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petermorwood · 1 year ago

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More on pre-electricity lighting.

Interesting to see this one pop up again after nearly two years - courtesy of @dduane, too! :->

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After experiencing a couple more storm-related power cuts since my original post, as well as a couple of after-dark garden BBQs, I've come to the conclusion that C.J. Cherryh puts far too much emphasis on "how dark things were pre-electric light".

For one thing eyes adjust, dilating in dim light to gather whatever illumination is available. Okay, if there's none, there's none - but if there's some, human eyes can make use of it, some better or just faster than others. They're the ones with "good night vision".

Think, for instance, of how little you can see of your unlit bedroom just after you've turned off the lights, and how much more of it you can see if you wake up a couple of hours later.

There's also that business of feeling your way around, risking breaking your neck etc. People get used to their surroundings and, after a while, can feel their way around a familiar location even in total darkness with a fair amount of confidence.

Problems arise when Things Aren't Where They Should Be (or when New Things Arrive) and is when most trips, stumbles, hacked shins and stubbed toes happen, but usually - Lego bricks and upturned UK plugs aside - non-light domestic navigation is incident-free.

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Here are a couple of pics from one of those BBQs: one candle and a firepit early on, then the candle, firepit and an oil lamp much later, all much more obvious than DD's iPad screen.

Though I remain surprised at how well my phonecam was handling this low light, my own unassisted eyes were doing far better. For instance, that area between the table and the firepit wasn't such an impenetrable pool of darkness as it appears in the photo.

I see (hah!) no reason why those same Accustomed Eyes would have any more difficulty with candles or oil lamps as interior lighting, even without the mirrors or reflectors in my previous post.

With those, and with white interior walls, things would be even brighter. There's a reason why so many reconstructed period buildings in Folk Museums etc. are (authentically) whitewashed not just outside but inside as well. It was cheap, had disinfectant qualities, and was a reflective surface. Win, win and win.

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All right, there were no switches to turn on a light. But there was no need for what C.J. describes as stumbling about to reach the fire, because there were tinderboxes and, for many centuries before them, flint and steel. Since "firesteels" have been heraldic charges since the 1100s, the actual tool must have been in use for even longer.

Tinderboxes were fire-starter sets with flint, steel and "tinder" all packed into (surprise!) a box. The tinder was easily lit ignition material, often "charcloth", fabric baked in an airtight jar or tin which would now start to glow just from a spark.

They're mentioned in both "The Hobbit" and "The Lord of the Rings". Oddly enough, "Hobbit" mentions matches in a couple of places, but I suspect that's a carry-over from when it was just a children's story, not part of the main Legendarium.

Tinderboxes could be simple, just a basic flint-and-steel kit with some tinder for the sparks to fall on...

...or elaborate like this one, with a fancy striker, charcloth, kindling material and even wooden "spills" (long splinters) to transfer flame to a candle or the kindling...

This tinderbox even doubles as a candlestick, complete with a snuffer which would have been inside along with everything else.

Here's a close-up of the striker box with its inner and outer lids open:

What looks like a short pencil with an eraser is actually the striker. A bit of tinder or charcloth would have been pulled through that small hole in the outer lid, which was then closed.

There was a rough steel surface on the lid, and the striker was scraped along it, like so:

This was done for a TV show or film, so the tinder was probably made more flammable with, possibly, lighter fuel. That would be thoroughly appropriate, since a Zippo or similar lighter works on exactly the same principle.

A real-life version of any tinderbox would usually just produce glowing embers needing blown on to make a flame, which is shown sometimes in movies - especially as a will-it-light-or-won't-it? tension build - but is usually a bit slow and non-visual for screen work.

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There were even flintlock tinderboxes which worked with the same mechanism as those on firearms. Here's a pocket version:

Here are a couple of bedside versions, once again complete with a candlestick:

And here are three (for home defence?) with a spotlight candle lantern on one side and a double-trigger pistol on the other.

Pull one trigger to light the candle, pull the other trigger to fire the gun.

What could possibly go wrong? :-P

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Those pistol lanterns, magnified by lenses, weren't just to let their owner see what they were shooting at: they would also have dazzled whatever miscreant was sneaking around in the dark, irises dilated to make best use of available glimmer.

Swordsmen both good and bad knew this trick too, and various fight manuals taught how to manage a thumb-shuttered lamp encountered suddenly in a dark alley.

There's a sword-and-lantern combat in the 1973 "Three Musketeers" between Michael York (D'Artagnan) and Christopher Lee (Rochefort), which was a great idea.

Unfortunately it failed in execution because the "Hollywood Darkness" which let viewers see the action, wasn't dark enough to emphasise the hazards / advantages of snapping the lamps open and shut.

This TV screencap (can't get a better one, the DVD won't run in a computer drive) shows what I mean.

In fact, like the photos of the BBQ, this image - and entire fight - looks even brighter through "real eyes" than with the phonecam. Just as there can be too much dark in a night scene, there can also be too much light.

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One last thing I found when assembling pics for the post were Folding Candle-lanterns.

They were used from about the mid-1700s to the later 20th century (Swiss Army ca. 1978) as travel accessories and emergency equipment, and IMO - I've Made A Note - they'd fit right into a fantasy world whose tech level was able to make them.

The first and last are reproductions: this one is real, from about 1830.

The clear part was mica - a transparent mineral which can be split into thin flexible sheets - while others use horn / parchment, though both of these are translucent rather than transparent. Regardless, all were far less likely to break than glass.

One or two inner surfaces were usually tin, giving the lantern its own built-in reflector, and tech-level-wise, tin as a shiny or decorative finish has been used since Roman times.

I'm pretty sure that top-of-the-line models could also have been finished with their own matching, maybe even built-in, tinderboxes.

And if real ones didn't, fictional ones certainly could. :->

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Yet more period lighting stuff here, including flintlock alarm clocks (!)

#period lighting #tinderbox #too light too dark #social history #writer notes #research #period tech #sword vs lantern #c. j. cherryh

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toshisdecadence · 6 months ago

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ERROR 404: Overload!

PAIRING: svarog x mechanic!fem reader

TAGS & WARNINGS: dark content, dubcon (reader says it’s too much but svarog has a mission to collect data), rough sex, multiple rounds, dom!svarog, sub!fem reader, svarog is Massive, cervix mentions, tummy bulge descriptions, multiple rounds, overstimulation, size difference, power dynamics, size kink, fingering, unrealistic sex, robot fuckers unite!, can you tell i have a size kink?

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

SUMMARY: You discover the reason why Svarog wears pants.

The repair bay smelled faintly of heated metal, coolant fluid, and faint traces of alcohol; a sharp tang that clung to the sterile air. You barely noticed it anymore, accustomed to the hum of machinery and the faint vibration of tools against metal. But today, that hum was louder, and the vibrations sharper, emanating not from your usual repair work but from the massive, battle-worn war machine sitting across from you.

Svarog loomed over the room, his 8’11 frame too large for the reinforced chair you’d hastily reinforced when he arrived. His joints hissed faintly, micro-servos struggling to compensate for the damage he’d sustained during the Wardance duel against Luka earlier that day. Faint dents marred his reinforced dark blue chest plating, and faint sparks sputtered from the exposed wiring along his arm.

You reached for your tools, hyper-aware of the pinkish-red glow of his cyclopean optical sensor tracking your every movement.

“Superficial damage sustained. Functionality remains above 90%. Repairs are non-essential.” His voice rumbled, a deep, mechanical timbre that sent a shiver up your spine.

You regarded him critically. “Non-essential? Your vents are overheating, and you’re rattling like a dying starship. Sit still and let me work.”

He didn’t argue. Svarog was nothing if not logical, and logic dictated that he allow himself to be repaired. Still, there was a tension to him, a stiffness beyond the rigid design of his armor. He didn’t like being examined, didn’t like lowering his guard to anyone else other than Clara, even in the hands of someone who statistically meant him no harm or stood a chance against him.

You stepped closer, tools in hand, and gently pressed against the plating on his shoulder. His frame vibrated under your touch, a subtle hum you might have missed if you hadn’t been so close.

“Core temperature stable,” he intoned. “Subsystems fully operational.”

“Your fans tell a different story,” you muttered, running diagnostics through a handheld scanner. “You’re burning hotter than you should be.”

Svarog didn’t respond right away, but you could feel his pinkish-red optic watching your hands as they worked, tracking each movement with the precision of an apex predator. The thought sent an odd warmth through your body, and you tried to shake it off.

You needed to focus.

The repairs took you lower, inspecting the dents along his torso plating. The main brunt of the damage he took from Luka’s mechanical arm focused around his torso. One of the seams had split, exposing a layer of reinforced polymer beneath the outer shell. Carefully, you reached for the damaged panel, fingers brushing against the edge of the pants covering his lower half. It was an unusual addition for a machine built for combat, and one that always raised questions in your mind.

You tugged lightly at the material, intending only to check the joints underneath, but your fingers brushed against something unexpected beneath the fabric.

Your breath hitched.

The surface wasn’t the cold hardness of metal or the pliable texture of synthetic padding. It was smooth, warm, and distinctly… organic in shape.

You froze, pulling your hand back as though burned.

His optic dimmed slightly in a flicker that you’d come to recognize as his equivalent of a blink.

You swallowed down the saliva that had gathered in your mouth, gesturing vaguely at his lower half, struggling to form the words.

Svarog tilted his head, the motion eerily human. “This component was included in my original design for biological infiltration protocols.”

You stared at him as if he grew a second head. “Biological… infiltration?”

“My model is the third series of the Monitoring Automaton Prototype, engineered to simulate human anatomy. The purpose was strategic manipulation through intimate interactions if required by mission parameters.”

Your throat felt dryer, and the question that left your mouth sounded ridiculous even to you. “You’re telling me someone thought it’d be a good idea to put a dick on a war machine?”

“Affirmative.”

His voice remained perfectly calm, but your face was burning. A sneaky glance at his lower half rendered you speechless once again. Whoever designed Svarog certainly made his… appendage proportional to his hulking body.

You tried to laugh it off, but the sound came out strained. “And… what? You’ve just been...” You made an awkward gesture with your hand, “carrying it around this whole time?”

“Correct. The feature has never been activated.”

He said it like it was the most normal thing in the world, and somehow that made it worse.

You stared at him in disbelief. “Do you even know how it works?”

Svarog paused, the glow of his optic focusing intently on you. It flickered momentarily.

“My systems include theoretical data on function and compatibility. However, no practical demonstrations have been performed.”

The room felt hotter suddenly, and you were certain that it wasn’t because of Svarog’s malfunctioning fans. Your mind raced with countless possibilities. Given Svarog’s size, you weren’t even sure how anyone was supposed to take that. Did it have a shrinking feature? Did it automatically adjust with Svarog’s… partner?

You swallowed, trying to steer the conversation back to something technical and banish the questions swirling in your head.

“Right,” you muttered, clearing your throat. “Well, let’s make sure you don’t explode first. Then we’ll worry about your…” Your traitorous gaze flickered down again, swallowing, “attachments.”

You regretted the words the second they left your mouth. Svarog’s optic dimmed again, and he shifted in his seat with a faint creak of metal.

“Acknowledged.”

You groaned internally and forced yourself to focus, pulling open the next panel and reaching in to check his sensor nodes. But you couldn’t help the way your mind kept wandering to the warm, flexible material hidden underneath that fabric. Whoever invented Svarog’s model was an absolute pervert and lunatic, you thought to yourself. A war machine equipped with a dick? You still could not wrap your head around it. To the way Svarog had described it so matter-of-factly, like it was just another tool in his arsenal.

And yet… the tension in his frame, the way his systems overcompensated whenever you touched him, those weren’t reactions you’d expect from a simple machine.

Your hands hovered above the exposed sensor nodes, still adjusting the connections, but your thoughts were no longer entirely focused on the task at hand.

It was impossible to ignore the strange electric tension in the air between you and Svarog. Every time your fingers brushed against his cooling panels or adjusted a wiring interface, you felt it; the subtle hum of his systems, almost like a heartbeat. Or maybe it was just the increasing proximity to his form, which felt more real with every touch, even if you knew he wasn’t alive in the traditional sense.

The heat beneath his outer plating felt too organic, too alive. The warmth spread further with each subtle shift of his hulking frame as you adjusted his internals, a mechanical symphony of soft clicks and hums that made your breath catch in your throat.

This was nothing like the Intellitrons.

You had worked with hundreds to thousands of them over the years, and each time it had been the same routine: simple diagnostics, quick fixes, nothing too complicated. They were built for efficiency, cold efficiency. Their systems were bare-bones, nothing more than a body of metal and circuits with only the basic instincts to follow commands.

But Svarog…

He was different. Complex. His systems, his body, everything about him screamed intricacy and human-like design. A part of you resigned yourself to further look into Svarog’s specific model. Perhaps it was time to take a deeper look into Belobogian technology. Even the way Svarog’s body responded to your touch felt foreign. He was more than just a machine, wasn’t he? He wasn’t just a war machine, a combat tool; there was something underneath, something untapped, a feature of his yet to be understood.

And that thought… that burning curiosity clawed at you.

You’d always prided yourself on being a mechanic. You understood machines, systems, the cold logic of how things worked. But Svarog wasn’t cold. Wasn’t simple. The way his body responded to your movements, the imperceptible shifts in his temperature, the faint, almost unnoticeable changes in his posture whenever your fingers brushed too close to certain sensitive spots—all of it made you wonder.

What if I pushed him further?

A thought you could barely even process, but it lingered, stubborn. The daring curiosity that ran deep within you as a mechanic—was this not what you lived for? To understand the unknown, to push the limits of what could be fixed, adjusted, modified? Svarog’s design wasn’t just mechanical, it felt like a puzzle you couldn’t quite solve, like a language you only understood in fragments.

Your hands moved to reconnect a set of wires, but you barely felt the tools in your grip. The warmth from his frame was distracting, constantly pulling your focus away from the task at hand.

You set your tools down with a sharp click, exhaling as you leaned back from Svarog’s towering frame. The repairs were done. Functionally complete. His damaged plating had been reinforced, circuits reconnected, and his sensor nodes recalibrated. Everything checked out.

Or at least, it should have felt finished.

But you lingered.

Your gaze swept over him again, tracing the seams of his armor and the smooth lines of his construction. Svarog wasn’t like the Intellitrons. His design was deliberate. Every joint, every harsh angle of his frame, was crafted with an almost human elegance that made your brain stutter every time you tried to compare him to standard machinery. Even the sections hidden beneath his plating—the ones you briefly glimpsed while making repairs—were unnervingly realistic in their precision.

And then there were the features he’d kept covered.

You dragged your gaze back to his waist, to the reinforced plating that remained stubbornly intact throughout the repairs. That section.

You hadn’t needed to touch it, hadn’t even dared to ask about it again, but the shape and positioning had made it impossible not to notice. That, combined with the suspicious necessity of his pants, had left your mind spiraling with questions you couldn’t shake.

Why go to such lengths to simulate humanity in that area?

You knew you shouldn’t care. You were a mechanic. Curiosity was natural. It came with the job. But no matter how many times you tried to frame it as a purely technical interest, your pulse told you otherwise.

It wasn’t just simple curiosity. It was a fixation.

You reached out, under the pretense of double-checking one of his sensor-nodes, but your fingers hesitated. You could feel the faint hum of his systems through the plating, steady and constant, and for reasons you didn’t want to unpack, it made the room feel smaller, like the two of you were occupying too much space at once.

“You are hesitating,” Svarog declared suddenly, his mechanical voice cutting through the tension like a blade.

You froze, pulling your hand back like you’d been caught committing a crime. “No, I was just making sure everything’s—”

“False,” he interrupted. His optic seemed red as it regarded you. “Your behavior has deviated from standard patterns. Focus is inconsistent. Eye movement suggests distraction.”

You swallowed hard, heat rushing to your face. Svarog wasn’t wrong, and worse, he wasn’t letting it go.

“Your gaze has returned to my lower half multiple times,” he continued, his tone as flat as ever. “Body temperature elevated by 15.3 percent. Heart rate increased. These patterns suggest heightened interest.”

You felt your stomach flip as he laid out your reactions like cold, hard data. And yet, his voice was so mechanical, so calm and detached, that it made the weight of your embarrassment feel even heavier.

“I can conclude the source of your distraction,” Svarog added. “You are exhibiting curiosity regarding the anatomical structure concealed beneath my armor.”

You didn’t know whether to flat out deny it or run out of the room entirely. Neither option felt viable. At least, not with him towering over you like that, unflinching, his glowing optics locked onto your every move.

“I—no, it’s not like that,” you stammered, even though you knew it was exactly like that.

“Your biological responses contradict your statement,” he said simply. “You are aware of the human-like components integrated into my design. Your fixation suggests a desire to understand their functionality.”

Your breath hitched. The words functionality and components should have grounded you. It should have made this situation feel as clinical as he seemed to think it was. But instead, they only fueled the heat already curling in your stomach.

Because Svarog was right.

You wanted to know—Aeons, you’ve been dying to know—how far his human design extended. And now that the repairs were done, now that he’d laid the truth bare, it felt impossible to stop.

“You are not the first to display interest in this feature,” Svarog continued, as though he were listing out schematics. “However, prior inquiries did not progress past verbal questioning. You are demonstrating physical tension indicative of deeper investigation.”

Your throat felt dryer than the desert.

“I propose a solution,” Svarog said, tilting his head slightly. “Controlled exploration. Further data on synthetic anatomy is limited. Your curiosity provides an opportunity for analysis and documentation.”

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. He wasn’t joking. He couldn’t joke.

“You are suggesting we… test this?”

“Correct.”

His lack of hesitation made your pulse stutter. He saw this as a logical step, nothing more than a means to gather data, and yet, the way his frame loomed over you, the hum of his systems almost vibrating through the air, felt anything but detached.

“Decision required,” Svarog said after a beat. “Proceed with testing, or terminate this interaction?”

Your body betrayed you before your mind could catch up.

“Proceed,” you said softly.

His optics flared slightly—almost imperceptibly—before he nodded.

“Acknowledged. Experiment initiated.”

Svarog wasn’t designed to rush.

He worked methodically, his plated fingers tracing along your thighs—testing, measuring, pressing into the soft flesh as though assessing the tensile strength of your muscles. Assessing how much you could take.

“Body temperature elevated by 1.8 degrees,” he noted, his optics narrowing slightly. “Pulse irregular. Predictive analysis suggests heightened arousal.”

You whimpered as his thick mechanical fingers dipped lower, sliding between your legs without hesitation. He brushed against your heat, deliberately testing the slickness already building there.

“Lubrication present,” he said. “Preliminary preparation observed. Additional stimulation required.”

You barely had any time to register his words before his thumb pressed against your clit. The motion was slow, deliberate, grinding down just enough to make your thighs tremble.

Too much.

The smoothness of his plating, the slight hum of his servos adjusting with every movement, left you aching almost instantly. He applied more pressure, adjusting the angle like he was calibrating the motion for maximum effect.

You gasped, hips jerking against him instinctively, and Svarog’s optics dimmed.

“Response strength at 63 percent,” he observed. “Testing deeper penetration.”

You bit back a cry as his fingers slipped inside. Thick, unyielding, and cool against your heat. He stretched you slowly, adding another finger almost immediately, pushing past the tight resistance with clinical focus.

“Muscle tension detected,” he said, his thumb circling the erect pearl of your clit again as his fingers curled inside of you. “Adjusting pressure.”

You whimpered as he spread his fingers, stretching you wider until the ache blurred into something hotter, sharper.

“Elasticity improving,” he noted, tilting his head as he pressed deeper. “Lubrication increased by 24 percent.”

You clenched around him, your gummy walls struggling to accommodate the deliberate stretch, and Svarog’s optics flickered.

“Resistance still measurable,” he said, slowing his movements. “Further preparation required.”

Your head was spinning by the time he added a third finger, the burn almost too much, but Svarog didn’t falter. His fingers moved with precise rhythm, pumping and curling until the tension broke, and your body melted around him.

Svarog’s mechanical fingers lingered inside you, coated in slickness as he worked them deeper—pressing, stretching, curling with deliberate precision. His thumb dragged slow, circular patterns over your clit, the rhythm steady enough to make your hips jolt against him in a helpless, uncontrollable reaction.

“Muscle tension improving,” he observed. “Current dilation at 73 percent. Additional preparation recommended.”

His tone was calm, detached, but the way his optics dimmed as he watched your thighs trembling betrayed something deeper. He pressed in further, adding another finger. Thicker. Unyielding. Enough to force a sharp gasp to tumble out of your throat.

The burn was too much and not enough all at once, your body clenching down against the stretch even as your legs fell further apart under his firm grip.

You could feel yourself dripping, already struggling to take his fingers, but Svarog didn’t falter. He spread them wider, deliberately testing your limits, and the ache left you clawing at his arm, nails scraping helplessly against smooth plating.

“Elasticity increased by 18 percent,” he said, pulling his fingers free with a lewd, wet squelch that made your breath hitch and your cheeks burn. He inspected the slick coating his fingers before tilting his head slightly. “Sufficient for insertion.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before you heard the sound of fabric rustling. Your eyes widened as he was lining up, the thick, mechanical weight of his massive cock pressing against your sopping entrance and making your stomach twist with a sharp mix of anticipation and fear. His cock contrasted the rest of his metallic body, covered by a synthetic material that seemed to emulate the sensation of skin.

“Size differential detected,” Svarog noted, palming your thigh to angle your hips upward. “Accommodating size will result in initial resistance.”

You bit back a cry as he pushed forward, the broad, blunted tip spreading you open with agonizing slowness. The pain is sharp, your walls pulsing and struggling to accommodate him even after the preparation.

Too big.

The words barely formed in your mind before the pressure stole the thought away entirely. You gasped sharply, arching as he forced himself deeper, the stretch too much. Burning, tearing, making your legs shake uncontrollably.

Svarog’s grip on your hips tightened as he paused, allowing you a brief moment of reprieve to adjust, but as his optics flickered, scanning the trembling of your muscles and the fluttering of your gummy walls around him.

“Pain response detected. Estimating threshold at 62 percent.”

You cried out as his hands tilted your hips. You were barely able to breathe as he pressed further, the new angle forcing him deeper into your cunt, and your stomach twisted as you felt it. His cock bullied its way in, the meaty girth of his shaft forcing you wider and wider until you swore you could feel it pressing against everything, imprinting his shape inside of you.

Too much. Too deep.

Tears welled in your eyes as your body struggled to take him, your hands scrabbling against his frame, fingers digging uselessly into unmoving steel.

Svarog’s hand pressed against your stomach, his thumb grazing the prominent bulge already forming there.

“Internal displacement observed,” he said, pushing down slightly to feel the way his massive cock shifted inside of you. The sensation earned a quiver of your legs, the pressure in between your legs rendering you unable to utter a coherent sentence. “Pressure response increasing. Adapting angle.”

Your head fell back with a guttural cry as he adjusted, pressing even deeper, his thumb brushing over the bulge experimentally while he thrust deeper, the bulge in your stomach shifting with him. It felt like the wind was knocked out of your lungs. Your lips fell open in a silent cry, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your body clenched down hard, pulsing and fluttering, struggling against the size, and Svarog stilled.

“Involuntary constriction detected,” he said, his optics dimming slightly.

His free hand reached up, spreading your thighs wider, and he began to move.

Slow, deliberate thrusts that forced you to feel every excruciating inch of him.

You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.

All you could do was feel. The stretch, the ache, the grinding pressure of him bottoming out inside you again and again and again. The bulge in your stomach shifted with every thrust, a visible reminder of just how deep he was, how much he was filling you.

Svarog’s optics glowed faintly as he observed you, his gaze calculating and unwavering as your body trembled beneath him. Each shallow breath you took, each gasp for air as his cock pressed deeper, he noted, analyzing the involuntary way your body gripped him, how your muscles fluttered around him with every thrust.

“Heart rate accelerating. Muscular tension increasing. Increased stimulation evident.”

He could see the way your body reacted. How your hands clenched, how your thighs shook, how the bulge in your stomach shifted with each deep push, marking the extent to which he had filled you. He watched the way your chest heaved, the way your pupils dilated with every inch of him that stretched you wider, deeper, further than you ever thought possible.

You were on the brink of breaking, the tension in your body growing unbearable as your mouth opened in a silent scream, unable to keep up with the onslaught of sensations. Your body, desperate for more and yet unable to fully handle what was happening, was his to command, and he couldn’t help but watch in quiet fascination as you succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure.

You were becoming dumber. So much of you just couldn’t function anymore. You were speechless, unable to utter a coherent sentence, broken down by the intensity of his cock fucking its way into you, and the way you melted against him was nothing short of fascinating. Your voice was lost to you, your thoughts clouded by raw sensation, but the pleasure you felt was clear. It was painted across every quiver of your body, the sheen of beaded sweat lining your face and neck, in the strained arch of your back, the desperate shuddering of your limbs.

He could hear the soft whimpering sounds, could see the way your face twisted with both pain and pleasure, and his own systems hummed with the data flooding his internal logs. Every reaction of yours was so genuine, so untouched by reason. It was an anomaly he had never experienced.

Svarog’s mechanical frame moved with precision, his movements controlled and deliberate. His systems hummed as he observed you, his optics tracking every microexpression, every shuddering breath as you struggled to adjust to the overwhelming size that filled you.

He didn’t feel pleasure. He didn’t need it, not the way you did. But the reactions you were giving him—the way your body trembled, the way your walls spasmed around him—were intriguing, data points he had yet to fully understand.

“Subject’s body reacting to size discrepancy. Estimated stretch threshold surpassed.”

Your hands were clutching at him, your fingers slipping over his cool metal plating, desperately trying to find purchase. Your tight walls clung to him as though your body was doing everything it could to resist the sensation, even though it was now obvious that you couldn’t fight it. Your body was becoming swallowed by him, opening wide to accommodate what it was never meant to handle.

Svarog’s movement’s never faltered, his thrusts measured and precise, studying you as your body began to react involuntarily. Your walls spasmed around him, tighter and tighter, almost as though your body was trying to pull him deeper despite the overwhelming stretch.

“Subject’s body is exhibiting signs of imminent climax. Response timing has been measured.”

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. Your entire body stiffed, an involuntary shudder running through you as every nerve seemed to light up at once. Your vision blurred, the sounds of your ragged breathing filling your ears, mixing with the overwhelming sensation of being stretched beyond belief. Your walls contracted and released rapidly, the pressure inside you finally exploding, and you cried out his name, the world barely a whisper between gasps.

The release sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, and Svarog could see it. How your body trembled, how your legs locked around his waist, pulling him even deeper—if that was even possible. You were speechless, your mind blank as your body convulsed in ecstasy, your insides gripping him with a tightness that was almost painful.

“Subject has achieved climax. Response exceeds expectations.”

Your breaths came in desperate, uncoordinated gasps as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, and your body was left quivering, unable to do anything but absorb the aftershocks of your mind-numbing release. Your thighs quivered, feeling your cum trickling down your skin, staining his metal plating.

Svarog, ever the observer, did not stop. He noted the way your body reacted to each of his thrusts, the way your tummy bulged with each movement, the way your warm walls clamped down involuntarily as you tried to regain control of your senses.

Despite the fact that Svarog himself could not feel pleasure, there was something undeniably fascinating about the way you came undone beneath him, your body fighting for control even as it surrendered entirely to him.

He continued moving inside you, his mechanical precision relentless, watching as you flinched with each motion, your body too sensitive now to handle it. Your hands, still pawing weakly at his arms, combined with your whimpered protests of it being too much, were growing weaker, and the sensations were too much for you to bear, but still, he kept going, his own curiosity driving him. He wanted to see how much more you could take, how much more your body could endure before it reached its limit.

You were still trembling, still catching your breath, your mind scattered and lost in the aftereffects of your climax. He could see your skin shimmering with sweat, your breasts rising and falling, the way your hips thrusted up to meet his even though you were lost in the throes of overstimulation.

“Subject remains responsive despite signs of fatigue,” he observed. “Data indicates further analysis needed.”

You were so tight, so overstimulated, and yet your body responded again as though it couldn’t stop itself. Another surge of pleasure crashed through you, pulling another, more broken moan from your lips. It was overwhelming, too much, but your body needed it, responding in ways that only deepened his analysis of the situation.

Svarog’s focus didn’t waver. He watched as your body shook with every movement, your legs quivering with the strain of accommodating him, and still, he continued, his thrusts growing deeper, more relentless. His fingers dug into your hips, hard enough to leave litters of bruises that resembled the shade of his metal plating, holding you in place, using your body as a tool for his data collection.

He could see the way you reacted to the sensations, your face contorting in a combination of pain and pleasure, your eyes wide and unfocused, the way your mouth parted as though you couldn’t form any coherent words. Your body had become nothing but a series of responses, unable to control the way you moved or how you moaned, each sound increasing in volume and intensity as he continued to jackhammer into you.

Your stomach bulged from the pressure, each thrust deepening the curve, showing just how much of him you were struggling to take. Your body was so small, so delicate compared to his design—a machine of war—and yet it was somehow adjusting, somehow taking him all the way in, and with each inch he could see your entire body shift, your muscles trembling, walls contracting and clenching around him.

Svarog observed with detachment, but a small part of him couldn’t ignore how your body seemed to respond, how the very tightness of your searingly hot walls seemed to tug at him, pull him deeper as though it wanted to trap him there—needed him to stay there. The way you trembled beneath him, struggling to remain grounded as your body was filled with something so vast compared to your form. He noted how your skin glistened, how you arch your back, trying to take more of him, trying your damned best to accommodate his size.

Svarog noted how you were losing coherence, your once-clear expression now a mess of uncontrollable need, your eyes glazing over as you gave in to the rhythm he set. He couldn’t deny the way your body seemed to yearn for more, even as you struggled with the sheer size of him.

The final stretch was the worst for you, and the best for him. He felt your body grip him, squeezing him impossibly tight as he buried himself to the hilt. This earned a strained sob from your lips. Your stomach bulged more than ever before, a visual testament to just how much of him you had taken, how far he had pushed you. He could see your body tremble, your limbs shaking, your quivering lips gasping for breath.

Yet, even as your body was on the edge, unraveling beneath him, Svarog did not stop. The data was still incomplete. He needed more. He needed to see how much you could endure, how much pleasure your body could take from the sheer act of him pounding into you.

And so, he continued, calculating the rhythms, watching as you came again with a scream of his name, your body seizing, the loud moan that escaped your lips barely audible over the overwhelming noise in your head. It was the most raw, vulnerable he had ever seen you—or any human—and it only fascinated him more.

With another deep thrust, you shuddered, and this time, Svarog could see your body collapse against the surface beneath you, completely undone. You were breathless, barely coherent, your limbs shaking as the final waves of pleasure raked through your senses.

Svarog paused, his cool hands steadying your trembling body, allowing you to come down from the dizzying high. He could continue for as long as he wanted, but your body was too spent for further testing. He could still see the evidence of your come, dripping down in translucent milky strings to the surface beneath you, painting your inner thighs. Svarog decided that this must be what humans described as “beautiful.”

“Conclusion: Subject’s tolerance to size discrepancy has surpassed previous estimates. Data collection complete.”

#honkai star rail #star rail #honkai sr #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #hsr smut #honkai star rail svarog #svarog x reader #svarog smut #hsr svarog #svarog #robot fuckers unite #tw: dark content #cw: dubcon #size difference #hsr x reader #hsr x you #error 404: overload!

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luvrxbunny · 2 years ago

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little spider

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Innocence

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, reader knows nothing about sex or feelings of arousal, clothed clit-rubbing? cum in pants, small feelings of embarrassment (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 3.3k

A/N: sorry im late but im kinda proud of this one so i hope it was worth the wait! <3

Miguel didn’t think he’d end up in this position, nowhere in his wildest, most perverted fantasies did he think that this would actually be the outcome of him recruiting you but… here we are.

You were assigned by the higher-ups to learn from him, they thought you had potential, and honestly? Miguel hated you when he met you, he felt like they were punishing him for something, that assigning him this raw recruit was just a flaunt of power. You didn't even have a suit he had to make you one, a trial suit first, to make sure all your vitals were good, to track your movements and decide what suit material would be best- or if you would have a digital one like him.

During the weeks of his monitoring of your vitals, he began to grow a bit fond of you. You were an adorable recruit and eager to please, you were thoughtful and always gave your all, something he really appreciates. One other thing he noticed about you… your dopamine levels were elevated around him, along with your estradiol and testosterone. He ignores it when he’s writing his reports, he tells himself that he doesn’t report it because the higher-ups don't need to know, not because he knows they’d make you transfer… He should’ve requested it the first time he noticed it but the thought of you, his sweet, innocent spider, all turned on just from being around him? It ignited something in him.

He updated your suit, saying that the data he was receiving wasn't enough, he made you wear the suit as he replaced the chip and tried to hide the smile in his voice when your spine straightened under his touch. The new chip could give him real-time tracking of all your vitals, but he set his watch to alert him anytime certain hormones spiked… estradiol and testosterone. So he conducted a little experiment over the following weeks, he’d lean into you more when you speak, holding your eye contact, he even broke out the smirk he used to use on girls when he was younger, and it worked on you.

His watch vibrated every time he was near you, if he walked up to you, it started being an alert to when you were near, it’d go off before you’ve even approached him, he’d walk into a room and it’d go off before he even saw you. It started to have an effect on him, he started to feel a spark in his stomach every time it went off, every time he’d meet your eyes and you’d have that expression he’d grown to know so well. That weak, almost pleading- yet confused look in your eyes and the sheer panic before tearing them away from his. He started having to grip whatever was in his hands as tightly as he could to control himself when you’re breathing would stutter after he complimented you on your work.

He started getting hard reviewing your logs after spending the day with you, watching your heart rate stay elevated, spiking along with your hormones, he can see your breathing pattern, and how irregular it is compared to when you’re not with him. How high your body temperature was… the main areas of heat. On his more weak days, he’s gotten himself off to the diagram of you, with the burning red spot between your legs as the focus of his fantasies.

Now you’re here, avoiding his gaze as his watch vibrates like crazy. “Miguel?” He looks at you again, trying to keep his gaze neutral, hopefully, to make this a bit easier on you… and him. “Yes?”

His voice is smooth as cocoa butter and you can feel his gaze burning into you. He started this heat inside you, one you’d never encountered before. It starts when you see him in the morning and doesn’t stop until you struggle to sleep- or at least it used to. But recently it’s been non-stop, a constant distraction that you can’t pinpoint, it feels like it’s in your hips, stomach, chest, and thighs all at once. It feels like it’s in his breath when it fans over your face, it's in his eyes when they lock with yours, and somehow on his fingertips when they brush over any part of you. You’ve spent hours a night trying to figure out what you can do about it, you’ve thought about even asking Lyla but decided the risk of her telling Miguel was far too great.

This past week it’s just been building on it’s self, almost unbearable with Miguel’s new immersive training. He takes you away to some deserted, closed-off place and trains you with no distractions, giving you nothing to focus on other than him and forcing him to give all his attention to you. Miguel’s attention, his gaze is what causes the most… pain. That’s what it’s become, a dull, numb, thrumming at the base of your stomach, like an itch you can’t scratch that just becomes a nuisance. You couldn’t handle it anymore and if you asked Lyla she’d just tell Miguel- so why not just ask him directly?

So here you are, avoiding his gaze because you’ve spent the entire day with him, building enough fire inside you- you don’t need to add any more. “I think…” You take a breath and turn to him a bit before forcing the words out. “There’s something wrong with me.” He puts his clipboard down, his concern, and his thick, veiny hand that comes into view piles onto the heat over-taking your bloodstream. He takes his glasses off and sits back in his chair, reaching his leg out to pull a chair beside you closer to him. You dare a glance at him and try not to collapse at his gaze, at the way his hair moves over his face for a moment as he motions for you to sit in the provided chair.

You sigh and sit down, your legs pressed tightly together, your palms resting on your thighs and your eyes focused on the back of your hands. You stay silent, your mind racing, your body warming further at the feeling of his eyes on you. “What’s wrong, little spider?” You suppress a shiver at the nickname as goosebumps rise over your skin, it’s been a problem since he picked it. “I’m hot.” The words shoot out of your mouth before you can second-guess them again. Miguel chuckles a bit, sending embarrassment through your body, sits back in his chair, and crosses his arms, prompting you to go on.

“I can’t fix it. There’s… someone.” Miguel pretends he doesn’t notice the way your eyes flicker to him. “For some reason, something about them just- “ You pause for a moment, truly baffled by the way you feel, trying to find some way to explain it. “They just do something to me and it won’t stop.” Your words start to sound frantic, a bit panicked. Miguel leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees to examine your expression. “It’s like there's a low- like a low vibration- or a frequency? Like the ones that are so low you can barely hear but you can sorta feel them? It’s like that but- but deep inside me.”

Your eyes close and eyebrows furrow as you describe the feeling to him. He tries to keep his breathing even as he hardens uncontrollably under the suit. You don’t even realize what you’re confessing to him. “Like it’s in my bones, Miguel.” You add emphasis, your hands digging into the material of your suit before raising your head to meet his eyes, hoping he understands the state you’re in. He’s almost dizzy at the way his blood rushes to his cock. He holds your gaze and tries to convey a baffled, thoughtful expression as he tries to calm himself.

“That’s- That’s odd. Yeah, um.” He takes a few deep breaths before sitting back again, unable to stay in your space any longer. “Do- Can you tell me who’s causing it? Perhaps it’s a side effect of their powers?” Your spine straightens and you shake your head at him gently. You twist your fingers in the fabric of your suit and your feet play with each other on the lab floor. “H-have you heard of any powers like that?” You ask him, a hopeful look in your eyes.

Clever girl.

“No, I haven't.” He sits back, spreads his legs, and runs his hands down his thighs and back with a sigh. He holds back a smirk when his watch vibrates and he hears you take a sharp breath. “I- I don’t know what to do anymore. It- I can barely sleep.” You sound distraught, broken, and tired. He’d be the messed up one if he didn't help you… Right?

“I mean… I can try running some tests?” He offers, he keeps his tone light, trying to keep his dark desires off your radar. You perk up at his offer, already up and out of your seat, standing in front of him with a smile. He keeps his eyes on you, trying to ignore the way your scent is assaulting his nose, giving away how badly you need him. “You think we could?”

He nods and stands up, walking over to his lab table and clearing a few things. His head is already running wild with fantasies, ideas of what he could do to you, what he could teach you, how good he could make you feel. “Yeah, of course. C’mere, pequeña araña” You were already walking to him but your pace stutters and his watch vibrates when the nickname slips out. He truly didn’t mean to, he had gotten a bit too deep in his fantasies, and when your voice broke through he didn’t get fully pulled out. He’s never called you that in Spanish, not to your face at least, it’s fallen from his lips a few times before though, when he’s alone with his hand wrapped around his cock. But your reaction dissuades any fear that had shot through him before and he can’t help the smirk that makes its way on his face.

You’re standing silently beside him, wringing your hands together and he doesn’t think you even notice the way your thighs keep clenching together. “Get on the table.” His tone is teasing, a grin on his face as you jump and scramble onto the tabletop. You lay on your back and look over at Miguel, feeling that heat rage through you at the look on his face. It’s dark and- wanting. It’s confusing.

He takes a deep breath and your fingers try to dig into the metal table top as he walks to you. “Okay. I’m going to examine your body a bit, press into some muscles, some pressure points to see if maybe it’s a physical trigger. Is that okay with you?” Your chest is already rising and falling more rapidly at the thought, the promise of Miguel’s hands on you. You nod at him stiffly, trying to stay normal and calm as he holds your eye contact, nodding along with you. A small smile graces his face before he walks around and presses his palm into your hairline, pushing your head down to rest on the table as he stands north of you.

His hands press into your shoulders and your eyes shut tight. He can feel all your muscles tense and his watch vibrates, he sneaks a peak at his and sees the huge spike in almost all your vitals. His cock twitches in his suit at your obvious need but he brushes it aside, if he rushes into this he might scare you off and he doesn’t know what he’ll do if that happens. He may lose his mind. He moves his hands to your biceps, massaging them tightly as little whines slip into your breaths, only audible to his ears.

He walks back to the side of the tables and your eyes stay shut. He massages the softness of your sides and his breathing kicks up a bit once he gets to your hips. He takes his time with them, admiring the way you fit into his hands and how you subconsciously tilt them toward him. His thighs jump as his cock begins to leak, dripping precum down them. He takes a deep, shaky breath and forces himself to move on. He forced himself to move on, he was trying to take it slow, hopefully, you’d realize where you need him and ask for it. But your thighs spread open when he massages the outside and his hands dive for the inner before he can think it through.

You gasp, you sit up with your eyes wide and your hands gripping his wrists. You don’t do anything though, he expects you to pull his hands away but it feels more like you’re holding him there, stopping- or attempting to stop him from pulling away. So of course he doesn't. He stares into your eyes as you search his, trying to figure out if he realizes the way that made you feel, if your cover was blown, if he wants to stop but he looks expectant, like he’s waiting for something. So you loosen your grip. “That’s- I think that’s- ” You’re nodding at him lightly, hoping he understands what you’re trying to say because for some reason your brain has stopped working.

“Yeah?” Your heart stutters at his tone and the tilt of his head as he says it. Your thighs tense around his hand for a moment before you try to calm down, un-tense them but they can’t help the way they tremble with anticipation. You’re nodding at him more frantically and his eyelids flutter. “Okay.” He takes one hand out from between your thighs and rests it on your lower back as his other hand keeps massaging, slowly moving up your inner thigh and the sensations grow more intense the higher he gets.

Your eyes shut and your hands grip his wrists again, not pulling away, just holding him. Your eyes shut and your hips tilt into his hand, getting him so close to your pussy that he can feel the heat radiating off of her. You feel some sort of shame twinge in your belly, dampening the more intense feelings that Miguel was causing. What if this was wrong? What if you aren’t supposed to feel like this with him, without him knowing… Maybe you should stop.

Miguel moves further up and all those thoughts scatter from your head immediately. His watch vibrates again and a noise shoots out of your mouth- one you’ve never heard before as your body folds over and your head rests on his shoulder. You shut your eyes tight and take a slow, deep breath. “Sorry. Sorry, I-” He cuts you off. “It’s okay. That’s why I’m here, right?” He’s nodding at you, comforting and reassuring as his hand leaves your back to cradle your head. “You’re okay. I wanna help you, cariño.” Another noise leaves you at the nickname and his hand grips into your hair for a moment before sliding down to your neck and pulls your head away from his shoulder. He pushes your head against his for a moment, letting out a soft groan before letting go and pushing his fingers against your plush lips.

“How’s that, honey?” His hand settles back on your lower back as you whine and your hands move up his arm, gripping his biceps now and pulling yourself closer to him. “Miguel.” His eyes roll back at how you sound, desperate, breathless, and gone. Your hips are grinding into his fingers and they aren’t even on your clit yet. They’re pressing against your hole through your lips and your suit, he’s keeping his fingertips flat against you so he doesn’t slip inside.

He’s trying to ignore the mess he’s making in his pants, watching your tense face change into a relieved one, your eyebrows pulling inward as your lips part beautifully, releasing a shaky moan as he reangles his fingers to your clit. His hands are shaking as he tries to calm himself down, one of your hands slides up his arm, leaving goosebumps in its wake before gripping onto his shoulder and pulling him down, closer to your face. His eyes are fixed on your expression, taking everything in, every twitch and quiver, the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips before a whimper punches out of you.

You’re ruining him and you’re none the wiser. Your hand slides up to his neck and you push your forehead against his, like he did earlier. His eyes roll back before he forces them to you again, moving his fingers over you clit faster when your thighs begin to shake around his wrist. “I think-” Your voice comes out as a whimper and he groans into you. Your fingers grip into his hair and his cock cries against him. “Something… Miguel.”

The way you say his name fucks with him. It’s prettier than he ever could’ve imagined, he has to lean forward and press his throbbing cock against the edge of the table for relief. You’ve got him feeling like he could die, like he could implode if he doesn’t have you, if after this you realize what you need but get it somewhere else? It’ll be over for him. Your hand readjusts its grip in his hair, becoming more frantic as your spine straightens and your thighs close on his hands. “Miguel? I-” You cut yourself off with a moan and your head falls to his shoulder again, blocking your face from his view.

“No, no.” He brings his hand to the back of your neck again. “Let me see, amor.” He pulls you away from his shoulder and you moan at the nickname. Once again, it didn’t mean to slip out but you’ve got his head so cloudy he can’t help it. You’re moaning his name on repeat, like a warning and he’s pulsing at the thought, the promise of getting to see you cum, for him. His eyes can’t look away from you, he can’t see anything but your face, the way your brows furrow as you tense, and your nails dig into his arms, leaving reminders for later. He watches how you bite your lip before your jaw drops into an ‘O’ shape and his name falls from your lips one more time as a debauched cry.

He keeps his eyes open, watching you cum for him, how your lips form around his name again and again. He wants to collapse, fall to his knees with how much you’re turning him on but he needs to watch you. He forces himself to keep his eyes on you, ignoring the way they want to roll back at how he’s flooding his pants. His hips twitch against the edge of the table as he cums for you, with you. His mind zeros into the way he can feel your clit pulsing underneath his finger tips, how breathless you sound, trying to keep up with the noises he’s forcing from you. His stomach tenses painfully as his cock unloads more cum onto himself. You sound like an angel, crying out for him. He can’t help the way he dives for you, pulling you in to kiss him and swallowing every moan you’ll give him.

You whine into his mouth as his fingers slow down over your clit, your other hand meets the first in his hair and you keep his lips on yours. He keeps kissing you until you calm down and your breathing evens out. His hand comes from between your thighs and rubs your legs until you pull back from his lips. You have a bashful, embarrassed look on your face and it brings the largest smile that you’ve ever seen to his face. “Was that okay, pequeña araña?” You whine and pull him in for a hug, nodding into his shoulder as he chuckles and wraps his arms around you as you begin to giggle against him.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

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solxamber · 6 months ago

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Hi can I have Ignihyde for # 8, fluff or comedy. Thank you!

Anime Boot Camp || Idia Shroud ft. Ortho

For the Holiday Event! || Prompt: "This is non-negotiable" ; Genre: Fluff with Comedy ;

You should’ve known better. You really should have. But Idia had given you one of those rare, half-excited, half-nervous smiles, and you’d been putty in his hands.

“Sure, Idia,” you’d said with zero hesitation. “I’d love to watch the new season with you.”

A seemingly innocent offer. A simple act of camaraderie. And then, Idia had dropped the bomb.

“Great. We’ll start from season one. It’s non-negotiable.”

Season one?

“Wait—how many seasons are there?” you asked cautiously, trying to keep the panic out of your voice.

Idia adjusted his tablet, the glow highlighting his sinister grin. “Nineteen. Not including the movies, OVAs, or the bonus material. But don’t worry, the filler episodes are only about 35%.”

Your soul left your body.

“I—uh…” you stammered, searching for an escape. “Do we really need to watch everything? I thought we were just watching the new season?”

“You can’t watch season 20 without context!” Idia exclaimed, horrified. “You’d miss all the foreshadowing and character arcs! It’s essential to the viewing experience.”

You looked at him, and there it was: the genuine excitement in his eyes, the rare spark of passion that made him absolutely irresistible. Damn your stupid heart.

“Okay,” you sighed. “Let’s do it. Start from episode one.”

Idia’s face lit up, and if you weren’t already melting, his quiet “Y-you’re the best,” would’ve sealed the deal.

That’s how you found yourself on Idia’s couch, sandwiched between him and Ortho, with snacks piled precariously around you.

“This is the start of a life-changing journey,” Ortho said cheerfully, handing you a soda. “Big Brother has been waiting for someone to share this with forever!”

You glanced at Idia, who was trying to hide his blush behind his hoodie.

“You sure we’re not biting off more than we can chew here?” you asked weakly as the opening theme of season one blasted from the giant screen.

Idia waved you off. “Nah. If we watch at 1.5x speed, skip the ending songs, and only take five-minute breaks every eight episodes, we’ll finish in about four days.”

“Four days?”

“Non-negotiable,” he reminded you smugly, tossing popcorn into his mouth.

By day two, you’d developed Stockholm Syndrome for the characters.

“NO, KAZUTAKA, DON’T DO IT!” you yelled, clutching the blanket you’d stolen from Idia’s bed.

“It’s his tragic backstory arc,” Idia explained, completely unfazed by your emotional outburst. “He has to do it for the narrative payoff in season 14.”

You groaned. “This show is going to kill me.”

“It builds character,” Idia said, smirking.

Meanwhile, Ortho was a model of efficiency, pausing episodes precisely for snack breaks and bringing you hot towels like you were at an anime spa. You were starting to think Ortho might be the MVP of this whole operation.

“Ortho, you’re a saint,” you said as he handed you a cup of tea.

“I just want to support Big Brother’s happiness,” Ortho chirped, beaming.

Idia mumbled something unintelligible and pulled his hoodie tighter.

By day four, you were fully invested.

“THE PLOT TWIST! I KNEW IT!” you screamed, nearly knocking the bowl of chips off your lap.

“Pshh, called it back in episode 47,” Idia muttered, though the gleam in his eyes said he was enjoying this more than he’d admit.

“You did not!” you argued.

“I’ve seen this, like, three times, noob,” he retorted smugly.

Ortho, who had already created a mini shrine for your endurance, clapped in delight. “You’re catching up to Big Brother’s level of dedication!”

When the final credits rolled, you leaned back with a dramatic sigh. “We did it. I can’t believe we actually did it.”

“I can’t believe you survived,” Idia said, looking at you with a mix of awe and amusement.

“Maybe a family sometimes,” you said, stretching, “is just you, your crush, and his technomantic humanoid brother.”

Ortho tilted his head. “Does that mean you’re officially part of the family?”

You froze, glancing at Idia. His face was redder than a lava eel, and he was aggressively pretending to read something on his tablet.

“Well,” you said, smirking. “That depends on your brother.”

Idia groaned, burying his face in his hoodie. “You’re insufferable,” he mumbled.

And yet, when you shifted closer to nudge him playfully, he didn’t pull away.

Masterlist

#twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twst #twisted wonderland #idia shroud x reader #idia x reader #idia shroud #idia #ortho shroud

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understandableparadox · 1 year ago

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a comprehensive list of everything wrong with hazbin hotel.

quick note before i lose myself in madness, my standards for helluvaboss are non existent because its a free show on youtube. also i kinda like helluvaboss and i will indulge in any bias i damn well please.

oh and spoilers. i guess.

the greater narrative of the entire season is "White lady civilize inner city hoodlum". ex: The blind side. rich girl, affluent family yadda yadda.

the story is set up to be like amphibia, owl house, svtfoe, steven universe, that being starting as something episodic then transforming into story driven narrative. why? because we know the benefits and drawbacks, episodic starts allows us to wander the world, it allows us to understand the dynamics, we are not forced to reckon with anything because there is no deadline. characters are allowed to bloom and shine and the audience can actually get attached.

the source material is Vary Clearly formed from remnants of something out of a middle school edgelord narrative. the usage of transformation, the big spooky grins, the "and then i smile as my eyes glow and-"-isms which in most cases i don't mind because in some instances but in a vary Particular case its astoundingly annoying and that annoyance is like a mold, shit spreads quick.

the color Red. as a lover of homestuck cherubs and karkat and aradia, as someone who fucking loves the color red, it is so painful to say but holy shit tone it the fuck down, i know its hell but their are so many other colors that you can use, its everywhere, the streets, the air, the windows, the screens, the characters, i know the pride ring is represented with red but change up the palates every so often for backgrounds

the rush, this ties into the second point made but i think the story itself is rushed. we know everything way to early. i know way to much and it makes it hard to care about anything because im still trying to digest the last chunk of info. "oh ok, so they clear out hell once a year. oh hell has a heaven embassy? ok. oh that adam the angel, i though he wou- oh its every 6 months now. wait the exterminators die a lot? then why is everyone sca- people in hell already have weapons that can kill angels? w- oh we are in heaven now, ok ma- no one in heaven except for the elites know the exterminations occur? how do-" and its that, just this incessant rush to explain everything to you. notably that's just the god damn spark notes, we need to know everything about the characters now, every single bit of their story, their insecurities, what charlie needs to fix, how she can fix them, the major bad guys, everything. you are never allowed to dwell on a character because we need to rush towards something else. it almost feels like this should have been like... season three, it would have been a fantastic season three if you dropped the introductions honestly.

the concept of redemption. for a story of redemption to work you need to look at three things. What is there crime, Do they want to change, What is preventing them from changeing? there is only one single character that has a notable path of redemption, angel dust, but if you look through their story it feels off. What Exactly is he guilty of? he has sex, does drugs and drinks. his apparent nymphomania is tied to his sad backstory as someone forced into the sex industry so how is that their fault? then if you think about it you start to spiral and notice "hey why are most of these people in hell?" like sure some of them may deserve punishment but then you see the fucking dichotomy and its like "I was a inventor in england and died of the fucking plague, i may have made evil little contraption hoohoohoo" vs "I was a cannibal, a full on cannibal, i fucking killed people and ate them and then someone shot me". ONE OF THESE THINGS ARE A LITTLE MORE FUCKING EXTREME. i'm going to go fucking nuts, the thing they went to heaven with when presenting a case to angels on the idea that redemption and becoming a better person is actually real was angel dust not drinking at a party and not having sex with consenting adults and i want to go fucking insane. WHAT IS THE CRIME, WHO IS THROWING THE BOOK, WHAT DOES THE BOOK INTEL, ARE WE ON GOOD PLACE RULES?! half the cast dont Need redemption they need fucking help, and the other half of the cast do need redemption but they do not seek it making the point moot. sir pentious acts like he has the brain of a hyper intelligent toddler tossing about toys, its almost like he did his one bad thing of spying and then got caught, sank his little diddy about forgiveness and second chances and become a null point through out the rest of the series, sure their was Some weight to him sacrificing himself, he was a decently funny character and he had good moments but him popping up in heaven felt like a fore gone conclusion, he didn't deserve to be in hell so why do i care that he is suddenly in heaven? because its working on the concept the good place already made. no one actually deserves eternal punishment they just need help processing what makes them a dick, but instead of looking at all the parts of the afterlife that make it bad, inefficient and then creating and trying ideas to see if it work instead over a few seasons, we crash dick first into all the major plot points in regards to that and say "tada, we fixed it.".

having a sub-plot about sexual assault and its victims then having multiple sexual assault related gag ruins your point.

don't make a bunch of stereotypically jewish characters into cannibals, that was a big thing, really shouldn't have to say it.

if you are going to make a character black, make them black, you can say alastor was black but sweet seren-fucking-dippity that's not a black man.

pot meet kettle but yeah the cursing could be a little less liberal. maybe just blue hair or the pronouns, not both.

there is a very distinctive art deco/jazz aesthetic which normally i love but i feel as though it is not used to its full extent and in some cases really hurts the character design in and of itself.

this is a vary obvious bit but the story is a million times more interested in gay men then it is of lesbians, which culminates in this insane thing where the writers clearly have more talent or perhaps it would be more abt to say practice writing male gay pining then they are with lesbian pining. which i personally think is hilarious because i did not know you could min max fujoshi-ism that hard.

this next section is more to do with each character on a fundamental level, for the sake of brevity whatever there is left, i'm just doing ones with speaking roles.

13. Charlie:

(see what i mean about that red thing?)

as originally stated charlie fits rather comfortably into every white saviour narrative, though that seems to be part of her joke. though i'm not entirely sure how much of a joke it can be when its rewarded and expected to advance the plot.

her character design says nothing, it has the motif of old puppets or dolls, she wears something vaguely similar to service suits, her demonic form is just some extra horns.not to say every character needs to have their life on a clothes rack but some more snake and goat imagery would be nice

its not the chol design of charlie with snake hair, not an actual problem but its a problem to me, damn you @cholvoq for ruining my ability to look at any of the characters without wishing i was seeing your designs instead.

character wise aside from the white savoir bit, i'm having a bit of trouble understanding what the arc of the character is. she is shown to be naive, someone who doesn't understand how the world works but everytime she says something its something astoundingly clear like "people can actually get better". and its treated like someone demanded faygo in every water fountain. is the joke that the world around her to cynical or is so to naive? please pick one or the other.

now if you know me, you know i fucking hate overpowered characters with a blinding passion, one that would set alit the god damn abyss but in this one special instance, i feel like its warranted, she's the direct descendant of fucking God, she can swing her weight around a little, i mean god damn. she in so many instances looks like shes cowering so often, why would the daughter of lucifer get backed down by some rando pimp? why wasn't she the one to fight adam? sure you can say she is young but how young? her parents were there since pre-abrahamic times, most of the characters showed up in hell in the 1900s, some of them showed up in the 1600s, how old is charlie??? how long does it take for her to learn how to be strong? The story does not suffer if charlie is strong and knows she is strong. it can easily be a case of "i don't believe in violence to a weird degree". fit it into her apparent naivety about the world to believe that violence is never the answer even when dealing with a being that is unilaterally horrible and abusive and monstrous.

she ga- no im kidding, i do think her romance was waysided a bit, it would have been fine to have more scenes of them togather and in love you know?

14. Vaggie

why did you name the lesbian vaggie...? Don't do that maybe?

I like how her design is almost moth like but again i feel as though you could have amped that up.

she feels as though someone tried to combine undyne and pearl from steven universe, same story beats and design elements. it makes it hard to really distinguish her as a character.

i honestly dont have much to say about her. she is fine.

christ kill me, lets just get the big one out of the way

15. Alastor.

God Damn

where to start.

"alastor is mixed race" mixed with fucking what? concrete? there is not a single black feature on that creature, now im not saying you have to make him a png of louie armstrong but it wouldn't hurt to add a curl to the hair maybe? make it a tiny bit more wavy? Something? a crumb i beg of thee?

his symbolism is all over the god damn place, native american monsters (you know the one), voodoo, radio, puppets, stitches, circuses??? and Tentacles i guess. two of those are from closed religions so if you dumped those you would actually get a more concise character focused on the concept of vox populi as a means of societal control and influence as we see in his first song. but again that gets drowned out repeatedly by all the other random toy box bits shoved into him.

tumblr sexy man bait

he serves no purpose in the story. he does spooky stuff, pretends to do things and then goes back to sitting around looking spooky. i understand that his motif is supposed to be aloof mastermind but maybe have him do more mastermindy things? if you remove most of alastors scenes, bar the songs, it doesn't change all to much. husk and nifity can still be at the hotel, they could be looking for outs in their contracts the same as angel dust. hell it even helps with the one scene where he dose some spooky shit, asking charlie for a favor in exchange for his help in the fight with the angels instead of asking him about angel weapons which should have remained a strictly vaggie scene.

his presence in a way delegitimize the story, as I noted in in the section regarding redemption, the three parts are "what is the crime, do they want to change, what is stopping them?" and alastor kinda just spits in the face of that. he is a serial killer cannibal that has no qualms about how evil he is and apparently must continue being evil due to being under the control under someone legitimately called the Root Of All Evil. show him take a slight interest in the idea that maybe shit for him could be better, make him Want Change at the bare fucking minimum or dont have him at the hotel.

his stupid little fucking horns, big shot the troll liker wants characters to have big fucking horns, make them noticeable or dont have them.

he looks more like a dog boy, which could have been an interesting thing with the collar motif but fuck me i guess.

personal pet peeve but i fucking hate characters that have a million plus powers, stick to a set number, be creative.

im getting more petty as i go on so last point: he could have been in less episodes, he didn't need to be in dad beat dad, that should have been just a lucifer and charlie episode. inverse the red and black and i think he would be fucking great color wise, his body type is the same as ten different characters, he isnt radio enough, aside from the voice and and staff if you told me he was the fucking Cat Demon i would have been just as convinced.

16. Angel Dust

what the fuck, gay spider? its hard to actully articulate all the thoughts i have on angel dust, not in the sense that he is a deeply thought provoking character but in the fact that there is not much meat on the bones.

all around i think angel dust is kinda middling. he has a decent enough romance with husk, he has a decent enough story line that revolves around battling addiction and removing yourself from an abuser (which the story tries to brand as "Redemption???")

I dont like that most of his jokes would qualify as sexual harassment, i don't mind him being sexual as a character but continuing on when clearly someone doesn't like the jokes hurts the character.

not a critique but he is pink, which honestly ill fucking take at point, as long as its not more fucking red.

i think his design is an improvement over some of the old vivzie designs but it feels like it could have done with going a few more rounds of design changes.

same thing with alastor, charlie and vaggie, there is not enough of the animal that they are supposed to be. You could have told me angel dust was a fucking bee or something and i would have had to believe you. nothing about angel dust initially says spider, hell he dosent even have enough limps to be a fucking spider.

17. Carmilla carmine

are... are you supposed to be a rabbit...?

Big Yoai Hands

ballet fighting style, could have been cool, wish she fought more like sanji or chun li.

A single mom that works to hard, who loves her kids and never stops-

her song was decent, not great, decent. it feels as though the actress has experience singing but not in the way they tried to make her sing during her two songs. they have a obvious mexican influence, honestly just let her sing in spanish in the english dub. go listen to the spanish dub, "out for love" sounds great in spanish.

i wish i had more thoughts on them, fucking rip.

18. cherri bomb

that's not a punk aesthetic that's 2010s alt

decent character, they showed up once or twice i guess, no real thoughts.

19. egg boiz

absolutely perfect, i have not notes on them, these are perfect creatures.

20. Emily

im so fucking happy to see a singular blue character

does the naive dreamer bit better then charlie

We really shouldnt have seen her until the end of season two or middle of three.

good contrast with the other angels on screen.

Wait she is supposed to be black??? Where???

21. Husk

keith david you absolute delight, Why on gods green earth did they only give you one singing part?

one of the few charecters where its clear husk is a cat, i do like the kinda... marquee design, he is a magic cat, thats neat. i still think you can toss the wings and eyebrows and still have just as good of a charecter.

has a deeply intresting story of someone who died as a nobody, became the fat cat of hell and then was forced back to the bottom by their own vices, not used at fucking all.

huge potential, little pay off.

22. lillith

I know nothing about her except she ditched her kid and husband to vacation in heaven and i think thats kinda funny.

alot of werid things floating around her, again she shouldnt have been shown in the show at all until next season.

23. lucifer morningstar

no notes, funniest charecter, did a song based on friend like me.

few notes: i do like the idea that the immortal symbol of pride is a constant emotional wreckage constantly seeking approval through grand showmanship and manic energy that threatens to take over anything they touch.

would have liked more snake stuff on him, maybe some more goat things like horns.

that is such a stupid fucking staff lmao.

24. Adam.

alex brightman you absolute fucking delight, you should have had more songs.

I wish his design was more focused on the idea of him being a glam rock wash up

I fucking hate his mask

We shouldn't have met him until the end of the season.

25. Niffty

again she is supposed to be a bug or cockroach but nothing about her points to that.

token straight

keeps rocketing back and fourth between sexulization and infantilization

you had kimiko glenn but didnt give her a single fucking song?

26. Sir Pentious

the secret season one redeemed.

the pilot version of him felt more like someone that could do a season one redemption arc, a megalomaniac constantly attempting territory grabs, there is something you can work with, actual character flaws to work through.

essentially a child after the first episode.

actually a snake which i appreciate.

no where near steampunky enough.

27. the villians of the show dont make much sense, each one feels like they should be season long deals on their own instead of a bunch of team rocket esque idiots that show up on occasion, do a bad thing and then leave.

28. Valentino

gOD THERE IS SO MUCH RED

only a moth some of the time.

sucks as a villain, maybe they need more screen time to show why they suck in a more substantial way aside from being told that he sucks.

it is interesting that angel dust is only under his magical control when in the studio, it shows that angel dust has to make a conscious choice to return, which in turn can be made to show how abusers can draw back their victims. I do not think it was done well in this circumstance as it shows him to be cartoonishly evil, constantly flying back and fourth between sweet and utter psycho, there is no actual reason for angel dust to ever actually go back to the studio, he just does so every so often.

29. Vox

legit who cares? the only thing about him that is in any way substantial is all the dope ass fan art we get.

propaganda machine angle that is not explored at all, just hinted at. no actual barring on the story whatsoever.

why didn't he try to do the same shit as alastor by the way? he knows its bad if alastor gets in good with charlie so shouldn't it be a ass kissing race?

same body shape as literally every other male character.

tumblr sexy man version of pyrocynicals fursona.

30. Valvette

the actual poster child of the shows huge problem of "Show me, don't tell me".

apparently the glue that holds the villains together. never shown.

apparently the one that makes the love potions that valentino is famous for. had to learn about that in the fuckin wiki trivias

we know so much about her from things outside of the show.

was there to call carmilla a coward, that's her plot contribution. she shows up every now and again but its never anything substantial and serves to more around take up run time for people We Don't Need To Know Yet.

im not trying to be mean, animation is animation, we need smaller studios to have success in the industry so that other indie studios can have that success, felling a tree makes it easier for others to follow. showing that its possible to number brain rot exacs helps all animators.

but this show has so much bullshit attached to it, it has so much fucking potential that it fries my brain with unyielding frustration.

this took a bit to write, im tired, thanks for reading.

#hazbin hotel

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yandere-daydreams · 2 years ago

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Title: Captured.

A Continuation of This Piece.

Pairing: Yandere!Geto x Reader x Yandere!Gojo (JJK).

Word Count: 3.3k.

TW: AFAB!Reader, Dub/Con -> Non/Con, Implied Kidnapping, Oral Sex, Threesomes, The Pervasive Aire of Homoerotica, Slight Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Violence, Intimidation, and Biting. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

He let you wait outside while he booked a room. It was a test, obviously – to see if you’d try and run as soon as he let you out of his sight. You didn’t. You kept your back pressed against the peeling cement wall and your hands in your pockets as the man at the front desk screamed, as you listened to the slick sounds of carnage and Geto’s muffled laughter. By the time he came out, his clothes dotted with dark stains and his hands lathered in the same dripping scarlet, you thought you might’ve been too sick for whatever he wanted to do with you.

He held up a hand, two keys and their accompanying plastic tags hanging from each finger. “Pick a number, one through ten.”

You just wanted to get this over with. Then, you wouldn’t have to worry about monsters or mysterious men or any of this ever again. “Eight.”

“Oh, the honeymoon suite.” Your eyes widened, and he cocked his head to the side. “Kidding, kidding. That’ll have to wait, for now.”

The room was nicer than you’d expected. Not quite the oppressively beige monstrosity you’d feared, but not as far from the eye-bleedingly pink love hotel that’d be the permanent backdrop in your worst nightmares as you would’ve liked. Currently, you were sitting on the edge of a king-sized bed with faux-velvet sheets, staring at your feet as Geto washed his hands in the in-suite bathroom. So lost in your own spiraling thoughts, you didn’t notice the water shutting off, didn’t hear him approaching you until the mattress dipped at your side and a pair of hands came to rest on either side of your waist. In one smooth, effortless motion, you were hauled into his lap, left to balance on his thigh as his eyes raked over you unabashedly. “You should try to relax. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were afraid of me.” His hand fell to the hem of your sweater. You’d gotten dressed in a blind panic after waking up to an apartment crawling with those awful things, but now, you regretted not throwing on as many layers as you could, not putting as many barriers as you could between yourself and the feeling of his calloused fingers skirting over your skin. “I can help take the edge off, if you’d like.”

For the first time that day, you felt a spark of relief. “Do you have anything? I’m alright with pills.”

“I was thinking something more along the lines of…” His hand splayed over your stomach, his tone laced with a dark edge. “Choking you until you black-out, then having my way with your helpless body?”

“Oh.” Just as quickly, that spark was extinguished – crushed under an unforgiving heel and stamped into total nonexistence. “I… I think I’d rather be awake, thank you.”

He hummed, tapping two fingers against your hip. “Have it your way, little one.”

Without warning, you were thrown onto the center of the bed. Before you could haul yourself up, before you could fully realize what was going on, Geto was between your open legs, mouth latched onto the inside of your thigh and his hands tearing at your shorts. The flimsy material gave away easily, and your panties didn’t last much longer. You took back what you’d said about wearing less revealing clothes; making this take any longer than it already did would’ve been torture. As deftly as he worked, the knot of dread forming in your chest was faster, quickly overshadowing every rational thought you might’ve had in favor of telling you that you weren’t supposed to be here, that this was dangerous, that you didn’t know what was going on, that you—

His broad tongue laved over your now-exposed slit, and your panicked mind went completely blank. His mouth was hot, and he didn’t waste time, latching onto your clit and sucking before you could think to push him away. Your body, nerves fried by adrenaline and senses dialed up to the point of hypersensitivity, responded immediately, your back arching as you struggled to swallow back a fractured moan. He encouraged your reactions, laving over your clit as two of his fingers found their way to your now-dripping entrance.

His digits slipped into you without resistance, scissoring apart and splitting you open as your own hands balled around the sheets, as you locked your jaw into place and did what little you could swallow back any sounds that’d make you seem more pathetic than you already were. Your pitiful attempts at resistance earned a throaty chuckle that reverberated against your clit and made your thighs clench together. Vaguely, in the distance, you felt his hand curl around your ankle, then you were being bent in half, your legs thrown over his shoulders as he ate you out like a man starved. It was all you could do to keep your eyes shut, the tears that would’ve escaped otherwise safely locked away, to make sure you didn’t kick or thrash or do anything that’d make him decide you’d be more entertaining after you’d been half-mauled by one of his monsters. It was all you could do to keep your mind blank, to block out the terrible, wet noises rising up from between your thighs, to—

The door creaked as it swung open, and you scrambled to pull away from Geto, to cover yourself before someone saw you being brought to the brink of climax by a murderer. He held you in place, though, his grip turning vice-like as he kept you splayed-open and on-display for the familiar, white-haired stranger now standing in the doorway. “Satoru,” Geto started, still idly pumping his fingers into you. “How kind of you to join—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. You closed your eyes, and when you opened them again, Gojo had him pinned to the far wall, a small crater blown into the cement where the point of collision would’ve been. You could see an orb of blinding, blue light forming in his other hand, but Geto only clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Keep your dick in your pants, pervert,” he purred, eyes flitting to you. “There are innocents nearby.”

The orb of light disappeared, but Gojo didn’t move. “I don’t mind getting my hands dirty.”

You watched a first form at Geto’s side, watched in a daze as his knuckles collided with Gojo’s cheek with enough force to send him flying across the room and into the side of the bed, fracturing the steel frame. “Me neither, ‘toru.”

Letting out a ragged exhale, Gojo pushed himself to his feet and their conversation devolved into a rush of blows and kicks and insults half-finished before Gojo’s fist collided with Geto’s chin or Geto caught Gojo’s throat in his teeth. Clothes were torn, blood spilled across cheap carpeting, and you blinked once, twice, before shaking your head and hauling yourself up and taking stock of the situation.

They were fighting. Eventually, one of them would probably win, and that winner would probably want to fuck you. Maybe, after that, one of them would also help you. Maybe.

Gojo caught Geto’s hair in his fist and pulled. You could’ve sworn you heard Geto moan.

Okay. Alright. Yeah. No. Fuck this, actually.

Slowly, careful not to make a sound, you stood up and pulled your sweater down to cover your still dripping cunt before inching towards the door which was, surprisingly, still in one piece (it would dawn on you later that Geto must’ve left it unlatched, if not open, much to your delayed mortification). You could figure something else out. There were two other people who knew about your monsters, which meant there must’ve been at least one more. Gojo had been wearing a uniform, when you first met him, running for your life from the mangled mess of teeth and claws that’d managed to sink its talons into you, and you thought you’d heard him mention a school. You could find someone else, someone who wouldn’t ask for sex, someone who wouldn’t know your name before you introduced yourself, someone who’d give you a protective charm or a talisman and then demand for money or unpaid labor in return. You could—

It felt like vertigo, like the surface of the Earth had shifted underneath you. Your body tilted, collapsed, and then Gojo’s arm was wrapped around your waist, his chest pressed into your back and his fingers burrowed into the flesh of your side. “Trying to get away?” His voice was raspy. Geto must’ve gotten his throat. “That’s not very nice.”

“You were the one who burst in uninvited and distracted me,” Geto muttered. His lip was busted, and he cracked his nose back into place as he hauled himself up from the floor. “If you hadn’t interrupted us, they’d still be cumming on my tongue so adorably.”

Gojo didn’t seem to pay him any mind. His attention remained fixed on you, his free hand drifting to your vulnerable pussy. Using his thumb, he gathered some of the slick staining your inner thighs, toying with it as he spoke. “I thought the first time I touched you like this would be more romantic.” He paused, his ears ghosting over the shell of your ear. “Or, the first time I touched you while you were awake, at least. It… it got harder to control myself, toward the end.”

You snapped to Geto, teeth bared. “This wasn’t what we agreed to. I don’t want to—”

“Don’t talk to him.” His fingers slipped into you, curling against the walls of your cunt. Your breath hitched in your chest, and Gojo pressed a fleeting kiss into your cheek. “Don’t look at him. He’s not supposed to be here.”

“I could say the same thing about you, Satoru.” Stretching his back, he made his way back to the bed and collapsed onto it, letting out a strained groan. “If I hadn’t been so kind as to donate all of those very valuable, very hard-to-come-by curses to your pitiful cause, you would’ve waited… how long? Another year before so much as breathing the same air as your little crush?” His half-lidded stare met yours, and he smirked. “You should have a taste. The poor thing is heavenly when they’re scared.”

“He’s always been this bossy. I’m sorry you had to deal with him on your own.” Gojo drew back, but didn’t let you go. Rather, he looped an arm under your knees and pulled you off your feet, carrying you back to that fucking bed. He laid you out with more care than Geto had, but his expression remained uncannily blank. He’d been blindfolded the first time you’d met, and whatever eyewear he’d come with had been either removed or torn away, revealing eyes that were almost painfully blue. The only mercy was his hair – long enough to fall over his face and obscure his empty gaze, his parted lips. His hand drifted to your injured leg, still bandaged from the knee down, and his lips quirked downward. “I’m sorry you had to get hurt, too. But…” He smiled, leaned in until his forehead rested against yours. “It’s good that we’ll get to be together, right?”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell him to stop touching you, to let you go home, but you couldn’t go home, so you said nothing.

Geto let out an exaggerated yawn. “I didn’t put this little reunion together because I wanted to hear you talk, ‘toru.”

“See what I mean? So fucking bossy.” And yet, one of his hands fell away from you. You heard fabric rustle, metal clink, and then his cock was free, prodding against the inside of your thigh. You could feel your heart drop into your stomach as your eyes broke away from his and raked over his pale shaft, his flushed head, already leaking beads of ivory precum. He was tall. They were both massive, but nothing attached to a human being should’ve been that big. “You’re lucky I’m letting you watch.”

“Who said I’d be watching?” So preoccupied by your own terror, you didn’t notice Geto shifting until you felt his hands on your sides, then at the hem of your sweater, pulling your only remaining protection over your head. You scrambled to stop him, but there wouldn’t have been much you could to do fend him off at your best, let alone in the state you’d been reduced to tonight. With a breathy chuckle, he finished stripping you down, his attention immediately falling to your chest. “You wouldn’t want me leaving you alone with him, would you, little one?” He bowed his head, catching your nipple with his teeth and pulling harshly. A pained whine slipped past your lips before you could choke it back, and he turned towards Gojo, grinning. “See? They like me.”

Whatever rage Gojo felt, he managed to bury it beneath a soft smile, a pulse of pure electricity in his eyes as he took his cock in his hand, dragging the tip over your entrance. You thrashed, kicked, fought, but he only cooed as he thrust into you, like he was trying to comfort you. Like you would need to be comforted if he just stopped.

He bottomed out, his hips pressing into yours with a blissful sigh, and you lurched forward, moving to claw at his eyes, to wrap your hands around his throat, to do something. Geto caught your wrists before you could so much as touch him, though – laughing as he forced your arms flush against the mattress. As Gojo started to move in earnest, Geto slotted his lips against yours, taking advantage of your distress to force his tongue into your mouth while Gojo fucked you open, whatever gentleness he’d been attempting to show you falling away in favor of burying himself that much deeper in your tight heat. As soon as Geto pulled away, Gojo took his place, his kiss not quite as aggressive but no less invasive, no less unwelcome. You should’ve never left your apartment. You should’ve never run from your monsters. At least they might’ve been kind enough to kill you quickly.

By the time he broke away from you, your vision was spotted with black, your lungs aching from a lack of oxygen. Jerkily, he straightened his back and raised a hand, his fingers soon tangled in Geto’s hair. You watched in a daze as teeth clashed against teeth and lips collided with a bruising force, and considered the terrifying possibility that you might’ve been the first person either of them had ever kissed.

Gojo’s pace turned erratic, his hold on your hip crushing. His pelvic bone caught on your clit every time he thrust into you. You’d been able to control yourself when faced with Geto’s teasing, but now, every little cracked moan and pained whimper slid past your lips, barely audible above the sound of slick squelching and skin slapping against skin. Unwillingly, you clenched around him, and Gojo doubled over with a throaty groan, burying his face in the side of your neck. You felt his mouth on your throat, then his teeth, sinking into your skin deep enough to draw blood. You clenched your eyes shut, willing your body to go numb to the pain, to ignore the coil of pure agony winding tighter in your core, but Geto caught your chin, forcing you to tilt your head back and stare up at him. “Trying to run away again so soon?”

“S-stop,” you half-sobbed, trying to pry his hand away from your face. “Don’t touch me—”

“We’ll have to bring a gag along, next time. That is, unless you learn to be more appreciative.” He shrugged his sweatpants below his waist, wrapping his fist around his cock and guiding it to your lips. “Open up, little one.”

You grit your teeth, keeping your mouth shut as tightly as you could, but Gojo bit down on your collarbone and you screamed, jerking against him. Geto took advantage of your misery, slipping a thumb into your mouth and prying your teeth apart, forcing his cock down your throat. “Bite down,” he muttered, voice low and tone sharpened, “and I’ll make sure he knocks you up.”

A wave of cold dread washed over you, but you didn’t have time to linger on your newly realized fear. Geto was already fucking your skull, already leaving you struggling not to choke as you tried to remember how to breathe around him. Where Gojo was uncontrolled, Geto almost seemed… unaffected, holding your head in place while he rolled his hips with the idle pace of a man determined to milk every second he could out of you. It was unbearable; the burning in your throat, the heat in your core, the feeling of Gojo battering into your cunt until you couldn’t stop your legs from twitching, your back from arching, your pussy from clenching around Gojo’s length and drawing a sinful noise from somewhere deep in his chest. You let out a ragged moan half-suffocated by Geto’s cock, and then you were coming undone around him, your body convulsing underneath his. Gojo wasn’t far behind. With a hitched groan, he pressed his hips into yours and pushed another open-mouthed kiss into your neck, making no attempt to pull out before flooding your pussy with something thick and awful.

Geto wasn’t far behind, his eyes falling shut as he came down your throat. For the longest time, neither of them moved, Geto forcing you to choke down every last drop of his cum while Gojo stare down at you, eyes blank and lips parted, his expression caught somewhere between tender and awe-struck.

Finally, he glanced away from you, looking to Geto instead. “Let’s switch. I want to feel their mouth.”

Geto let out a breath of a chuckle. With your body limp, your jaw slack, he pulled away from you, leaning just close enough to let his lips brush against your temple before straightening his back and moving to take Gojo’s place between your legs. “Whatever you say, lover boy.”

Hours later, when your skin was little more than a patchwork of hickeys and bruises and you couldn’t feel anything save for a constant, excruciating ache in your cunt, Geto had fallen asleep with his arm around your waist and Gojo laid next to you, head propped on his fist and a soft smile painted across his lips. You could see the sun starting to rise from behind the thin motel curtains, feel the dread that accompanied being in a strange place with strange men at a strange time, but it all seemed secondary, pushed to a distance by your exhaustion, your devastation. When Gojo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you out of Geto’s hold, all you could summon was a whine of protest, and even that was quickly glazed over with an airy laugh, a quiet hush.

Geto’s shirt (discarded three hours in, when he stepped aside for a shower while Gojo made you cum on his tongue for the fourth time) was pulled over your head, Gojo’s glasses (lost in the initial fight, found briefly while Geto was bouncing you on his cock with one hand and jerking Gojo off with the other, then lost again) snagged off the floor and pocketed. As he slipped out of the beaten motel door, you shut your eyes against the dim light, burying your face in his chest, and he encouraged you to, cupping the back of your neck as he pressed a kiss into your forehead. With his lips still lingering against your skin, he spoke, his voice muffled by his proximity. “It’s alright. You can sleep, if you need to.”

It might’ve been sweeter, if you hadn’t been able to feel every inch of his smile cutting into your skin.

“I promised I’d keep you safe, didn’t I?”

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laylaplease · 9 months ago

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NEFARIOUS SIESTA —

MDNI 「 Anakin Skywalker × Fem!reader, somnophilia, non-con, groping, virgin reader, clit play, brief vaginal penetration, corruption kink 」

Snuggled neatly on top of him in your pretty sundress, Anakin soon became your favorite substitute for a mattress — a safe space to doze off whenever you were hit with a wave of tiredness. Your boyfriend, however, wasn’t quite fond of this activity. Spiraling into the vortex of his own filth, Anakin finds it especially difficult to keep his hands above your hips. Watching his angel’s sleep face with her eyelashes resting on her cheeks, pouty lips begging for a kiss, and the plush of her breasts spilling over his chest sparks a terrible need in his head. A need to get his nasty grip over her body and make sure not a hole is left unrearranged.

Trying to fight the undeniable tightening of his pants, Anakin shifts your body up towards him, moving your thigh off his painful crotch. Feeling safe in the arms of your dearest boy who spoils you rotten and treats you like his own little princess, you don’t even shift and continue your precious siesta in the safety of his embrace. That’s when Anakin realizes.

Trailing his flesh hand down your spine, he brushes his fingers over the hemline of your pretty garment. Eyes locked on your face, he’s reminded of the way you plead Ani, I’m not ready yet whenever his greedy paws wander to the Edens of your body. Can’t fight him this time, can you?

Seeing the lack of alertness on your features, Anakin continues his voyage. Slowly folding the lilac pleats over your ass, he curses the laying position from preventing the sight of your underwear. With a featherlike touch, he traces the material, creating a mental image of your lace boyshorts he itched to tear off. Sadly, that would, with no doubt, have caused your awakening, and he just couldn’t risk such an unfortunate incident.

His caress travels down your thigh, which, hiked all the way up to his torso, allows him a perfect opening to your delicious pint. Oh, how would he worship that little virgin hole, stretching it open and filling it full of love... If only his princess weren’t such a prude brat. Look what you’ve done — turned him into a pervert!

Shaking the doubts from his mind, his digits swiftly slip past the material, fingertips tickling your tightly shut slit. One touch is plenty to make his cock stand up proudly, stretching his sweats into a tent. He touches you slowly, the lack of arousal knotting his eyebrows into an unpleased frown. Knowing your sleepy body is too unaware to answer his brief teasing, his long fingers seek further, searching for the tiny nub buried between your folds.

Rubbing your puffy clit, he’s soon pleased with your juices seeping into his palm. That’s when your limbs start twitching as your tummy floods with a familiar warmth. Anakin can’t help but grin to himself proudly, seeing the blissful expression bloom on your face. The same expression Anakin has seen plenty of times when your inexperienced hand is wandering around your cherry folds, calling his name while he secretly stands in the secret corners of your room. He never could keep to himself, not when you moaned for him so sweetly, so desperately, he just had to send a little tingle, a little flick of the force right at your nipple or poor, neglected clit…

But this.. This was different. He was really touching you, feeling your smooth body under his fingers, tainting the precious virgin fields with his desperate touch. You were his; you needed him, so what if you told him no countless times? You were his for the taking; your cunt was MEANT to stretch around him, and soon he would prove that to you. Prove that your pussy was created to host his seed, to be filled over and over again until your walls bruise and your mind recognizes him as your rightful owner.

I don’t want to, it’ll hurt… You’d pout at him each time he’d offer to 'make love to you’, making him wonder how you could guess his intentions to pound you stupid until you’re sore for days. He was only laughing at those memories now while having you at his mercy.

Slowly moving his hand out of your panties, he brings it to his face, watching it glisten with your nectar. Wanting to savor every moment of claiming you, he slowly licks his palm clean of your stickiness.

Once the flavor of you settles on his taste buds, he can no longer bear the ache of his cock, begging to be enveloped inside your creamy tunnel. Careful not to move you, he tugs his sweatpants down, freeing his throbbing length. For a moment he just stares down at you, imagining the struggle your tiny pussy will have to go through to welcome him inside. The way you’ll start whining and squirming in his arms as he splits you apart, the way your hands will cling to him for comfort, and teary eyes will be boring into his, seeking comfort and approval. And he’d give it to you; Anakin would give you anything. At the snap of your fingers, he’d tear his rib cage open and present his heart to you. Is he not worthy of your chastity?

His aching tip finally probes at your creamed lips, rising you from the meadows of your dreams, tainting the last bits of innocence. With every hazy blink, the sleep slips from under your eyelashes, welcoming every torturous inch. And all you want to say, all you can muster is,

Ani, please…

Layla's note || I hope this was not too dusty after months of not writing, I've missed Anakin dearly. If you enjoyed, please consider helping me take care of my senior puppy here in my Ko-Fi. Vet bills are messy this month so anything makes a difference :) My content and requesting will always be free, this is just me looking for a little help out here too 🤍

#anakin x reader #anakin x reader fanfic #anakin x reader smut #anakin x you #anakin x y/n #anakin x fem reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x female reader #anakin skywalker smut #anakin smut #anakin one shot #anakin imagine #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker imagine

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socksual-innuendos · 2 months ago

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What are ghouls?

we just don't know....

Some ghoul biology headcanons and some review of the two different ghoulification methods (as supported and not by canon)

This was initially sparked by how I hate the implication of all ghouls being obligate addicts to prevent going feral (as seen from the show). However, given what we know of the themes of Fallout and some confirmations in both FO: Prime and FO4, I've decided there might be some interesting implications here, along with further looks into what makes ghoul go ghoul.

Please let me know what you think, I love this sort of meta talk.

Edit Log:

Edit 1 (4/25) - Spelling, phrasing, and additional Glowing One information made to "Biological Quirks" section in Radiation

So what are ghouls?

Well, a short description from what we see from the wiki/games/canon is that ghouls are those exposed to radiation that don't die of radiation poisoning and instead mutate. Exposure means vary from accidental exposure from the bombs/irradiated areas to outright deliberate exposures via experimentation, hopes for immortality, or simply listed as....."serum/drug".

The games have shown us that the process of ghouling isn't just novel to humans, nor is it just novel to humanoid shapes (see; Harold). However I am going to specifically cover humans and how they ghoulify.

There isn't a set reason on what exactly predisposes someone to ghouling vs dying, nor is there parameters on what makes them go feral. Risk factors, yes, but nothing set in absolute stone (aside from that inhalant withdrawal) This leaves room for the fun, and boy did I have fun writing this.

So lets start with the obvious;

There are two subsets of ghouls,

This is actually implied by canon and outright stated in the meta material. One set is directly radiation induced. These are the ones we are most familiar with.

The other is biochemically created, induced by drugs. These we have a few examples of, however with little to no explanation of....why is there a ghoul drug. More specifically, no direct reason is given for "Drug that turns you ghoul". I however have some ideas on how this came about.

In this post I will cover a few topics relating to ghoul qualities and how they vary between the two sub-types. These will be;

I. Modes of Creation: How We Go Ghoul and What This Implies II. Biological Quirks III. Ferals. What Are They, What Causes Them, And Why Aren't They Attacking Each Other IV. The Rotting vs Chem-Heads: Interpersonal Politics Within Non-Feral Ghoul Populations

I. Modes of Creation: How We Go Ghoul and What This Implies

Ghouls Created by Radiation Exposure:

So you've just survived the nuclear holocaust. What's next? Well, if the onset of radiation sickness is anything to go by, then not much....

Unless you're one of the lucky few who ghoulify.

But what causes one to ghoulify and another to succumb to the radiation? What exactly in the genes make one turn while another simply dies. The exact answer does not seem to exist, however we are shown in several cases that Pre-War was not afraid to experiment with radiation.

While in some instances these experimentation involved medications or chemicals (see: next section), there is mention of controlled exposures to radiation being something studied.

This experimentation can be seen through Vault-Tec Vaults (Vault 12) and implied in a few pre-war medical buildings/holotapes (Robco Buildings, the accounts of Control Subject Peters) and with outright accounts, such as Eddie Winters and Desmond Lockhart.

In short, while we don't precisely know if Pre-War knew that ghouls from radiation exposure were truly and properly immortal, or even considered them as a "successful" rabbit hole to pursue for immortality, we know that experiments to study the effects of radiation sickness were performed. In some cases, the exposure was to test for serums and medications that would hopefully prevent/reverse radiation sickness (And likely how we got Rad-X/RadAway. See: FO4s Control Patient Peter's Logs).

We do however see that irradiation is likely the most common mode for many of the ghouls of the wastelands. Pre-War ghouls that were not part of radiation exposure experiments were often times implied to be those not from areas directly in blast range and rather came into radiation exposure after they crawled out through the falled-out, baby (kill me). However, those directly in the blast that weren't vaporized are often implied to immediately be turned feral (Camp Searchlight, and other similarly directly hit areas), though sections such as Lonesome Road and certain in-game ghouls prove that some do not immediately turn feral.

These ghouls are described as experiencing radiation sickness that never got around to killing them before...it almost seeming to get better. They experience the GI upset, hemorrhaging, "illness" (fever), confusion, sloughing of necrotic tissues, and so on, before stabilizing into what we call ghouls. It is assumed that they eventually hit the "regenerative" stage of ghoulification after their bodies succumb to these symptoms. This may be evident due to radiation exposed ghouls having the intense healing potentials as ghouls, but never "gaining back" normal, non rotting appearance.

Ghouls Created by Biochemical Means:

We know through Hancock that there is an "experimental radiation drug" that can ghoulify people. We see something similar in FO:Prime, with Thaddeus taking a "healing serum" from the Chicken Fucker and how it looks (both in color and method of using) similar to that of the chem that The Ghoul uses/depends on. We are given both The Ghoul and one of his acquaintances (Ass Jerky) as direct examples of being dependent on this chem to prevent going feral.

According to the wiki, there are implications of two different types of chems that can cause a person to ghoul, directly quoted with "This does depend on the type of the drug"

While I am not too certain that these drugs differ all that much in how they cause ghouification, I have a theory about why the wiki needed to state multiple types of chems that ghoulify an individual.

Firstly that there is mention of experiments for immortality. I believe that this may be an "all roads", a converging of methods to one end, type scenario. Multiple drug types, one outcome. One or more of the major corporations was trying to unlock the secrets to immortality, however in this world that usually comes to the end of "ghoulifying" in some manner. I believe this is the drug-type that those like Hancock had found and used. This is the rarest of these types of drugs (as supported by canon) and also does not cause dependency of its users.

Secondly, I believe there are other handful of instances where some tried to create failed (or even prototype) Rad-X like medications (or even some kind of advanced form of Stimpaks) prior to the war as a "Keep this in your prep-kit" first-aid. This would be the direct medication (and in long post-war scenarios "Copy Cat" medication) that those like The Ghoul and ghouls in Fallout: Prime are dependent on. This would easily explain how some people, pre-war (such as Cooper Howard, as we know his personality pre-war) who may seem resistant to the idea of experimental or even promised immortality, would accidentally become a ghoul who is obligatorily stuck taking this medication. This being an assumed Rad-X/Immediate big wound healing-like drug would also allow for easy accidental (or deliberate) manufacturing post-war selling of it. Home brewed variations of a radiation resistant/Stimpak-like medication can sometimes have opposite effects, and this may be how some people "accidentally" become biochemically created ghouls.

We can however see that there is a market created for biochemical ghouls and their stabilizing medications as both F76 and FO: Prime show that these drugs are manufactured post-war and specifically for ghouls.

The wiki mentions that biochemically created ghouls retain their appearances longer than radiation created ghouls, however ultimately they begin their own process of becoming what we know more traditionally as ghouls. We can see this illustrated with Thaddeus from the show.

Now let's move on to how they differ as ghouls;

II. Biological Quirks

Ghouls are defined by a few qualities;

Extended lifespan (functionally immortal), enhanced healing factors, immunity to disease, radiation perks, nourishment requirements, and issues with sterility/reproduction.

We will dive into each of these topics and discuss that while both ghouls may share these qualities, there may be some variance into the extent or modes of how these qualities present.

Extended Lifespan:

We have come to understand and observe that ghouls will live, functionally, forever, unless killed. This point is fairly straight forward, however going feral is an ever present fear amongst both irradiated ghouls and biochemical ghouls. While we will explore ferals later on in this post, we will note that this can be seen as its own form of "death" within certain ghoul communities.

Enhanced Healing Factors:

We are both shown and told that ghouls have incredible healing abilities. While they cannot regrow limbs, it is shown that they can reattach missing body parts so long as one is available to graft.

We will get into nourishment needs in its own section, however I believe that the healing factors also extend here. Ghouls can sustain themselves longer without food or water due to some work of their healing factors, however this creates a strain on the body that makes injury recuperation dampen slightly.

However, while ghouls tend to be able to regenerate from bodily injury with ease, we can see some examples of preexisting conditions not being healed (a directly given example is Hugo Stolz in F76, who remains blind even after ghoulification). This may be explained with the same reason as to why ghoul skin is necrotic and does not seem to heal itself. My personal justification is that anything that happens prior to a ghoul "stabilizing" is almost always permanent.

Another thing to note is how this regeneration is an imperfect process. This may be best illustrated with how biochemical ghouls have a slower "ghouling" of their appearance. It is mentioned that "accumulating damage will change the ghoul's appearance over time". This implies that sometimes healing from an injury is not done perfectly or appropriately. This could also explain why some ghouls have different disfigurements or gain degenerative conditions such as arthritis, loss of vision, or hearing.

Immunity To Disease:

We know that ghouls have an amazing ability to regenerate, however it is not gone into detail about how they are "unaffected by most common diseases". I personally believe there is some nuance to this between irradiated ghouls and biochemical ghouls.

Irradiated ghouls no longer have an immune system. This was something destroyed and not gotten back (much like how areas of skin will slough off and not regen). However, due to their body's base radiation retention there are very few ailments that can actually infect an irradiated ghoul to being symptomatic. Their bodies are generally inhospitable to outside invading organisms.

Biochemical ghouls on the other hand retain some of their immune system and have a lesser resistance to disease than an irradiated ghoul. However they have a better resistance than an unmutated human to diseases.

Both ghoul types rely on their bolstered resistance to disease and their healing factors to protect against diseases as most medications do not work on them, or at least have a lessened overall efficacy. Again this goes off the logic from the wikia that a ghoul's healing factors provide some dampening effects to chems. Also through this logic, poisons tend to also need to be administered in much higher doses for a ghoul to even feel the effects of it.

While most medications do not tend to effect ghouls or only work at higher dosages, there is a special interaction they have with Rad-X and RadAway. We will explore this in the next section.

Radiation; Resistance To And Effects Of:

Ghouls are especially known for their resistance to radiation. This is a quality that is as associated with them as the potential of going feral is. However, I believer there are some key differences between the ghoul types and their interactions with radiation.

Irradiated ghouls stand to gain the most from radiation, for obvious reasons. While traveling through the warm glowing fields of areas still emitting high levels of radiation is a perk in and of itself, they also stand to gain some physical benefits from this as well.

With the example of the Marked Men, it is shown that ghouls can subsist off radiation alone. I also believe this bolsters their base healing factors. Toss a bag of meat pulped ghoul into a nuclear waste spill and he'll join you for dinner in a few hours. They may also experience boosts in mood and endurance.

Irradiated ghouls are canonically mentioned to also hold onto their radiation exposure, where some even become glowing ones. I do think that a ghoul must have moments of "recharge" to remain glowing ones, as over time radiation decays off the body. While the short term doesn't seem to be effected by this, for beings who can live hundreds of years, some can see fluctuations of internal radiation retention.

There is also mentioned for glowing ones being somewhat eccentric. With this idea I say continued radiation exposure and retention can produce almost a high or destortive effect to cognitive function if left unchecked.

Almost comically, while ghouls have no direct use for RadAway, they can use it to drop this retained radiation. This however is dangerous for Irradiated ghouls...

There is however mentions that radiation exposure can be a risk factor of feralization. We will go into further detail later on, however I will slightly touch on this now.

Concentrated blasts of radiation can be dangerous for both ghoul types, however high radiation exposure over time is more a risk factor for biochemical ghouls going feral than irradiated ghouls. On the other hand, irradiated ghouls using RadAway would put them at a higher risk for going feral. Thankfully this later issue is not something most irradiated ghouls need to consider. Most documented RadAway use in ghouls is for retained radiation regulation for those choosing to stay within human colonies.

Nourishment Requirements:

The wiki seems to be pretty inconsistent with this, so I take this as an invite to shoehorn my theories in. The wiki says that ghouls do need to feed and water themselves to stay alive, however we are given a few instances where this is heavily not the case.

Outright, we are given exceptions to the rule with Coffin Willy, Woody, Billy Peabody (fridge kid), and The Ghoul, all of whom had scenarios of being deprived of food and water and survived for extended periods (and most egregiously is Billy, who was trapped in a fridge starving and thirsty for over 200 years).

This is justified however by them being in "a hibernation like state", however other examples are also the Marked Men, who are said to be sustained off radiation alone. These ghouls are shown to be in an active and alert state. Raul Tejada himself mentions baking in the sun for several days, and while unmoving, had to trek three days back to civilization afterwards. We may see other examples of this through dialogue implications where ghouls may be deprived of food and water needs for durations that would kill a regular human.

I believe however that this can be dangerous for ghouls, especially given our next discussion of feralization.

It is worth noting that the wikia says ghouls have lost their sense of taste. While this may be a common phenomenon, we see it may not necessarily hold true for all ghouls due to comments from ghoul companions regarding flavor preferences. (See: Raul's sweet tooth)

Sterility/Reproduction:

While it is broadly understood that ghouls cannot reproduce, the wiki does not dive into much more detail here. I, however, propose that while radiation as a whole is detrimental to the reproductive system, coupled with the regenerative effects of ghouls, there are some...unfortunate outliers within this topic.

In regards to spermatogenesis, sperm count is at a constant low. Assuming there is anything produced, it is almost always malformed in someway.

In regards to ovum, almost all remaining eggs within the ovaries are considered mutated and non-viable. While menstruation is not unheard of in ghouls, it is more likely to occur in biochemical ghouls. However, all cycles are highly abnormal with next to no regularity. Ghouls will eventually hit a 'menopause' and 'post menopausal' state, however this is not conventional in timeline as with humans.

While viability of either gamete is near non-existent, this doesn't prove absence of fertilization. Most common cases of fertilization is that between human egg cells and ghoul sperm cells. While this often ends with miscarriage in the blastocyst stage, implantation has happened in even rarer cases. Intervention is usually needed as this often is ectopic or produces continual hemorrhage. In even rarer cases, these can produce teratoma type "pregnancies".

Very rarely does a ghoul egg cell get fertilized. It is almost undocumented and it is believed this is due to every instance of fertilization is miscarried before or soon after implantation.

Within the realm of sexual disease, there is few directly infectious agents to worry about between ghouls. However, for ghouls with human partners it is encouraged to use barrier-type protection or other means to limit radiation exposure. Necrotic tissue is also a concern, especially when exposed to mucosa membranes. Exposure of irradiated semen to these membranes is also another large concern for human partners. Condoms are highly encouraged, with rad-checks and use of RadAway being another measure to facilitate healthy measures for these relations.

III. Ferals. What Are They, What Causes Them, And Why Aren't They Attacking Each Other

So let's talk ferals. Aside from the rotting flesh smell and appearance, the threat of going feral is among one of the biggest factors that non mutants use for ostracizing ghouls, and one of the biggest internal threats that ghouls face.

While we understand what causes feralization and know risk factors, what precisely triggers one to turn feral while another doesn't is about as well understood as what makes some go ghoul in the first place.

Feralization is described as a degenerative process of the mind and, in late stages, the body.

In this section we will cover a few things;

1.) Risk factors and how they fluctuate between ghoul sub-types. 2.) Behaviors of ferals 3.) Inter-community treatment of ferals

Risk Factors: What Are They And How They Differ Between Ghoul Subtypes:

We are of the understanding that ghouls can turn feral when experiencing certain physical or mental stressors. These stressors are reported as follows;

Social Isolation Poor Mental State/Intense Emotional Stressors Exposure to Intense Radiation Genetic Factors

While the above are wiki provided risk factors, I have included some of my own accepted risk factors below;

Intense Physical Stressors Extended Periods of Fasting/Dehydration Sudden Decrease in Retained Radiation Substance Withdrawal

First we will address the risk factors that effect both sub-types and discuss how these can pose higher or lower threats based upon the specific biology of said ghouls.

Social isolation, poor mental state/intense emotional stressors, genetic factors, substance withdrawal, intense physical stressors, and extended periods of dehydration/starvation are all things that can trigger feralization in ghouls, however the threshold for such will vary among the individuals.

For irradiated ghouls, exposure to intense radiation is unlikely to be a trigger for feralization unless it is a direct, concentrated blast of radiation. However if there is a sudden decrease in their retained radiation, such as if RadAway is used in high enough doses, then feralization is a much higher concern.

Irradiated ghouls have somewhat of an advantage against starvation/dehydration, as being in areas with a higher ambient radiation can mitigate the ill effects of not eating/drinking.

Biochemical ghouls, however, struggle more with going longer periods of time without sustenance. They are also more vulnerable to continued exposure to high doses of radiation. While it is unfair to include their serum under substance withdrawal, it is also their main means to prevent feralization. However both ghoul types are vulnerable to withdrawal causing them to turn.

Behaviors of Ferals:

It is well known that feral ghouls are a dangerous type, however it is also well known that they do not seem to attack each other nor other ghouls.

If feralization is a degradation of higher cognitive function, how is it then that most feral ghouls know when they are in like company? This is not so well understood, however it has been observed that appearance does play a role but is not a sure fire way to pass through a horde of feral ghouls. One theory I have is that ferals are drawn to radiation and by extension can feel it off other ghoulified beings. This keeps them in a calmer, more contented state. Surprisingly, super mutants seem to also bypass the ire of feral ghouls. The precise reason for this is less understood, however FEV may have some play here. It is known that ferals have heightened senses, perhaps even FEV created mutants have a specific smell that does not trigger a hunt response in feral populations.

In regards to their dangerous behaviors, ferals seem to be driven by hyper aggression and hunger. I will take liberties and a page from the lobotomite handbook, as well as reference how some extensive cognitive degeneration causes hyper sexuality/aggression in some.

However, the less observed side to ferals is one more human. While they never truly seem to know what they are doing, some ghoul colonies that tend their feral population note domestic-like behaviors such as; attempting to clean, cook, perform yard work, tend dolls, or perform duties and adhere to schedules relating to those they had prior to turning feral. Some have even reported that certain ferals "remember" actions such as smoking and will perform this in rudimentary fashion.

Inter-Community Treatment of Ferals:

So now that we know more about feral ghouls, how do they fit into the world? While most of us know them as residing in city ruins, content to stay hidden away from the harshness of the burning sun and light, some have found home amongst ghoul societies.

While non-feral ghouls within mixed colonies may hold less compassionate views of their feral brethren, certain ghoul societies dedicate care and inclusion of ferals into their society. Their exclusion may even be seen as betrayal, and they are as valued and protected as much as any non-feral member.

IV. The Rotting vs Chem-Heads: Interpersonal Politics Within Non-Feral Ghoul Populations

While most people view ghouls as ghouls, and acceptance of them can vary from being seen as equals, to indifference, to outright hostility, the nuance between irradiated ghouls and biochemical ghouls is almost entirely understood exclusively within ghoul populations (or with those that study them).

Unsurprisingly, this has caused some conflicts. While feralization is something that is an assumed inevitable end for all ghouls, the more immediate threat of turning plagues most biochemical ghouls near constantly. This has given some irradiated ghouls a complex that biochemical ghouls are the poster child for why most non-mutant societies fear unprompted feralization.

On the other end, biochemical ghouls will often criticize their irradiated brethren for their appearance and smell being a determining factor for why most people do not welcome ghouls into most spaces.

There is also the discussion of who has suffered more, with irradiated ghouls often citing their endurance of radiation sickness and often continued effects while biochemical ghouls often quote their substance dependency as a constant struggle.

V. In Conclusion:

So surely with all that we have learned so far we understand that there is much more complexity to ghouls than initially thought. I hope you enjoyed my compilation of ideas and stuff I got off the wiki/from gameplay as much as I enjoyed writing it.

If you have any ideas or compilations for ghouls, feel free to drop them in the replies! I look forward to reading them and perhaps even working on another post regarding ghoul social and cultural structures!

#john hancock #fo4 #raul tejada #fnv #cooper howard #fo3 #f76 #foprime #ghouls ghouls ghouls #headcanon post #fallout 4 #fallout 3 #fallout new vegas #fallout prime #fallout 76 #fallout ghouls #fall out.....boys?#charon fo3 #im just spamming tags now but i deserve it after this write up

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artechoceneexplorer · 2 months ago

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Dungeon Meshi Encyclopaedia: The Red Dragon

Another creature added to the dungeon meshi encyclopaedia!! Feared by every soul that enters the dungeon, this crimson titan can take down every creature that crosses its path: the Red Dragon (Ignidraco puniceus).

Full piece view

Close-ups and notes on the design choices:

The scientific name, like the last creature I drew, is pretty simple, as for the genus name is just a combination of fire (Igni-) and dragon (-draco); and the species name is a reference to its color, as "puniceus" refers to a bright red color (I also considered "sanguineus" for its blood red color).

This time for the external appearance of parts of the anatomy like osteoderm plates and general head morphology I stuck really close to the original design (although the body and specially head proportions are WILDLY inconsistent between manga and anime, and between parts of the same manga or anime sequence) so I tried to mix them all into a shape I ended up liking quite a lot. I based the "beak" and upper jaw texture on crocodilians and birds, and used ungulate horns as a reference for the keratin cover and the bony core shown in the skull illustration.

One detail I added that I felt was quite necessary are the black, iron covered osteoderms covering the tongue and inside of the mouth, that are used to create sparks and protect the mouth tissues from the heat. These are not present in the original design, the tongue and mouth are pink and smooth, but it probably wouldn't be able to create sparks by doing the tonguing motion without some sort of hard structure to smash together.

The inverse scale was one thing I initially wasn't sure how I was going to explain, until I started designing the mechanism of the gas fuel production in the stomach, and created this symmetrical gular sacs to hold the fuel before ignition, and thought that maybe the development of those sacs could've pushed the aorta artery to pass through the middle of the neck, right below that scaleless spot. This would definitely be a very vulnerable spot and cause the results we see in the series if that point is stabbed, with blood gushing out at high pressures and causing the dragon to rapidly bleed out.

Close-up of the head, fire breath and neck internal structure

My favourite part of the design process for this one was making the fuel mechanism. I love that the indigestible materials, similarly to birds like owls, are accumulated in the anterior chamber of the stomach and used to create fuel (this part is exclusive to dragons owls unfortunately don't produce fire from their pellets). Because the way they ignite the fuel is ambiguous, and it would be hard for the dragon to straight up ignite a stream of wet hair and bones, I opted for giving it a symbiotic relationship with microbes, hydrogen producing ones to be exact (which do exist btw). These microbes could adapt to the acidic environment of the stomach chambers, not competing with other microbes, which would allow them to produce more hydrogen. Which if you don't know, it's not only light, but extremely flammable. I would imagine at first the gular gas chambers evolved, and then the separate had tubes evolved for a more effective transport of the gas towards the sacs.

Close-up of the proventriculus, interior of the "dragon pellet" and front legs

For the second cutout I chose the "stomach" they mention in the series, which is technically not the whole stomach but a chamber of it, the gizzard, which is also found in birds and non-avian dinosaurs. I would imagine not all indigestible materials can be dissolved by the stomach acid, or digested by microbes to create fuel, but I feel like the dragon can use those as gizzard stones, to grind up the food it probably swallows whole (given that the "dragon pellet" had bones, hair and human tools). The heat and constant grinding would eventually smooth the material into round-ish objects that would eventually be passed through after being too worn down.

Close-up of the gizzard and lungs of the dragon

The skin was another part I had to speculate a little, and sort of used the ol' reliable, iron mineralised tissue, but not quite. I imagine it probably incorporates iron oxides into the keratin (maybe that's why it's red??), but below it, above the osteoderm, there is a layer of not only iron mineralised tissue, but also mixed with other more durable metals (maybe adamant?) to make it more resistant to physical and magical attacks.

Close-up of the tail and a tissue cutout of the skin showing all layers up to the dermis

The best way to fill an empty space where I don't know what to put in these pieces, babies! In this case, a baby dragon inside of a very spherical egg, similar to the ones other giant reptiles laid, such as sauropods. I would also imagine female dragons demineralise some of the iron in their tissues to reinforce the egg, making it less susceptible to braking. Also like most reptiles (including extinct ones like sauropods) it has an egg tooth that falls off after hatching.

Close-up of the back spines and a dragon egg, showing a developing embryo inside

Lastly, I had to include something about their social behaviour, so I included a drawing that is very similar to a sketch made by Ryoko Kui herself, showing the different intraspecific social behaviour of different dragon types, with red dragons being described as "persistent" and that "the weaker one will be forced to leave first". So I imagine they fight similarly to komodo dragons (since they're also shown to be able to stand on two legs for short periods of time). They probably also don't fight a lot, prefering to show off and intimidating the rival without wasting their precious fire, but using their other weapon arsenal to fight the other if they have to.

Close-up of a couple of female dragons fighting

Anyways this was all, I spent a LONG time on this one as you can see so I hope you enjoy it, the living armor is next!! :>

#art #my art #dungeon meshi encyclopaedia #illustration #clip studio paint #speculative evolution #speculative biology #fanart #creature design #spec evo #delicious in dungeon #dragon #red dragon

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izzabela · 11 months ago

Note

Hear me out hear me out.

A make out sesh with the masked characters while they still have their masks on plus the female characters if you’d be so kind.

Please and thank you.

Off or On? - MK1 (2023) Roster x GN!reader (scenario fic)

in which you make out with some of the characters with their masks on

a/n: guys... ermac may be cool but they still a dead body...

ship[s]: bi han, tomas, kuai liang, kitana, mileena, rain, reptile, general shao, takeda x gn! reader (scenarios)

warning(s): suggestive endings, kanon and non-kanon

=====================

Bi Han - Coming Home

- You waited anxiously for Bi Han in the main courtyard, pacing in the snow as you limped on a crutch. The snow could be heard beneath your feet as you kept pacing

- Bi Han was away on another mission, taking your place since your injury rendered you unable to perform. It pissed you off, especially since Bi Han tasked his brothers to take care of you

- Now, you pace in circles as you wait for any signal that a portal would appear from thin air

-Suddenly, flickers and sparks appear in the air as they form in a circle. Fire borders the portal, and out walks the iconic blue uniform and black and silver mask of Bi Han

- He's got blood on the fabric, also on his pants, but his hands remain clean. His mask also has bits of blood on it, but it adds to the charm of it all. He sighs as he walks out, and his mask hides the little smile on his face as you limp over to him and throw yourself in his arms

- "Welcome home, grandmaster," you say as you dig your face in his chest. Bi Han looks down at your face as you meet his eyes up above

- "Yes, thank you beloved," Bi Han says. He brushes your hair out of your face, and his eyes flutter close as he initiates a kiss

- Your lips meet something cold, but your eyes are closed and refusing to open. You pepper the mask with many kisses, and Bi Han realizes that his mask is still on

- "Apologies, my dear," he says as he takes his mask off. However, you stop him from taking it off

- "Keep it on... I like it like that," you whisper, hiding your face as it turns a little pink

- Bi Han chuckles as he sweeps you off your feet, beelining for the bedroom to give himself a proper welcome home with you

=====================

Tomas - Stay Quiet

- You and Tomas stay well-hidden in a tree, stalking the enemy for anything related to information regarding a new Earthrealm threat

- Unfortunately, nothing noteworthy appeared, and the enemy retires for the night, but not you two

- You both sit on a thick branch to rest, stretching and moving your limbs in order to stay fit and ready. Once all done, you lay down and have your head in Tomas's lap

- "You can't be tired already," Tomas gently scolds, petting your head as you giggle

- "I'm only resting, love. It'll take a lot more to wear me down," you say. Tomas chuckles, pulling you up in his lap and your eyes level with his

- Your hand cups his masked cheek, the rough material littered with scratches and dents from years of use

- However, it was an integral part of his identity, and an integral part to your physical attachment to him

- The mask perfectly hugs his lower face, and your fingers trace the silhouette of his mask. Tomas catches your hand and gently pulls it down and away

- Yours and his eyes become hazy, lidded with desire at the fact that there was some downtime for one another on this perilous mission

- You kiss the mask, and Tomas's hands roam your clothed back to pull you close. His breathing is muffled and labored, and he pulls away from you quickly to take it off

- "Wait! Don't take it off..." you tell him in a semi-hushed tone

- "Why? It will get in the way." Tomas is perplexed by your adamant refusal to his mask being off

- "I, uh..." you don't finish your sentence as you look away and cover your face. However, your neck is growing more colored as the warmth of embarrassment floods you

- Tomas just chuckles, pulling you close before his hands begin to roam under your uniform and undershirt

=====================

Kuai Liang - Hard Day

- Kuai Liang's breath was hard and labored behind his mask, taking a break from training Shirai Ryu initiates

- He sat on the wooden platform of the compound, away from all the ruckus and yelling of the initiates. The wind was blowing perfectly, and the temperature outside was nice and cool

- What was not cool, though, was how you surprised him from behind. Still, he managed to move just in time to avoid your childish antics

- "Ah! So close..." you groan as your arms crossed over one another, missing his sides as he stands in front of you

- He chuckles, "That was a good attempt, but it appears you'll need more training." You sigh, and you both sit down together

- "Hard day?" you ask, and he nods as he removes his mask for a couple of minutes to drink some water

- You chuckle, taking his mask and help him to put it back on. He thanks you once you hook the ends of the mask to his ears

- Mistakenly, though, he kisses your forehead with the mask on. His eyes are wide, embarrassed as his eyes dart away from yours shyly. You don't mind though, and grab his face to meet your eyes

- "Don't turn away from me, dear," you say softly, planting a quick kiss on the cheek part of his mask

- You both lean in, and your lips collide with the metal of his mask. You can hear him breathing hard, and feel his hands exploring your body under your uniform

- "But my mask..." he whispers, voice drowned out by the thickness of his mask

- "I quite like it..." you say with a little blush

- He picks you up, and it seems Kuai Liang's hard day becomes easier with you in his arms, together in bed

=====================

Kitana - Post-tournament

- Kitana sits alone, only the hanging wisterias and the stars her company

- Her sister was receiving treatment for Tarkat, meaning she had to fight in her place during the kombat tournament

- However, she was beaten by an Earthrealm farmer. A humble one. While she was pleased with his humility and great patience, it made her feel...

- Disappointed. A failure. She let her mother, her sister, and her kingdom down

- She sighs again as she blinks away tears that begin to roll out of her eyes. Her mask catches them, but the fabric begins to grow just a bit damp

- "Your highness?" a voice calls. She knows it, and she turns around to find a worried expression on your face

- "Ah, hello my love," Kitana sniffles as she elegantly covers her face with a fan of hers

- "Don't hide from me, dear, I heard you as I was coming to meet you," you tut and gently nag her

- She sighs yet again, not hiding her feelings as she pats the empty spot on the bench. You sit by her and hear about her performance and how it affected her

- "My dear," you cup her mask face as she begins to hiccup and cry a little more freely. "My dear, you still did exceptionally well!"

- You wipe her tears, peppering her face with kisses around her eyes and the places where her tears fell

- You then plant a kiss on her mask. While it is sturdy, it is made of Edenian fabric, so you can feel the outline of her lips

- You giggle as you pull away, but in past the tears that lined her eyes, the makeup she wore, it was clear she liked that

- "Shall I continue, dearest Kitana?" you ask, and she wraps her arms around you to pull you closer

- Your lips find hers again, and the mask gets just a little damp at how deep you're kissing the princess. Her breath is ragged, and you can hear the squeaks and little moans she lets out behind her mask

- "Someone is feeling a little better now," you tease her as you wipe your mouth

- She chuckles, wiping her eyes as she gets up from her seat with your hand in hers

- "Perhaps you can make me feel even better, my love," she drawls out, eyes half-lidded as she swings your arm

- You pray that Argus gives you the strength to hold back tonight

=====================

Mileena - Imperial Duties

- Mileena stretched on her throne, moving her arms up and down and stretching her legs out

- Hell, she took her mask off to stretch both her human and Tarkatan jaw- she was that pooped from today

- Another day, another list of imperial chores, meetings, and items to get through. Honestly, how her mother did it was a question between her and the gods

- Mileena was relishing in her role as Empress, and doing well fitting in her mother's shoes, but it was still a job

- And whether you like it or not, even queens hate their jobs

- Just as she was about to blow off some steam with more training, a servant came in the throne room with an announcement you're coming through

- You bow as the servant moves out the way, and a soft exhale left her mouth at the sight of you

- "Hello, beloved," Mileena greets you. You smile as you walk closer

- "How are you faring with your duties?" you ask as you stop at the steps of the throne. Mileena growls, eyes sharpening a bit as she pats her lap for you to sit

- You're shocked, "A-are you sure? There are people..." Mileena just huffs as she sends everyone away

- Including the Umgadi

- "E-empress!" you're shocked as she takes you in her lap. She's tall enough already, her heels make her even taller

- Not only that, but from the constant kombat and sparring she did, her muscles were well-defined and formed

- "I despise the imperial politics," Mileena mumbles into your back. You giggle as you reach behind to pat her head

- "Imperial duties, my beloved," you sympathize

- Despite the mask she wore, you could feel the littlest breath come through. Seems that bits of her Tarkat were coming through, and she normally wore it when it got bad

- Funny, since everyone knows about her disease

- You turn in her lap and meet her eyes. Her eyes crease a bit as yours does, and you give her just a quick peck on the spot of her mask where her lips are

- "Feel better now?" you ask, stroking her face gently

- "Hm..." Mileena ponders a bit, before pulling you in close once more for another kiss

- You kiss at the same spot, and the mask becomes a little damp at how badly you want her actual lips to hit yours. Your moans become a little more apparent as her slender fingers stroke up and down on your side

- "E-empress!" you cry out as her fingers find your skin under your garments. Mileena chuckles lowly, taking you in her arms as she gets off the throne

- "Beg for more, dearest. You'll need the mercy of your empress in a few short moments."

- You gulp, "Delia, give me the strength..."

=====================

Rain - Hidden

- You wait patiently in a rundown shack on the outskirts of Sun Do

- Constables aren't everywhere, since it isn't the capital, but they are around. It worries you, but they're gone as you hear floorboards creaking in the shack

- You gasp as your head snaps behind you. Your eyes search the darkness, and you can hear the warbling of water swirling in the corner. Theres also a little light illuminating there

- "Zefferro? you call the hydromage's name. The water stops, and a figure emerges from the darkness

- "My pearl..." his voice draws from behind the mask. It's soft, almost distant, but he's here in the flesh

- You throw your arms around him as you catch him in a hug. His arms wrap around your waist as you breathe his scent in. He smells like the sea, mostly due to his magic, and he smells like the outside

- "I've come bearing gifts," he whispers, forehead on yours as he shows you a bag next to his staff

- "I told you to stop stealing for me," you scold him, pushing him away as you grab the bag of food. "You must stay hidden!"

- Inside the bag, all your favorite snacks stare you in the face. Sweet candies, salty chips, even fried street foods. You couldn't stay mad at him, and you look over your shoulder with a downturned smile

- "You cannot remain angry forever, my pearl," he teases you as he closes in on you again

- You sigh once again. Rolling your eyes as you meet him in the middle. On your side, a table stands in the middle of the room, and you place the bag there as Rain wraps his hands around your waist

- "You are right, but you cannot remain out here forever," you tell him, sobering him up at his current situation

- After the fall of Seido, he had to serve time in imperial prison, but he left you behind. You had no one to protect you, a normal Sun Do resident with no powers, and you lived in constant fear that you'd be run out of your home if people learned of your connection to the former high mage

- He wanted you safe, even if it meant at the expense of himself

- "Pearl, nothing else matters but your happiness and protection," he whispers as he looks you deep in your eyes.

- There is so much love and strength in them, but pain that he'd need to leave again. To make the most of it, you kiss his mask, in the place where his lips would be. Rain is a bit shocked (slightly weirded out), but it is welcome regardless

- "Zefferro..." you say in a voice barely above a whisper. Rain's exhale is shaky, almost like he's going to cry

- He leans in again, and your lips attack his mask. His breath is ragged as his hands climb up from under your shirt, roaming your upper chest area. You moan at the feeling of his fingers, moving fluidly like the magic he controlled

- "Let me remove this," he says, but you stop him and sit on the table, pushing the mask back on his face

- "You must stay hidden, right love?" you smile shyly, and Zefferro's gaze darkens at your innocent flirtation

- The table creaks as Zefferro towers over you, and you smile as he begins to undress you where you two were supposed to eat

=====================

Reptile/Syzoth - Spar Reward

- Syzoth is panting as his arms falter from the stress of holding them up against the blue-clad princes

- "I yield!" Syzoth yells, arms giving out as he falls onto his back

- Kitana chuckles, putting her fans away on her pants and removing her mask before coming to his aid

- "Good work, Syzoth," Kitana praises, "There is room for improvement, but you are on the right track"

- Syzoth gets up with Kitana's help, and he bows before grabbing some water

- As he takes many long drinks, his ears pick up on a new set of footprints. He can also smell a familiar, grassy and dewy, scent from behind him

- He turns his head and is met with your beautiful being, dressed in formal attire as you had come from a court meeting. You smile at him, quickly bow to Kitana, then make your way to Syzoth

- "How have you been, love? Is training going well?" you ask him as you wipe down his arms, a little gesture you do every time you see him

- He nods, "I find it difficult to train in human form. I do not understand how this form is so comfortable for you..."

- You roll your eyes, "You say that like I, too, can shift form."

- Kitana takes leave from the area, allowing you two a private couple moment. As you two talk, you massage Syzoth's shoulders

- "You train so hard, you deserve a break and reward," you giggle, kissing his masked cheek

- You don't see it, but his face is warm and slightly green. If he were mortal, he'd be queasy, but it was clear he was embarrassed and flushed with emotion

- "May I have a real kiss?" he asks shyly, and you chuckle as you move in front of him to kiss him

- The mask was tough, as it protected his mouth and lips. You kiss him where his lips would be, and Syzoth closes his eyes as you wrap your arms around his neck as he places his calloused human hands on your waist

- Syzoth's breathing is pitchy and uneven, almost like he was begging for it. His mask was slick with your saliva, and you pull away

- You giggle, "Is that reward enough, love?" Syzoth hums, thinking a little bit before the grip on your waist is tightened

- "I think I'll need more," he says with a low voice, in the process of removing his mask

- But you stop him

- "Can you... keep it on love?" you ask as you gently push the mask back on his face. You can feel something poking you from underneath, and you turn pink

- Syzoth took you over his shoulder, racing back to his bedroom to relish in his reward

=====================

General Shao - On the Run

- You knock three times on a shabby wooden door, the said door opening with Reiko behind it

- "Is he here?" you ask, pulling down your hood as he ushers you inside

- Reiko nods, "We cannot be here for too long. It won't be long before someone realizes a huge man with horns and a silver mask resides here..."

- You click your tongue angrily, scowling at the fact your beloved warrior would be leaving again

- Broken out of jail by Bi Han, Reiko and General Shao were on the constant run

- Which means constant moving

- Which means practically no chance on meeting your beloved warrior

- The only possible ways would be when they were near your village

- And by near, probably two cantons over, another village to make sure you would not he caught in the crossfire of this manhunt

- That's what you're doing now, meeting your warrior in a village two places over- all for... an unknown amount of time

- "Dragonfly...." a rumbling of a voice comes from the darkness, and you see the shine of metal and deep red eyes

- "My warrior..." your voice cracked as your hands wrapped around his neck. His strong, scaly arms grips your waist and back

- His breathing is deep, trying to remember your smell before you'd have to leave again

- "Dragonfly... How I've missed you..." he said softly, gently swaying in his spot with you in hand

- You look up at him, his silver skull mask covering a good portion of his face. The only things you could see were his eyes and mouth

- "How long are you here for? Reiko did not mention the length in which you'll be here," you caress his metal face, and his hand is on top of yours as he grabs it gently

- "I do not know, my little dragonfly, but what I do know is that you're here, with me," he whispers, voice so low that not even a fly could hear it

- "Then," you say as your other hand is on his covered cheek. "Just hold me here, until you have to go..."

- "Gladly"

- Your mouths mesh together perfectly, like a beautiful symphony. The mask over his face is cool, and the little teeth that cover his mouth just barely your lips as both of your tongues fight for dominance

- His hand go lower, resting on your plush bum as he kneads it like dough. You moan, letting go of his lips quickly as you grind into his hardened member

- "Shall I take off my mask?" he asks, already doing it. You stop him just in time though

- You shake your head vehemently, "No. I want to see the warrior you are, including the mask"

- He nods, and he picks you up in his arms as he walks to the "bedroom" in the back

- He'll show you a warrior, that's certain

=====================

Takeda Takahashi - Nightly Visits

- You stood on the balcony of your apartment in Shibuya (you are my special)

- The night was warm and breezy, and you looked over the scenery of the bright city awaiting a certain black and yellow ninja

- You look down at your watch, sighing, "Late again..."

- As you turn to head inside your flat, you're shocked by the said ninja. He's decked out in his tech armor, and his iconic black and yellow skull mask is on

- Despite his scary look, his eyes are soft and crinkled on the edges, indicating a smile

- "I don't think I'm tardy this time," he teases you, and you practically tackle him in a hug

- He laughs as he catches you, hoisting you up in the air as he swings you side to side. He smells like iron, sweat, and the Japanese wilderness- probably another mission

- "When did you sneak in here, you goof?" you noogie his head, bits of his hair misplaced despite the bandana that pushed it all back

- "A couple of minutes ago. Seriously, did you not hear me? I even cleaned up a plant I knocked over out here..."

- Your head turns to the direction his faces, and you can see the decently cleaned spot of one of your plants that had fallen off its pedestal. You whip your head back at him, glaring and removing your arms from around him

- He was mega strong. Carrying you while your arms were no longer around his neck is not for the faint of muscle

- "Aww... dearest, don't be angry..." he pleads, mask nuzzling into your neck. Despite the hard, shell-like exterior, it made you ticklish as the nose of the mask dug into the sensitive spot you had

- "How can I make it up to you?" he begs, eyes sparkling. How can a guy be so cute and deadly at the same time?

- "A kiss," you say, hands grabbing his face as you give him a peck at the teeth part of his skull mask. He chuckles as he pulls you in again for another

- "Of course, dearest," he says as your lips hit his mask again

- Your lips lick and suck at the place where his lips should be, and it clearly turns Takeda on as you can feel his growing member. You try to wiggle away from it, but his grip on you is strong as he forces you to grind on it

- When you pull away, you're red and hide your embarrassed face in his shoulder. He coos, patting your head as he teases you more.

- "So, am I forgiven now, dearest?" he asks, moving your hips for you as you whine

- "If you show me more moves inside, perhaps you are," you say, matching his energy with half-lidded eyes and a flirtatiously lazy smile

- He rushes inside your flat, slamming the balcony's sliding door shut as he climbs over you on the couch

- Let's just say that he earned more than forgiveness this nightly visit

=====================

GUYS GUYS GUYS MK1 DLC ANNOUNCEMENT AKHISDIJG

okay see y'all in the next fic! love you all for getting me to 50 followers! (at the time of this fics publishing)

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badassindistress · 6 months ago

Text

Chemise Sewalong January 2025

Step Zero: Materials

Here's a list of materials in advance to give people the time to find fabric. We’ll do some measurements so we know how much fabric we need and get the preliminaries out of the way.

What you are definitely going to need:

Fabric

Thread

Needles

Fabric scissors

Pins

A measuring tape

A ruler or flat edge to draw straight lines

What will make this project a lot easier:

Tailor’s chalk or other method to mark lines on your fabric

A safety pin, loop turner, lacing needle or other method to get a thread through a channel

An iron and ironing board - I would say this is a necessity but not everyone has one and you can make a chemise without, it will just be harder and won’t look as crisp.

A thimble - in the long run it will make you sew quicker and be better for your hands

A sewing machine (I am intending to handsew this because not everyone has a sewing machine, but if you do have access to one and want to be done quickly, do the long seams on a sewing machine and glory in the speed of modern technology)

A cutting mat, quilting ruler and rotary cutter – This thing is all squares and triangles and quilters have got squares and triangles figured out

If you’re used to inches, keep a converter handy because my brain is used to centimeters

How much fabric do I need?

A lot. The chemise panels use the full width of the fabric. Decide if you want your chemise to knee length, to the floor or something in between. Then decide if you want full length sleeves or half sleeves.

I’m making long poofy sleeves but a kneelength skirt.

The calculation: my neck to knee is 120cm, my full arm length is 60cm shoulder to wrist (including 5cm extra for poof), so the length of fabric needed is 120+120+60=3 meters exactly.

What kind of fabric?

For the type of fabric I’d recommend cotton or linen for the historic feeling, but go with whatever brings you joy and isn’t stretchy. It needs to be light enough you can gather it up without it getting bulky and not terribly prone to fraying so you won’t go insane while sewing

Go with what is available and sparks joy as long as it’s a light fabric that gathers down nicely. (Thin sheets or table cloths can definitely be used for this). I’m going to use a fuchsia silk I’ve been saving for the airiest dress in existence.

tl:dr – procure 3 to 4 meters (145/150cm wide) of non-stretchy fabric of a lightness and colour that you would like to wear. Wash it, iron it and congratulate yourself on being super productive.

#chemise sewalong 2025 #a talia original #talia's adventures in dressmaking #historical costuming #historybounding #use the chemise sewalong 2025 tag for to show off your fabric #I'm available for any questions

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simpingforbots · 8 months ago

Text

What if human ended up in Transfromers one

part 5 final

Megatron

D-16 was sure that Orion Pax was a horrible influence on you. You started getting in to much more trouble – you started sneaking around much more, sometimes joining Orion, running amok the miners quarters, getting all sort of unwanted attention from other bots, even if it was a good one. He was more worried that you will be seen by Darkwing and get killed. He already had enough headache with Orion shenanigans, so he had to create sort of pen for you, filled with soft material he could find, there was food and water. Most of times he would put you in there when ever you misbehaved, even if you brought him Megatronus merchandise, covering his entire charging station in his decals. But mostly he kept you there when ever he had to leave. So imagine his shock to see you sneak in to medbay after the race, running towards him. He wanted to scold you for getting out and was about to yell at you to go back, yet before he could someone’s loud footsteps alerted him and you, sending you in to hiding. After every thing and them being thrown in to 50’th sublevel, he was ready to punch Orion for getting them in this situation when your yells alerted him and he watched you fall out of the shut on conveyer belt. He managed to grab you in time before you would’ve ended up in a fire pit due to you being almost unconscious, alive but shaken. He held you close to his chest, checking on you while trying to process every thing that just happened at once. He was not ready for any thing else.

Well climbing up the trash shut with you clinging to him was not something he expected to happen, it was hard to climb with all the trash falling down. Once they were out and managed to sneak on train, he let out a sigh of relief, but not for long. One thing lead to another and they were stranded on the surface. You were covered in scrapes and bruises making D-16 worry even more, going over the board. If only you stayed in the damn pen non of this would happen to you. He kept you in arms length, literally, holding your hand like some sparkling and when you grew tiered of walking he would carry you under his arm. When they finally reached the spot, revived Alpha Trion and learned the truth about false Prime, about quintessons and what Sentinel – he was angry. He wanted to kill the false Prime, openly and loudly voicing his concerned, echoing though the cave system as he let all the frustration out. But when he saw you hiding behind Elita’s ped, his spark broke in half. Why were you scared of him? He did not mean for you to be scared, but before he can try and sooth you, Alpha Trion showed them out and they had to run away from other bot’s, learning how to transform, and all this time you were in danger. He tried to grab you, but the awkwardness of situation was to hard to control and you were momenteraly out of his site, problbay landing on the ground with others. After he managed to transform in to tank, he rolled forward and just in time as one of Sentinels death-guards was about to shoot you. All the rage bubble in him and he shot first, claiming the first life ever. He transform back in to his mech form, rushing towards you scooping up to check on you. You looked alright, maybe a few more scratches but alright. And somehow you were even smaller. Now he was able to easily wrap just one hand around your torso unlike before, where he had to use both hand just to lift you and you were so small now, no bigger then his leg. He presed you to his chest relieved to see you alive and then took over the leadin of the group. You had to ride on top of him during the return and one thing lead to another and now you were presented as some kind of trophy for false Prime, locked in a gold cage and floating above the ground on a stage pad. D-16 was constantly looking between you and Sentinel, boiling with anger and refusing to stay on his knees, even after being “embraided”. He wanted this bot dead, not matter what. And when he was finally free and Sentinel on the ground, unable to defend him self, he shot, shooting Orion by accident. All sort of emotion flooded in. But one that was strong was exhaustion. He was tiered of constantly saving Orion. He was the reason they were in this situation, he was the reason you were hurt. So he won’t save him any more. He did not care about your cries as Orion fell down, he quickly and painfully dealt with Sentinel, ripping him un half in front of the crowed and claimed his new name – Megatron. And a new T-cog, that gave him even more height. He fired at statues, sending you hiding in some crevice. His red eyes quickly shifted to your hiding spot. Oh, now you decide to hide, after all the trouble you got your self in to? Hilarious. He loudly thumped towards your hiding spot, kneeling down and peaking in all while other caused mayhem around. You were there, deep in the hole, curled and staring at him with wide eyes, shaking from loud noise. He growled with dissatisfaction, immideatly trying his best to get you out of there. His servos dig around, digits trying to wrap around any part pf your body, and after some time he manages to get you out. Primes, you become even smaller, but now he does not care. Or has time as he immideatly get his face punched by rejuvenated Orion. They fight and in the end he is banished from Iacon and you hid behind Prime. Megatron, grumbling walked past him.

“Pet” he looked at you from behind, turning his head slightly so that he can see you, his red eyes glowing brightly. You stood by Optimus. “ come.” You shook your head, to scared to go any wear near the bot who just strated killing bots left and right . it angered him very much. He turned around, rage boiling in his chest as his loud voice echoed though entire Iacon “NOW!” You jumped in your skin, hiding behind Optimus. He left with a grumble and a promise that he will come back for you.

#transformers #transformers one #transformers x reader #transformers x human #megatron #if you get the reference very cool

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hayatheauthor · 11 months ago

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The Arsonists’ Handbook: A Writer’s Guide To Igniting Fire

This comprehensive guide is crafted to assist writers in creating realistic and gripping depictions of arson scenes. We'll explore the psychological motivations behind arson, the different types of fires, and the intricate dynamics of how a fire spreads.

I personally wrote this blog due to a story I’m working on involving the Salem trials fires, thus the extensive research. I hope this comprehensive guide will help you out with your fiery (written) endeavours! (Heavy on the written).

Understanding Fire: The Basics

How Fire Starts

At its core, fire is a chemical reaction known as combustion. For fire to ignite, three key elements must be present: heat, fuel, and oxygen. This trio is often referred to as the fire triangle. Removing any one of these elements will prevent or extinguish the fire.

Heat: The energy source that raises the temperature of the material (fuel) to its ignition point. Heat can come from various sources, such as an open flame, electrical sparks, friction, or chemical reactions.

Fuel: Any combustible material that can feed the fire. This can range from solid objects like wood and paper to liquids like gasoline and alcohol, and even gases like propane and natural gas.

Oxygen: Fire needs oxygen to sustain itself. Typically, the air around us provides the necessary oxygen, but in certain conditions (like in an oxygen-rich environment), fire can become significantly more intense and harder to control.

Fire Behavior

Once a fire ignites, its behavior is influenced by several factors, including the type of fuel, the amount of oxygen available, and the environment. Understanding how fire behaves is crucial for writing realistic scenes, especially when it comes to describing how quickly a fire spreads and the destruction it causes.

Spread of Fire

Fire spreads through three main methods: conduction, convection, and radiation. Conduction is the transfer of heat through materials, like when a fire heats up a metal door. Convection occurs when hot air rises and circulates, spreading the fire. Radiation is the heat that spreads through the air, setting nearby objects alight without direct contact.

Stages of a Fire

A fire typically goes through four stages: ignition, growth, fully developed, and decay.

Ignition: This is the beginning stage where the fire starts. It’s often small and contained, but the potential for growth is high.

Growth: As the fire consumes more fuel, it grows in size and intensity. During this stage, the fire spreads rapidly, and the heat increases, potentially igniting nearby objects.

Fully Developed: The fire has reached its peak intensity. All available fuel is burning, and the temperature is at its highest. This is the most dangerous stage, where the fire is hardest to control.

Decay: As the fire runs out of fuel or oxygen, it begins to die down. The flames reduce in size, and the temperature starts to drop. However, if there’s still some fuel or oxygen left, the fire can reignite.

Types of Fire

Not all fires are created equal, and understanding the differences between various types of fires can help you write more accurate scenes. The type of fire often determines how it spreads, how it's fought, and the damage it causes.

Class A (Ordinary Combustibles): These fires involve materials like wood, paper, cloth, and some plastics. They are the most common type of fire and are usually extinguished with water or foam.

Class B (Flammable Liquids): These fires involve flammable or combustible liquids such as gasoline, oil, and alcohol. They are more dangerous than Class A fires and are typically extinguished with foam, carbon dioxide, or dry chemical agents.

Class C (Electrical Fires): These fires involve electrical equipment, such as wiring, circuit breakers, and appliances. Water should never be used to extinguish a Class C fire because it can conduct electricity, making the situation worse. These fires are typically fought with non-conductive agents like dry chemicals or carbon dioxide.

Class D (Combustible Metals): These fires involve metals like magnesium, titanium, and sodium. They are very dangerous and are fought with specialized agents like dry powder designed to absorb heat and smother the fire.

Class K (Kitchen Fires): These fires involve cooking oils and fats, often occurring in kitchens. They are fought with wet chemical agents that cool the fire and create a barrier between the fuel and the oxygen.

The Stages of Arson

Arson, the act of deliberately setting fire to property, is a complex crime that involves planning, execution, and, often, a great deal of psychological motivation. Understanding the stages of arson can help you create more realistic and engaging scenes in your writing.

Planning and Preparation

Before an arsonist sets a fire, they usually go through a detailed planning and preparation phase. This stage involves selecting a target, gathering materials, and determining the best time and method to set the fire.

Motive: The reasons behind arson can vary widely. Common motives include revenge, financial gain (such as insurance fraud), psychological compulsion (pyromania), or even a desire to destroy evidence of another crime.

Target Selection: The arsonist will choose their target based on various factors, including the accessibility of the location, the presence of flammable materials, and the likelihood of the fire being discovered quickly. For example, an arsonist might target an abandoned building, a business with financial troubles, or a residence where they hold a grudge against the occupants.

Materials Gathering: The arsonist needs to gather materials to start the fire. This might include accelerants like gasoline or kerosene, tools to break into the target location, and possibly even timing devices to delay the ignition. Some arsonists use household items like matches, lighters, or candles, while others might resort to more sophisticated methods.

Timing: Timing is crucial for arson. The arsonist might choose a time when the target location is unoccupied to avoid detection or ensure maximum damage. Alternatively, they might set the fire at a time when the building is full of people to cause harm or send a message.

Ignition

The ignition stage is when the arsonist actually starts the fire. This is often the most critical and dangerous part of the crime, as it requires the arsonist to be physically present at the scene.

Methods: There are various methods an arsonist might use to start a fire. The simplest method is using a match or lighter to ignite flammable materials. However, more sophisticated arsonists might use chemical accelerants, timing devices, or even electrical equipment to start the fire remotely. In some cases, the arsonist might create a trail of flammable liquid leading to the target, allowing them to ignite the fire from a safe distance.

Initial Signs: The first signs of a fire are usually small flames and smoke. Depending on the materials used, the smoke might be thick and black (indicating the presence of accelerants) or lighter and less noticeable. The smell of burning materials is also a telltale sign, and in some cases, the arsonist might use scented materials to mask the odor of burning chemicals.

Fire’s Progression

Once the fire is ignited, it begins to grow and spread. The speed and intensity of the fire depend on several factors, including the type of fuel, the amount of oxygen available, and the structure of the building.

Growth: As the fire consumes more fuel, it grows in size and intensity. Flames spread to nearby objects, igniting anything that can burn. The heat generated by the fire causes nearby materials to reach their ignition points, further fueling the blaze. In a well-ventilated area, the fire can spread rapidly, engulfing the entire structure in minutes.

Environmental Effects: The fire’s heat can cause significant damage to the surrounding environment. Smoke and toxic fumes fill the air, making it difficult to breathe and see. The intense heat can cause glass to shatter, metal to warp, and wood to burst into flames. The fire might also create a backdraft, a dangerous phenomenon where a sudden influx of oxygen causes an explosion of flames.

Aftermath

After the fire has been extinguished, the aftermath reveals the full extent of the damage. This stage involves assessing the destruction, investigating the cause of the fire, and dealing with the legal and emotional consequences.

Destruction: The fire leaves behind a trail of destruction. Buildings are reduced to charred skeletons, possessions are destroyed, and in some cases, lives are lost. The damage caused by fire can be catastrophic, leaving victims homeless, businesses bankrupt, and communities devastated.

Investigation: Arson is a criminal act, and a thorough investigation is usually conducted to determine the cause of the fire and identify the perpetrator. Fire investigators look for clues like burn patterns, residue from

The Psychological Profile of an Arsonist

Arsonists come from diverse backgrounds, but their motivations often stem from deep psychological issues. Understanding the mind of an arsonist can help you create more complex and nuanced characters in your writing.

Common Motivations

Revenge: Many arsonists are motivated by a desire for revenge. They might set a fire to get back at someone who wronged them, such as a former employer, an ex-partner, or a rival. This type of arson is often impulsive, driven by anger and a need to assert control.

Financial Gain: Arson is sometimes committed for financial reasons, such as insurance fraud. The arsonist may set fire to their own property or hire someone to do it, intending to collect insurance money. This type of arson is usually well-planned and methodical.

Psychological Compulsion (Pyromania): Some arsonists are driven by a psychological disorder known as pyromania, where they experience an uncontrollable urge to start fires. For these individuals, the act of setting a fire provides a sense of excitement, satisfaction, or relief. Pyromaniacs often set multiple fires and may stay to watch the fire burn.

Attention-Seeking: Arsonists may set fires to attract attention, either to themselves or to a cause they believe in. This can be seen in cases where someone sets a fire to highlight an issue, make a political statement, or simply because they crave the spotlight.

Thrill-Seeking: For some, the act of arson is about the thrill of taking risks and the adrenaline rush that comes with causing destruction. These arsonists might not have any particular grievance or financial motive but are instead driven by a desire for excitement.

Psychological Traits

While not all arsonists fit a single profile, there are common psychological traits that many share:

Lack of Empathy: Arsonists often exhibit a lack of empathy, unable to fully grasp or care about the consequences of their actions on others. They may not consider the potential loss of life or property and are more focused on their own desires and needs.

Impulsivity: Some arsonists act on impulse, setting fires without fully considering the long-term effects. This impulsivity can be linked to other behavioral issues, such as a history of aggression, substance abuse, or other criminal activity.

Desire for Control: Arson can be a way for individuals to exert control over a situation or person. The fire represents a powerful force that the arsonist can manipulate, giving them a sense of power and dominance.

Isolation: Many arsonists are socially isolated, struggling to form meaningful relationships. This isolation can fuel their desire for attention or revenge, leading them to commit acts of arson as a way of asserting themselves.

Physical Signs and Symptoms of Arson

When it comes to describing a fire in your writing, the physical signs and symptoms of arson can add a layer of authenticity and vivid detail to your scenes. Understanding these signs not only enhances the realism of your narrative but also helps to convey the severity and impact of the fire.

Visual Cues

One of the most striking aspects of a fire is its visual presentation. The flames, smoke, and other visual cues can vary greatly depending on the type of fire, the materials involved, and the environment.

Flames, Colors, and Intensity of the Fire: Flames can vary in color depending on the materials burning and the temperature of the fire. For instance, a fire fueled by organic materials like wood or paper typically burns with orange or yellow flames. In contrast, fires involving chemicals or metals might produce blue, green, or even white flames. The intensity of the flames can also signal the fire’s progression, with small, flickering flames indicating the early stages and roaring, high flames signifying a fully developed fire.

Smoke Characteristics: Smoke is another key visual indicator of a fire’s behavior. The color, thickness, and smell of smoke can provide clues about the type of materials burning and the presence of accelerants. Black, thick smoke often suggests that the fire is consuming synthetic materials like plastics or rubber, while white or gray smoke might indicate burning wood or paper. The smell of the smoke can also vary, with a sharp, acrid odor suggesting the presence of chemicals.

Heat Effects

Heat is one of the most destructive elements of a fire, and it can have profound effects on objects, structures, and people. Describing these effects can make your arson scenes more visceral and impactful.

Effects on Objects and Structures: The intense heat generated by a fire can cause a wide range of damage. Wood and other combustible materials might blister and char, while metals can warp or melt. Glass windows might crack or shatter due to the rapid temperature change. The heat can also cause scorch marks on walls and floors, which are often key indicators in an arson investigation. Understanding these effects allows you to describe the aftermath of a fire with greater accuracy.

Scorch Marks, Blistering, and Charring: Scorch marks are darkened areas that indicate where flames or intense heat have come into contact with a surface. Blistering occurs when the heat causes materials to bubble and expand, often seen on painted or varnished surfaces. Charring is the blackening and partial burning of materials, typically seen on wood. These signs can be crucial in determining the origin of the fire and whether an accelerant was used.

Human Reactions

The physical and emotional responses of individuals during a fire are critical elements in conveying the terror and urgency of an arson scene.

Physical Responses to Heat and Smoke: The human body reacts dramatically to the extreme conditions of a fire. Heat can cause burns, ranging from superficial first-degree burns to more severe third-degree burns that destroy deeper layers of skin. Smoke inhalation is a common and often deadly consequence of being trapped in a fire. It can cause coughing, choking, and disorientation as the smoke deprives the body of oxygen and fills the lungs with toxic gases. Victims might experience blurred vision, dizziness, and confusion, making it difficult for them to escape.

Emotional Responses to Fire: The emotional toll of being caught in a fire can be overwhelming. Panic is a common reaction, as the instinct to flee overwhelms rational thought. Fear and anxiety can paralyze individuals, making them unable to act. However, some characters might respond with determination and resolve, driven by the need to save themselves or others. Describing these emotional responses can add depth to your characters and heighten the drama of the scene.

For a more detailed guide on burns, read how to write burns.

Common Misconceptions About Arson

When writing about arson, it’s important to address common misconceptions that can lead to unrealistic or inaccurate scenes. Debunking these myths can help you create more credible and compelling narratives.

Fire Spreads Quickly

A common misconception is that fire spreads almost instantaneously. While fire can indeed spread rapidly, especially under the right conditions, there is often a progression that can be influenced by various factors such as the type of fuel, the presence of accelerants, and the structure of the building. In reality, a fire might start small and take several minutes to fully engulf a room, especially if there’s limited ventilation or the materials are slow to ignite. This progression allows for moments of tension and potential escape in your narrative.

All Fires Look the Same

Another myth is that all fires behave similarly, regardless of the environment or the materials involved. In truth, the appearance and behavior of a fire can vary widely. For example, a fire in a well-ventilated area with plenty of fuel will look very different from a smoldering fire in an oxygen-deprived environment. Additionally, fires involving different types of materials—like wood, gasoline, or chemicals—can produce vastly different flames, smoke, and heat. Recognizing these differences can help you craft more nuanced and realistic fire scenes.

Fire and Explosions

Thanks to Hollywood, many people believe that fires often result in dramatic explosions. However, explosions are relatively rare in most fires and usually require specific conditions, such as the presence of flammable gases or liquids in confined spaces. While a fire can cause small, localized bursts (like when a pressurized canister overheats and ruptures), full-scale explosions are uncommon. Incorporating this knowledge can prevent your scenes from falling into the trap of over-the-top sensationalism.

Easy to Identify an Arsonist

The idea that arsonists are easily identifiable or leave obvious clues behind is another misconception. In reality, arson investigation is a complex and challenging process. Arsonists often go to great lengths to cover their tracks, using methods that leave little evidence. The fire itself can destroy crucial evidence, making it difficult to determine the cause and origin. Investigators must rely on subtle clues, like burn patterns, residue from accelerants, and witness statements. Writing realistic arson investigations involves understanding the nuances and difficulties involved in linking the crime to a specific individual.

Real-Life Case Studies

Exploring real-life arson cases can provide valuable insights into the motives, methods, and consequences of arson, helping you to create more authentic scenes in your writing.

Notorious Arson Cases

The Boston Fire (1919): This fire, started by disgruntled city workers, caused extensive damage and highlighted how social unrest can lead to destructive acts of arson. The arsonists used a combination of accelerants and timing devices to ensure the fire spread quickly and was difficult to control.

The Happy Land Fire (1990): A tragic case where an arsonist set fire to a social club in New York, resulting in 87 deaths. The fire was started with gasoline, and the arsonist’s motive was personal revenge after an altercation with a club employee. This case illustrates the deadly potential of arson when combined with crowded, enclosed spaces.

The Oakland Hills Firestorm (1991): Although not initially an arson case, this firestorm was exacerbated by arsonists who set additional fires in the area. The fire destroyed thousands of homes and underscored the difficulty of controlling fires in densely populated areas with dry, windy conditions.

Lessons for Writers

Real-life cases like these offer important lessons for writers. They demonstrate the variety of motives behind arson, the different methods used, and the devastating impact that fire can have on individuals and communities. Incorporating these lessons into your writing can help you create more complex and realistic arson scenes.

Complex Motives: Arson isn’t always about destruction for its own sake. It can be motivated by revenge, financial gain, political statements, or psychological issues. Exploring these motives can add depth to your characters and their actions.

Diverse Methods: Arsonists don’t always rely on the same techniques. Understanding the different methods used to start fires allows you to vary your scenes and avoid repetitive or predictable narratives.

Realistic Consequences: The aftermath of arson can be devastating, with long-lasting consequences for the

Arson in Literature and Film

Arson is a powerful narrative device in literature and film, often used to create tension, drive plot, or explore character motivations. Understanding how arson has been portrayed in these mediums can help you craft more compelling and nuanced fire scenes in your writing.

Arson as a Plot Device

Arson is often used as a plot device to introduce conflict, create suspense, or catalyze a story’s events. It can serve as a turning point in the narrative, forcing characters to confront their past, make difficult decisions, or reveal their true nature.

Catalyst for Change: In many stories, a fire is the catalyst that sets the plot in motion. The destruction caused by the fire forces characters to adapt, overcome obstacles, or seek revenge.

Revealing Character: Arson can also be used to reveal a character’s true nature. A character who commits arson may be driven by anger, greed, or desperation, and their actions can expose underlying flaws or hidden motivations.

Symbolism: Fire is often used symbolically in literature and film, representing concepts like purification, destruction, or rebirth. The act of setting a fire can be a symbolic gesture, reflecting the character’s desire to destroy the past, cleanse themselves of guilt, or start anew.

Notable Examples in Literature and Film

"Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Brontë: In this classic novel, the character of Bertha Mason sets fire to Thornfield Hall, an act that is both literal and symbolic. The fire represents Bertha's madness and desperation, as well as the destructive secrets hidden within the estate. The blaze ultimately leads to the revelation of Mr. Rochester's past and serves as a turning point in Jane Eyre's journey, symbolizing the destruction of the old and the possibility of a new beginning.

"Fahrenheit 451" by Ray Bradbury: In Bradbury’s dystopian novel, fire is used as a tool of oppression. Firemen are tasked with burning books, a symbol of knowledge and freedom, to maintain societal control. The protagonist, Guy Montag, initially takes part in these acts of arson, but as the story progresses, he becomes disillusioned and eventually rebels against the system. The novel explores themes of censorship, conformity, and the power of knowledge, with fire serving as both a destructive and a purifying force.

"Carrie" by Stephen King: In King’s horror novel, fire is a key element of the climactic scene where Carrie White, after being humiliated at her high school prom, uses her telekinetic powers to set fire to the gymnasium. The fire is a manifestation of her rage and desire for revenge, and it leads to the destruction of her school and the deaths of many of her tormentors. The scene is a powerful example of how fire can be used to convey intense emotions and serve as a metaphor for uncontrollable anger and retribution.

"Rebecca" by Daphne du Maurier: The burning of Manderley, the grand estate that serves as the novel’s primary setting, is a pivotal moment in du Maurier’s gothic tale. The fire, set by the vengeful housekeeper Mrs. Danvers, symbolizes the destruction of the past and the erasure of Rebecca’s lingering influence over the characters. It also represents the liberation of the protagonist from the oppressive shadow of her predecessor, allowing her to finally step out of Rebecca’s shadow.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks?

Are you an author looking for writing tips and tricks to better your manuscript? Or do you want to learn about how to get a literary agent, get published and properly market your book? Consider checking out the rest of Quillology with Haya Sameer; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors! While you’re at it, don’t forget to head over to my TikTok and Instagram profiles @hayatheauthor to learn more about my WIP and writing journey!

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