#section-level briefing;

[russovito]

local time: thursday, 24 november 2022. 20:45 location: city center, collective embassy. allies gala vito russo. theran romano. silvana romano. @credinaa​ blue text indicates they are speaking palavian with a cipritine accent.

it was a relief to have purpose again; the vacation theran had given vito was not something he’d enjoyed. the beastkin had lived a fully structured life after the venpalan family had taken him in, and the sudden slackening of that structure had been uncomfortable. rather than feeling free, vito had felt like he’d been blasted out an airlock into the open expanse. aimless and adrift, when the order to prepare a residence had come in, russo had buried himself in the task. then, when theran and silvana had arrived the friday before the gala, it had been all too easy to return to his position as the duteous guard.

yet, something was different. it was subtle, but the way theran spoke to him had changed. more willing to share his thoughts, his plans, he’d even asked vito for his opinion on several occasions without phrasing it like an academy professor probing to see if a student understood the curriculum. silvana, too, had a new glint to her eye. as the allies gala drew closer, she’d prepared his wardrobe as she did therans - something that had never happened before. rather than the plain black tux he’d anticipated donning, he was dressed in a custom blazer with patterns reminiscent of those found on afogoth, the planet where theran had found him. he didn’t know what these changes in the romanos meant, but he had a feeling they were just the beginning.

standing just behind the older couple, vito was the only one of their security team that stayed so close. tall even for venpalans, the beastkin is easily overlooked by the gala guests that approach his parents to talk. this suits him just fine as he repeatedly scans the dance hall, head on a constant swivel as reports from the rest of the team occasionally trickle in over the security earpiece. silvana gave a polite farewell to the conversation partner she’d snared and the trio set off for a nearby table, small enough that it only held four chairs and newly cleaned by one of the roving white robots the city had supplied for the evening. pulling out a chair for silvana, vito takes a step back and stands with hands clasped behind his back as theran joins his wife at the table.

“ I’m so glad we were able to come here. it’s so quaint, don’t you think, darling? and I must say, the air here is quite a bit cleaner than the last planet we visited. ”

“ you’re not wrong, but that planet was human, so it’s a difficult comparison. the food here is excellent, though. what we can eat of it, anyway. ”

[ambrosiagourmet]

I want to talk about why I think this is the one of the most important Falin panels:

So, Falin is really nice, right? It's one of the first things we really learn about her. She's kind even to the monsters of the dungeon - choosing to ward the party rather than fight spirits and cause them needless harm.

In the above early flashback in chapter 11, we see Marcille fawning over Falin's kindness, calling her an angel. Namari calls her soft-hearted. We see Falin choose not to fight even when a zombie attacks - instead she resolves the confrontation with a hug. After the flashback, the first thing Senshi says is that Falin "sounds like quite the person," which Marcille strongly affirms.

At this point in the story, all we have seen of Falin are these impressions; she is a healer, an angel, a caretaker with an infinite well of kindness towards everyone she meets - both friend and foe.

And honestly, that remains most of what we have to go by to understand her. The only times we get to see Falin on the page, alive and just herself, are in the opening and closing pages of the story and in the brief period of time after she is resurrected.

Nonetheless, we do have some more details to work with. For one, there is the scene that The Panel is from - a short memory in chapter 75, when Marcille flashes back to while she's dying. In that scene, Falin prepares to teleport them all out, and says that she's sorry "if there is a person at [their] destination." And that's when we get The Panel.

If you teleport someone or something into another person, the person teleported into is likely to be, at minimum, severely injured. They could die.

We can see a lovely little horrifying example of exactly why in one of the Daydream Hour doodles:

So, hmm. That's not... that's not SUPER nice. Certainly not displaying the same "kindness to all, friend and foe included" we saw represented earlier. On a basic level, this adds some nuance to Falin's kindness. We see it break a little, when pushed to the limit. We see her chose to protect the people she loves above all else.

Which makes sense! As Laios says when the Winged Lion accuses him of similarly being motivated more by his friends' safety than everyone else in the dungeon, "...most people, aside from virtuous do-gooders, would feel the same way."

So, we can take The Panel as simply showing a moment of weakness for Falin. A time when she was pushed to her limits, and that "most people" selfish side of her shone through.

However... I think there's a little more going on with Falin than just her being an angel 99% of the time, except just that once. I love The Panel because I think it helps us understand that Falin isn't just motivated by kindness - she also has a desire to avoid seeing people in pain.

Isn't that the same thing?

No, no it very much is not.

Let's look at a short comic from the Falin section of the Adventurer's Bible, because I think it illustrates this point perfectly. The group is complaining about how much Marcille's healing hurts, and comparing it to Falin's, which "doesn't hurt a bit." Marcille retorts with the following:

Now, the punchline of this comic is that, despite Marcille's sentimental assertion that she's "thinking of [them]" by letting her healing magic hurt, they all still prefer to be healed by Falin.

But hey, this wouldn't be the first time that Dungeon Meshi hides a very real character beat or insight in a gag, so let's think about this somewhat seriously.

If Marcille is right (and she knows a fair bit about magic, so we can assume that she has at least somewhat of a point), then what Falin is doing isn't kind. I suppose if someone specifically requested to not feel the pain, it could be kind, but that's not really what happened here. She is the one who felt badly about the others being in pain, and she is the one who decided, without telling them or giving them a choice in the matter, to take away that pain.

Both Marcille and Falin are healing the party, but Marcille is doing it in a way that accomplishes the task in the most straight forward way, without any additional interference. Falin is going out of her way to perform the healing in a way she is more comfortable with. A way that avoids pain.

Going back the The Panel, I don't think its a coincidence that the only time we see Falin (well, non-chimera Falin) willing to do something that could hurt someone is when any potential pain will be far away from her. If she got someone hurt or killed by teleporting the party to the surface? Not only would it be far out of her sight, but she'd be dead before she had to deal with any consequences of that action.

Falin is not a confrontational person. She doesn't push when Marcille won't tell her the truth about the resurrection, and she comforts Laios about her own death - both of those things happening in the only full chapter she is alive and conscious in the whole story.

We also know that she considered accepting Shuro's proposal, despite not having any special feelings towards him, and that Falin never explained to Marcille that she wanted them to share a meal together. When she brought Marcille various foods at the academy, she just accepted Marcille's confused rejection and gave up.

And lastly, we know that she is still in contact with her parents, despite the neglect and abuse she suffered at their hands. Although the way someone chooses to handle contact with abusive or bad family is a complicated topic, which I don't want to overly simplify, I do I think this fact gets at the heart of how she handles conflict.

So many people that Falin loves have hurt her. There are understandable hurts, like Laios leaving the village, or Marcille not understanding the food. And there are bigger, far less justifiable hurts - like her parents neglecting her throughout her childhood, and sending her away to be alone at the magic academy.

It doesn't seem like Falin has ever confronted any of it directly.

And the unhealthy aspects of this kind of avoidance of pain and confrontation is one of the things that the story of Dungeon Meshi is all about. We see Laios grapple with it before he goes to kill Falin, and we see Marcille acknowledge it at the end of the story, when she tells Laios that she has come to terms with Falin's death:

Eating is a part of life. Consuming other living things is a part of life. It isn't really possible to avoid that pain - you can only hide from the truth of it. You have to be selfish everyday. You have to eat - to choose to live. To choose to take up space.

And this is something Falin embraces, too. She comes back to life, after all.

We see her choose to come back to life.

And how does she make that choice? She eats. She consumes, and then she is asked a question by the manifestation of hunger itself:

Do you want to eat more?

There is a double meaning in the Winged Lion's final words on the next page.

When I first read this, I took it as him saying: life is cruel. You will suffer. You will feel more pain.

But perhaps, especially for Falin, this also means: you are choosing a path where you must cause pain. Where you must consume. Where you must take, and must be selfish. Because eating is the special privilege of the living, and it is their burden, too. In order to stay alive, she will need to keep eating.

And she chooses that. Chooses to be selfish. It's why her resurrection scene is so important, and it's why The Panel is so important. Because Falin coming back isn't the ultimate reward for all of the party's hard work.

It's her choice. Just like it was her choice that started everything in the first place. But this time, she doesn't choose to accept causing pain for the sake of Marcille and Laios. She does it for her own sake.

[non-stop-imagines]

Conversations While Braiding

From this request 💖

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: In which we get a look into what's discussed by Lewis and the Reader while she braids his hair

Word Count: ~1.6k words

Warning: Truly nothing bad, it gets a little angsty (?) but it's brief, mentions of food related topics, some cursing, Lewis and the Reader watching Love Island

A/N: This shouldn't have taken as long as it did 🫥...but it's done! 🥳 I would love to write more for Lewis (I think I have an idea somewhere), but it is also highly intimidating because writers on here that write for Lewis and on a completely different level. Still, I'm glad I was able to finish this up finally! That you to the anon who requested! Hope you all like it. Love you all!💖💛💖💛

Masterlist

_______

"He just fully lied to her face." Lewis practically gasps at the TV, his head leaning against your inner thigh (it made it easier for him to hold the angle that you had his head at), and arm hooked around your thigh, hand running along the outside. His hand has been in that spot since you guys first sat down to start his hair hours ago, not including the moments he got up to get you both something to drink and bring the DoorDash inside.

"That's Love Island for you. It's frustrating and addicting. Tilt your head forward a bit for me, baby." You lightly press his head and he completes the action, checking to make sure he moved enough for you then placing his attention back on the screen.

"And this Casa Amor thing, why the fuck would they do that?" You finish the braid you were on then reach to your side to take another small piece of braiding hair from the rack to your left.

"To 'Shake things up in the Villa'. It's stupid, but I have to admit it makes things interesting and it does give people who aren't already coupled up a chance to find somebody." You gel the root of another sectioned off square of hair and begin braiding. The act was second nature to you, but Lewis couldn't get enough of the feeling of your hands in his hair.

"That makes sense." He whispered the realization basically to himself then flips his head up so he could look at your face, interrupting your braiding. "And you were way too good at that impression, love. I think you've been watching this too much." He giggles wildly as you push his head back down again, finishing the braid and completely unable to stifle the grin straining against your lips.

"No one asked you, Hamilton." You begin to giggle too, the harmonic noise tapering off and ending with a light kiss to your inner thigh, just above your knee. He has done this same gesture multiple times throughout the night, the first time as a thank you for taking the time to do his hair and the times after that it was as though he felt the previous kiss disappearing and had to replenish it.

Silence surrounded you two as the episode continued, disapproving grunts and scoffs coming from you and your boyfriend as you complete another group of braids. Lewis' hand continued caressing your thigh, not even stopping when he reached with his other hand for the water that sat next to him.

"Mmm, before we go to the next episode, let's get tomorrow's schedule situated." You finish another braid and take a look at how much of his head you had left. Not much, maybe 12 or so braids.

"Oh, yes. Um, I think we have the morning situated, getting to the track by 9 for briefing and everything." He grabbed the remote to pause the show and then adjusted his arms so each arm draped across the top of their respective legs, hands still moving back and forth to caress your thighs.

"I'm actually gonna head to the track a little later. I need to finish my hair. So I'll probably be there around lunch time, noon or so." As if almost on cue, you felt a section of curls that seemed to have been missed when you initially gathered your hair this morning fall onto your shoulder.

"Oh, what style are you gonna do?" Lewis made sure that he didn't feel your hands in his hair before turning around to look at you, you were reaching to the side to grab more braiding hair, so you didn't see his eyes scanning your face before landing on your hair, waiting to imagine whatever amazing style you're planning to do

"I think I've landed on doing just a few stich braids, like 4 or 6, and feed them into two ponytails. And I got a pack of lavender hair so, I'm just gonna have a few streaks of purple for you, my dear. In celebration of your home race." You lean forward and kiss his forehead, just above his eyebrows, before having to strain a bit to give a short kiss to his lips.

"Wait, you said you think. So you might do something different last minute?" You had tipped his head back down and turned it forward with you hand as you prepare to do another braid.

"I'll just say, if you don't see me by, like, 2pm tomorrow, I'm probably on the bathroom floor crying because nothing is coming out right." The amount of nonchalantness in your voice, and the fact that the described situation has happened before, mildly concerned Lewis.

"I'll keep my ringer on, then." He picked up his phone to see a text from Susie. "Oh, yeah. So, um..." You could feel him fidgeting, looking down to see him spinning the lilac covered phone in his hand.

"You're nervous, all of a sudden. What?" Your fingers, quickly and skillfully, finish the braid you were on and then reach over to grab another bunch of braiding hair.

"Well, um, if your up to it, and if you don't end up crying on the bathroom floor, uh, Susie is inviting us to dinner once everything is done tomorrow..." He had stopped fidgeting with his phone, but he still stared at the text on his phone, you now realizing that it was more than likely from Susie.

"You know she's gonna ask me to join her with F1 Academy next year. She tried at the beginning of the year, but I was still trying desperately to avoid burning out." This moment was a testament to how automatic an action braiding was for you, because as you talked and thought and worried, your hands continued to pristinely gel off another square of hair to begin braiding, as if your hands were wired to a different, less occupied, brain.

"I mean, you were/are the greatest thing to happen to Mercedes. Probably the best Head Strategist we have ever had, along with improving every department you dipped your toe in. I can see why she wants you." He applied two kisses to your leg this time, realizing it's been too long since the previous kiss so a new kiss had to replace it with the second one being supplemental. "I still don't know why you're dodging her on this. You love the idea."

"I do. I love it to death. Which is why I want to stay away from it. Because I'll be lucky enough to be the one to come in and accidentally ruin everything." Your hands start to shake ever so slightly along with your voice and you take a deep breath as you try and calm yourself. When that ultimately doesn't work, you cease braiding and drape your arms over Lewis' shoulders, gently placing your chin on top of his head as to not agitate the fresh braids.

"You know I would never discount what you're feeling, but that is bullshit." Lewis keeps his head still while your chin perched on top, staring at the faint reflection in the TV screen overlaying the paused show.

"Uh, okay. Why, my love, is it bullshit?" You playfully wrap your arms a little tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him out over the blunt response, then releasing just as quick, draping your arms over his shoulders again.

"First of all, kudos to you for protecting your energy initially. I remember when you decided to take a break, you could physically see that your light had gone completely out. But you are so much better now, at least from what I can tell. And you would be starting everything next season. And there's an entire team behind F1 Academy, so for you to be the soul person to ruin it would be basically impossible."

You were silent for a moment, head still rested on top of his, and then, still silent, you lifted your head and reach over for more braiding hair. The silence was unnerving to Lewis, as he glanced between his phone and what he could see of your reflection. You had gotten half way down the braid when you finally spoke again. "Fine, let her know we'll be there." Lewis allows you to finish the braid you were on, typing out the acceptance of Susie's dinner invitation, then once he feels you complete the braid he reaches back and gently pulls you forward by your wrist, kissing you once you were in his sightline.

"I'm proud of you, you know that?" He gave you a genial smile, calming your nerves and actually working to boost your confidence in the situation.

"Laying it on thick, huh, Hamilton?" Lewis just giggles and gives you another long kiss. "You suck a little bit, but I still love you."

"Love you too." He lets you go so you could go back to finishing the few braids left on his hair, complying when you manually twist his head to where you need it.

"Alright, alright. Play the show." You lean over again to grab another bunch of hair while Lewis presses play on the remote, and it's not long until its nearly 11:00pm, Lewis' hair was done, and you both were getting ready for bed.

The next day went perfectly. Media day went off without a hitch. You made it to the track on time, and didn't end up crying on the bathroom floor. And by the end of dinner, you and Susie had verbally agreed to being co-Managing Directors for F1 Academy.

[withwritersblock]

because i liked a boy

~because i liked a boy by Sabrina Carpenter~

Author's Note: requested! Summary: Y/N gets a lot of hate online and Nico comforts her Warnings: brief discription of hurtful language Word Count: 1,893 Nico Hischier x fm!reader

Nico and Y/N have been together for nearly a year and their relationship has remained offline for most of it. Despite both of them being in the spotlight at different levels. Nico was the captain of the New Jersey Devils while Y/N had a huge TikTok following. 

She spent a lot of her videos focusing on makeup and different trends. Today, she decided to film a get ready with me, dedicated to going to Nico’s home opener. For the last two seconds of the video, she showed herself in the mirror posing beside Nico.

It didn’t cross her mind that his fans would find the video as fast as they did. The entire comment section was berating her appearance and talking about how she doesn’t deserve him. Usually, she ignores a lot of the hate that she gets, but something about how even her own fans were switching up on her. 

The entire third period was still left as the boys were just now starting the period. She kept her gaze on her phone, scrolling the comments. Many of them were talking about how she is too ugly to be with. While others were saying that she was too full of herself to be with him. 

Reanne tapped her hand against Y/N’s forearm. Y/N lifted her gaze towards Reanne and forced a smile to her lips. “Are you okay?” she asked. Y/N nodded as she tilted her head back to the comments, she began to scroll through them again. Even clicking on each reply.

“Showed my followers Nico today,” she said, nonchalantly. She lifted her gaze towards the TV screen to watch the game get going. Reanne pouted slightly, “Did not go as well as I expected. I mean only people who follow hockey would’ve known it was him,” Y/N explained as she turned her phone screen off. 

“What are they saying?” Reanne asked as she ran her hand up and down Y/N’s arm reassuringly. 

“Just the usual stuff, commenting on my appearance and my personality. Saying that they know I’m not good enough for Nico; or I’m too full of myself to be with him,”

“Oh that’s bullshit,” Reanne reassured, “People on the Internet think they know the boys but they don’t,” she continued. 

Y/N nodded politely, listening to what she had to say but not truly letting the words sink in. 

The game ended with a win for the team. It was exciting and a hopeful start for the rest of the season. She waited in the suite for a while, as she was avoiding Nico. She knew she would have to put on a front for him, but it was hard as she was starting to spiral.

Each comment, all six hundred of them were starting to repeat in her mind on a loop. It was becoming impossible. The hard part was the fact that her supposed loyal followers were even saying awful things about her. 

She was the last one to leave the suite as she wandered the empty halls of the arena, waiting for Nico to tell her he was ready to head towards the car. Every home game she would roam around until he was ready to head. Being captain held a lot of media responsibilities compared to the other players.

Nico Boy: Come to the locker room darling

She smiled at the text as she began walking towards the locker room. For a brief second, for only a moment she forgot. She forgot about all of the awful things the comments were saying. All she knew was that she was heading to the love of her life. The light in her life, the one person who could truly help her in this moment.

After a handful of minutes she walked towards the locker room, seeing Nico standing outside of it. He lifted his gaze from his phone as he smiled widely. He was giddy as he walked towards her, widening his arms. She giggled as she wrapped her arms around the center of his back, He tightly wrapped his arms around her. 

He took a hold of the back of her head. She melted into his chest, suddenly getting teary eyed feeling his touch. “New tradition, right here,” he mumbled as he pressed his lips to the top of her head. 

She reluctantly pulled away, dropping her gaze. She blinked rapidly as she fought the tears forming in her eyes. He clenched his jaw as he furrowed his eyebrows, “Hey, why are you crying?” he asked as he rested his hands onto her hips. 

“No, no not crying, I promise,” she said smiling, her eyes instantly drying up, “Come on, let’s get home,” she said as she looped her arm around his as she began guiding him towards his car.

She was silent for the whole drive home, which was odd. She normally would be singing along to whatever song Nico was playing. He kept the music loud, not wanting to ask her any questions as she was definitely not feeling great. Instead he kept his hand on her thigh, rubbing his thumb in small circles.

He pulled into his parking spot inside the parking garage of his apartment. He quickly put the car in park and turned his body to the side. “Are you okay?” he asked as he tucked his knee towards his chest, “Don’t lie,” he said as he tapped his hand against her leg. 

She tilted her head to the side as she clenched her jaw. “Nico, I don’t want to talk about it,” she mumbled as she unbuckled her seatbelt. 

“My love, you’re sad,” he let out. A drawn out sigh left her throat as she tilted her head to the side to meet his gaze. She scanned his features, his eyes were squinted slightly as his lips were pouted. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said as she climbed out of the car. She shut the door and began walking towards the elevator. He clenched his jaw as he quickly followed her out of the car. 

He jogged after her, shocked at how fast she was able to get across the parking garage. “Y/N,” he let out as he reached beside her. She stopped short as she turned and met his gaze, she was crying now. “My love,” he let out sadly as he quickly wrapped his arms around her. She tightened her grip around his chest as she sobbed into his chest. “Upstairs, yeah?” he asked as he ran his hand up and down her back.

She nodded as she pulled away from his grasp, walking ahead of him towards the elevator. He let her keep the lead, walking behind her. He felt his heart ache in his chest. He was aware that he obviously didn’t do anything but still felt like he harmed her. 

Once they reached the elevator, it opened instantly as she pressed the button. They stepped inside, side by side. He loosely wrapped his arm around her waist pulling her to his side. She rested her head onto his shoulder as she took in a deep breath. 

After a few seconds they walked down the hall towards Nico’s apartment, where they practically live together. He unlocked the door and opened it as he quickly stepped inside, she followed behind. 

He spun around, hugging her tightly once more. “It’s stupid,” she muttered. He shook his head as he continued to run his hand up and down her back. 

After a few seconds she pulled away, dug into her pocket. She fished her phone out and pulled up the video on TikTok. “The comments,” she mumbled as she handed him the phone. She walked away towards the bedroom as she took a deep breath. 

He stood still in the entryway, reading the different comments. His body was fueling with anger only after a few comments. Utterly shocked to see that anyone could say anything bad about his beautiful girlfriend. 

Comment: ugh he’s way too good to be dating her, has he actually looked at her?

He read that comment multiple times, shocked to even think that anyone could think that. Especially someone who doesn’t even know who he is. She is the most perfect person in the world, the most gorgeous girl, she was everything to him. 

He went to the settings on her account and turned off all of the comments. Even on her other videos. Right now, she doesn't need to see any of the content.

He took a sharp breath as he walked towards the bedroom.She was already in her pajamas and curled up into bed, her makeup still on her face. She rolled onto her side, curling the blanket up to her chin.

 He tilted his head to the side as he took his suit jacket off of his frame, tossing it onto the chair in the corner of the room. He began to unbutton his shirt and slide his pants off of his body. He slipped into the closet as he pulled up a pair of sweats onto his frame. He walked towards the bed. He climbed under the blanket and quickly cuddled up against her body.

He looped his hand around her stomach, he ran his hand up her shirt. Reassuringly running his hand along her skin. He pulled her towards him, pressing his lips against her shoulder for a few seconds.

“You know they are just jealous,” he whispered into her ear, “You are so beautiful,” he mumbled. She squinted her eyes shut as she held her breath for a few seconds. “There is nothing that anyone on the Internet could say that could make me not love you or make me think you are not the most gorgeous girl in the world,” he whispered. 

“I know,” she let out, her voice rasped as she spoke. “It was just overwhelming,” she mumbled.

“I know, my love,” he whispered before he pressed his lips to her shoulder, “Take a few days off, spend time with me,” he whispered as she rolled her body over, facing him. “I turned the comments off,” he said. Her eyes widened.

“Nico,” she scolded.

“What?” he asked innocently.

“Then they’ll know it bugged me! That’s like the worst thing you could’ve done,” she let out, tilting her head back. Her eyes started tearing up again. He pressed his lips together as he scanned her features. He raised his hand up as he rested his hand on her cheek.

“What they think of you doesn’t matter. What you think of you matters,” he let out, rubbing his thumb across her skin so delicately. “The words they are saying are hurting you, my love, you don’t need to read those things,” he reassured. She clenched her jaw as she shut her eyes, a tear streamed down her cheek. He wiped it away. 

She smiled softly towards him. “Make a video about it, be transparent, it could help,” he explained. She nodded as she rested her hand onto his forearm.

“Okay,” she let out as he scanned her features.

“I love you,” he let out.

“I love you too,” she whispered as he leaned down and kissed her softly. He pulled away, resting his forehead against hers. 

“It’ll be okay,” he mumbled before he kissed her again.

[phoward89]

Happy (late) 420! I tried to get this out yesterday, but that didn't happen. Anyways, here's some Dealer!Coryo x Reader in honor of 420.

Weed, drugs, guns, cussing, Coriolanus Snow being Coriolanus Snow, p in v, slight degradation?, um that's bout it

Series Masterlist

Chapter 1:

“Your brother's drunk again?” Coryo, your weed dealer and fuck buddy, asked as he flung the door to his section 8 apartment open as soon as he saw you thru the peephole. 

He knew what was wrong with you just by the sullen look on your face. Anytime you had that look on your face it was because your brother was either drunk and fighting with you or your ex (who Coryo nearly beat to death after the last time he cheated on you- which if you ask the dealer shouldn't have happened cause only a fucking idiot would stick their cock in a skeezy cunt when they've got your perfect, tight cunt to fuck on the regular) did something (like cheat) to upset you. 

After getting beat within an inch of his life, your ex skipped town. Rumor has it that he went to California. So, Coriolanus knows that there's only one reason you're on his doorstep looking like an anxious mess: your brother, Rein.

“Yep.” You popped your tongue.

“Come in.” Coriolanus ordered, moving aside to make room for you to enter his shithole. As you walked by him and into the apartment that smells heavily of cigarettes, weed, incense, and rose scented glade plug-ins, your favorite drug dealer announced with a lopsided smirk, “I was just ‘bout to roll a joint.”, while shutting and bolting the door.

“It's been a while since I smoked. I could use a few hits to calm down.” You admitted, making a beeline to the lumpy couch and in extension the glass coffee table nestled right in front of it.

A glass coffee table with chipped corners that was cluttered so much that the glass could barely be seen. It was a cluttered mess of magazines, rolling papers, plastic sandwich baggies, large bags of weed, a scale, a few empty beer bottles, an empty chip bag, a red solo cup, zippo, and a cheap ashtray.

Sometimes you wonder about Coryo, who could be a dead ringer for Eminem. Hell, his looks got him the nickname of Paneminem. You know, cause he's the Slim Shady of your small bumfuck Colorado town of Panem. 

A town that both you and Coriolanus Snow, known to a very small select few as Coryo, hate with a passion. 

But, anyways, sometimes you wonder about the dealer with the platinum buzzcut (which you were shocked to find out was his natural hair color) that lives alone. He doesn't have a lot of friends and the only family he's got is a cousin, Tigris, that's a stripper at Pluribus’ club. But they had some kind of falling out after he got a dishonorable discharge from the army and barely talk anymore.

And you only know about Tigris and his brief stint in the military cause you curiously asked him about his dog tags, chewing on the corner of them during a half-high afterglow while cuddling with him.

“What dumb shit did Rein do this time, baby girl?” The hardened drug dealer asked, following you over to the sofa. A sofa that has a board under it to level and prop up the saggy seat cushions.

“He’s pissed that I got laid off and can't find another job.” You told Coryo as the two of you sat down on the couch, making it dip under your combined weight.

“So, does that mean you're gonna start helping your favorite dealer sling shit for cash?” Coriolanus slightly chuckled, slipping his hand underneath the hem of his oversized white T-shirt and pulling his gun out of the waistband of his baggy jeans; placing it down on the coffee table.

You've seen the black Glock so many times, gosh it must be at least 50 by now, since you started buying weed and hooking up with Coryo. Him handling the weapon around you doesn't even phase you anymore. It should. It really should, especially since you weren't raised around guns or violence- but apparently the more time you spend around Snow (Coryo's surname and one of his street names- the other being Snowball) the more you're being corrupted by him.

Unknown to you, Coryo doesn't want you to become corrupted by him. He thinks you're a really sweet girl that had some shit luck of being abandoned by your mom and raised hovering above the poverty line by your much older half-brother and his girlfriend. Despite your crappy conditions, you’re as sweet as honey. Or at least to Coriolanus you are.

For some reason, the hardened drug dealer that's a couple of years older than you wants to keep you safe from any and all dangers in the world. Hell, Snow's not supposed to have feelings for you, a girl that occasionally buys weed from him; comes over to his place to vent about her life, but he does.

And that's not good because feelings are dangerous in his world. The drug underworld. The side of town, hell life, that decent people don't see. 

Coryo's got people that would love to put a bullet in him; the cops also want to lock him up for at least half his life too. Having you around him so much, getting wrapped up in shit isn't good at all. It's not good for you or for him. It'll only end up bad and in heartbreak.

And Snow can't have that. Oh, he has to protect you from his world. The world of drugs and all other illicit activities that transpire in the criminal underworld. You're just too sweet to have as a permanent fixture in his life, which is why he doesn't hang with you unless you're buying weed from him. He won't actively seek you out, despite the fact that you always bring a smile to face and warm his cold, black, dead, frostbitten heart.

“Coryo, you're my only dealer.” You dryly remind him, watching as he perches on the edge of his couch; leaning forward to grab the items he needs from his chipped coffee table to roll the joint with. “And no, I'm not gonna help you deal.”

“Only dealer, favorite dealer: same thing from how I look at it.” Coriolanus retorts while his long fingers nimbly work to fill and roll a joint for the two of you to share. “It was a joke, baby. I wasn't serious.” Your dealer dryly told you before giving out a lecture of, “My line of work’s dangerous, babe. I'd never send you out into that shit just to make a buck.” Waggling a long weed scented finger in your face, he added in, “And I would've fucked some goddamn sense into you if you’d agreed to my fake offer.”

You’re not stupid, you know that Coryo’s not just a weed dealer, but that he sells some hard shit and it makes his job- hell his life- dangerous. But you don't care. You accept him as he is. You're not trying to fix him; you're fine with him the way he is. You're also fine with being his customer/sorta friends with benefits.

You know that Coryo has a lockbox full of various pills and coke that he deals. The box is shoved in the side table, that looks like a weird ass octagon, caddy cornered between his sofa and a heavily duct taped easy chair. You saw it once when you were over, crying about being cheated on by your ex and needing some weed (and maybe some big dick) pronto to make you feel better and calm you down. 

Coryo had a customer he needed to meet and sell some powder to, so he prepared the crap right in front of you. After cutting the white powder finely with a credit card (that you're sure he stole from somebody) and portioning it up in a baggie, he made you swear to never touch the hard shit. He even said that he'd shoot whoever dares to give you the shit right between the eyes if he ever found out that you dabbled in the hard shit.

And then he sent you on your way with a few joints and a promise that he'd stop by to check up on you; see if you need anymore post getting cheated on weed to help feel better with. He kept good on that promise, he stopped by and took you out for a ride. A ride that ended with you desperately riding his cock in the backseat of his car- which was parked in some alleyway in a seedy part of town.

“Calm down, Coryo. God, don’t pop a vein over there.” You sarcastically tell the platinum blonde while he finishes rolling the joint. Watching him pick up his zippo off the table, you assure him.“You don't need to worry about me being in danger from the big bag drug dealers; I'll only make my money legally.”

“Y/N…” Snow mumbled warningly, slipping the joint between his lush lips and lighting up. Taking his first hit, he sighs, “The more you hang ‘round here, baby girl, the more you might be putting your sweet lil ass in danger.” 

“I’m a big girl, Snowball. I can take care of myself, plus I trust you and know that you'd never hurt me.” You said, watching him take his second hit. 

Passing the joint over to you, he dead ass says, “I got enemies; if they think we're a thing they'll fuck you up to get to me.” Shaking his head, he leans his elbows on his knees (of course he was manspreading- he always does when sitting on the sofa). “Cops would haul you in; jam you up just to try and catch my ass.”

Your brows furrow at his words. At their implications.

“So, what, you don't want me coming ‘round anymore?” You asked, brushing your fingertips against his rough, calloused ones as you took the joint from him. “Want me to find somebody new to buy weed from?” You took your first hit, coughing slightly. “Maybe I'll drive a couple hours to Denver and buy from a regulated dealer: from the man.” You threatened, taking your second hit and passing the joint to the broad shouldered man next to you.

“You're not driving down there for weed. You hear me?” Coryo sternly ordered before taking a deep hit off the joint.

“Then don't say you don't want me around, Coryo.” You countered, watching your dealer sexily blow a large billowing cloud of smoke from his perfect O shaped mouth.

“I didn't say that, babe.” Coryo snapped, his voice a bit hoarse from smoking weed all day (or at least you think he's been smoking all day). “I don't wanna have a heavy talk while smoking. Let's table this for now, yea?” He told you before taking a second, even longer hit from the joint perfectly pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

“Yea, my life's stressful enough.” You agreed, taking the offered joint from Coriolanus as soon as he exhaled a lungful of smoke.

Coryo didn't say a word, just leaned back into his couch and snaked an arm to rest behind you. He gave you a lazy thin lipped smile as you took your hit. His icy eyes, usually void of emotions, were shinning with fondness as he watched you instead of whatever bullshit was on his tv. 

A very nice large flatscreen that somebody gave him for payment. Fuck, the damn thing was worth nearly a grand since it was some top of the line Samsung smart tv. Snow knew it must've fallen out the back of a truck, but he didn't give a shit. Meant he didn't have to use he crappy tablet to watch stuff anymore.

But instead of watching tv, his attention was on you. God, Coriolanus loves watching you smoke. He thinks you're so sexy when you smoke. This cute, lil sweetheart taking in a large burning lungful and letting it waft out of your mouth expertly. 

It turned him on.

“It's not polite to stare, Coryo.” You remind the menacing man next to you, your tone a bit teasing, while passing him the joint after finishing your hits.

“I'm not staring, so don't know what your talking about.” He firmly denied, acting like he wasn't just caught ogling your gloss coated lips, while taking the joint.

You're starting to feel a bit hazy from the weed, unlike Coryo you don't smoke around the clock so a few hits mellows you out quickly, and lean your head against his shoulder.

“Your such a fucking lightweight.” The platinum blonde chuckles, shaking his head with a hint of an taunting smirk on his lips. 

“Not everyone can smoke and fuck all day, Snowball.”

“I don't smoke and fuck all day. I'll let you know that if I don't sling my shit then I ain't making any bank.” Coryo sneered, sounding a bit insulted by your remark, before taking a quick hit and holding the joint out to you.

Your fingertips brush over his, sending shockwaves through both of your buzzed bodies, as you take his offering. “You know, I'm still having a dry spell.” You reluctantly sigh between taking your two puffs and passing him back the joint.

Coryo's not stupid, he knows why you've been having problems finding somebody to hookup with let alone date. Word on the street is that he's sweet on you. That you’re Snowball's baby. Or at least Plinth and Creed, his only friends that are also dealers, told him that's the word.

Been the word since somebody saw you and him at some house party few weeks back- disappearing into a bathroom together for a good 15 minutes or so (yea, long enough to fuck).

“Maybe I can do something ‘bout it then, yea?”

“Maybe.” You coyly shrugged.

Even tho both you and Coryo knew that as soon as the joint turned into a roach; was snubbed into the ash trash, you'd be making out and undressing each other on his sofa.

“Hmmm…Coryo, that feels so good…” You loudly moan, feeling your cunt twitch and grow wetter, as you ride Coryo's cock.

Coryo's sucking on one of your titties while roughly squeezing the other in his large, calloused hand. His other hand is holding onto your ass like it's the most prized jewel into the entire world. 

“God, Coryo, I needed your cock so bad.” You admit to him, your voice nothing more than a pathetic mewl, as your wrap your arms around his neck- one hand pressing into the back of his platinum buzzcut while the other holds the back of his neck- while you leverage yourself to bounce faster on his dick.

His cock, very long and thick with veins that catch every velvety piece of your walls, fills your cunt up perfectly; turns you into a whinny mess. His tip hits against your cervix, causing the coil to begin to tighten inside of your lower body with every move. And the way his cock presses into your g-spot just right- oh fuck he's completely ruined you for men.

Whether you want to admit it or not, you're addicted to Coryo's cock. He's the only man that can fuck you just right. God, you would be all hot and bothered over your dealer.

Your nipple falls from Coryo's mouth with a loud, wet pop. He looks up at you, baby blues smoldering midnight with lust, and slaps your ass. “Fuck, baby. Ride my cock, ride my cock like the lil slut you are.” His hand slides over your chest, leaving one tit and going to kneed the other, as he lands two quick slaps to your ass. “Baby, your cunt feels so tight and good. Ride me, baby, ride me.”

“Fuck…Coryo…think I'm gonna cum.” You breathing tell him, forehead pressing down against his; hair curtains around your faces, as you grind your hips faster against his.

“Yea?” He asks, his voice heavy from lust and hoarse from smoking weed, as he places his hands on either of your hips. “Hold on, baby. I'll make ya cum.” Coryo tilts his chin up, sloppily kissing you, before digging his fingers into the meat of your hips and thrusting fast and hard up into you.

“Fuck!” You scream, feeling your insides literally getting rearranged, as Coriolanus’ cock plunges deep inside of you. Deeper then you’ve ever felt it before (and that's saying something since the man’s cock always leaves an imprint in your lower stomach everytime you fuck) and it's making you see stars. 

Your arms are tightly wrapped around Coryo's neck in a vice grip as he pounds up into your cunt at such a strong, punishing pace. He's fucking you so hard and good that you can feel the rubber band inside of you get ready to snap. “Coryo…I'm gonna cum.” 

“Cum, baby. Be my good lil slut and cum on my cock.” Coryo orders, his baritone rough and raw, as he presses you against his chest while bucking his hips at lightning speed.

And you do. You cum hard, moaning a string of curses mixed with Coryo's name, before leaning limply against him and panting to catch your breath. Your head's pressed into the crook of his neck and he's now holding holding your back to keep you afloat while chasing his own high. Coryo pistons his cock in and out of you quickly before groaning a couple fucks and your name while shooting his hot load of thick pearly ropes of cum deep into your cunt.

“Damn…” Coryo trailed off, his chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

Your head's still resting in the crook of his neck as you unwrap one of your arms from around his neck. Running your hand up and down his toned chest, you blurt out, “I'm hungry.”

“Of course, you get the munchies now.” Coryo scoffs, shaking his head. “I got some pizza rolls in the freezer, I'll nuke us some in a lil bit. Okay, babe?” He offered while trying to enjoy his blazed out afterglow moment with you. 

Honestly, he just wanted you to cockwarm him for a while because he didn't know when you'd be in that position again. 

And Coryo knows that he's going to have to cut you loose eventually. You're a liability in his line of work. Snow, the cold hearted drug dealer that doesn't think twice about popping a cap in somebody's ass, has a soft spot for you. Hell, to be honest he cares for you.

He cares a lot.

And that's dangerous. Feelings are a weakness that he can't afford in his life. The thought of you being used against him makes him sick.

And Coriolanus will never forgive himself if something bad happened to you because of him.

He knows that he'll have to cut you loose soon. Put his combat boot covered foot down; lay down some rules for the two of you to abide by. Something like he'll drop your weed off at your house then leave type of deal.

But right now, for a few minutes, he just wants to bask in your warmth.

And for right now, you're Snowball's baby.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[yustea]

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Paring: bf Jisung x afab reader (gn pronouns)

Summary: After a long week of stress, work and quick fucks, Y/N and Han are desperate to let off some steam. However, when Y/N comes up with the idea of incorporating Viagra in their sex life, will they be able to handle it when that desperation escalates to drug-induced, animalistic fucking?

Genre: +18 content so MDNI, bf Jisung, slight crack, wild primal smut!, tooth-rotting fluff

Word Count: 2.3k+

Warnings: switch!sub-lean!Han, switch!Y/N, unsafe!use!of!viagra!, Y/N is a MENACE, protected sex (reader has an IUD)!, intoxicated!sex!, dazed!sex!, primal!thoughts(?)!, rough!manhandling!, biting!, marking!, hair!tugging!, pussy!eating!, mutual!masturbation!, rough!fingering!, messy!, cum!eating!, riding!, doggy!style!, creampie! (wrap it before you tap it), pet!names! (babe, baby!boy!, darling, my love, baby, pretty baby), mentions of shower!sex!, possession!, crying!

Please let me know if I’ve missed anything <33

WARNING: This use and representation of Viagra is INACCURATE and UNSAFE to take. Please DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME and always THOROUGHLY RESEARCH and CONSULT WITH HEALTH PROFESSIONALS before consuming ANY TYPE OF DRUG.

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Han quizzed as he squinted at the fineprint upon the box, thoroughly underlining each section of text with a delicate finger. He glanced between the spoons, the scattered viagra pills decorating the countertop of the kitchen and you, who was dividing equal portions to two glasses. You swatted a hand, pooh-poohing his validated concern. “Babe, if I’m being honest, I could give less of a fuck right now,” you waltzed to the sink carrying the glasses and filling them up to equal levels. “It’s been ages since we’ve spiced up our sex life cause of work and other events,” you placed them on the counter, dropping two pills per cup and stirring them vigorously with a spoon. “And frankly,” you squatted down to watch them rapidly dissolve in the liquid, Han following suit. “I need a hard and rough fuck.”

A spluttered cough was sounded to your left, a smirk etching your lips as you glanced at the eruption of rouge gracing his flushed face. “Cat caught your tongue darling?” you battered your lashes, presenting him with your best seductive siren eyes. “Sh-shut up,” he choked out, playfully slapping your shoulder. You chuckled, returning your sight to the now foggy solution slowly swirling around in the glasses. “Yaayyyy, it’s done!!” you jumped up in glee, rapidly clapping your hands in excitement. Hurriedly, you passed a glass to Han, beaming at him with eagerness as he gingerly took the glass from your hand. He swallowed.

“What if something goes wrong?” Han gazed into your eyes, a frown forming as worry and unsurety splayed across his features. You cupped his cheek with a hand, gently caressing his smooth skin. “If it’s that much of an issue, we don’t have to do it,” you assured him. He leaned into your touch, a brief moment passing before he quickly shook his head. “Fuck it, we only live once,” he stated before winding your arm around his to create a love shot. A devilish grin unfurled from your lips as a mischievous glint illuminated your eyes. “That’s the spirit baby boy,” you winked at him. He rolled his eyes. “You’ll be the death of me.” A quiet chortle erupted from your mouth.

“Bottoms up my love,” you clinked glasses and with that you both downed the drinks, grimacing at the bitter after-taste. “That tasted like shit,” Han gagged, cutely wrinkling his nose as he set aside his glass. “Agreed,” your body shuddered in response to the disgusting flavour. A quiet silence enveloped the atmosphere, both of you lost in thought. “Well,” he voiced after a moment. “I guess we’ll see how long this’ll take.”

He drummed his fingers against the counter as you hummed in agreement, anticipation lacing your veins. “I think I’m going to have a shower,” you contemplated, leaning in to place a delicate peck to his cheek. You brushed against his ear. “Don’t miss me too much my love,” you murmured, gently nibbling the cartilage, teasingly pulling away before he could touch you. A frustrated smirk adorned his lips, his grip tightening against the kitchen bench. “You little tease,” he sighed as he shook his head, gaze trailing after you as you sauntered off to the bathroom, flashing him a final wink before locking the door behind you.

Not even ten minutes later cool water sprayed against your heated and tingly skin as thick globs of arousal dripped down your thighs. A primal fog of desperation clouded your logic and senses as you rapidly rubbed your clit. A loud mewl ripped from your throat in need. “J-jisung-,” you panted, now humping your hand in swift, erratic, pulsating motions. As if summoned, an urgent knock echoed the bathroom walls and a meek “B-babe?” was whimpered behind the locked door. You scrambled out of the shower, not bothering to dry off nor change. With jittery hands you unlocked the door and your world paused as your eyes feasted on the sight before you.

There, in the doorway, stood Han. You took in his bare form; gleaming sweat glistened against his rubicund complexion, strips of hair clung to his damp forehead, primaeval lust embellished his virile features as he shamelessly eyed your naked body. His chest expanded and contracted with each heave, his ligaments twitching in agitated desire. Your gaze slowly trailed his sculpted frame, admiring his lean physique and halting at the prize that stood tall and proud between his limbs. The bulbous tip was tinted in an angry crimsoned hue as dribbles of precum leaked from the slit, defining veins protruding from his long shaft. Your breath hitched as you encompassed in the view of his erected dick, your thighs clenching as lewd thoughts swam in your drug-induced mind. An audible gulp echoed as a treacle of arousal slid down your legs. You flickered your eyes back to his.

As if possessed, your mouths collided, inflicting a chaotic battle of tongues and teeth as your hands roamed each other's skin. With a bang, Han slammed the door shut, rattling the condiments on the counter and pinning you against the cool door as he continued to devour you. Choirs of breathy whines escaped your throats as desperation and impatience surged through your bodies. You harshly holstered your legs around his hips, forcing his thigh to wedge between your palpitating cunt. A jolted moan erupted from your lips at the contact, eyes rolling back as you broke the violent transit of kissing. Han dived for your exposed neck, littering bruising bites as his canines lightly pierced your skin. Your mouth gaped in a silent shriek as he continued his nimble ministrations, leaving a stream of red and warm-purple blotches in his wake as he pursued down, down, until he was level with your sopping pussy.

He inhaled deeply, basking in your alluring scent as a guttural groan resonated throughout his thorax. A carnal, possessive desire infatuated his being as he moistened his lips. “Mine,” he growled before licking rabid strips against your mound. A choked whine cascaded your vocals as he demolished your throbbing heat. You rutted your hips in sync with his beastly motions as your animalistic temperament consumed your entire consciousness. “Ji-Jisu-ng,” you gasped. He glanced up, his brown doe eyes glinting with need as his hand wandered between his legs, hissing in pleasure as he held his seeping cock. His grip on your waist tightened as he began to jack off, setting an undulated rapid pace. He thumbed his tip, earning a desperate mewl as more semen leaked from the angry slit. The vibrations of his vocals rippled against your clit, sprinkling your mind with a euphoric sensation. Your hips became hasty as you chanted his name like a mantra.

“Cl-cl-clos-e,” you breathly whined as your fingers intertwined in his sweaty locks, tugging and pulling at the roots, jolting a loud whimper from his mouth and spurring Han to fasten his motions. “M-me t-too,” he sighed, flinging his head back as he felt the surge of his impending release. He roughly pummelled two fingers into your wet heat, haphazardly scissoring you open, leaving you gaping and breathless. He began toying with your clit, mirroring his antics with the head of his shaft. You both elicited a loud moan at the stimulation, wildly humping your hips as you and Han chased your orgasms. “Go-nna c-cum!” you cried as you fell over the edge of tranquil bliss. Your juices squirted on Han’s hand and pleasure-ridden face, his own cum splattering against your quaking legs and the wooden door, painting it a creamy hue.

In an esurient daze, Han hungrily lapped at your sweet fluid, groaning as the taste flooded his searing tongue. You continued to rut against his mouth, gradually riding out your high. Deep, heavy, pants plagued the bathroom as both you and Han caught your breaths, the scents of your arousals pluming the air as need slowly began to itch at your veins once more. You felt a soft tap below your kneecap and peered down to see the quivering body of Han. Sat perched on his knees, eyes shimmering with a silent plea as his cock was still erected and vibrantly red as a meek whimper chorused his throat. “P-please,” he begged as water glistened his tear ducts. “N-need t-to f-uck you.” He snaked his arms around your waist before gently dragging you down, plonking you onto his cum coated lap, whining at the contact against his tingly skin.

Your limbs shook as you exhaustingly hoisted yourself above his pulsating shaft, drooling at the sight of his tip continuing to seep his semen. You wet your lips. “R-ready?” you horsley cooed. An eager nod was all you needed before you plunged his member deep into your slick chore. You both abruptly gasped, a lewd whine following suit at the sensation. You began to bounce, repeatedly pounding on his cock as the primal fog enveloped you with desire once more. Han’s jaw fell slack as his mouth gaped in silent, intoxicated bliss. Rugged pants reverberated across the confined space, your breaths mixing and intertwining with one another as you quickened your pace. You grazed your hand against his cheek, tilting his head as you pressed your lips against his, exchanging saliva in a sloppy, feverish kiss.

Han angled his face, devouring your mouth as he planted his heels against the smooth surface of the tiles and thrusted. Riveting bursts of pleasure raced throughout your bodies with each smack of your hips as he repeatedly struck your g-spot. Sparks flew in your vision, almost becoming palpable. His nails dug into your skin, embellishing them with crescent-shaped marks. Laboured whines and moans encircled the atmosphere as you teetered on the edge of utopia. “S-so c-clo-se!” Han panted, his pace now rabid in desperation to orgasm. “M-e t-too!” you cried as your wet heat clenched his twitching dick like a vise.

In a sudden lurch, Han flipped you onto your stomach, accidentally thumping the cabinetry in suit as a series of loud clatters tinkered against the counter, sink and ground. Without a care, Han continued to piston his hips into your sopping pussy, now in doggy-style. He gently raked his nails down your exposed nape to the curve of your ass, a lewd groan surging from his throat. “M-my p-pretty ba-by,” he whined as he ran his hand to the back of head and gave a firm tug on your damp hair. You gave a vehement mewl at the sensation, carving your palms with moon-like streaks. “C-cu-m-ming!” you squealed, clouded speckles blinding your vision as you came. Your juices plashed against his pulsating shaft as he gave a final cry before drowning your drenched cunt in his thick ropes of cum.

Filthy whimpers enveloped the room as Han continued to half-heartedly rut into your core. Your filled heat spasmed as overstimulation began to settle in your limbs as you gradually came down from your high, your sight becoming crystal. Once your breathing regulated a little, Han’s arms gave in and he collapsed on top of you, enveloping you in his embrace. He delicately brushed aside stray strands of your hair before placing a loving peck upon your forehead and slumping beside you. “Wow,” he wheezed after a moment’s pause, your chests heaving in exhaustion as you regained your bearings. With quaking limbs you sat up, gazing upon the tarnished bathroom as scatters of health-care and beauty products adorned the floor, some oozing liquid from its fractured encasement.

“We’ve fucked the bathroom,” you gruffly chuckled, wincing slightly as your throat felt like sandpaper. Han propped himself up and his eyes widened as a sheepish grin graced his flushed features. “My bad,” he grimaced before expelling in a coughing fit and laying back down on the cold tile as he closed his eyes and took deep, calming breaths. You glanced at him, a small smile gracing your lips before your eyes flitted to the cum-stained door, some of Han’s essence still dripping onto the tiled floor. “We should really clean that before it permanently discolours it,” you gestured to the ghastly evidence. Han merely hummed before you attempted to stand up, only to have your knees buckle and flop to the ground in exhaustion. A muffled laugh chorused from your side.

“Shut up,” you hissed. “This is your fault.” A small pout formed on your face as you softly slapped his arm in feign annoyance. Han only giggled more before he sat eye-level with you. “Sorry my love,” he grinned before pecking your pouty lips. He stood up with a groan, carefully dodging the fallen objects before returning with a damp towel and thoroughly wiped the edge of the door, chucking it in the bin afterward. “What about me?” you teasingly huffed, gesturing to your leaking pussy as a mixture of both your fluids trickled onto the floor. He playfully rolled his eyes, already retrieving another damp cloth before bending down and delicately wiping away the remnants of your cums. Your breath hitched at the cool touch, sucking on your lip to suppress any audible whimpers.

“You know,” you started after a pause as Han’s eyes flickered up to yours. “With how hard you fucked me, you probably broke my IUD in two.” A startled choking noise sounded from him as his skin ran a deeper crimson. You cackled at his response before cupping his rouged face in your hands, halting his motions as you caressed his warm cheeks. “My shy baby,” you cooed, planting a sweet kiss upon his lips. Your mouths moulded in sync as Han dropped the cloth and mirrored the kiss, sighing in contentment as he held you closer. You carefully broke the kiss, pulling back to admire his handsome features as he reclined into your palms. “I love you,” you whispered. A warm smile spread across his face as he leant in to peck your forehead. “I love you too,” he hummed, staring at you adoringly.

Suddenly, he stiffened. His face flushed a deeper crimson. You felt something prod your core. Han quickly glanced down. Then back at you. Your eyes widened. A bashful smirk adorned his face.

“Round two?”

A/N: Heyyyyy guys I'm backkkk!!! I've been working on this fic for a while now so I hope you all enjoyed it :)) ALSO WE REACHED 100 FOLLOWS!! I'm so happy!! I can't thank you guys enough for sticking around when I haven't been posting much, it really means a lot to me :)). Have a wonderful day/night and I hope to see y’all soon <33

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[theminecraftbee]

how to (watch someone) play decked out 2: a brief written guide for the non-tango watchers.

first: go watch tango’s video. it’s succinct—only a little over nine minutes—and contains information I can’t convey in text, such as what the many audio cues of the dungeon will sound like, the symbols on cards, and tango getting obliterated by a warden. also, decked out is his baby, and even if you don’t watch all the development, I recommend you at least watch his how-to!

but, okay. you’re someone who hasn’t watched tango this season. you don’t know anything about decked out, but now your favorite hermit is about to do so many streams and videos playing it, and you want a written explanation. this is the explanation for you!

so what is decked out, anyway? a deck-building, dungeon-crawling, treasure-hunting game, of course!

how do you win decked out? each week is a new phase. the hermit with the most victory tomes in a certain week will win that phase, and earn points based on that. the hermit with the most points after decked out ends wins.

how do you earn those victory tomes? by running the dungeon and collecting artifacts. those artifacts are turned in for frost embers, which can be used to buy victory tomes. they can also be used to buy cards, though, so there's a trade-off inherent to choosing to take points towards victory instead!

how does a dungeon run work? at the start, a hermit will use an item called a frozen shard to "buy" being allowed to run the dungeon. at the start of each week, the hermits will receive five, plus additional shards based on their standing in the previous week. next, the hermit will select the difficulty. after selecting their difficulty, and enter the dungeon, where they will receive a map keeping track of statuses and a compass to lead to their artifact. that artifact can be on one of three levels of the dungeon currently; four levels in the future. the hermit will dodge mobs in order to reach that artifact, attempt to retrieve the artifact, and return to the door that exits the dungeon at the start of level one. if they succeed, they can trade their artifact for frost embers, which are used to either buy cards or victory tomes. if they fail, they get nothing.

what are the threats in the dungeon? the main threats are ravagers, and later wardens. they will kill you easily. however, some sections of the dungeon may also have other mobs, such as spiders, slimes, or drowned. hermits are not allowed to kill mobs in the dungeon, so they must dodge them! additionally, as a hermit plays the game, they accumulate two stats that make the dungeon harder: clank and hazard. clank serves as a time limit to when the dungeon will release vexes; hazard serves to block paths and activate traps throughout the dungeon as you play. both of these stats effectively serve as 'time limits' for how long you can spend in the dungeon.

how does a hermit avoid clank? clank is generated by sculk sensors, and can be tracked by the sound of the heartbeat in the dungeon, as well as by the sculk shrieker noise that plays whenever clank is generated. a hermit can avoid clank by avoiding the locations of sensors throughout the dungeon. additionally, cards can be added to a hermit's deck that generate clank block, which blocks clank after it's generated. the sound of clank being blocked is a high, xylophone sound. finally, a hermit can avoid clank by playing more cards in general, as this will avoid stumble cards. remember, high clank releases the vexes.

how does a hermit avoid hazard? hazard naturally raises on a timer throughout the dungeon, and is represented by a cracking sound. cards can generate hazard block, which blocks the next hazard, represented by a 'magic' sound that plays on top of a crack. high hazard will make the dungeon harder by closing off many paths.

you keep mentioning cards—how do those work? each hermit will have a custom deck of cards. they start with three cards, but can build up more over time. cards have many beneficial effects, and will heavily affect how a given hermit plays the game. broadly, cards go in five categories: cards that drop treasure, cards that drop frost embers, cards that block hazard, cards that block clank, and cards that give additional, miscellaneous buffs. cards are played throughout the run, one at a time in a random order, and then discarded for that run. as they're played, the dungeon will announce the name of the card played, and that card's effects will be visible on the map the hermit carries.

what are stumbles? my hermit didn't add that to their deck. stumbles serve as an additional incentive not to camp in the dungeon. every two minutes, a stumble card is randomly added to a hermit's deck. if drawn, it adds two clank. additionally, some cards shuffle stumbles into a hermit's deck as one of its effects.

what are permanent cards? these are automatically played once at the start of the run instead of being shuffled into the deck. typically, they have effects that will affect the entire run.

what are ethereal cards? these are one-time use cards that are removed from your deck after one use, and not returned to you after your run. these are typically more powerful than normal cards due to their one-time use nature.

how does a hermit get more cards? at the end of a dungeon run, if a hermit is successful, they will enter the frost ember shop. there, if they do not choose to buy victory tomes, they can buy new cards. only one copy of a card can be bought after any given run. the common cards will always be available, but the rest of the shop randomly selects four cards to be available for purchase after each run.

what are frost embers? frost embers are a currency that can be collected in the dungeon. they cannot be carried out of the dungeon, and any left over after the frost ember shop will be discarded. the main way to collect frost embers is by collecting valuable artifacts; the higher the difficulty level, the more frost embers an artifact gives. however, they can also be picked up throughout the dungeon. they only drop in the dungeon after a card that drops them is played.

okay, then what is treasure? treasure is also a currency of the dungeon. it can be traded at a rate of four treasure for one crown in the frost ember shop. crowns, unlike all other dungeon currency, will be carried out with you after runs, and can be saved up over time and spent at the crown shop. this refreshes randomly every two hours outside of the dungeon. additionally, cards that drop treasure in the dungeon also drop keys, which are necessary to get to lower levels of the dungeon.

keys? in difficulty levels higher than the easiest, there is a chance a hermit will have to travel deeper in the dungeon. in order to do this, they must pick up a key at a treasure pickup somewhere in the dungeon and unlock the door to go down a level. keys aren't needed to go back up, though.

can a hermit run the dungeon only to collect treasure and frost embers, without getting an artifact? no. if they exit the dungeon without collecting an artifact, they will not unlock the frost ember shop, and not be able to carry anything out.

why is there a timer between runs? so items that may have been dropped can despawn in order to prevent any hermit from getting an unfair advantage based on what the hermit before them did.

all of this sounds overwhelming. it is, a bit! any hermit's first two or three runs will probably be overwhelming, and it will only be after getting a feel for it that the game grows less so. i recommend watching runs of decked out if you want to understand the game better!

if you have additional questions, let me know, and i'll try to clarify! have fun watching decked out! :D

[callaei-researches]

Summary of results - Intercultural and cross-linguistic perspectives on the whump genre

Here is a summary of the results from the research thesis, "Intercultural and cross-linguistic perspectives on the whump genre"! This was part of my studying a Master of Contemporary International Studies. The research aimed to explore how whump-interested people connect with the whump genre cross-culturally and cross-linguistically.

Back in June/July this year (2023), I sent out a questionnaire open to any whump-interested person, and also invited interviews for bilingual whump-interested people. I've finally finished my thesis, and overall was awarded an A- for it!

The full thesis is available now to read on Academia.edu, and will also be available on IPU New Zealand's library website in January 2024.

This research was approved for Human Research Ethics Clearance by the IPU New Zealand Research and Development Commitee on 3rd May 2023 (HREC-2023-05-03-01).

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(NB: Due to there being an extensive amount of results, I've only summarised the key findings of the results section and a brief conclusion here. I've referenced page numbers for the full thesis if you'd like to read the extended version.)

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Summary of results (Questionnaire)

233 respondents | 92 different cultural/faith-based identities

The questionnaire was used to answer Research Question 1, "How do the aspects of Hofstede’s cultural dimensions and Schwartz’ universal human values reflect in the characteristics of whump genre identity?"

The questionnaire explored four themes associated with whump genre concepts - “agency,” “comfort,” “stoicism,” and “knowledge” - and found (p. 87):

For the theme of “agency,” questionnaire participants tended to perceive a greater importance for agency for the caretaker and whumper roles. This may be related to the caretaker and whumper role characters’ abilities to carry out their roles of caretaking and whumping respectively. While the cultural dimensions did not appear to be factors inherent to the theme of agency for the whumpee role in a whump genre story, this appeared to work towards supporting the cross-cultural enjoyment of whump. For the theme of “comfort,” hurt comfort, physical comfort and long-term recovery may be more accommodating of cultural dimension dynamics and have a greater capacity to fully realise the goals of Schwartz’ values. For the theme of “stoicism,” the way in which these dimensions can so diversely be applied to this theme suggests a cross-culturally applicable ground. For the theme of “knowledge,” the balance between the certainty of a known whumpee and the uncertainty of an unknown whumper indicate variable tolerance of ambiguity within the whump genre. This suggests a cross-culturally applicable ground.

Summary of results (Interview)

The full results section for the questionnaire can be read in the full thesis (pp. 61-87).

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31 interviewees (15 spoken, 16 written) | 24 different languages

The interview was used to answer Research Question 2, "How do bilingual whump-interested people perceive the ability to convey themes of hurt comfort (a subgenre of whump) in different languages?"

The interview questions were categorised into themes:

Theme 1: Preferences for language when interacting with fiction

Theme 2: Comparisons of different languages’ abilities to convey physical and emotional pain

Theme 3: Limitations or difficulties experienced when conveying whump in, and across, different languages

Theme 4: Cultural, social, and/or linguistic reasons influencing pronunciation of “whump”

Following transcription of the interviews, a thematic analysis involving examining code co-occurences found (p. 123):

For “Theme 1: Preferences for language when interacting with fiction,” preferences tended to be associated with the availability of media, the ability to connect with the author’s intended meaning, and the level of ease and comfort with which interviewees could engage with the fictional media. For “Theme 2: Comparisons of different languages’ abilities to convey physical and emotional pain,” interviewees’ comparisons highlighted differing ways of presenting and conveying pain in language, for example, through language features and words. Overall, interviewees felt that the languages which they were fluent in were generally equally capable of conveying physical and emotional pain, although different languages tended to approach the communicating of pain in different ways. For “Theme 3: Limitations or difficulties experienced when conveying whump in, and across, different languages,” the perceived limitations and difficulties experienced across languages tended to be associated with difficulties in conveying semantic, pragmatic and cultural meaning across languages, and tended to stem from the differences between sociolinguistic approaches to communicating ideas in languages. For “Theme 4: Cultural, social, and/or linguistic reasons influencing pronunciation of “whump,” common cultural, social and linguistic reasons for interviewees’ pronunciations of “whump” included how interviewees expected the word to sound based on their expectations of the letters in the phonological environment, the impact of a lack of having heard the word spoken aloud, sociocultural influences, intuition and language education.

Conclusions (brief exerpt from p. 130)

The full results section for the interview can be read in the full thesis (pp. 61-87). Interview transcripts (sensitive details filtered out) can be read in Appendix H (pp. 177-399).

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Research Question 1 explored cross-culturally applicable aspects of the whump genre. The findings suggested that themes of the whump genre accommodate variations in cultural social orientations and values, thereby enabling an interculturally common ground among whump-interested people.

Using qualitative research (interview), Research Question 2 explored how bilingual whump-interested people perceive and connect with hurt comfort themes across different languages. The findings suggest that multiple factors contribute to how bilingual whump-interested people engage with the whump genre, including but not limited to first and second languages as a tool to experience closely or otherwise distance the subject with, the availability of whump media in different languages, and manner of conveying aspects of pain and comfort through lexical, phonetic, grammatical and cultural aspects of language.

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Thank you to everyone who participated in the research - the questionnaire and/or the interview! Your voices are all important in this kind of research, and are all very much appreciated!

[lychgate]

Echo brain comic?? My beloved?

this one's pretty new and id like to in the least get some segments drawn up if i can

i went balls deep in depth about my personal ideas of Echo's structure and how it works, it has much more writing rn then art lemme get some snippets:

tech and echo begin digging around in his wiring as echo's health has lately began to decline rapidly. Blood transfusions are becoming daily, exhaustion occurs much quicker, and newest to the issues are these seemingly random seizures. They've attempted many outside options at remedying the problem but it was becoming urgently clear that the only way to get answers would be to open up his system and understand exactly how his body operates from the inside out. Echo is mostly on edge because he fears finding the answer that is he's just doomed to die soon, and that his body was in no way sustainable outside of that fridge. He fears the idea of dying so much that he has manic considerations of being put back in some sort of stasis chamber. Death, which he never feared prior to the citadel, but now he's come to be you know uhhh quite traumatized from it. But he also hates the idea of that fridge!! caught between two terrible options, wowie here ill add some more breakdown of that in a read more if anyone is interested in paragraphs of bullshit:

as for a brief descriptor on the shit on his head and body, from this paragraph:

Tech: these rivets across your skull are not simple ports one can just plug into. They're a very unique structure, containing an extremely delicate, but long system of thin metallic fibers wiring throughout your brain. These 'rivets' then act as anchors to those metal fibers, which then respond to very specific electric signals that we can access at the nodes on the surface here. If the signals sent are not exact. Well. Echo: yeah I get it I get it.

and some write up on how Tech begins to diagnose the problem:

Eventually Tech will find his way into deeper functions of the brain, finding shortcuts that were already developed by the Techno Union scientists for the sake of their own equipment likely. Categorized sections for monitoring all sorts of chemicals and levels within Echo's body, most of which were left on an automatic function to regulate.

Tech begins to understand that the key issue is that this program, and these automatic functions, were fitted for exactly the stasis chamber Echo had been put in, and if they want to begin fixing Echos phsyical body, he would have to start going in and coding line for line, functions that pertain to the body on a sustainability outside that fridge. Some functions were completely turned off, being that Echo was getting fed certain synthesized chemicals thru the machine, his brain had to be telling itself NOT to produce said things naturally.

But it's all very finicky work that requires continuous maintenance and updates, not much unlike a patch update to any other computer program, except this is Echo's life. It's an impossible amount of code to do in any short time frame, and so Tech will begin splicing lines of code from similar organic droids with systems of similar complexity.

They handle these sessions once per week, giving time for Echo's body to catch up and adjust. At first he begins feeling some nausea, his heart rate starts rising, but he insists something feels good about it and urges Tech to keep going. Echo begins to feel warmth back in his body, his mood increases, after about a month hair begins to grow again, muscle mass fills in what once was skeletal limbs, nail beds regain a lively shine. Besides a few errors in updates like over producing a chemical or small bouts of insomnia, everything seems On Course.

and then:

So now we get into the meat of the drama, which is a lot of Echo mania and identity issues:

By this point Tech has outfitted much easier screw on parts so they can go in and out of this program faster (the set up previously was hours of work) so pulling that up he theorizes that he will have to do more then just reverse programs that the Techno Union set up. Tech now believes he'll have to create NEW systems, as the old program appears to be getting corrupted from all of Tech's editing. The seizures are, at this point to their best guess, coming from this. That parts of his brain are literally crashing, and soon he's going to start having more serious issues like bro is gonna just have a massive stroke at some point. Tech points that out all regular voice and Echo is just 'great im back in the mental swamp' Now that Echo's learned that he has corrupted files eating away at his brain, and that the chance of having a massive stroke is like inevitable, he's back to feeling like anxious shit. It doesn't help that this will take Tech a lot of time to figure out. Truthfully he's putting as much effort as he can into it, but this is when Echo begins to get Really mentally unwell. He's both worrying and also trying NOT to worry out of fear that it's going to complicate the program even more. Echo begins to have identity issues, coming to rely more on the mechanics then the organics that make him. He doesn't feel like a human with robot parts anymore, he feels like a robot with human parts.

and it keeps going like there's parts where echo is begging Tech to up programs on dopamine generation and Tech has to turn him down cause that would just be creating an addiction problem, situations where Echo starts trying to mess with his own brain, situations where he tries to kill Tech, its a lot of rambling but im not a writer, like i can't write for shit and I'd like to try and draw it instead

[messiahzzz]

the IGN article has already been addressed by several users, but imo the points of critique raised by others were still often misinterpreted, or ignored entirely.

— so i’d like to talk about it.

beforehand, it is important to mention that it remains everyone’s respective responsibility to curate their own online experience. you shouldn’t purposefully expose yourself to topics that cause you distress or trigger you. however, general discussion should always be valid and welcomed. you have every right to voice your opinion on the matter and to be upset about this. please don’t feel guilty about venting and expressing your emotional response.

we also need to differentiate this specific interview from the fandom’s overall treatment and interpretation of gale. several of the posts i’ve seen on the subject tend to derail into the latter, without addressing the valid points many have raised or glossing over them entirely. this isn’t about the usual “haha gale eats shoes” joke or whatever new meme fandom comes up with. this is solely about the developer’s treatment of gale, the character, and about a specific, internal bias that has been prevalent throughout the entirety of the game, as well as their social media. this particular interview merely adding to the amalgamation of points mentioned.

yes, it is certainly unrealistic to expect larian to address every single companion in detail and to touch on every nuance possible, in an interview that broadly focuses on the game’s narrative and gameplay. there are, however, specific character sections. each companion received a headline that was reflective of their overall character archetype or provided quick insight into their development.

Karlach: 'The Labrador of the Party'

Lae'zel: 'She's So Young'

Halsin: 'A Creative Risk'

Shadowheart: 'The Jason Bourne'

Wyll: 'We Lost a Little Bit of Narrative Room'

Astarion: 'Much of What He Does Is Out of Fear'

Minthara: 'It's Not a Redemption Arc...But She's Got a Lot of Love'

and last but not least:

Gale: 'The Guy Who Starts Off Annoying Everyone'

what followed was a brief discussion about their respective storylines, each being addressed with a certain level of respect, empathy, and consideration. except for gale. all that was mentioned in regard to his character was the narrative impact of gale’s suicide. talking about the overall logistics of this ending, the visuals of the cutscene, and how, to them, his sacrifice felt like the right ending and how in many ways, it is.

Chrystal Ding, Lead Writer: On a very human level, you have the guy who starts off annoying everyone, he's constantly asking you to give him your most treasured possessions to eat, otherwise he's in trouble, and at the end, he gives himself for the world. Sven Vincke, Founder: And he had the choice already once before where he wasn't ready for it. So it's a very powerful ending, and it comes in different permutations.

gale is the character who is initially annoying companions and players alike. he is verbose, enthusiastic and has a tendency to break out in long-winded rants. he repeatedly asks for your assistance, to help him manage his condition. to spare himself and his surroundings from an untimely, explosive death, he must consume items that you’ve carefully collected. gale is, essentially, a liability. a ticking time bomb. he already had the option to have his life be a meaningful sacrifice, but he wasn’t ready to die yet. now, that the party has reached the end, he has another chance to give himself up for the world.

short after, gale’s section of the interview quickly diverts into a more general discussion about the difficulties of playing as a wizard and other classes.

larian claiming that there is a universal “right ending” in a game with many branching paths and choices very much contradicts the definition of a role-playing game. where it is solely in the player’s hands to decide what direction to take and what outcome they deem to be the right one. moreover, it is important to remember that the interviewees weren’t just any developers, but consisted of two lead writers and larian’s founder himself. some of them industry veterans who are, to an extent, pr-trained. we all know that fandom often sees statements from developers synonymous with word of god. as such, the implications and impact are truly unfortunate.

if larian was referring the SA survivor and stated that “the right ending” for him was to return him to enslavement or to hand him over to the gur. that for all the death and misery he (involuntarily) assisted, his sacrifice would at least grand them a slither of justice.

astarion caused death, perpetuated racism, and now that you have handed him over to the gur hunter, he is offered a chance to give himself back to the world.

it is then deemed the right choice for him because it is the most narratively satisfying/impactful/powerful outcome in the context of the overall story. the majority of us would agree that such would be a rather tactless statement, no? not specifically for mentioning it in relation to astarion as a character or his influence on the narrative — he is fictional, after all, but because of the real-life implications and the very real stigma the affected face. we can't deny that it would be hurtful to irl victims. maybe we would even fault the writing altogether for such biases. after all, why should astarion be the only character whose redemption and healing are considered to be significantly less important in the grand scheme of things?

fiction functions as an abstraction and simulation of our social experience. we are supposed to get invested, to explore the meaning, examine the parallels, or maybe just to enjoy stories for the sole purpose of indulging in the occasional escapism. perhaps a way to temporarily forget about one’s limitations and the prejudices we face. in many ways, chronic pain/impairment, suicidal ideation, and autistic traits appear to be disorders & symptoms that are perhaps less relatable to some, and that they are maybe not as sympathetic to.

it truly would’ve been nice to see larian approach this interview with more professionalism. opting for a simple, diplomatic “actually, there is no right ending. the sheer variation in choices makes such a distinction impossible” would’ve more than sufficed.

this isn’t asking for larian to touch on every nuance possible, in an interview that largely resembled the flow of a regular conversation. it’s about asking for the same level of consideration and care that was granted to the rest of the companions. it’s about addressing gale’s particular brand of trauma with the same level of basic human decency. maybe we even could’ve received some new bits and pieces of insight on gale’s development, rather than the regurgitation of every shallow reddit/tiktok take we’ve seen up to this point. alas..

[sovasleepy]

hot and cold

[gekko x gn!reader] - you're an agent with such a seemingly cold exterior - both physical and metaphorical - but being gekko’s saving grace might change some minds about you.

warnings: the agents kinda make assumptions about the reader, a little hurt/comfort if you squint real hard. brief mentions of injuries, unconsciousness, very minor swearing

notes: tbh a “reyna being a motherly figure to gekko” vibe popped out a little too hard but i digress. requested by anon, i hope you enjoy!

kingdom's agents were well trained.

from the freezing temperatures of russia, to the most humid days on bermudian islands, the agents were resilient to all types of weather. today wasn't supposed to be particularly challenging in that aspect. a routine mission in some section of los angeles didn't sound particularly hot.

in fact, it had been the least of your worries about two hours ago.

you respected all of the agents on the protocol, especially considering the facts that not only were you newest addition, but some of the agents on this particular trip were among the first.

reyna, omen, cypher, and gekko stood next to you as the jet approached the site you were landing at. it felt almost childish to you that you were more nervous to be around your own coworkers than you were thinking about the fact that you could be lying dead any minute now.

they hadn’t ever directly been mean to you.

omen, bless him, was never any good at showing too much concern so you didn’t mind the cold shoulder you often felt from him.

cypher had his own secretive issues, and so did reyna.

that said, you never quite found your place amongst the agents. granted, you hadn’t been here too long, but the creeping and perpetual sense of being unwanted bothered you. to add to this, your abilities directly harmed the abilities of other agents. thus, your training sessions were always against your coworkers, which didn't always seem to sit well.

speaking technically, your ability did revolve around the manipulation of heat just like phoenix's did... only, you controlled the absence of it. the reaction of his abilities made fire, and yours made ice. this meant that you and phoenix either paired a little too well.

or not at all, depending on how one wants to look at it.

and then there were the other agents. kay/o's body produced a little heat, but ultimately couldn't produce enough to shake the ice. the same for killjoy's bots, cypher's tech, chamber's utility, sova's bow, even harbor's water.

and so you began keeping to yourself.

except for on missions, when communication was key. only your communications were down, and had been for some time.

the only people you could find were dead. slouched, bloodied bodies against buildings or in doorways seemed to mock you. luckily, none of them had been the faces of those on the mission with you.

that was until you heard a weak warbling. you called back to whatever created had made the noise, and was met with another weaker sound. still, you followed the creatures direction. after a few moments of sifting through debris, you were met with the dusty and bloody face of gekko.

dizzy sat curled up in his lap. his arm was limp, but bent as if he had been holding her close. for a brief moment, you thought he was dead. however, his chest rose and fell and slow, scarily shallow breaths. he was alive at least. the next thing on your agenda was to find the source of his unconsciousness, and hopefully stop it.

you knelt down to his level. he was slouched against the wall, head lolled to his left. there were splotches of dried blood on him, just the occasional mark on his clothing or his skin, but it didn't appear to be his.

his outer thigh had a darker patch of blood, thicker and definitely coming from him. however, the wound didn’t seem like it would be severe enough to have led to his current state. something else was wrong.

you continued to inspect him. his skin was pale, but cold and sweaty. this had to be the cause, right? but there was something deeper than that, those were simply more symptoms. you looked around and observed where gekko was. the trail in the dirt around him wasn’t footsteps, but was instead the markings of gekko half-dragging himself to where he was sat.

but yet he wasn’t in any danger at the time. the only pair of footsteps that had been close to him belonged to an already-dead enemy. so he dragged himself there for what? the shade that surrounding buildings and debris provided?

of course.

your alignment with the cold also gave you the benefit of not feeling the heat so harshly. it was the middle of a californian summer afternoon, of course it was hot.

heat exhaustion. that’s what was wrong with him.

you allowed yourself to feel the cool of chilled air surround your arms. you passed a hand over dizzy and wingman, who made weak noises of thanks. as much as you would like to help them, gekko needed you more right now.

you sat down beside him and pulled him onto your lap, his head on your stomach and him situated half on and half between your legs. you didn't want to turn him too cold too quickly, worried that the rapid change might cause him more harm. to the best of your ability, you slowly chilled your own body and the air around you.

one hand was placed on his forehead and the other arm hung over chest in an attempt to disperse the cool. dizzy, apparently feeling better, wormed her way up under his feet. elevating his legs was supposed to help too, right? maybe she knew that.

faintly, you heard a noise come from gekko’s earpiece.

“mateo? answer me, mateo. are you okay?”

the voice belonged to reyna. you hadn’t enteracted with her as much as you would’ve liked, but you respected her nonetheless.

you took your hand away from his forehead. after unbinding your own broken earpiece and tossing it, you leaned down to get closer to his. pressing the small button on the side, you spoke into it.

“hello? this is y/n. gekko is with me. i think he’s going to be fine, but he’s unconscious, and i really don’t know what i’m doing.”

“y/n?” the voice belonged to cypher this time. “how about you? are you alright? your communications and vital signs went down. we thought we lost you.”

“i’m… okay, i think? a few bumps and bruises, but nothing too bad apart from the earpiece i’ll be paying for.”

“good.” reyna spoke again. “omen is here, too. we have mateo’s location and we’re on our way. a medic is with us. just keep him alive until then.”

“got it.”

rushed as it may be, the concern they showed you warmed your heart. but everything felt like it was going to be okay. help was on its way, everyone was alive, and the mission was successful.

“just me and you guys,” you spoke, looking down at wingman and dizzy, who looked equally worried.

true to their word, the jet landed close to you roughly three minutes later. reyna was the first one to step foot off the aircraft, and the next thirty minutes went by in a blur. when your brain finally settled from its adrenaline high, you plopped down in a chair next to gekko’s bed in the makeshift-infirmary of the jet. reyna stood at the end of the bed. her arms were crossed and she wore her usual stern and hard-to-read face.

“the doctor said he was be alright, y’know.” she spoke after what felt like twenty minutes of comfortable silence.

you looked up from where you had been spaced out, staring at gekko. wingman was on the floor at your feet and you were absently letting him play with your fingers. however, he stopped to look up at reyna too.

“i hope so. i was… scared. honestly, i was beginning to think you guys would have left me. not that i would blame you. everything was down, you had every right to assume i was dead.”

“never.” she spoke. there was a chilling certainty in her voice. “you are an asset.”

“i suppose.” you paused for a beat, debating whether or not to finish your sentence. “i adore you guys. all of you. i think i just have a hard time finding my value to you all.”

you were met with silence. it festered, feeding the anxiety already unfurling within your chest. finally, reyna spoke again.

“admittedly, it’s hard to join the protocol and feel like you fit in. mateo felt the same way when he first joined, too, but the feeling goes away eventually. he wanted to speak to you, y’know?”

“he did?”

“all the time. he has this… fantastical way about him when he speaks about you. like he has all these… emotions or something built up, and instead of talking to you he’s trying to fit them all into two sentences while i’m still drinking my damn coffee.”

you couldn’t help but smile. you were always so nervous to talk to him, yet you never took the time to consider the fact that maybe he was nervous to talk to you too.

[the-stove-is-on-fire]

I read the FAQ, but I didn't see this in here: how do you do the transparency trick in the eye comic? It fucks.

I do have my transparency tutorials in my directory but you're right, they are kinda hard to find. I'll add the tutorial links and this brief explaination into my main FAQ.

The basic answer is that by saving my art as .png images, I can keep certain areas transparent! Tumblr's default background for images in light mode is white, so the transparent areas are light coloured and I can make them blend into my image by adjusting colour saturation and opacity levels. When you click on the image it switches to a dark background and any section that had white behind it suddenly has a dark colour filling in the transparent areas.

Hopefully that makes sense. It's a very unique feature that very few other websites have. The cool thing is that it can also be done irl with a light box! Very cool stuff.

Here is the basic tutorial: https://the-stove-is-on-fire.tumblr.com/post/619132120585076736/png-opacity-tutorial-click-on-the-images-this

Here's the advanced tutorial (it is complicated, I have to simplify one of these days): https://the-stove-is-on-fire.tumblr.com/post/674487266957262848/i-have-been-experimenting-with-transparency-art

[dailyadventureprompts]

Dungeon: The Narrow Out

Looking to slip past the imperial naval blockades, you and your fellow strangers have paid for passage aboard a smuggler’s ship. Something's gone wrong however, you were supposed to meet at the mouth of the old sea cave but the person who was to be your guide hasn’t shown. With no hope of turning back, your only chance of escape is to press onwards into the dark.

This adventure starter is intended as an intro for a group of newer players and provides an introduction to a campaign full of mysteries, hidden motives, and nautical swashbuckling.  It lets you get a group of unrelated characters together, give them a starting point to begin constructing their backstories (why they need to leave the land under blockade), and familiarize them with the game’s mechanics (whichever that game might be) before sending them out into the world for larger adventures. 

Challenges & Complications

After some brief introductions at the mouth of the cave (perhaps asking how everyone is dealing with the chill of the evening, and the stress of trying to slip past the military blockade), you can send the party into the mouth of the cave with the shared understanding that their contact is long overdue. Finding their way through the caves is essential to them obtaining their freedom, but solving the mystery of what happened to their contact will prevent the same from falling into a similar fate. 

The initial leg of the journey through the cave is full of darkness, dead ends, and the usual denizens of any low level dungeon. The idea here is to teach your party the basics of game mechanics ( combat, skill challenges etc) before they get into exploration proper. These early tunnels are little more than various natural caves that the smugglers use as a buffer between their hideout and the outside world, sometimes creating false trails that lead would be interlopers into traps. 

The interior of the smuggler’s lair is an old fortress built into the walls of the cave itself, a secret dock constructed during the Grey Duke’s Revolution (or whichever conflict fits your campaign backstory)  and lost in the subsequent shift of power.  Since then it’s become a place for the smugglers to store their ill gotten good while blocking off several sections for being too dangerous to utilize, which just may prove to have unclaimed valuables. 

The smuggler’s ship, the Singing Eel is awaiting the party at the dock, all decked out and ready to sail but with no one apparently on board.  It’s an eerie sight, made all the eerier by the discovery that several of the innocuous statues stashed away in the cargo hold are in fact former members of the crew, victims of the flock of cockatrices the smugglers were transporting at a noble’s behest who managed to escape their cages and now lurk in the ship. 

While the party’s contact is stone dead, the rest of the crew is hold up in one of the old fortifications, ordered to hide by their all too cautious captain who’s scared of the beasts attacking.  The cockatrices haven’t left yet because one of their number, the lone rare female is still stuck in her cage, kept alive by the males foraging for her and passing food. The smugglers are on the edge of mutiny, some want to bolt, some want to try and fight, some want to recover their deadly cargo for the rich payout they were promised, and the party can have a strong impact depending on which side they talk up. Alternatively, if enough of the party are proficient in sailing, the thought might occur to them to cut the smugglers out of the deal entirely and take the ship and/or the surviving cockatrices for themselves and risk the blockade. 

While they’re exploring the old dock ruins, the party can come across a number of documents which might include maps of the dungeon, clues to hidden treasure, backstory on the cockatrices, blackmail information on the crew, as well as a hint of treasure in the location they’re headed off to. 

Art 1

Art 2

[wedonthaveawhile]

Betraying the devil you know // Prologue

Ominis Gaunt x f!MC

AO3 link // Wordcount: 500 // Tags: Explicit | Allies to lovers | Dark | Violence | Jealousy | Angst | Smut | Trauma | Forced proximity | Implied alcoholism | Non-canon deaths | Mafia AU.

Months. That's how long Marvolo Gaunt has been crushing the life out of you. One reckless decision was all it took to be dragged into his inner circle to pay for your sins. However, being his favourite informant has its perks—you hear whispers: a civil war is brewing among the Gaunt's.

Is it better the devil you know, or do you seek refuge in the arms of the enemy?

Working for Marvolo Gaunt had taught her enough to know when she was being followed.

It was the hooded stranger in a candlelit recess of the Leaky Cauldron. The shadow drifting across her path on the walk home. A silhouette eclipsing the moonlight as they stole a glance through the window into her cramped flat.

The domestic wards had obstructed all their attempts to enter.

At the crack of dawn, she would apparate to him for a briefing. Following her shift at the inn, she would obediently report back the whispers on the wind before retreating home to drown his haunting voice in firewhisky. It rarely did the trick; he was omnipresent, slithering in and out of her consciousness without reprieve.

Her boss had gone to great lengths to ensure she was cordoned off from the public. A display. Nothing more than one of the polished trinkets in his collection—untouchable. Her identity had been erased and her life turned monotonous.

Deliver this package to table four at noon.

The minister's aide will be in tonight; keep an ear out for my name.

Keep your guard up. If my brother's men make contact, I'll have to slice open your pretty throat, just as I did to your sweet little frien—

"Was there much resistance?"

An approaching figure tore her from the depths of her memories and propelled her back to the present. The tone of voice was serpentine smooth, similar to Marvolo's, but watered down—less tempestuous.

Harder to gauge a solid read.

It made her nervous.

"She didn’t even scream," bewilderment spiked through a wizard's Cockney accent, "even when we shoved her in the trunk. It was fucking bizarre."

“Never let anyone take you to a second location”, Poppy had warned when they first moved to the city. A nugget of widsom from a gentle soul who never imagined they would need it. It churned her stomach to know this was how she was honouring her memory, disregarding all the anxious advice she'd ever imparted.

Her muscles tensed as light footfalls began circling the chair to which she was tightly bound, a sharp pain searing through her shoulders from where her arms were restrained at the small of her back.

Intermittent bursts of crimson light pierced through the thick fabric draped over her head as the tip of a wand subjected her to thorough scrutiny.

The Gaunts struck fear into the hearts of many; their name a cautionary tale mothers whispered to their sons to keep them on the straight and narrow.

This particular Gaunt was a ghost story. A strategist, always orchestrating his moves from the shadows. Unlike his brother, he never graced the pages of the Prophet's socialite section, nor tarnished the ones dedicated to the escalating crime rates.

Patient, inscrutable, and lethal.

The bag was whisked from over her head and she blinked rapidly, the sconces nailed to decrepit walls swimming at the edge of her vision.

Her life had been torn from beneath her feet because of a lapse in judgement. As her focus honed in on Ominis Gaunt's levelled wand, she prayed she hadn't made another mistake.

"You let us abduct you, didn't you?"

Part I

[moonpool-system]

Our passing Bonnie fictive wrote a communication levels chart from the perspective of someone in front, and the server we're in found it interesting so we thought we'd post it here!

Disclaimers: this chart is based on the perspective of someone in front trying to communicate, and doesn't account for headspace communication completely removed from front itself. Also, this chart doesn't account for monoconsciousness - the monocon subsystem that made this can only externally communicate past a 2 on this chart and is uncertain what higher levels would look like.

Bonnie's section:

levels of communication chart based on our own observations

0 - cannot feel their presence. not aware of their existence at present at all

1 - Can feel the fact that they exist, nothing else.

2 - Can send brief "messages" of short information, pictures, or simple emotions. the most slight of passive influence. Establishing initial communication as well as two-way conversation are extremely difficult.

3 - can communicate with complex emotions, pictures, etc, but establishing two-way communication consistently is tricky. Falls under most depictions of passive influence

4 - consistent two-way communication can be maintained via complex thoughts/words, pictures, emotions, etc. this connection may fade in and out without constant focus

5 - complete & consistent awareness of the presence of the other member and what they are communicating. Your awareness of the others' words/etc is just as clear as your own.

[esamastation]

Shizuroth, part eleven.

Previous parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten

-

Well, at least Sephiroth knows better than to run around the Shinra building in a t-shirt and pyjama pants - which, while no doubt amusing, would've caused far too much chaos to be worth it.

While Angeal is putting away the remains of Sephiroth's fast food, Genesis gives the man himself an assessing eye.

The shirt he'd picked up, dark green turtleneck, works well enough with the usual coat. The outfit would need some more matching accents to really work - there's too much black and grey, they overpower the slight splash of colour - but at least it doesn't clash with anything. However… It's obvious there's simply not enough space in the sleeves of Sephiroth's coat for a full-sleeved shirt.

The leather creaks in agony when Sephiroth moves his arm, and his bicep bulges accordingly.

"Couldn't find a new coat, then?" Genesis asks, resting a hand at his hip.

Sephiroth tugs at his cuffs unhappily and bows his head, saying nothing. That's a no then.

Well. As weird as it is that memory loss gave Sephiroth the kick he needed to exercise some self-care, Genesis isn't about to look a gift chocobo in the talons. "I'll mail you the details of the shop where I got mine. They don't do mail order, everything is bespoke, but well worth the effort."

"Mn. My thanks," Sephiroth says, considers his gloves, and pushes them into a pocket. He then picks up his sword, and holds it by its sheath at his side. "Shall we?"

"You know Lazard isn't going to be happy about this," Angeall comments idly, putting the trash in the garbage. "I'm pretty sure he banned us from using the training room, permanently."

"What he doesn't know can't come to bite us in the ass," Genesis says dismissively. "And besides, we're supposed to be evaluating Sephiroth! Surely we must be thorough about it."

Angeal shakes his head, amused, and looks at Sephiroth, now fully dressed, with a shirt. He looks relieved. "Let's go."

They head out, Sephiroth trailing after them and clearly trying to cover up the fact that he has no idea where they're going.

"Floors 49 to 51 are dedicated to the SOLDIER program," Genesis says, once they're safely in the elevator. "49 is training and equipment, 50 has a gym and gear storage, and 51 is SOLDIER offices - Lazard office is up there too. We're heading to 49, where the training room is."

Catching his meaning, Angeal adds, "Floor 49 also has a briefing room, it's where we acquire most of our missions."

Sephiroth looks at them sideways through his bangs silently for a moment before nodding ever so slightly. "I see."

He really doesn't remember any of it? Damn. "You don't usually hang around on the SOLDIER floors, outside receiving missions," Genesis says, looking at Angeal and arching his brows. "You're not usually around much."

"Mn."

"I think you go to the Record's sometimes in your down time," Abgeal offers, clearing his throat and arching his brows to Genesis. "Floor 58. It houses the Shinra public archives."

"Well, public," Genesis says, shrugging. "You need a keycard to access it and a high enough security level to actually take anything out, and of course none of the really classified files are accessible. And their drama section is abysmal."

Sephiroth hums, looking between them suspiciously. "A library, then?"

"If you want to call it that. Midgar Public Library has better variety - and a little less propaganda - but I imagine you've never been," Genesis sniffs and looks at him.

"Ah," Sephiroth says, wary.

"You'd be swarmed there," Genesis clarifies. "By the grateful and adoring public."

Sephiroth shifts his weight at that and says nothing, looking uncomfortable.

Angeal hides how troubled he is well as he faces Sephiroth, but Genesis can hear it in his voice. "The cafeteria, by the way, is on floor 61," he says. "It's not usually too bad, and people tend to leave members from other departments alone."

"Or you can pay the cafeteria staff under the table to deliver," Genesis muses and looks up as the elevator comes to a stall. "Right, I'll go see that the coast is clear. Angeal -"

"We'll just wait here," Angeal says, knowing, and looks at Sephiroth - who is very much not ready to be jumped on by an excited baby SOLDIER asking for pointers.

"Then off I go, to face the beasts," Genesis says and sets forth.

It's a well-practised routine at this point, to subtly chase away any wayward SOLDIER Second Class members from the training room. Mostly it just involves him walking in and making his presence known - Seconds tend to know to make way.

Thirds are trickier, because they're often too new to know better - but SOLDIER Third Classes don't have access to the training room anyway.

"Genesis, sir," a Second Class he's sometimes trained with, Kunsel, sidles up to him. "It's it true? About Sephiroth?"

Well, at least he knows to keep his voice down. "Is what true about Sephiroth?" Genesis asks, narrowing his eyes.

"I heard he was hanging around in Injections," Kunsel says carefully and adds, "In The Restroom?"

It really took them only a day, huh.

"Sephiroth? In The Restroom? Really," Genesis says as though excited and leans in. "When? Did someone see him?"

"Um, yesterday?" the Second Class says, also leaning in a little. "It was one of the Third Classes."

"... Oh," Genesis answers, affecting disappointment. "I see. Well, I'm pretty sure Sephiroth was at home yesterday."

"... Really?"

"Saw him myself," Genesis assures him with a shake of his head and rests a hand at his hip. "You said it was a Third Class who spotted him? Well. I wouldn't want to call them a liar, but… they were probably coming out of the procedure themselves. And you know how it is with Mako injections."

Kunsel hums in thought, looking a little troubled. "I do, sir," he says and shakes his head. "It did seem a bit weird."

"You should talk to the Third," Genesis says. "They're probably really convinced they saw something, and maybe they did - but it still wouldn't do to spread stories like that. That's only good for ruining someone's reputation."

"No sir, you're right. I'll talk to him," the Second Class says seriously and nods. "I'll take care of it."

"Good man - maybe take them out on some easy mission, get their mind off it," and get them out of the building for a bit. "It's not their fault. Mako plays tricks on us all."

With Kunsel and hopefully the rumours thus fended off, the coast to the training room is clear. Genesis heads to the elevators, where Angeal is casually poking at the floor button 

"Showtime," Genesis says and looks at Sephiroth. "Time to see if you're still worthy of being a Hero."

Sephiroth clenches his hand around Masamune's sheath and gives him a weird look. "A hero?" he asks incredulously. "Me?"

… Oh. That's…

"Don't worry," Angeal says quickly, clapping Sephiroth on the shoulder. "We'll help you remember." But he looks worried too.

"Or else, take your place," Genesis says, but the taunt lacks its usual sting as he shares a look with Angeal.

This… might be even worse than they thought.

-

Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss; Genesis.