awake a lil' longer. Those teeth marks on your body, there's more of 'em. again

Beleth: No, no, no. This ain't even close.

Belphegor: What... I gotta do more than that? No, I don't like it. It's annoyin'.

Beleth: An event with all the devils of Hell? It can't be that easy. Why else do you think all the kings of the world are lookin' for Solomon's descendant right now like crazy?

Belphegor: Solomon's descendant?

Beleth's phone rang as Belphegor asked languidly, still in the throes of

sleep.

Beleth's phone rang as Belphegor asked languidly, still in the throes of sleep.

Beleth: Your Maj, one moment. Hello? Ah, a video call.

Beelzebub: [Haha, Beleth, you don't even know the difference between a phone call and a video call. You're like an old man!]

Beleth: I am an old man. I got so many mouths to feed, and I'm breakin' my back

tryin' to feed 'em.

Beleth spoke like a real old man, and the other devils gave him a look that said, "You smell like an old man," and slowly dragged their chairs away.

Beelzebub: [Ah, yes, that's right, Beleth is the best breadwinner in this Hell. Keke. Come to think of it, I'm pretty sure the kid from that house has gone home too, have you met him?]

Beleth: Yes, he just came in. Andrealphus, would you like to say howdy to His Majesty Beelzebub?

Beleth said cheerfully, but Andrealphus stiffened and mouthed 'No.'.

Beelzebub: [Keke, looks like he rejected you. Anyway, judging by the silence, MC is not there, Levi! They aren't even in Niflheim.]

At the mention of Solomon's descendant's name, Belphegor who had been dozing off while half awake again slowly opened his eyes.

Beelzebub called out to Leviathan from Hades in a friendly manner, as though he happened to be with him. But Leviathan's expression across the screen was murderous.

Leviathan: [They're not in Niflheim, nor in Hades, nor in Abyssos. So all that remains is Gehenna and Tartaros. Beelzebub. I'll pull out your tongue after I look there, Beelzebub.]

Mammon: [They aren't in Tartaros either. I just came back from looking there. Anyway, what about Abaddon?]

When Mammon appeared beside him and tried to wrap his arm around Leviathan's shoulder, Leviathan deftly dodged, showing it all on the screen.

Leviathan: [There's no way MC would have gone there on their own, unless they're insane...... No, it's not completely unlikely.]

Satan: [Okay, let's go to Abaddon!!]

Even Satan's eyes lit up as he appeared, the devils of Niflheim who had come to Beleth's side and were watching the screen together all looked a little dumbfounded.

Gusion: ...This isn't even an emergency for Hell. How come you're all gathered there?

Satan: [Because we need to find MC to win first place in Phenomenon's contest!]

Bathin: What role will they play?

Mammon: [Huhu, you can figure out who has the most dramatic eye for 'most obscenely messed up' in all of Hell right now, since you're smart.]

Satan: [Why do you look so proud of yourself?]

Mammon: [Of course I'm happy that the kings of Hell have recognized MC's discernment, because they're mine.]

Satan: [Mwahaha! Bullshit!!]

Leviathan: [Anyways, since MC doesn't seem to be there, you can hang up the phone, keep busy.]

After saying that, Leviathan hung up the phone first. And with that, the noisy voices disappeared and peaceful silence returned...

Harumon: Keep busy...! What a cruel goodbye...!! That's so cruel...!! That's so cruel...!!!

Beleth: Where were you hidin' again? You came out now?

Harumon: Vassago kidnapped me again!!! Vassago!!! He bathed me in the finest scented oils!!! He massaged me all over!!! And he brushed me as he wanted!!!!!

Beleth: My, I'm jealous of that. It always feels so good to be touched by a pretty boy like Vassago.

Harumon: What are you talkin' about!!! You horny jerk!!! I've been taken advantage of!!!

Bathin: Vassago... He don't look it, but he really adores Harumon.

Beleth threw the good-smelling, fluffy Harumon onto the bed, and

Belphegor caught him right on the spot, tucking it under his elbow and rolling onto his side.

Harumon: Ugh...! Your Majesty, your elbow...! I-It's pressin' on my guts...!!! ARGHH!! I smell cum...?!!

Belphegor: Funny. A human whose name keeps comin' up during the devil's festival.

Andrealphus: ...? Your Majesty Belphegor, I thought you were asleep.

Beleth: Wow, his eyes are really sparklin'. What is it?

While they were all stunned that he was awake and not sleeping, Belphegor pulled a dice from his chest.

Belphegor: Solomon's descendant. I thought they were interestin', but...

But if they're so great that even the kings are lookin' for them, then...

Belphegor's dice left his hand. It rolled far, far away, stopping at Beleth's feet.

Belphegor didn't even bother to pick it up himself. He just looked up and asked.

Belphegor: What's it say?

Beleth: Six.

Belphegor: Okay, I've decided.

Belphegor, who was still only halfway out of his quilt by the time the dice were rolled, stretched out completely.

In that moment, the air in the room, which had been peaceful and even stretched out, stiffened with tension.

Belphegor: I shall win first place in the contest.

Before anyone could react to the sudden declaration.

Swooosh-!

A tremendous amount of power was suddenly released from Belphegor's body, which had been marinated in drowsiness and languor.

The devils in the room instinctively drew their weapons, tensing every muscle in their bodies. Just then.

Click.

An improbable sound reached everyone's ears. A small, concise signal that seemed to flip a switch in the world.

At the same time, the surroundings were plunged into total darkness. As if everyone in the world closed their eyes at the same time.

The darkness didn't just swallow Belphegor's chamber, it engulfed all of Hell in that moment.

Agares: ...This... All he does is sleep. What happened?

Vassago: ...I'll go fetch Harumon to check out the situation.

The place where Vassago selflessly replied to Agares' irritation was also shrouded in darkness.

Leviathan: This darkness... Belphegor, you lazy bastard.

Satan: Shouldn't he be in bed?

Beelzebub: He must be hungry, or--

Mammon: He suddenly remembered something he wanted.

The place where the kings gathered was also dark,

MC: What, what...?! Did the angels do something again...?!

The place where you are was also in darkness.

You couldn't see anything, and you thought while your heart was pounding with fear and surprise in the seemingly empty space.

MC: I was just passing near the border of Gehenna and Tartaros...?

You had narrowly missed Satan who was searching for you, and had actually returned to Gehenna just as he was leaving it.

But you were too afraid to step into the streets, and everything around you was enveloped in darkness, and you were lost.

The darkness not only swallowed up everything you could see, but it also swallowed up sound, and you couldn't feel anything, as if you were drowning in a black liquid.

Just then.

???: Ah, gotcha.

A familiar voice called out from an unknown direction.

Then there was a momentary flicker of darkness, with no light in any part of the room, no distinction between light or shadow, and then, as if someone had pulled away the blackness in front of your eyes, there was suddenly only a landscape beyond.

It was Belphegor's room, with a calm, dark interior that seemed made for sleeping more than anything else.

Belphegor: Come over here.

MC: Belphegor???

Holding up part of the darkness with one arm, Belphegor spoke in a voice

that hadn't quite awoken.

The man who had covered himself in a sea of near-neutral colors looked weak in his sleep, but all the darkness that surrounded you was of his own making.

Lifting the darkness as if lifting a curtain, he was slightly bent over so that his chest and abs, clad in a single kimono, were clearly visible to you.

MC: (Uh, am I looking at it wrong...? I don't think that's... sweat... on Belphegor's stomach...?)

You stared at him for a moment, suddenly realized that your gaze was too blatant, and shook your head hastily.

MC: This is too good, no, no, this is too sudden, what's going on?

Belphegor: You were too far away, so I shortened the path.

You didn't understand his words, but more than that, you didn't understand the sensations you were feeling.

Surely Belphegor was speaking in front of you, but his voice seemed to come from the back of your throat.

Besides, you should have been in Gehenna because you were standing still where you walking a moment ago, but Belphegor in front of you were waving from his room in Niflheim.

Beleth: My goodness. Our king must be somethin' else, to bother goin' all the way down there, to mess up the dimension by unleashin' energy on all Hell.

You heard Beleth's dumbfounded voice from somewhere, a voice that sounded bemused-but also secretly proud.

Gusion: Hey, Solomon's descendant. Use your head. Not your senses. Think about what this devil in front of you is capable of.

Gusion's voice rang out from somewhere, and you snapped out of it.

Belphegor, who could bend dimensions, space and time, had bent them to meet you, creating the shortest distance possible to reach you.

MC: S-so where am I now? Gehenna or Niflheim?

Bathin: You're in Gehenna, and you're in Niflheim. That's what dimensional travelin' is for. Ain't that nifty?

At the sound of Bathin's calm voice, you felt yourself being released from the fear and tension that the sudden darkness had brought.

You shifted toward Belphegor, whose three eyes were glowing toward you, and then-

Belphegor: This way.

Sure enough, Belphegor was right in front of you, so you reached out, and just as you thought you heard a voice in your right ear, a firm hand wrapped around your left waist, hugging your body from behind and pulling you to your feet.

MC: (I'm going to fall...?!)

You squeezed your eyes shut in surprise, and then something fluffy touched your bottom, and it became bright beyond your eyelids.

MC: Huh, where am I...?

Belphegor: It's Niflheim.

Sitting in the middle of the bed and sprawled out beside you, answered Belphegor, who hadn't even bothered to look at you despite the fact that the front of his tunic was open - and thankfully so.

Beleth: Welcome to Niflheim, my dear Descendant of Solomon.

You were greeted in a cool tone by the handsome devil standing before you.

MC: I was surely in Gehenna a moment ago...!

Beleth: The moment you entered the dimension of Niflheim, our Majesty pulled you into it, and then returned you to your dimension.

Harumon: My...! Not just travelin' 'tween dimensions, but havin' the power to travel 'tween dimensions...!!! I don't know if our king is brilliant or ignorant!

As Harumon complained, Beleth casually walked back to the desk, grabbed a pen, and spoke.

Beleth: Now, I reckon our king's gonna be busy from now on, so the rest of y'all should find another empty room.

Bathin: ... It's been a spell since I saw you. How sad.

Bathin bowed politely and started to leave the room, but Gusion couldn't take his eyes off the paper he was writing down formulas for some interesting puzzle, so Bathin dragged him out of the room.

Beleth: Andrealphus, you too... Huh? When did he leave? Harumon's not here neither?

Beleth scratched the back of his head as he stared at the empty space, then closed the window as if he was used to it and came back and sat down.

MC: If you're busy, should I go too? I just got here, but...

Beleth: Ahh, no, Belphie's busy 'cause of you. Well, I'll be off... Oh, just check this

one. Hey, your Majesty. What about that last road project? Do you approve?

Belphegor: Yeah.

Beleth: Hey, at least take a gander at it. Don't just lie there.

Belphegor: Ye.

Beleth:You're such a good listener. Hey, MC, I'm sorry, can you help him on one side? I'll take the other.

MC: Huh? Okay!

At Beleth's request, you hesitantly lifted one of Belphegor's armpits and placed it on your shoulder. As Beleth approached and did the same on the other side, Belphegor rose to his feet as if he had no choice.

MC: (Ooh, ooh... What is this... Belphegor's thick body odor is coming straight to

the tip of my nose...!)

Beleth walked over and carried Belphegor with you to the front of the desk.

Beleth: Look. This paperwork. What shall we do, approve it?

Belphegor: Nah.

Beleth: Well then... Okay. That's it, then. Now I'm really done... Oh, this one needs the king's say-so, too. Hey, Your Majesty. What am I supposed to do? There's stuff on the agenda that needs your answer right now.

Belphegor: Well, you get to work. I'll do this. No, you do it, not me.

Belphegor said, half-leaning over Beleth and pointing at you with his gaze.

MC: Me? Do? What?

Belphegor: That's annoyin', just ask me one question.

MC: If you brought me here, the least you could do is explain...!

As you said that, you slipped out of his arms and stood to face Belphegor, who sighed heavily as if he was about to do something very, very big.

Belphegor: I'm only gonna explain this once. I'm gonna explain it in one go. If I don't, I'll die of annoyance.

You nodded quickly, and Belphegor smirked, his head jerking upright.

You almost didn't pay attention to his words as his sharply chiseled, handsome features stared back at you...

Belphegor: I'm curious about you. I've taken a likin' to you.

I also wanna win first place in Phenomenon's contest.

I also wanna have relations with you.

But I can't be bothered to move.

So you do it.

MC: ??????????????

You stuttered as the information rushed past you, not quite registering in your mind.

Beleth: Come on, Your Majesty. Just 'cause you're bothered doesn't mean you gotta speak so casual-like that the other person can't understand you.

Fortunately, Beleth kindly turned his chair around to explain.

Beleth: Well, it ain't really that difficult. His Majesty is interested in you, so to speak, and he also wants to win first prize in Phenomenon's contest.

He thinks you can help him take the 'dirtiest photo ever', and he'd like to have relations with you, too.

But he can't be bothered with all of that, so he's lettin' you lead, okay?

MC: Uh... So... He wants to know about me, and... He want to win first place in Phenomenon's contest, and... Have sex with me.... Ahem, I'd like to do that, too... But... I...

Beleth: Yeah. You got it. Clever.

Your face flared up in a belated blush at Beleth's kind words.

MC: (I mean, he's saying we should do it right now, with my own hands, and with Beleth here...!)

Your blushing face looked shamelessly into Belphegor's eyes and the back of Beleth's head.

You panicked and took a few steps back, only to find a cold wall behind you... No, a full-length mirror almost as large as the wall.

Turning away from the mirror, you clasped your sweaty hands together as you stared at a man who had both a sharp, alert appearance and a languid languor that left much to the imagination.

MC: (This...is... too... too... good...!)

You already anticipated seeing the scenes that made your heart pound inwardly once you heard about the theme of Phenomenon's contest, and you found yourself in a more stimulating situation than you could have imagined.

MC: (After all, I don't see Belphegor very often compared to the other kings, so I never expected such an event to take place...!)

True to his name as the king of sloth, Belphegor rarely ventured outside of Niflheim.

Even when he was in Niflheim, he rarely left his room, or even his bed, which made this situation even more exciting.

MC: (I wonder what type of caress Belphegor likes. Does he sweat a lot? Does he like to be touched by hand or does he prefer it to be done with my mouth?)

Belphegor said he wanted to get to know you, but in truth, you were just as curious about him.

With such expectations and delusions bubbling up inside you, you thought it wouldn't be long before you were wetting your pants just by looking at the razor-sharp handsome man standing there with his apron languidly open.

The only problem was, you had to lead the whole thing and make sure you 'messed it up obscenely' to his satisfaction...

MC: (But Belphegor's already obscene...?! That on his stomach...!! It's definitely cum...!! Ahh... I want to rub my lower belly on it and get wet...)

Belphegor: Huh? Huh. Yer' already up and at it? How diligent.

You looked into Belphegor's pale eyes and saw that in his eyes, you were already blushing, and spreading open his clothes.

In fact, your expectations were not just to 'watch' the thrilling scenes, but to actually 'mess' someone up in the most obscene way possible.

MC: You said to do it. So I'm going to do it enthusiastically...

And then, as if by some sort of instinct, you began to run your drooling tongue over the nipple in front of you.

Watching you, Belphegor chuckled.

Belphegor: I ain't one for nuisances, but when I see folks workin' this hard for me, I reckon I gotta lend 'em a hand.

With those words, Belphegor's hand came to rest on the top of your head as if squeezing you, and as he lifted your head with force, your gaze locked with his mysterious three eyes.

Belphegor: [There's no need to rush, just make it feel right]

At that moment, you felt your vision go dark for another very brief moment.

And the moment it receded, Belphegor's hand was on the back of your head... Yet somehow, you felt it on your butt.

MC: Huh? Huh?

Belphegor's grip on your head tightened, and you lifted up on your heels, feeling as if someone was squeezing you under your ass.

MC: Uhh...?! There's a hand, on my butt...?

That wasn't it.

MC: (It feels strange... I feel so good... I'm so turned on... But why... Do I feel so drowsy and lethargic...?)

Belphegor: Ya can sleep, but keep movin' them bones.

A strange command dropped above your head... No, it seemed to come from beneath your chin.

MC: Huh...? I just heard, something here...

You lowered your head, talking gibberish as though you were half-asleep, but of course Belphegor's face wasn't there.

Instead, you could see his abs that were clearly visible through the open front, and the glistening piercing that was embedded in them when you looked down.

When you touched it with your hand, it felt cooler than your body temperature and it seemed to stir your sleep just a little.

But only for a moment.

You shook it off. The languor eventually gave way to the strength behind your knees, and you stood in front of Belphegor with your knees upright, rubbing your face between his legs.

Even as you frantically rubbed between his legs, now as warm as a newborn baby, he literally 'stayed still' with nothing but a pleasant smile.

Beleth: Hey, Maya, watch yerself 'round His Majesty-- hangin' 'round him can wear ya down... Shoot, my apologies for bein' late.

Beleth glanced back at you, but you were already preoccupied with the multi-sensory and arousal that Belphegor had so strangely twisted.

Belphegor had only squeezed the crown of your head once, and you were still feeling the sensation of someone constantly squeezing and fondling under your ass,

Belphegor had only whispered once, but his hot, sweet breath seemed to be blowing in your earlobe, under your armpit, and down your stomach over and over again.

MC: This is strange... Strange... It's strange... But I like ittt...

Belphegor: Now, put in that work, push it harder.

His words sounded insensitive, but they were true.

The more you touched him, the more you felt him, the more aroused your body somehow became.

It wasn't the kind of 'if you like it, I like it' interaction that happened simply because of the affection you felt for the other person.

Belphegor was leisurely watching you, letting you take over the even the arousal that he should be feeling.

Of course, that didn't mean Belphegor's wasn't aroused at all, or nil.

MC: It's hard.

His cock was already fully erect and throbbing against your cheek, just a piece of clothing away.

You drew your knees up to your sitting position and lifted his robe up on your own, rolling it over your chest.

Belphegor: ...That's it. Keep it steady.

Feeling Belphegor's voice and breath echoing in the hole beneath you, you parted the bottom of his kimono.

MC: It's... Pretty...

You said so without realizing it, lovingly stroking Belphegor's shaft with both hands.

It was nodding fiercely and wasn't cute in the slightest, but you found it terribly endearing.

His cock looked like a compressed version of Belphegor himself.

It was neither too long nor too small, just the right amount of hardness and clear color.

And... The piercings that were embedded here and there on his body were embedded there as well.

MC: (If I touch it there... Would it feel even better...?)

You thought to yourself, and at the same time you stood up firmly, wedged it between your breasts and began to move up and down.

[anexperimentallife]

Male musicians are allowed to explore different characters and imagine experiences in song. Women musicians, with a few rare exceptions, are assumed to write strictly autobiographical songs--especially if they're doing pop or indie-sounding music.

"If she's writing about being sad and broken-hearted, something terrible must have happened to her." Maybe. Or maybe she was just like, hm, I think I'll write a sad song.

Like, I'm pretty sure Mick Jagger knows approximately jack shit about being a "street-fighting man," and that he wasn't "born in a crossfire hurricane." Elton John probably never did the Crocodile Rock with Suzie. I don't think any Beach Boy ever worked on the sloop John B with their grandfather. Freddy Mercury, to the best of my knowledge, never killed a man. David Bowie wasn't an extraterrestrial (okay, that last one might be debatable). And hell, just TRY to keep track of all the characters Bruce Springsteen has portrayed musically.

But I don't see people giving any of them shit for writing songs about experiences other than their own, because everyone understands they're writing from a character's perspective.

When a woman writes a song with a story or a character perspective in it, though, folks assume it either a) happened to her, b) she's trying to claim that it did, and/or c) she really feels that way. And if it DIDN'T happen to her, she's criticized for "pretending to be something she's not."

Wonder why that is.

[estrelladeishtar]

Anyway. On the subject of charter verses...

So, Just like I mentioned Ishtar having a theme song for their district, this song is the headcanon I have for the song that'd play out in Zion's district- that being the Neon Eden District ⚡ Basically the little theme for when you're in his district, right before jumping into going out of your way to hijack his concert lmao

Ishtar's would be here, meanwhile!

[motimatcha]

"nostromo"

PART 4. They don't laught about legends.

parts: one | two | three | four | five

dbd Xenomorph (alien) x fem!reader. attention: nothing?

The xenomorph was not present at the next test, nor at the second, third... it seemed that the Entity had completely gotten rid of one of its killers, and it would have been so, but Ellen was still here, like the Nostromo, empty without its owner.

At first, you were more than happy that your personal nightmare would no longer bother you during the tests, but for some reason it began to seem to you that along with the xenomorph you had lost something important. Other killers could not bring you the same thrill and adrenaline during the chase as the unpredictable stranger did. Who else, besides him, is capable of switching from close to long-range attacks, hiding his presence and appearing in the most unexpected places. Some things with an extraterrestrial being could only be rivaled by Michael Myers, and GhostFace, teasing you with his deep voice after one test.

The same one when you were ready to almost kiss him.

“GostFace,” you decided to raise your voice while repairing the generator, when the named one, hiding his presence, was sitting almost behind you. The killer did not answer you, but since there was no blow from him, you could conclude that he was surprised and interested. Did his banter have an effect? “By chance, you don’t know, a survivor can get into the killer’s territory without being on...”

You don't have time to come to an agreement. A knife whistles through the air dangerously close. The heart misses a beat - vulnerability. It was necessary to look at GostFace, and not sit carelessly at the generator.

Dash to the side and forward along the corridor to the nearest boards. The Lary Memorial Institute was rich in the number of window openings, corridors, rooms, boards - everything that could be used against killers and killers against survivors. Such as GhostFace chasing you felt almost like a fish out of water, if only there were more tall bushes to hide in and keep an eye on the survivors, it’s just a fairy tale.

“Apparently he thought that I was making fun of him,” you thought. And although you did not mean anything like that, and your question was asked out of sincere curiosity, it is unlikely that the killer will listen to you now. Most likely, now he will only chase after you in retaliation, but it’s not that you need to get used to such an attitude.

There are four generators left to run.

You were left standing at the exit from the location created by the Entity. The other survivors had already left, but considered it their sacred duty to call you crazy since you wanted to say goodbye to their failed killer. You decided not to say that you actually wanted to ask a couple of questions to the Entity’s pet.

The GostFace came to you slowly. Another sound signal sounded and another earthquake shook the collapsing world. It was clear from him that he hoped that you had given up trying to find out something from him, but your determination and stubbornness could compete with his own when he was tracking down a new victim.

“This is a one-sided rule,” the silent killer speaks sharply and unexpectedly. You are not quite used to the fact that a seemingly puny guy can have such a low voice. Like smoky.

However, his words force you to think deeply. "One-sided rule"? What the hell is he talking about ? You go through all sorts of options in your head, up to the point that the killers can’t... oh. O!

“Thank you,” you respectfully nod your head and your voice is full of sincere gratitude and enthusiasm. “Oh, you don’t know how exactly you can get into the killer’s territory?”

Perhaps it seemed to you, but under the mask GostFace rolled his eyes. Yes, it definitely seemed to you like a trick of the imagination after a long chase, and he doesn’t think you’re an ignorant fool. Exactly.

“How do you think the Essence responds to us all and gives us certain opportunities? The hatch in the killer's hut, the thickening fog... you make yourself look awkward, even though you've been here much longer than I have. Although if you come up now and allow me to send you to the entity...”

The killer's statement hurts you, but you maintain a stoic expression. God forbid if he realizes that his words really hurt you and starts using it against you, as is happening now after your fiasco in one of the tests.

“I understand that with the help of offerings, but where to use them? I can’t approach...” you didn’t dare to talk about the fact that the survivors have a fire where you all gather after the tests. You can expect anything from a person like GhostFace, up to and including the fact that he just lied to you and in fact the killers can get to the survivors, they just don’t want to do this for their own personal reasons. “...the place where we use our offerings and wish to go to the one I need.”

“Why not?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that?”

“And who told you this?”

“Other survivors who were told this by the Entity?”

“She actually came to bow to you and said, “survivors, you cannot use the offerings from this thing to get to the killer”?”

“Well... probably not? I don't know. The knowledge that we cannot use it outside of testing has always been with us.”

“So maybe it’s worth asking this question at your leisure?” asked GhostFace and folded his arms over his chest. He tapped irritably on the rough fabric of his dark clothes with his favorite knife. “That's it, the time for playing question and answer is over. It's time for you to go while I let you go, otherwise...”

There was no need to agree that things would happen differently with you. The floor, covered in red cracks, signifying the destruction of the built world, almost completely swallowed up the memorial institute, and the sound of a beep meant that you only had seconds left. You headed towards the exit through the open gate, but before leaving your informative companion, you turned around to say:

“And GhostFace, I didn’t laugh at you,” the man sighed at your statement and pointedly grabbed the knife, as if preparing for an attack. “They don’t laugh at legends.”

These were your last words before crossing the front gate and leaving the killer with nothing. The latter froze, looking distantly at your back.

“Yes. They don't laugh at legends.”

To be honest, I don’t know why the translator translated the last phrase this way. the original version refers to the history of the ghostface, where he talks about how they don’t laugh at legends (here we go again). I dare to suspect that the sentence written there is in the singular.

[theshadowrealmitself]

Another thing I’m always thinking of is how stressful it would be to be around extraterrestrial children because you’d have no instinct for how to take care of them, only human children

Like a couple of my ocs is this Vulcan/Human couple and each one has a nibbling on their side of the family

(I’m not sure how much backstory you actually need for this so you’re probably getting more than you need)

So the Human studies yarn across several planets and how the materials are used based off of different factors, and so what they’ll do after putting almost everything for their papers together is that they’ll swaddle their lil nibbling in the different materials and get the kid’s opinions on them, and they’ll add those findings to their less official papers on it, it’s just a fun bonding thing they do mostly, and a great way to get the kid down for a nap

So of course at some point, their lil Vulcan nibbling wants in on this because that kid is into research and stuff like that (and also because they want to hang out with the Human because they’ve accepted them into the family and are a little bit insecure about the Human liking their own nibbling more) so after making sure the kid is actually okay with it, the Human swaddles them a few times, and gets very serious answers about how each material feels (Vulcan kid is in Serious Scientist Mode™️ it’s so adorable)

And at some point, the kid falls asleep, which, for a Human kid would be great, and would even be the goal, but a Vulcan kid?? Fuck, they have no idea!!

So they just end up tracking down their partner, in a full panic, and their partner is just like “well, it would be more beneficial if [nibbling] was practicing meditating instead, but a nap is also acceptable”

[takerfoxx]

(After)Life: Why the Evangelion Pilots Should Be Left Alone

Hey, throwing this up here before I officially publish it in a couple days as both of a sort of preview and also for feedback. This is the first installment of that Evangelion story that I've been talking about, a sort of in-universe opinion piece to introduce the premise and themes and whatnot. But basically, here's the general idea: it takes place over the course of about a century and a half after End of Evangelion, where Third Impact turned everyone into orange juice (LCL, whatever) and made humanity into a hivemind. Shinji and Asuka emerge onto that beach in a post-apocalyptic landscape like in the movie, Rei herself later returns under very odd circumstances, and after many trials and tribulations they eventually form a throuple. However, as more and more people also emerge from Instrumentality and society begins to rebuild, they find themselves needing someone to blame, and the Eva pilots seem the perfect fit. And since Shinji, Asuka, and Rei are afflicted with a somewhat modified version of the Eva's curse from the Rebuild films (basically, can't age, can't die), they're stuck with it for a long time.

So, basically the idea is for it to be a series of short stories released out-of-order, each of them taking place at a random point of time and touching in with how the trio are doing at that particular moment and keeping track of how society is reacting to them, and vice-versa. So, this will be very different than the more serialized stuff I've done in the past, and a lot more manageable as a result. Any installments will come out whenever I feel like working on this. Anyway, here's the first installment. Let me know what you think.

Why the Evangelion Pilots Should Be Left Alone, by Alice Glocke

One-hundred and twelve years ago, the world died, and ever since then, we have been seeking someone to blame.

A world still reeling from the horrors of Second Impact. A world under constant invasion by extraterrestrial monsters beyond comprehension. A world fighting desperately against increasingly hopeless odds not just to recover, but to survive, to not go quietly into that good night, to plant its feet and declare into the face of God himself that it not only existed, but would continue to exist, and woe be to all that would seek its destruction.

In this, it failed, and the world died.

In many ways, the horrors of Third Impact are less of a scar and more of an open wound, one bleeding LCL into our waters. Yes, we continue to rebuild, and life continues to repopulate and flourish. But though the brief moment in which humanity ceased to exist was now over a century ago, we still have those among us who were forced to take part in Instrumentality, only regaining their thoughts, bodies, and sense of personal identity through sheer force of will, and who had to eke out any means of survival that they could on a dead planet.

In the years following Third Impact, as society finally began to reconstruct itself and climb out of the muck into something that was at least functional, humanity has had to grapple with how to respond to the collective trauma that every person on the planet now shared. There was a great deal of righteous anger and a cry for justice, but with the entire SEELE Council still out of reach within Instrumentality, those cries went unfulfilled. Yes, a small number of NERV employees were found and taken into custody, but those were found to have nothing to do with Third Impact, with only that organization’s highest-ranking members working in cohorts with SEELE. And those individuals also remained out of reach.

And then, everything changed. Fourteen years after Third Impact, we finally had someone to blame. The surviving Evangelion Pilots had been found.

In a way, finding them had been a relief. So much bottled-up anger, so much unresolved pain, and those responsible were beyond justice. Now, humanity had the perfect scapegoats. Essential key components of SEELE’s Instrumentality Project, masquerading as fearless defenders of Earth while working the whole time to destroy it. Shinji Ikari, known as the Third Child, and son of NERV’s infamous commander Gendo Ikari, the man perhaps the most responsible for enacting Third Impact. And Asuka Soryu Langley, Second Child, daughter of one of the Human Instrumentality Project’s designers. And while there had been many to decry pinning the blame on those two, that it was unfair to place the sins of the parents on their hapless children, all of those protests faded away when Shinji Ikari made his fateful confession. It had been he that had been given the choice whether or not to allow Third Impact to take place. And it had been he who had made the decision to end the world.

Everyone knows that image of two young teenagers being led from the UN Council by their lawyers and bodyguards, being pelted with garbage from an angry crowd. Whether they saw it in textbooks, had it sent to them by friends as a meme, or even were one of those that watched it live, this is perhaps the most infamous image of the New World. And for a time, most felt that the anger directed at those two was fully justified. Certainly, the UN Council seemed to agree, finding them both guilty of aiding and abetting in SEELE’s schemes to end the world, Shinji intentionally and Asuka unintentionally. The two were then incarcerated in a “secure facility,” and that was that.

Since then, the condition of the two pilots has mostly fallen out of the public’s consciousness. No appeals, no interviews, no word as to what they were up to or how they were doing. Every single “Where are they now?” op-ed has always ended up as a rewritten version of the same events, with each one ending with “Shinji and Asuka: still locked up,” with the only significant change being the number of years between the trial and the newest article’s publication.

Which isn’t to say that they’ve disappeared completely, but rather they seemed to have ceased to become actual public figures and become more of caricatures. They appear in comic strips and cartoons as grossly exaggerated versions of themselves, usually with the destruction of the world as the punchline. They’ve become symbols, memes, representations of the guilt laid upon their shoulders, little more than villains straight out of a children’s story.

Which isn’t to say there haven’t been voices of support over the years. Asuka especially seems to have garnered a small but vocal following, pointing out that she actually had nothing to do with the implementation of Third Impact, and so forcing her to share Shinji’s fate was perhaps unfair. The phrase “Asuka did nothing wrong” has come in and out of vogue, and in time it seems that she has become something of a symbol of the unjustly persecuted. Even Shinji himself, who for so long shouldered the majority of the blame for Third Impact, has seen a turnaround in how the public has treated him, pointing out that perhaps placing the full blame for what had happened upon a child soldier indoctrinated by an evil organization of adult men is a bit unfair.

However, none of these voices ever gained much traction. Once the trial was over, most of humanity’s attention was directed toward just trying to heal, and there was little room for the Evangelion Pilots.

But then, nine months ago, all of that changed.

The hacking of the UN security files and the subsequent leaks of not only their own data on the pilots, but also all of the files that they had managed to recover from NERV, has been nothing less than earth-shaking. Granted, little had been revealed about the Human Instrumentality Project and SEELE’s designs that the public didn’t already know, though the full extent of their machinations had been troubling. However, it was the data on the pilots that had been the most troubling, and revealed how little we truly understood about the Earth’s murderers.

For decades, Shinji Ikari had been painted as a willing participant in his father’s schemes, Gendo Ikari’s heir anointed and trusted lieutenant. But now we knew the truth. He was little more than a child forced into taking part in a war that he wanted no part in and suffered greatly for. We listened to the recordings of his screams of agony, his enraged curses and threats, and his pleas for help on behalf of himself and his fellow pilots. We read the psychological evaluations of his frequent depressive states, his attempts to run away, and the lack of support that he received. We learned of his own father’s cold treatment of him, and how Gendo Ikari would psychologically torture his son to get him back into the cockpit of his Evangelion.

And with all of this came the truth. Shinji and the other pilots were deliberately abused. Evangelions were at their most effective when bonded with a broken soul. The pilots were traumatized time and time again in order to increase their effectiveness in combat and denied help afterward. In light of this new information, we ourselves were forced to confront an uncomfortable truth. Shinji Ikari’s decision to cause Third Impact was less the act of megalomaniac enacting his father’s master scheme as it was that of a suffering child drowning in a sea of rage and torment, desperate to escape the Hell that his life had become.

Who among us as children has not wished that the world would end at one time or another? Shinji was simply unfortunate enough to have the means to do so thrust into his hands when at his lowest, and he had far more reason to do so than anyone ever could have imagined. And by all accounts, he regretted it immediately afterward.

There is no justifying what he did, no taking back the suffering that he caused. But at least now, people have come to understand why, and feel that he had been unfairly mischaracterized by history.

But that was far from the biggest bombshell to come out of that leak. Just as everyone was coming to terms with what we had learned about someone so long believed to be a monster, we discovered something that pushed almost all discussion of Shinji Ikari out of everyone’s minds.

Rei Ayanami had survived.

If there is anyone among the Evangelion Pilots subject to more discussion, demonization, and blame for what had happened, it is her. And why wouldn’t she be? An artificial human, created by a combination of human DNA and genetic material gathered from Lilith, the secretly imprisoned second Angel, literally created to serve as Lilith’s resurrection and the one to carry out the Third Impact.

Rei had fulfilled her purpose. She had bonded with Adam, the first Angel, and transformed into an abomination. Those who witnessed Third Impact spoke of a monster, an enormous pale-skinned woman embracing the Earth. And there was little reason to doubt this, as her gigantic corpse had been found just offshore of the ruins of Tokyo-3 and sits in the Human Instrumentality Research Center to this day, alongside the recovered remains of the Evangelions themselves, the corpses of the Angels, and the last remaining pool of LCL, containing the souls of those who decided to remain in Instrumentality. Surely, if anyone deserves to be painted as a monster, it is her. And it wasn’t as if she were around to protest how the history books characterized her, as she had perished immediately after destroying the world.

Except she hadn’t, at least not permanently. She had come back, and had been found alongside Shinji Ikari and Asuka Langley. The whole time when the UN had been making scapegoats of those poor children, the actual monster had been in their hands, and they said nothing.

However, calling even Rei a monster had proven to be more complicated than anyone could have expected.

The topic of Rei Ayanami’s rebirth is woven into the enigma of her existence. Much has been made of her reincarnation as Lilith, while next to nothing has ever been discussed about Rei Ayanami the person, Rei Ayanami the human. And why would there be? All accounts of her painted her as a cold, emotionless being, as befitting her alien origins. What more is there to discuss?

As it turns out, there is plenty.

We have long known of NERV’s barbaric and, dare I say, downright blasphemous experiments involving the human soul, how each of the Evangelions literally had the soul of a person close to its chosen pilot embedded into its neural network. For Shinji and Asuka, it was their mothers. But what of Rei? What of this artificial person, created from a test tube, born from a vat? What person could possibly fill that role?

As it turns out, it was herself.

Three years after her creation, Rei was accidentally killed by Dr. Akagi, one of the scientists working on the Human Instrumentality Project. Her soul was preserved, thanks to its artificial nature. However, with her death, NERV saw an opportunity. Only half of her soul was implanted within a fresh clone body, while the other served as the core of Unit 00, the first of the Evangelions.

With only half a human soul, Rei’s capacity to experience normal emotions and form human connections was severely stunted, resulting in the passive, almost robotic individual described by those who knew her. She was likewise groomed to be utterly obedient, valuing little for her own life while carrying out her orders with no hesitation. And yet, despite these handicaps, connections did form. Notes from her handlers speak of a growing friendship between herself and Shinji Ikari, one that had NERV’s command concerned. After all, should she somehow break free from their programming, it could threaten all of their carefully laid plans.

This was further complicated by her second death, when Eva 00 became infected by Armisael, the Sixteenth Angel, and was forced to self-destruct before the infection could spread. Again, Rei’s soul was retrieved, but with no Eva to implant half of it into, the entire thing was placed within her new body. And unwilling to risk having a Rei Ayanami suddenly experiencing the full range of human emotions with no prior experience controlling them in such a critical stage, NERV using psychiatric drugs, tranquilizers, and mental conditioning to keep her confined within her customary passive and pliable state, right up until the end.

The topic of Rei’s latest resurrection has also been heavily debated. Certainly, her own recounting of the event has been less than helpful. We know that NERV had a number of clone bodies in reserve should she die in battle, but they were all destroyed leading up to Third Impact. According to Rei herself, a new body was formed by a “her,” presumably Lilith. Another time she claimed to have created the new body herself. But regardless of the body’s origin, following Lilith’s death, her human soul somehow found its way back into the final clone body, where she was later found by Shinji and Asuka, and remained with them for the next fourteen.

Part of the reason that the outrage against the UN has found it difficult to be sustained is that there is a lack of agreement on what exactly to be outraged about, as so much was revealed that turned everything that we thought to be true on its head, causing more confusion than anger. But perhaps the most revealing aspect of the leaks were what has since been dubbed the Pilot Interviews, recordings of the interrogations of the Evangelion Pilots following their capture.

Shinji Ikari’s were certainly eye-opening. Throughout his questioning, he was revealed to be a man haunted by his actions, someone who spent years drowning in guilt and who had only just begun to break the surface. He spoke of his many failed suicide attempts, of begging both Rei and Asuka to put him out of his misery, and seemed completely resigned to whatever justice he was to be sentenced to, though at times a passive-aggressive streak would surface, especially whenever the topic of his infamous father came up. Still, if anything, it was these series of tapes that did the most to rehabilitate his image.

Asuka’s, on the other hand, were anything but passive. If anything, she was downright hostile. It was clear that she did not feel that her and her companion’s capture was in any way justified, and felt compelled to explain her disdain to her interrogators in full, and often very colorful, detail. Nor did she feel the slightest bit remorseful for any part that she had to play in NERV’s atrocities.

There has been some debate if her attitude was warranted, with her defenders pointing out that she was correct, that she hadn’t actually had anything to do directly with Third Impact, while others claim that given the circumstances, her behavior reeked of haughty entitlement.

However, all of that was completely overshadowed by the third set of interview sessions, that of Rei Ayanami.

If Shinji’s were regretful and Asuka’s volatile, then Rei’s were downright unhinged. A far cry from the serene, almost emotionless person that she was said to be, this Rei was fully out of control, at times exploding with anger, screaming curses and profanities and death threats so detailed that they seemed less threats as they were expressed intentions that she would have carried out were she able. Other times she would collapse into a blubbering mess, wailing and pleading for forgiveness. Other times she would enter into a catatonic state, seeming to retreat within herself and not respond to any stimuli whatsoever. And still others times she would sink into a full depressive state, unable to respond with anything more than a few whispered, one-word answers, while frequently asking for death.

Certainly, the tapes of Rei’s sessions were disturbing, and to this day no one seems to know what to make of them. Is she truly the monster that she’s made out to be? An innocent victim? Nothing on those tapes seemed to indicate either way.

However, Dr. Anno of London-2 University seems to have what I feel to be the most likely answer. Rei was someone who grew up as an incomplete person. With half of her soul locked away in a gigantic bio-mechanical abomination, she was kept from experiencing the full range of human emotions, and thus never learned how to control her feelings when those emotions were returned to her. She then spent the next fourteen years thrust into a harrowing survival situation, where her only two points of human contact weren’t exactly the finest examples of emotional stability either.

However, as different as the three pilots’ reactions to their interrogators were, there is one thing that united all three: a fervent, almost desperate concern for the well-being of the other two. Rei was the most overt, with her episodes of rage especially largely spent demanding to see Shinji and Asuka and making graphic threats should any harm befall them, but Shinji and Asuka also frequently pleaded to be reunited with each other and Rei. It is clear that whatever their relationship had been during their time actually piloting the Evangelions, the fourteen years that they had spent together had formed an extremely close bond.

What followed next, we all know. Shinji and Asuka’s capture was made public, with no mention of Rei. Those two were then put on trial before the UN Council and found guilty, with the last time that the world saw them was them being led through a jeering crowd toward the waiting transports. And from there, they were to be taken away, never to see the light of day again.

However, we now know that the trial was, at least in part, a façade. An act. Almost a stage play. A deal had been struck with Shinji Ikari and Asuka Langley: take the fall for the Third Impact, and you will be reunited with Rei. And then the three of you will be taken somewhere safe to live out your days in peace. The world needed a scapegoat, and it was to be them. Naturally, they agreed.

At this point, the tide had fully turned in favor of the unfairly maligned Evangelion Pilots. Even Rei was starting to be treated with some measure of sympathy. But it was what happened next that fully won over people’s hearts.

As I said, we all have the image of Shinji and Asuka being led away from the trial burned into our minds. The sorrow on Shinji’s face and the resentment on Asuka’s. The featureless helmets of their bodyguards. The trash flying through the air, hurled by the angry crowd. But what nobody knew until now was what happened when they reached their destination, and when they were finally reunited with Rei.

The nature of the relationship between Shinji Ikari and Asuka Langley has, like everything else about them, been hotly debated, though it has been commonly accepted that they were lovers. And it was this moment that definitively proved that assertion, but with a new wrinkle: not only were Shinji and Asuka romantically tied, but Rei was equally involved with both of them.

It feels horribly gauche to comment on such an intimate moment, especially since it was no doubt intended to be private, but I feel that it was this moment that the world fully realized how cruel those grossly exaggerated portrayals in our media have been. These were not monsters. These were not villainous masterminds. These were people. People that loved one another, people that were willing to shoulder the blame for history’s greatest tragedy in order to protect one another, people that gave up everything just to be with each other. Yes, they had done terrible things, and yes, they should bear that responsibility. However, it is now clear that they are far from the monsters that history has deliberately painted them out to be.

But of course, it was not enough to completely upend everything that we had thought that we had known the Eva Pilots. It was not enough to smack us with the truth of Rei’s existence or her humanity. We were then confronted with perhaps the strangest revelations of them all.

And that was that the Evangelion Pilots were almost certainly still alive.

One hundred and twelve years have passed since Third Impact, and though people living past a hundred is not unheard of, it is still exceptionally rare. However, even before the leaks, people have pointed that despite the fourteen-year gap between Third Impact and the pilots’ capture, Shinji and Asuka still looked fourteen, when they ought to be in their late twenties. Was this the result of piloting an Evangelion? Some Faustian deal made with Lilith? A result of NERV’s experiments, perhaps?

Whatever it was that kept their youth, it persisted even after their incarceration. Shinji, Asuka, and Rei lived on under the watch of the United Nations for another eight years, and none of them so much as aged a day. What is more, tests ran on the pilots showed that their cells lacked any sort of molecular decay. Quite the contrary, their bodies stalwartly resisted any sort of damage at all. Any wounds were swiftly healed, any diseases immediately snuffed out, with even complete brain death being nothing more than a temporary inconvenience. A rather disturbing but revealing file revealed that all three pilots had attempted suicide a number of different times during the first few years following Third Impact, with Rei Ayanami especially taking painstaking notes on the various methods that she employed and their effectiveness, which was none. There was some speculation as to whether this strange regeneration would persist in the face of total disintegration, but no one was willing to give the go-ahead to check.

Regardless, the case was clear. Whether it be an undeserved blessing or an ironic curse, the three Eva pilots had been afflicted with some sort of immortality, frozen forever in time from the moment of Third Impact. As such, despite the decades since, they are no doubt living today, unchanged from those historical photos.

Unfortunately, there seems no way to actually check, as they are very much gone. As stated before, eight years into their incarceration, they simply vanished without a trace. A thorough, yet discrete investigation into the matter took place, during which a conspiracy sympathetic to the pilots’ plight was uncovered, with a number of UN staffers close to the pilots found to be complicit. However, no one could say where the pilots were now, as their point of release was known only to a small few, and deliberate effort was made not to keep track of them after they had been released.

Which means that Shinji Ikari, Asuka Soryu Langley, and, perhaps most unsettling, Rei Ayanami, the three most controversial figures of the last century, are currently loose somewhere in the world. Perhaps they are wandering the forests of the Americas, the deserts of Africa, or perhaps even returned home to Japan. Perhaps they took on new names, disguised their appearances, and are now living in some suburban home somewhere, or returned their old life from before incarceration and joined one of the many refugee camps in one of the cities slow to recover. They could be in a small Swedish village, in a cabin in the Australian outback, in a treehouse in the Amazon jungle, or any one of the literally millions of other points on the map.

Naturally, there has been much talk about finding them again, some wishing to make amends and publicly make up for the blame that they had been forced to shoulder, others feeling that they still had not repaid their debt to society and should be returned to imprisonment. And there are still others that do not care for either side, but instead insist that they remain a clear and present danger, that more was changed about them than granting them eternal life, that they are inhuman monsters fully capable of ending the world again and need to be stopped. But whatever the motive, something almost everyone agrees on is that they do need to be found.

And I am here to offer up a dissenting opinion. Regardless of whether you love them, hate them, feel bad for them, or feel threatened by them, the Evangelion Pilots should be left alone. This, I feel, would be best for everyone.

Whenever the exploits, positive or negative, of the pilots are brought up, there seems to be a sort of hierarchy to the degree each one is discussed. Shinji seems to be the one brought up the most, as he is still unquestionably the trigger-man of Third Impact. Asuka comes next, given everyone’s complicated feelings toward her and her swaths of supporters. After that is Rei, who, even before her survival was discovered, still occupied a very contentious place in history as the monster who directly ended the world. And then there is Kaworu Nagisa, perhaps the greatest enigma of them all, a half-Angel/half-human artificial being like Rei, created specifically by SEELE as a countermeasure to any possible treachery on NERV’s part, but was killed by Shinji Ikari before his plans could come about, and yet seems to have played as vital a part in Third Impact as Rei, but by the same token, apparently did not see resurrection like she did.

But there is a fifth name that is often forgotten in those discussions, a fifth Evangelion Pilot. And that is none other than Touji Suzuhara the Fourth Child.

It is not that Touji is totally unknown, but he exists in the public consciousness as a sort of footnote, a trivia question at best. Though he was selected as a pilot and given an Evangelion of his own, his Evangelion became possessed by Bardiel, the Thirteenth Angel, during its first test run, leading to its destruction. And though he survived, Touji was critically injured in the process, and with no Evangelion to pilot, he quietly left the program to fade out of history.

In a way, Touji was perhaps the luckiest one of them all. The early destruction of his Evangelion protected him from having to participate in the mentally harrowing battles against the Angels, and he was spared of being an active participant in Third Impact. Even afterward, he was part of the first wave of people to emerge from Instrumentality, even reuniting with most of his family and many of his friends, going on to live about as full of a life as one could in those desolate circumstances. And while the tides of history have mostly washed over him, some effort was made to locate him. During Shinji and Asuka’s trials, once it was discovered that he was among the refugees recovered from Tokyo-3, there were multiple news outlets attempting to seek him out for interviews. However, they were far too late, as he and his family were long gone.

And I know all of this, as Touji Suzuhara was my great-grandfather.

I have very little memory of Touji. Though he lived much longer than most, he at least was spared the immortality that afflicted the other pilots and passed away when I was six, and what little I do recall about him paints a picture of a quiet, reserved old man. However, in interviewing various members of my family, I was told of someone who made every effort to flee his past but was unable to fully shake its shadow. I heard stories of bullying and harassment in those early refugee camps, of the other survivors trying to blame him and his family for what had happened, much as Shinji and Asuka would be publicly blamed later. It got to the point that as soon as they were rescued and carried away from Tokyo-3, his whole family changed their names and fled, disappearing into a still-chaotic world to find a place where nobody knew them.

In time, they succeeded, eventually settling in Austria. Though they had nothing and did not even know the language, that mattered little as very few of their neighbors had much either, and they were far from the only immigrants wandering in. There, they were able to blend in, carving out a niche for themselves and building something resembling a life, and no one ever discovered their connection to history’s so-called greatest monsters.

But even so, my great-grandfather never forgot. Though he never neglected his family and tried his best to provide for them, everyone that I spoke to made him out to be a broken man, someone who had lost the light in his eyes, who would smile very little and always seemed to be lost in his own thoughts. It was forbidden to speak to him of the time before Third Impact, and the very few times he did talk of it, it was from the viewpoint of someone who never truly left Tokyo-3, haunted by ghosts.

Touji might have been forgotten by history, but he bore his scars. Unfair blame was placed upon my family’s shoulders for what had happened, and we know all too well what it is like to be made scapegoats by the those who need someone to blame for their suffering. And though I have never met Shinji Ikari, Asuka Soryu Langley, or Rei Ayanami, and know about as much about them as everyone else, I at least have some measure of understanding of how unfairly they’ve been characterized. And I am sure that they desire validation about as much as they deserve further condemnation, which is to say, not at all. As such, I feel that the kindest thing to do would be to just let them be. Wherever they are, leave them alone to seek their own peace. Because I assure you, they have paid for their sins in full. They pay every day, remembering their part in the previous world’s death.

And to those who still think them a threat, who still believe that they possess the power to once again end the world despite no evidence to back that up, consider this: they have had ample opportunity and reason to wield that power, and yet never have. As such, perhaps it would be best not to provoke them?

No matter how you feel about the Evangelion Pilots, I see little that can be gained by seeking them out. They have taken more than their fair punishment, and would likely shun any reward. And as the descendant of one of their number, I say, let my great-grandfather’s companions be and move on. We have all suffered enough.

[strongheartneteyam]

I wish I could

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!curvy!human reader

CW: angst, risky pregnancy issues, fluff, fingering, masturbating (female receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, size kink, exophilia (extraterrestrial kink), monsterfucker

GUYS I'M SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE THIS FIC some of you already know why but to the ones who dont: my life became so chaotic, all of a sudden, that I could barely log in here. I literally spent days without logging on tumblr. I had zero time and was always exhausted. But now my life is back at the tracks (thank you God 😭) - even though it's still pretty hectic - so I was able to find time and energy to write this chapter. Hope u like it 😘👀

Not fully proofread 🤡

Chapter 7

♡

You woke up in pure bliss. Many moons had passed now, your belly had gotten even bigger, your baby had grown. You're living two dreams at once. You were a mother and mated with the one person you've always loved. The owner of your every thought and your every girl-in-love-kind-of-sigh ever since you remember. You were carrying his child inside of you, you would often feel the little baby you both created together kicking your ribs. It brought tears to your eyes. You still don't know how it came to be, how a fully hybrid baby could actually be conceived. You know very well how Neteyam and you *created* the baby, but you have no idea how you actually were able to get pregnant. If it makes any sense. You laugh to yourself.

Things had been a little hard given that your pregnancy was a risky one (interspecies relationship things...) but if you don't count the fact you were feeling so fatigued, heavy and having a bit of trouble breathing from time to time, you had been great. Nothing too much, nothing that made your life quality decrease.

You stretched yourself and got up from your mat, walking towards the space inside your home where you and Neteyam kept the food, water, cooking utensils and such, as you were dying to eat breakfast. This pregnancy was making you so hungry most of the time. It's no surprise. You're carrying a half na'vi child in your human womb. Your fragile body needed way more nutrients than the usual.

You stopped for a second and look through the entrance of your house. You smiled at the view of the Pandoran nature out there, the birds singing, the green grass, the heavy tree branches. It filled your heart with a comforting, wholesome feeling you can't even put to words.

Everything seemed so perfect. Too perfect, actually...

You were eating a piece of the meat Neteyam had hunt for the both of you at dawn, just before he went to train with Jake. You had cooked it with some herbs and a little salt, that you would always ask some human acquaintances to bring to you from the lab, when you felt a horrible, almost unbearable feeling in your belly. "Ma Eywa, what is this?" You asked yourself, heartache and anxiety covering you. "Please Great Mother, don't let anything happen to my baby. Please." You were in the verge of tears when you started to feel weak and dizzy. Everything around you looked weird and distant. Finally, you were unconscious on the floor. Thank Eywa you were sitting, not standing. The fall would have been way worse.

➳

You opened your eyes and sunlight was scorching your eyeballs. It came from the door. You were still at your home with Neytiri and Dr Evelyn looking at you, one at each side of your aching body, while you were laying down in your mat. Neytiri was the Tsahìk and Dr Evelyn was taking care of you as a medical professional since you first found out you were pregnant.

"What happened?" You ask, head aching and confused

"Oh, thank you, Great Mother!" Neytiri exclaimed "You passed out, my dear. Kiri found you laying on the floor unconscious when she went to visit you to bring you some fruits and herbs she had collected this morning."

"I was so worried, (y/n). I was afraid something very bad would happen to you or the baby. Or both of you." Kiri had tears in her big eyes and her pretty face was still recovering from the shock. Seeing that made you feel a stab in your chest. She really, really cared about you and your baby. And of course, it was her brother's baby too. She was now not only your best friend but also your sister-in-law.

"Is everything okay with my baby?" You asked, fear taking over you

"We've checked how she's doing through an ultrasound and yes, she's okay." Dr Evelyn says in a calming voice

"...She?" You ask

"Yes, it's a girl." Neytiri says, smiling at you. "You and Neteyam will give us a babygirl as a grandchild." She was smiling, referring to herself and Jake, such an honest feeling of pure happiness could be seen in the na'vi woman's yellow eyes

You smiled, your eyes gleaming with tears. You were gonna have a babygirl. You were gonna give Neteyam a little daughter.

"And there's something that we wanna tell you. Your baby looks really different as she is a hybrid. She has mixed features in her face, na'vi and human. Her nose is like Neteyam's nose and so are her eyes, but the rest of her face is more human like. She also has long slender legs, like her father. But she's still a little smaller than common na'vi babies. She has four fingers and no stripes. And she has a queue. She will be able to make tsaheylu." Dr Evelyn said, smiling

"That's... incredible. My babygirl... She will be so beautiful... She seems to be more na'vi than human, though." You laugh a bit, imagining your daughter's cute little braid and her small tendrils. "But you guys did not tell me what happened. I mean, why did I pass out? I remember feeling a terrible pain in my belly. But the baby is okay, I didn't lose her, thank Eywa. But what was happening to my body?"

Neytiri started to say: "My son is na'vi, even though he has human blood in his veins too. As he impregnated you, his na'vi DNA helped form your placenta." You felt your face burn as your mother-in-law was saying that. She was just nonchalantly saying that her son impregnated you. You didn't know if you were just too shy, if the na'vi had a way more chill perspective about these things, even more than you already were aware of, or if it was because you were the one in the spotlight right now, but you were blushing a lot, your cheeks so rosy. "Your body did not know how to react to that, as you're human. Your placenta is being seen by your body as an invasive substance, to sum it up, because of Neteyam's DNA being so different from yours. So, your belly started to hurt. But Dr Evelyn and I have already taken care of this. You don't have to worry, darling. I prayed to Eywa. I performed a healing ritual on you. You'll be fine, Ma (y/n)."

"I gave you an injection that eased your pain until it went away and eventually you woke up. You're gonna take one of these shots everytime you start feeling pain in your belly, okay? We think it will happen a few more times. Take it as soon as the pain starts. The sooner, the less risky for you and the baby. It contains chemicals and Pandoran herbs that will help your body slowly understand that it's okay for your baby's placenta to be inside you and it will also help you feel less pain." Dr Evelyn advised, holding a small glass tube in her hand filled with a greenish liquid.

Suddenly, you heard heavy hard footsteps approaching. You breathed in relief when you saw it was Neteyam. His dark braids dancing in the air as he approached the entrance of the house he built for the both of you and your child.

"Neteyam!" You exclaimed

"Yawne..." he said, looking at you with loving eyes "Are you alright? Is our baby alright?" He sounded so worried "Lo'ak reached me and told me about what happened. I came as fast as I could but, you know, the forest is very big."

He walked towards you and when he got to where you were laying, he sat on his heels.

"Yes, our baby is alright. I'm okay too. And we're expecting a girl, by the way." You looked at him smiling wide, chest filled with a genuine feeling of joy and almost euphoria

"I give you my gratitude, Great Mother." Neteyam said a prayer to Eywa, smiling in relief "I can't believe it! We're gonna have a little girl." Tears of happiness were streaming down his beautiful face, running through his dark blue stripes

Everyone in the room looked at you and Neteyam smiling. Neytiri looked in a motherly way to the both of you, her fangs showing as she smiled. Kiri was smiling widely, her brows furrowed. Dr Evelyn was smiling but showing no teeth. Every person there looked happy for you two, na'vi, human or mixed.

But nobody was happier than Neteyam and you. He kissed your forehead while putting his big hand on your pregnant bump. You felt your girl kick, a pain coming through your ribcage. Neteyam felt it too. "She kicked. Our babygirl just kicked, my yawnetu. I felt her little kick." Neteyam smiled in awe, looking at you as you smiled back at him, your heart beating fast

Neteyam looked at his mother. They smiled at each other and she put her hand on his shoulder, then, looked at your belly, in an affectionate way

"Oh, my Eywa. I'm starting to really love the idea of becoming an aunt." Kiri said, still sitting a little further from everybody "Damn, so many tears in only one place." The Omatikaya young girl said, chuckling, as she sniffed because she never stopped crying since she found you needing her help. Thank Eywa her tears were now tears of delight

A big wholesome laugh could be heard in the room after Kiri said that, coming from everyone's throat.

➳

After everyone had left, it was only you and Neteyam at your home. Jake had freed him from his Olo'eyktan training for some hours so he could stay with you after what had happened. He would only go back later in the afternoon.

"Oh, yawntutsyìp... I thought I had lost you and our baby." Neteyam said, holding your face with both his huge hands

You put your hand over his, rubbed your face on his palm and then kissed it. "You always act so tenderly towards me, my love. You're my everything. And I love the way you care so deeply for our child. I can feel your love for her pouring out of you. You're so amazing." He smiled and leaned in for a kiss, which you were already planning on giving him

Your lips touched and he held your waist tightly. Both big hands on each side of your body. You felt a shiver coming down your spine. He kept kissing you, slowly but passionately. His velvety lips so warm, wetting your lips with his saliva, setting your whole body on fire as he gave you many pecks but then slid his tongue inside your mouth, breathing deep through his nose, making you moan for him. "I wanted to die just thinking about losing my mate and my child. I'm thankful you're here. I'm so thankful our baby is still safe inside your womb." His hands moved from your waist to the sides of your belly. Neteyam kept kissing you, but, in a softer way now. "Your baby bump feels so good in my hands." He kissed your lower lip, suckling ever so slightly on it, your lip between his upper and his bottom lip.

"Teyam. Sit me down on your lap, please." You said, a knot forming in your belly

Neteyam gave you a small dirty smile and sat on the mat. He grabbed your hand and led you to sit on his lap.

"Like this, yawntutsyìp?" He asked, looking deeply into your eyes. His big amber eyes were so enchanting, so ethereal...

"Yes, my mate."

Neteyam opened your legs slowly, his hand traveling up your thigh while he kissed you. When his hand reached your pussy, moving your panties to the side, underneath your skirt, you whimpered at his lips. "What? You like this, my love? You like the way I caress your small body? Specially when my hand touches your little pussy?" He was looking at you, eyes so hungry for your body

"You get wet so easily now that you're pregnant. And your pussy feels even tighter." Neteyam says while two of his long four fingers explored your folds slowly. You moaned, biting your bottom lip. "So tight for me." He cooed. Neteyam's thumb reached your clitoris and he started to stimulate it, rubbing circles.

"Ahnnhh... feels so good, Teyam."

"Yeah, my yawntutsyìp?" You hum in confirmation "I love your little cunt. Love this swollen belly so much. Ahhh, baby... It makes me so hard. Do you wanna touch me and feel how hard I am for you?" Neteyam asks, breathing heavily

"Yes, Teyam. Please."

☆•.°☆•.°☆

Sorry for leaving you guys hot and bothered and cutting the smut in half like this 😂 please, don't hate me 🤡😇

Your feedback is always much appreciated 🤍🤍🤍

Taglist:

@lik0

@live-laugh-neteyam

@sweetllamaparadise

@a-blog-name-2003

@cautionworks

@behindthearcane

@yeosxxx

@anxietydrogz

@destinylb

@thelxnelyworld

@ducks118

If I'm forgetting anyone now or have forgotten to tag anyone in the past chapters, please, comment below asking to be tagged. Also, anyone can ask to be tagged too 💙 ily bye

[i-am-a-stupid-robot]

UFO Cowboys, Reality TV, Season 1 - "A team of cowboys uses ancient tracking techniques and modern technology to investigate mysterious extraterrestrial activity throughout the American West."

Somewhere out there, Fox Mulder is eating this up.

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello! Do you have any suggestions for ttrpg that are like Control (video game)? I enjoy number crunching, and playbooks are a plus :D

THEME: Games inspired by CONTROL

Hello! I’m going to first reference to you one of the first posts I ever made, about Paranormal Agents. If you like playbooks, you’ll probably want to take a look at Against the Dark Conspiracy, but don’t sleep on External Containment Bureau! Not much of what’s in that post is big on math, but I don’t want to leave out any possible options. Now, on to some more recommendations.

In Case of An Emergency, by boyproblems.

You work at foundation., a global corporation known for its cutting edge inventions and morally dubious treatment of its labour force. It stays at the top of its field by exploiting the paranormal and the metaphysical. Due to an "incident", you are now trapped inside. The glitch causes you and a group of your co-workers to be tasked by a group known as THE SHAREHOLDERS to fix what has broken, and solve THE EMERGENCY.

The Head Office is an ever-shifting office complex that threatens to trap your intrepid group within its labyrinthine walls. Fable and superstition come alive and threaten your very life. Gain new abilities (ABSTRACTIONS) through exposure to the powers that lie beyond, investigate the truth behind foundation., traverse a place where new science is discovered daily, and cut through bureaucratic and literal binding red tape to escape and survive.

This is a one-shot game, but that doesn’t mean that your character can’t gain new powers throughout the course of play. In Case of Emergency is directly inspired by CONTROL, so theme-wise we’re definitely in the right territory. It doesn’t look like it has playbooks though, which is a bummer - in almost every other aspect I think it’s what you’re looking for!

Agents of the O.D.D., by Jason Tocci.

Agents of the O.D.D. is a tabletop roleplaying game of conscripted cryptids, shaky psychics, burned spies, and other investigators of the paranormal. Based on the rules from Into the Odd and Electric Bastionland, and inspired by series like Hellboy, Planetary, and The Laundry Files.

Agents of the O.D.D. doesn’t necessarily have playbooks, but it does have player archetypes. During character creation, you roll a d100 and take the result from a hefty list of archetypes. These will give you one or more special moves, companions, and/or pieces of equipment. And equipment is a really big thing in this game - there’a at least 6 pages in this 24-page game dedicated to equipment alone. This might be because Agents of the O.D.D. is built off of Into the Odd and Electric Bastionland, which are both minimalist and focus on dungeon-delving.

Now that I think of it, exploring a place that is abnormal and haunted is likely very similar to engaging in a dungeon-crawl, so expect a game like this to point you to your inventory when it comes to solving problems - like talking to extraterrestrials, or fighting against hostile cryptids. You’re also going to be tracking your gear, so if you like inventory-keeping this game is for you.

Making Change, by Beth and Angel Make Games.

Researchers at The Observatory study all sorts of objects that seem ordinary but are gifted with a special power. One of these objects is a coin. However, when the senior researcher went to start testing it, it… convinced them to "liberate" it. Surveillance shows the researcher was speaking to something or someone —presumably, the coin— and the researcher quickly went from arguing to utterly submitting to the coin.

This is an adventure made for the CoinSides Jam of 2023, which had the stipulation that the adventure have a coin as a central theme. This adventure invokes the coin with some kind of intelligence, as it has the ability to affect the desires and emotions of people around it. Because the adventure is system-agnostic, it’s meant to work with a number of different systems, but I would recommend using games that are good for detective stories or modern horror, or even something like External Containment Bureau.

You Can Check Out Anytime You Like, But You Can Never Leave, by Marn S.

You Can Check Out Any Time You Like, But You Can Never Leave is a game for 3+ people, and a surreal horror-flavored hack of Mobile Frame Zero: Firebrands by Meguey & Vincent Baker. It is also a loving homage to The Shining, NanQuest, and the songs of the 70s and 80. 

Play as a Guest, Staff member, or living Anomaly at the Hotel California, the first and only hotel to exist outside of time and space! Create messy entanglements — ally with monsters, or backstab your friends! Inject the surreal and horrific into everyday life! Solve mysteries! Have strange dreams! Chase someone with a knife! Burn it all to the ground!

The setting for this game takes place in a hotel rather than The Oldest House (or something like it) but what makes it interesting is that it’s a hack of Firebrands. This means that rather than following an adventure seed like a traditional RPG, you’ll be setting up and playing through various scenes in the form of mini-games. The creator has also published Such A Lovely Place, a supplement with five extra mini-games to incorporate into your eerie stay at Hotel California. There might be math here but if there is it’s probably only in a mini-game or two.

FIST, by CLAYMORE.

FIST: Ultra Edition is a tabletop roleplaying game about paranormal mercenaries doing the tough jobs no one else can. In the game, you belong to a legendary rogue mercenary unit called FIST. You are a soldier of fortune who doesn’t fit into modern society. You are a disposable gun for hire, caught up in the death and destruction of pointless proxy wars and oppressive establishments. You may also be someone who can turn into a ghost or control bees with your mind. 

FIST focuses on action and combat, but specifically against the paranormal. You aren’t regular soldiers, not by a long-shot. The time period is during the Cold War: there are tensions that will affect your missions outside of simply what you’re hunting. The combat is meant to be brutal, the missions highly tactical, and the character builds are modular (so there might be some number crunching). No playbooks here, I’m afraid, but if you want the gritty action that keeps you on your toes in CONTROL, you might want to check out FIST, especially since it’s on Kickstarter right now! (Ending soon!)

THE COMPANY, by Mega_Corp.

The Company is a survival horror game centered around corporate emergency response teams and the aftermath of the situations they are assigned to deal with. Players take on the roles of Employees assigned to response teams that quickly find themselves in over their heads with one player facilitating play as the Game Manager.

Now this looks like a game with playbooks. At the beginning, your character chooses one of five Careers, each of which come with special Perks, pre-selected skills, a personal item random table, and some jobs and goals to focus your character. The game itself ins’t terribly long, but there’s enough lore to establish how the game borrows from CONTROL without copying it completely, and the designers have crated an Employee Handbook for players as well as a Management Manual for GM’s. You get both when you pick up this game on Itch. There’s definitely a lot of pieces to keep track in this one - I don’t know if that translates to number crunching but it might get you close!