#stand-alone inverter

[mommypieck]

𑄽୧ age gap with nanami 𔓘 ᰍ

kinktober day 5: my daddy!!!

✯⁠ nanami kento x reader

✯⁠ warnings: brief dubcon, crying, spanking, doggy, rough sex, p in v

"Are you there, Mr. Kento?" you yell from the door, entering it without even waiting for a response. He sits there at his desk, clearly not paying attention to you. he turns his head when he sees you walk in.

"What's up, y/n ?" he asks as he turns his chair around to face you. Your cheeks turn red, and you say in the most innocent voice ever, "I've been craving you, Kento."

Nanami looks at you confused, he knows what college girls think about and stuff they do, but he never expected it from you. You walk up to him, throwing yourself on his lap.

"What are you doing, y/n ?" he asks you with a panicked voice, trying to push you off him. You stay seated in his lap, running your hands through his hair.

"I know you want it, Kento," you whisper in his ear, licking at his neck. he moans at the touch of your tongue, his head falling back. You can see how hard he tries to resist your touch, but he fails miserably.

"Y/n, if you don't stop right now. I'm gonna call the cops," he warns you, and the look he gives you makes you even wetter. He's so cute when he's trying to be intimidating. You climb off his lap, chuckling at yourself when he stays seated. You swing your hips in front of him, unbuttoning the oversized shirt you're wearing. You let it fall to the ground, revealing that you're not wearing anything underneath. His pupils widen at the sight in front of him. It's been so time since he had a naked woman next to him, let alone as beautiful as you. You bend over in front of him, and he has to invert his eyes, his pants getting too tight for his liking. He wants to call himself a coward for not backing out, but he can't move. The thing you said is true, he wants you.

"Do you like what you see?" you ask, and he finally looks at you. Nanami moans just at the sight. You're on the ground before him, ass in the air. Your talented fingers play with the wetness while you smirk at him. You're a slut, that's all you are. A dirty slut who wants to get fucked by an older man, more specifically, her best friend's father.

"oh Kento, come fuck me." you moan dramatically as you get on your back, spreading your legs again. Your feet bump into his chest, and you kick him lightly, giggling. He knows he's about to snap if you don't stop right now. Your feet settle on his crotch, running up and down his hard-on.

"You're so hard for me-"

"That's it." he groans. You feel yourself getting dragged up by his strong arms before being thrown over his lap. You yelp when his hand comes down on your ass - hard. He spanks you over and over, not stopping no matter how hard you plead.

"Kento, stop please." you cry out, trying to crawl away from his lap. He doesn't listen instead he brings his hand down on your ass harder.

"I can't believe my daughter is friends with a slut like you," he says, and you involuntary moan at the sentence.

"That's what I thought." he snorts, massaging your butt. He pushes you out of his lap, and you fall on the ground next to his feet.

"Bend over the table," he orders, and you do what he asks with wobbly knees. You try to stand, but your front falls against the table.

"That's what bad girls get," he says, standing behind you. You hear his zipper go down, and you salivate in anticipation. The head of his cock runs through your folds before he slides right in. You knew he was big but didn't think he would be this hard to take.

"What's that? Can't take me?" he laughs, slapping your ass again. Your cheek presses against the table, and your whole body hurts even though he isn't moving inside you. he thrusts in, and your eyes roll back. He's not sweet, he fucks you like you deserve it. It's true, he's too big for you to handle, but he also feels so good.

"Are you crying?" he asks you when he notices a wet spot on the table. You can't answer with your eyes clouded with tears and saliva falling from your mouth. He broke you. You feel yourself falling, and you're close to fainting, but this is what you asked for.

"get up, whore. I'm not done with you."

taglist: @mcharris747 @huuuuut30 @krispsprite @bejewelledd @cawwn @veryninjanacho @jamayah @dngerwayz @nwptune @universlypiratecolor @ffakegucci @merachannie @d1lf-luvr @th3girln3xtdoor @nobody289x @iheartpieck @gia999 @kawasgirl @st4rrlighttt @candyeyeroll @7haze @banchangsbbbg @nigthmar3moon @softlilpeachxx @d1gitalbathh @jaenniii

@satorustar @balenciagarette @grosspube

[allzelemonz]

Boys’ Night: The Van der Linde Boys X Male Reader

Dutch Van der Linde, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith, Bill Williamson, Micah Bell, Sean MacGuire, Kieran Duffy, Javier Esquella

Fictober Prompt: Day 31, Orgy Pronouns: None Mentioned Physical Sex: AMAB Rating: E/Smut Warnings: Orgy, threesomes, kissing, anal fingering, anal sex, oral sex, blow jobs, rough sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, Sean’s drunken mind, marking, viagra-esc tonics, almost everyone is passed around to everyone else, Reader takes both top and bottom roles Summary: Sean has an idea that leads most of the boys in the gang to a damn fun time.

Sean, in his mildly drunken wisdom, decided that a boys’ night needs more than just poker, five finger filet, and songs. With most of the older folks and women out of camp for a special con, Sean knows his only hindrance might be Dutch. So he enlists the best sycophant he’s ever met.

“Can’t tell me it won’t be fun.” Sean grins. “All a’ us-“

“I ain’t gonna be a part a’ some invert orgy.” Micah mutters.

Sean leans closer. “Oh, really? Even if a certain cowpoke’s involved?”

Micah glares up at Sean from his seat by the scout fire, then follows the Irishman’s eyes to the filet table. There you stand, arms crossed as you watch Morgan and Marston play. And Micah might be able to turn it down, let his senses say no again, but then Dutch leans a little closer and whispers something in your ear. Micah’s head swims with lewd images of the two men he finds himself pining for in his alone time despite his best efforts.

“Fine.” He snaps, holstering his gun and glaring at Sean. “But ain’t no one ta know ‘bout this, understand that?”

Sean grins with a little chuckle. “Ya mean ‘side from the boys fuckin’ ya?”

Micah’s fists clench at his sides, but he stops himself from punching Sean. He’s in too deep at this point, half hard in his pants and more frustrated than he’s ever been. “Shut yer damn mouth, cowboy, ‘for I decide ta leave ya with blue balls.”

Sean puts his hands up, giggling to himself. “Got it, big man.”

Micah stomps off and Sean watches him carefully. The blond makes his way over to Dutch, coaxing him away from the table and back to the fire. This might be easier than he thought.

Dutch is skeptical at first, concerned about how the gang might take such a proposition. But with Micah’s easy words, Sean watches the gang leader become so much more comfortable with the idea of the gang doing this for bonding and morale.

And the word spreads fast.

Folks are a little nervous at first, shuffling and unsure. Plenty of pining goes around camp on the average day, but being given the green light is a little daunting. So, Dutch being Dutch, he makes the first move. Shedding the hat from the blond’s head, Dutch pulls Micah into a kiss by the collar of his shirt. Most of the gang watches as he walks Micah back into the filet table and lets his hands wander. Sean gets the next burst of confidence, practically lunging to kiss Lenny. John bursts out laughing when they fall onto the ground together, but he’s silenced quickly by Javier. Then Bill sheepishly cups Kieran’s face before the former O’Driscoll puts his arms over Bill’s shoulders and kisses him as if he’s been waiting to for years. It’s only yourself, Charles, and Arthur left standing in the midst of the mess, looking around at the others of the gang in various states of intimacy and undress.

Arthur clears his throat, the red of his face only getting worse as he glances around. “Well… suppose…”

You look over at him, those pretty eyes staring back at you. “You…uh, you wanna…?”

There’s a weight on your shoulder and you turn to see Charles, his other hand held out towards Arthur. The workhorse dips his head, his hat hiding his face as he steps forward and takes Charles’s hand.

“We could go somewhere a little private.” Charles suggests, nodding towards Arthur’s tent.

The thought is comforting, making your pounding heart calm a bit. Most others have simply started at their partners where they happened to fall. Only Bill and Kieran have moved behind the chuck wagon. Sean nearly has Lenny out of his pants on the ground, Javier is shamelessly grinding into John against the tree, Dutch has Micah surprisingly whimpering at the attention he gets, Charles simply leads you and a bashful Arthur away from the others.

Arthur sits on his cot, rubbing a hand down his face as he takes a breath. You don’t blame him given the circumstances.

“We don’t have to.” Charles says, sitting next to him with a kind hand on his shoulder. “Just because Dutch said it would be a good idea, doesn’t make it true.”

Arthur shakes his head. “No… I been…” He sighs. “Been wantin’ somethin; fer a while.” His hand reaches up to hold Charles’s on his shoulder, his eyes finding yours as they scrunch from a smile. “Guess I got a dirty mind.”

You chuckle lightly at the joke, happily taking Charles’s hand again as he pulls you into his lap. Charles kisses you softly, one of his hands on your waist. You gasp, pulling back slightly, when he starts to rut against you with a half-hard dick. Arthur has moved behind Charles, kissing at his neck while his hands lift up his shirt. Charles’s chest is broad and built, firm to the touch when you rest your hands on him. You watch Arthur’s hand move, twisting into your shirt to pull you forward. You’re pressed flush against Charles as Arthur kisses you over the other man’s shoulder. It’s Charles’s turn to give neck kisses now, his hands firmly holding your hips so you grind down into him.

“I want ya.” Arthur mutters against your lips. “Ya wanna fuck me, partner?”

You nod, kissing him again.

“What do you want from me?” Charles asks, his hand tilting Arthurs head so they can look at each other over his shoulder.

Arthur’s breath hitches as he looks at the man. “I… I wanna suck ya off, Charles.”

Charles smiles and that in itself is a slight. “Of course you do.”

The three of you move, hands guiding and wandering as clothes are shed. In the distance, Sean can be heard begging and groaning, there’s some curse shouted in Spanish, and the camp echos with skin slapping skin and the slurping, popping, and smacking of spit. It’s all overwhelming and you try to focus on what’s in front of you.

Arthur’s on his back, Charles nearly sitting on his chest as his dick is sucked. You’ve already spread Arthur’s legs, the tube of gun oil feeling heavy in your hand. You open it quickly, spilling half of it before getting your fingers covered and entering Arthur. In front of you, Charles throws his head back with a deep groan as his hips begin to stutter and fuck into Arthur’s mouth. You can’t help your free hand pumping yourself as you watch, your other scissoring Arthur open. It’s premature, you know it is, but you can’t take it anymore. You should stretch him more, but your dick aches in your hand and you retract your hands to grip Arthur’s hips instead.

You press into him and hear a muffled moan as Charles shivers from the vibrations it brings. Both of you still, giving Arthur time. You watch his hand grip at Charles’s hip, pulling him forward. Charles sits up, propping himself on the box behind Arthur’s cot so he can get the proper angle to fuck down into Arthur’s mouth. You start your pace, rough and fast like Charles. Arthur’s legs shake as he wraps them around your waist, his hand squeezing at Charles’s ass. You wish you could see their faces, but you can imagine. Charles’s is likely twisted in pleasure and concentration, Arthur’s might be slobbery and tear stained.

It’s Arthur that comes first, his dick untouched as it releases a flood of cum onto his stomach, a few spurts hitting Charles’s ass. Arthur’s body goes still as he whines, being used as a set of holes by now. Charles is next and you watch the bounce of his ass lose its nice rhythm as he shoots his release down Arthur’s throat. Charles seems to bury himself deep and Arthur grips his hips as he swallows what he’s given. You double your efforts, wanting to fill Arthur from both ends. You gaze falls downwards to watch yourself fuck into Arthur’s tight hole. Charles catches you off guard, tilting your head up for a kiss as he straddles Arthur’s stomach. His hand reaches down, passing your furious thrusting to fondle at your balls as they bounce off of Arthur. The heat builds fast and you release just as Charles bites at your lip.

When you let go of Arthur’s hips, he falls back down to his cot completely. Charles continues to kiss you as you pull out, smiling into it. You can hear Arthur’s labored breaths beneath you and you’re so in your own head that you don’t register the footsteps.

“Mind if I try somethin’, fellas?”

You turn from Charles to see Micah leaning against Arthur’s shaving stand. He only has his red shirt on, half buttoned, and a smirk rests on his face. Charles’s hand has yet to leave your balls and you feel him squeezing slightly as his other turns your head back to him for another kiss, silently telling you to ignore Micah.

“Aw, come on, Smith.” Micah drawls. “Lemme have a turn.”

Charles pulls back, his lips wetted and dark from all the kissing. “A turn?”

You hear Micah take a step forward and Charles moves fast. He leaves you and you nearly fall onto Arthur, only just catching yourself before collision. You look over your shoulder to watch Charles push Micah down to bend over Arthur’s weapon’s chest. A new pool of heat starts when Charles sucks on his fingers before shoving them into Micah, eliciting a moan from the older man.

“Shit…” Arthur mutters under you.

You turn to look down at him, chuckling. “Don’t think it’s what he had in mind.”

Arthur smirks. “Yeah, I doubt it.”

His hand finds the back of your neck and pulls you down for a kiss. Micah’s whimpers and curses fill the tent and you feel yourself getting hard again. Arthur grunts against you, pressing up until he brushes his dick to yours.

“‘m gettin’ too old fer this.” He mutters, blushing at his still soft dick.

Behind you, Micah gasps and you look back to watch him bury his face in his arm as Charles enters him roughly. Charles thrusts like a beast, fucking every last pathetic noise he can out of Micah. Kind of serves him right.

“C-Charlie…” Micah gasps, his voice light and breathless. “Ah! Fuck…”

Arthur hisses, his hand wrapping around his dick and trying to get himself going again. You trail your hand down, helping him stroke himself, but to no avail. After a few seconds a bottle lands beside Arthur on the cot, a tonic bottle. You look up as Arthur cranes his neck in the same direction. Standing to the side is Bill, a timid looking Kieran right behind him. Both of them are bare besides a blanket draped over Kieran’s shoulders.

“It helps.” Bill mutters, his eyes trailing over to watch Charles and Micah for a moment. “Works fer whiskey dick at least.”

Arthur looks the other outlaw up and down strangely. “Thanks.”

Bill clears his throat. “Ya wanna trade, Morgan?”

You look down at Arthur who glances between you and Kieran. He catches your nod before looking at Bill. “Sure.”

Kieran steps forward, a sheepish grin on his face. You give Arthur a final kiss before standing. As you pass him, you chance giving Kieran a kiss and he accepts it, melting into you for the few seconds it lasts. When you pull away and turn to Bill, the large man has taken himself in his hand at the sight. Your eyes catch on that motion, swallowing thickly at the size, nearly as big as Charles. You find the sense to step closer to Bill and kiss him. Behind you, Kieran squeaks from something and Arthur mumbles an apology. Bill’s hands find your hips, pulling you against him well enough to smush your dicks together between your stomachs.

Charles practically growls behind you and you hear Micah gasp again. “How’s that for a darkie, Micah?”

There’s a thud and you imagine Charles let Micah go or maybe even threw him on the ground. A few beats later, Sean calls out to Charles with a drunken shake to his voice. Bill pulls you with him, keeping his lips busy on your neck until he turns you around to bend you over Staruss’s little table. Bill fumbles, finding a tonic on the ground and pouring it over his hand before he pushes his fingers inside. You spread your legs for him, raising your ass a bit now that you’ve lost whatever care for shame you had at the start of all of this.

“Gentlemen.” Dutch greets, settling himself against the tree behind the two of you. “Don’t mind me.”

Bill’s finger’s stall for a moment, likely nervous about fucking someone in front of his boss, but he continues after a few seconds. You try not to think about Dutch watching you, feeling that same set of performance nerves. Bill fumbles more as he moves, spreading your ass cheeks apart with one hand as he guides himself inside. Both of you groan as he enters and pushes himself in fully. Bill leans forward, pressing a kiss to your shoulder before he starts thrusting. You fix your feet steady on the ground when the table under you shakes from the combined weight. Bill’s thrusts are moderate and steady, hitting deep and brushing heavenly every time.

There’s a small groan, sounding like Kieran, that makes you shiver when you think about what Arthur is doing to him. A few more thrusts from Bill makes you grip the table tighter as your legs feel shaky. Then there’s a shout of Spanish with Charles’s name mixed in. Bill’s hands wander up your body a bit, caressing your sides as he keeps up his steady fucking. A low groan reminds you that Dutch is watching and you have half a mind to look back at him, but Bill picks up his speed and you bury your face into your arm instead. Bill’s climax pumps you full, the trickling feeling distinct as his dick already starts to push the excess out with a few final thrusts.

Only a moment after Bill has stepped back there are hands on your hips. Sean pulls you to him, falling to his knees in front of you and taking you in his mouth too fast for you to think. Your hands go to his soft hair and he relents immediately, letting you fuck his mouth without question.

“Arthur!” Kieran cries somewhere in the background.

Behind you, hands grip your hips as kisses are pressed to your neck. The tickle of a mustache tells you it’s likely Javier, but you’re too occupied with fucking Sean’s willing mouth to think further. You release for the second time, letting Sean take everything you have. In the midst of your high, Javier presses inside of you and starts fucking without inhabition. His hands on your waist hold you still, his lips beginning to suck in a mark to your neck. Sean stands, grinning at you before he runs over to Arthur and all but jumps on the older man’s dick. Javier wraps his arms around you, filling your ears with mumbled Spanish that is slurred by ecstasy.

Your eyes move around camp, finding several things to admire. Bill has Micah in his lap, stroking him with one hand and fingering him with another. John and Lenny each have each other in hand as they kiss, Charles watching them from the campfire. Dutch has Kieran on the ground, fucking him roughly as he mutters about O’Driscolls but Kieran moans all the same. Arthur stares from afar, Sean bouncing on his dick as he watches the sight of Javier finally burying himself deep and mixing his cum deep inside of you with Bill’s.

“You’re so warm, cariño.” Javier mutters in your ear before he chuckles. “Who’re you seeing next?”

“Not sure.” You take a few breaths. “Haven’t seen half of them yet.”

Javier pulls himself out, causing the mixed cum to leak out. “John’s a good hole, dirty mouth too.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

You turn in time for Javier to kiss you before he heads over to Arthur, teasing words spilling out as he climbs onto the older man’s lap to replace a spent Sean. When you turn back, Dutch is a few feet away. He beckons, gesturing to the ground and some part of wanting to please your boss makes you sink to your knees without question. Dutch guides his dick to your lips and, once again, you don’t hesitate. You only get a few bobs in before Dutch clutches at your head, beginning to use you without care.

“Shit!” Bill yells, not sounding pleased. “Wagons!”

Dutch pulls you off and you turn your head to peer through the trees. Glimpses of horses, a few colorful dresses… shit indeed. Everyone scrambles, hiding in tents, pulling clothes back on, trying to clean up cum from various surfaces. You all but fall into your tent, rummaging for at least a union suit or some kind of underwear. Pants, you find pants and pull them on.

“Dutch…” Hosea calls. “What’s gone on here?”

From your tent you can see Bill hiding behind a tree, not a thing covering him. Dutch comes out of his tent, somehow fully dressed, and greets Hosea as if he hasn’t fucked half of his men in the last hour. Miss Grimshaw looks around, sniffing with a crease in her brow for a moment. She’s distracted by Tilly asking a question and you take the opportunity to grab the union suit you know to be Bill’s on the ground in front of you before running over to him in the trees.

“Owe ya.” He mutters, pulling on the covering.

You nod, turning to leave, but Bill catches your arm and pulls you closer to kiss your cheek. You give him a smile before circling around the trees, acting like you’d gone out to piss. Passing Lenny and Sean hiding out by the lake with a single fishing pole as an excuse, you sneak as best you can to Arthur’s tent. As if expecting you, a half dressed Arthur with a bulge in his pants, hands you the clothes you’d shed earlier. You dress the rest of the way next to the munitions, eyes checking for onlookers on occasion.

The camp settles, the secret kept. Everything is well and most of the boys have elected not to bring it up, others whisper and snicker about it. It’s dark when Micah sits next to you and you look at him, finding flushed cheeks for only a moment before he kisses you. It’s surprisingly soft despite the chapped and bruised lips. He pulls back, glancing to see if anyone saw before looking back at you with a sparkle in his blue eyes.

“Didn’t get the chance, cowpoke.”

[possiblylando]

An Analysis on the meaning of each Moonscorched Contestant in Termina.

It comes with the territory; Discussions of Sexual Content Additionally, Spoilers for Termina. CHAUGNAR; Abella

Chaugnar is one of the more unusual moonscorched forms as unlike other Moonscorched forms it doesn't seem to share much with Abella herself. Chaugnar takes the form of a Large Masculine humanoid with a Mutilated Earless Elephant head. It's skin seems almost scaley in portions, Like it's been callused. The lower half of Chaugnar is the most obvious parallel in the design. Abella lives a more masculine life for the 1940s. Due to be a mechanic she's in much better shape than many other contestants. Notably being the only Female Contestant able to use two handed weapons without issue. I've not encountered anything suggesting Abella to be insecure about her masculinity; which is a bit odd for a Moonscorched form as they tend to embody the traits the original contestant was most insecure about. Chaugnar as a name originates from H.P. Lovecraft Mythos, From a creature of the same name. However it's been confirmed the name Chaugnar is a reference in name alone due to having a similar appearance to Chaugnar from Lovecraft Mythos. So the question stands, Why does Chaugnar have an Elephant's head? Looking at Elephants from a spiritual sense they tend to represent Luck and Prosperity. Which would take on an inverted meaning as Abella is one of the first Contestants to become Moonscorched. Additionally I've seen the theory that Chaugnar's Elephant Head is due to Abella being fused with another version of the Woodsman's "Parasite" which jumps her in Tunnel 7. However Abella still becomes Chaugnar if she's in your party at the Tower or the player waits until Day 4. This could be so that she doesn't have two Moonscorched forms. Depending on how you look at it this could prove or disprove the theory.

Lore - It can't be the Parasite because Abella becomes Chaugnar when she isn't caught by one.

Development - It could be the Parasite because making an entirely new Moonscorched form just for the Tower would take a lot of extra time for an unnecessary feature.

THE GENTLEMAN (THE MAYOR); Henyrk

The Gentleman is one of the more straight forward Moonscorched forms. But also one of the more interesting ones. The Gentleman takes the form of a Large Guard-Esq creature which an unusual head. It's face is twisted to the point you're unable to make out it's expression at any given moment. Additionally it's eyes are so warped it's not clear if they're eyes of secondary mouths replacing them. Put simply the Gentleman is an exaugurated version of Henyrk who's lost a majority of his inhibitions. Unlike Abella it's much more clear why Henyrk Moonscorches so early on in the competition. Henyrk is prone to Paranoia and Panic as seen in the mayor's mansion on Morning 1. The Gentleman retains most of Henyrk's sensibilities but seems unattached to Henyrk's memories. This is a twisted form of how Henyrk views himself. Notably I don't believe the Gentleman to be a bad person. Unlike many other Moonscorched forms he retains an ability to reason and control himself. He won't attack the player unless they directly insult his cooking, One of the only things Henyrk seemed to value himself on. Notably it seems the Gentleman went through several phases in development which are still leftover in the game. Under certain circumstances Marina can be found in the Mayor's mansion having been kidnapped by him. Given what I've previously said about the Gentleman I doubt he would've done anything Sexually Predatory to her as Henyrk doesn't seem like the kind of person who would do something like that. However the same can not be said for the Gentleman's original appearance.

This version of the Gentleman is much more defined demonic appearance, His face showing visible malice and anger. Additionally he can be seen with a Stinger, Similar to the guards in the first game. Clearly this initial design was meant to evoke the Guards. However unlike the Guards who are animalistic, The Gentleman is cruelly aware of his disgusting deeds. I have no doubt this version of the Gentleman would have been a Sexual Predator. Given his design was changed to remove the more crass "implications" (Less Implications more outright statements), Its logical to assume the final version of the Gentleman wouldn't be as disgusting as the original. DYSMORPHIA; Samarie

Dysmorphia takes the form of a tall black feminine creature. Her torso is notably rounded. The flesh around Her face is flayed and pulled back by a metal ring behind her head evoking the imagry of a Halo. Dysmorphia is one of the more interesting Moonscorched forms as she acts less like a monster and more like an awoken form of Samarie. She shares many of the same emotional issues and insecurities as Samarie. Dysmorphia as a name is incredibly straight forward as it refers directly to Samarie's feelings of hatred towards herself. As a recap, Samarie was apart of the Experiments in the 9th circle to contact the old gods. Her time there was torturous and awakened her ability to read minds. She feels ostracized from society and is always afraid of her imitate death due to what happened to her. Notably if she survives Termina she seems to be able to continue living just fine as she's seen to still be stalking Marina. While not explicitly stated it's possible Samarie as a form of Body Dysmorphia. Dysmorphia has a rounder stomach and torso in comparison to Samarie's stick thin body. It's hard to say if this is intentional or not due to Samarie's lack of- really anything in the game. Samarie and Dysmorphia by extension are torn between their self hatred and their need to be able to live as their true selves. As seen in their battle dialog. Player: “You were just a regular person a moment ago...” Dysmorphia: “What is that supposed to mean!? Why must everyone be regular!? Regular this! Regular that! Be normal! YOU CALL ME REGULAR!?” You managed to infuriate Dysmorphia with your persuasion efforts. (+Furious)

She's so blindsided by anyone showing any sort of kindness to her that it's enough to make her question everything she's been doing and planning for, For assumably years. Dysmorphia: “I did all this for her... I had it all ready... But then you come along...AND RUINED IT ALL!” Player: [PERSUADE] “Let's just talk this through. No harm done yet...” Dysmorphia: “Talk!? TALK!? Why would you want to talk to me!? Just look at me!” Player: “What's so weird about wanting to talk?” Dysmorphia: “...” Dysmorphia is clearly hesitating... “This is just a trick, isn't it...? You don't care about me...” (+Hesitation) I'll talk about it more in detail when I get to the Mastermind but it's also seen with Dysmorphia. Moonscorching seems less like complete monsterfication and more like an Evolution/Awakening. It's quite literally stated by Dysmorphia. Player: “What do you mean 'radiating'?”

Dysmorphia: “Like a moth! I'm finally close to bloom! A hairy moth in the night!” MONSTER; Caligura

The Monster is the most straight forward Moonscorched form. It takes the form of a giant bulbus and warty combination of a Vagina and a Ball sack. This is because Caligura is a bastard. He is a ball sack before he's moonscorched and he's a ball sack after he's moonscorched. Gaining a Vagina mouth represents his lust after women. There is not much depth present in Caligura's moonscorched form. It maintains a portion of Caligura's consciousness but not much. It's only real communication ability is insults and telling the player to choke on it's balls. Semi Unrelated to Monster; One theory I've heard is that Caligura is Samarie's Bio-Dad due to how similar they look. They look even more similar when you look at Beta Caligura in comparison to Samarie.

It's interesting enough to mention due to Monster's otherwise lack of subtly. WEEPING SCOPE; Levi

The Weeping Scope takes on a tall and semi-thin masculine form with an elongated torso. It's head has been replaced with the fleshy barrel of a tank cannon. The remains of Levi's clothes can be seen fused to it's upper torso with a notable lack of visible gentiles despite the lack of clothes. The Weeping Scope represents Levi's worst possible ending. Unlikely others like Dysmorphia and Gentleman who act as evolved forms of their contestants, Weeping Scope is Levi regressed back to his trauma and unable to escape from it. It seems to act entirely on instinct until it has a realization of what it's become. He's been turned into a weapon which can't do anything except kill. Once the player encounters the Scope for the first time it'll fire on them before fleeing. Once it flees it will hide in the Orphanage and become passive to the player unless they directly attack it. Levi is clearly still present within the Scope and still wants to be able to move on from his Trauma but is unable to escape it as he keeps getting dragged back into it. The Scope goes to the Orphanage as despite it being a location Levi was implied to have been abused in, It's the only familiar place he knows in Prehevil. Levi will never be able to fully escape the terrible circumstances of his upbringing as they'll always hang over him. -Second Reading- There's also another possible reading of the Weeping Scope which I'll mention. In this interpretation the Scope acts as an inverted version of the Cocoon. Both forms see the Contestants lose their heads in place of their most notable mutation and lose control over themselves to that mutation. The Cocoon is controlled by the Cocoon, And the Scope is controlled by it's gun. Additionally the reason no gentiles are visible on the Scope is because it doesn't have a dick, It has a Vagina which is hidden by it's pubic hair. Both the Scope and the Cocoon reveal the biggest insecurities of their contestants, Being their birth gender. This reading would make Levi trans. I think it's a valid reading even though it isn't the one I personally ascribe to. The main points against it can be handwaved. That main problem being, Levi was a Child Soldier long before women were allowed to fight in a war. Transphobia exists in the Fear and Hunger universe so it's unlikely they would let it slide. However it's also possible that they didn't care about gender in the slightest so long as they could use a gun and kill the enemy. POCKET CAT; Daan

We all know and [HAVE EMOTIONS PERTAINING TO] Pocket Cat. He's unusual because not only is he special he probably isn't a moonscorched form. He possesses Daan no matter what, The moon's radiation just speeds up the processes. Daan has without question the most cruel backstory in the series. It's almost a guarantee that his life was tampered with by outside forces. To put it simply, Daan was groomed into becoming Pocket Cat. Daan's blank soul definitely makes it easier (A blank soul may even be a requirement for possession) for him to become possessed by Pocket Cat. It's hard to say for certain how Possession works in Funger given we only really see it happen once. In lue of any deeper analysis on the meaning of Daan becoming Pocket Cat, I'd like to bring up something you may not know about. The Pocket Cat Room. If you bring a Joy Mask to the Man under the lamp post you're able to gain access to the Pocket Cat Room. The Pocket Cat Room will change depending on if Daan has been possessed or not. Here are the rooms pre and post possession.

It requires contest of both to fully make sense. In the original room it's been filled up with toys and bags. These are obvious metaphors for Pocket Cat's crimes. Every time we see him with a bag there's a child inside. Each of these bags likely hides a body inside. The way this is presented, Each time a new Pocket Cat is created the slate is wiped clean as they've yet to commit any atrocities. Meaning Pocket Cat as an entity is able to escape any sort of "Karmic Punishment" is the best term I can think to describe it. As seen in Daan's room the outlines of the Sun and Star and still present as he has yet to fully delve into Rher Worship. The body seen within Daan's room likely represent the Baron and Elise. The empty chalk outline could represent how the Baron was able to get up and become Needles. Or it could represent how Elise was daan's only concern in that moment as aside from the blood and police tape the room is blank. If we were encounter another Pocket Cat room in the future while Daan is still pocket cat (Probably won't happen), We'd likely see this room become morphed to fit the original being filled up with more sacks and toys and Pocket Cat's influence becomes deeper. THE MECHANICAL DANCE; Olivia

The Mechanical Dance is a weird one as it's both straight forward and mysterious at the same time. The Mechanical Dance takes the form of a Large metal pyramid with fan slots on it's sides. Attached at the top is a feminine torso in a suit with pauldrons of some sort and long stick arms. The face is completely blank aside from it's eyes. The entirety of the Dance seems to be made out of Metal. The most obvious part is that the Dance has lost it's legs entirely only being able to move via it's pyramid base. Representing Olivia being bound to a wheelchair due to her weak legs. That however is where the most obvious aspects end. Her being apart of the Dance makes some degree of sense as it could be reasons as Olivia wanting to be able to do something she can't usually do. It's hard (but not impossible) to Dance in a wheelchair. It seems the Dance's mannequin like appearance is there to draw attention away from the Humanoid aspects of it and draw attention to the Pyramid. This represents Olivia's fears/insecurities of being unable to escape the shadow of both Relia and her disability. So the Dance itself is secondary to it's mode of transport. Overall, One of the weirdest Moonscorched forms. GIANT; Marcoh

The Giant is another of the more straight forward Moonscorched forms. It takes the form of a large hulking creature with a strange warped black torso covered in eyes and teeth. It's head is comparable to that of a barnacle's tongue. Marcoh's personality is nearly completely absent from the Giant as it's only able to say "GUILTY!". It represents Marcoh's bad ending in which he becomes a brutish monster unable to think and which only acts in Violence. it's singular dialog line suggest the Giant believes everything it's doing is for the great good. However it's hard to say for sure. VALKYRIE; Karin

The Valkyrie is a peak moonscorch as it perfect encompasses Karin as a character and her flaws. The Valkyrie which opposite to it's name takes the form of a large Harpie with thick blonde hair. The bases of it's wings are protected by pauldrons and it's face is covered by a metal blindfold/helmet. It carries a group of Bellend on it's back. there has been a bit of debate as to what the creatures of her back are but they're clearly Bellend.

The Valkyrie's name represents Karin's own opinion of herself. In her mind she's a purveyor of truth and justice, Exposing the evils of the world and making sure those who suffer at it's hand never suffer in vein. Yet in reality her actions have acted to further ostracize the downtrodden by exposing the worst parts of their lives to the world. She's figuratively and literally blinded to the truth as she believes he's carrying lost warriors on her back to save them from death. In reality she's just bringing more Bellend to Prehevil so they can wreck havoc. From a Metaphor Standpoint, My favorite Moonscorched by far. Miro was cooking flames with Valkyrie. JUDGEMENT; Tanaka

Judgement is unusual as it just seems like Tanaka fell through a window. Judgement is another Moonscorched form which acts an awoken form of the initial contestant. Tanaka as much as he's meme'd as the guy who dies first, Is actually a very strong person. As seen in his growth throughout the festival.

If you fight needles after Tanaka is decapitated, Needles is notably damaged. He didn't go down without a fight even this early on. Judgement is Tanaka's logical end point should he never go through his growth. Judgement represents Tanaka breaking the metaphorical Glass ceiling as seen with all the glass in his attacks and the move called "Glass ceiling". It's rather blatant. Judgement still retains Tanaka's memories as seen when you present him with the Crossword puzzle. Player: (Player has Crosswords puzzle) “That sounds familiar. Did you fill this Crosswords puzzle?” Judgement: “What of it? Back when I first arrived here, I lacked the ambition and determination. I would waste my time on this planet on the most useless of things.” Judgement has become obsessed with the Grind. Money makes the world go round and Judgement wants the sun to rise each day so he can continue to grind. COCOON; Marina

The Cocoon is Marina's body which has been bent over backwards and forced to crab walk. It's grown a second pair of arms which it uses to aid in it's mobility. A second head has grown in place of her dick which is connected by a Leash to a large Cocoon made of twisted flesh that has replaced Marina's head. The Cocoon represents Marina's traumas and fears. The Cocoon exposes her biggest secret to the world and makes it one of the only things people are able to see about her. You're only really able to see the Head, The Limbs. And the Cocoon. It's hard to tell if the Cocoon controls the body now, Or if the new head control it. Either way it represents Marina being unable to escape being lead around by her birth gender and the baggage that comes with it. I've heard the theory that the Cocoon contains Domek's corpse due to Marina being found in the church on the final day after his death. Even in death he has an inescapable control over her. The Cocoon is up there with the Valkyrie when it comes to the insight and metaphor it can give us into their respective contestants. MASTERMIND; O'saa

I've saved the Mastermind for last for a reason. The Mastermind without doubt is the single most unusual Moonscorched form in the game. It takes the form of O'saa with a Fungal looking growth replacing his head. a disembodied eyeball floats above it's right hand. SO WHAT THE FUCK? The mastermind more than any other moonscorch proves that moonscorching itself acts as a form of evolution. O'saa has not changed outside his appearance and now inability to speak. The Mastermind will not hunt the player down, They have to engage in battle with it. O'saa does not topple over in pain when he becomes Moonscorched like the other contestants, He sits down and meditates. Alright are you ready for my crackpot theory? Moonscorching is a form of divine enlightenment akin to the throne of ascension in mah'abre. this might sound crazy as you're probably thinking they're nothing like the New Gods we see. However I assure you, They're quite similar. New Gods aren't actually Gods in the literal sense. They're humans who have gained incredible power through the throne. However we see through the new god forms of the first game's protagonist this doesn't automatically come with a new cool form. Take Ragnavldr for example, His New God form is horrific.

He's been hunched over and swallowed by his fur clothes which have begun to take over his entire body. It's much less gruesome than some of the Moonscorched form. But thats because everyone who can ascend in the Dungeon has gone there of their own volition. They're prepared to ascend. Aside from Samarie and O'saa, None of the contestants are at all prepared to enter a form of divine ascension. So their bodies are warped and twisted. They don't have what it takes to ascend to the next form of humanity like the New Gods. It's very possible that the Mastermind and Dysmorphia are incomplete forms of ascension which had yet to fully manifest their true selves. We fight them both soon after they moonscorch so they've had no time to grow accustomed to the green hue. Look at the normal Moonscorched people, None of them have the drive to become true Moonscorched beings like the contestants. While it's probably just for gameplay balance, Notice how we can only absorb souls from the Contestants? Their souls aren't strong enough to ascend via the green hue. Samarie and O'saa have the Radiant and Enlightened souls respectively. We know one's soul matters when it comes to moonscorching because Pocket Cat is able to possess Daan due to his Blank Soul. Rher is the trickster moon god, He doesn't want humans to ascend to godhood. However have you noticed how Rher's servants only try to stop the Girl from Ascending? True Humans can not ascend to godhood via the throne. Only Hybrid Humans can ascend to true godhood. The Girl is born of Le'Garde and Nilvan. A New god and a Human. Alll-Mer is the same. He was the son of a New god and a Human. So what if the Presence of an Old God is enough to impart a form of Divinity onto those receptive to it? The Old Gods we see in Funger 1 are only present for a single boss battle and are only traces. Yet Rher's traces are present for the entire game.

[elsecrytt]

masochist gojo. gojo who's in love with pain, so much that it feels like pleasure, he can barely distinguish between the two anymore.

gojo who's so starved for touch. who's had an infinite space between himself and the whole world for so long, for so many years, every day in and day out.

gojo who's survived off glancing presses when a barista hands him a coffee, the rare hug from his students (who are mostly orphans) that he can't bring himself to decline.

gojo who craves more but can't bring himself to accept it except in fleeting moments with strangers or students.

his hands that long to be held. he wants it so bad that he teases a cursed spirit, laces his fingers with its own, right before he utterly crushes the being in battle, untouchable all over again.

gojo whose skin is hungry for someone else's. he hasn't felt the warmth of a hand in his own in so long. not since - since his youth.

gojo who sometimes wishes he could get hit. who sees the impact of curse techniques on his infinity and feels a wild, strange desire for them to go straight through and strike him.

he imagines it, vividly, being impaled by a long spear (inverted spear) that goes straight through him. how it would lance his flesh so cleanly.

being struck so hard, across the face, in the stomach, enough to knock the wind out of him.

enough to feel it with his whole body.

gojo who wants to be touched so bad he doesn't even care if it hurts anymore. infinity couldn't protect him from geto's betrayal.

gojo who keeps infinity up not because he doesn't want to get hit, but because he's terrified of what he might do when it happens.

gojo who got hard whenever geto sparred with him. he still doesn't know if it was because of geto, or because he had no infinity back then, no way to block the strikes.

he dreams of his youth. bruises littering his pale, pretty form like kisses, proof that he was human, there, that there was someone who could reach him.

dark purple things that turned pretty colors as they healed. he remembers pressing into them, relishing the hurt, feeling like he was getting hit (touched, reached, connected) all over again.

nothing ever touches him again. not like that. not like anything.

he never feels it. he never feels anything.

satoru gojo who wants, so very very badly, to feel something.

pain is a choice for him, always a choice. he alone has the privilege of deciding whether or not anything can touch him.

he could try to let more strangers touch him. one night stands, discreet arrangements. he had a pretty face and a body to match. there was no shortage of willing partners.

he lets them touch him, lets them hurt him. lets them drool over his body and use it at their leisure. they tell him he's beautiful, and he believes them.

white hair, blue eyes, sprawled out with a lean, unmarred body full of bare flesh for them to bite and scratch and bruise. he finds people who will do it, do it hard, fuck him up until he's lost entirely in the feeling of being touched, having someone against him, with him, above him.

it makes him feel like a piece of meat. it makes him feel good.

or he thinks it does, anyways.

sometimes, when he's gone particularly long without sleep, when his partner has gone particularly hard, he gets a real rush.

heart racing out of his chest. a cold sweat that overwhelms him. breaths coming in labored gasps. he can heal himself, he's physically fine, so this must all be in his head.

he acknowledges that information, distantly, like it's not happening to him. it doesn't help.

it feels like part of his body has been ripped away from him, something vital and important, and it's about to get up and run away.

always, always, it happens when his partner is no longer touching him. when he lays alone in the sheets, by his own volition, because of course these partners are not meant to be attachments.

love is not a privilege, though, not for the strongest sorcerer. it's a curse.

it's the only curse which infinity cannot protect him from.

so gojo stays untouchable. distant.

but the hunger doesn't go away. never.

he likes to imagine that suguru swallowed this one last curse before he died. something sweet and bitter, like losses at the arcade, sunny days at the beach, walking together with shoko, nanami, haibara.

but even suguru couldn't have absorbed this curse. it's in his bones, deep, longing and wanting even after he's dead and gone.

gojo is hungry. he is so, so hungry. and he has nothing to eat that will not leave him just as empty as before.

touch-starved. love-starved. pain-craving.

if someone could hurt him then it wouldn't matter that he was terrified of attachment. they could latch onto him, into his heart, under his skin. bury themselves in his chest like they belonged.

they could kill a hundred and twelve people and it wouldn't matter, because he wouldn't be able to kill them.

gojo is hungry, so hungry.

please feed him.

[penny00dreadful]

Brain worm! 🪱 Just a lil silly somethin written in a daze.

Eddie had to wrench the wheel back so he didn't run the fucking van into a tree.

Did he seriously, seriously just see what he thought he just saw?

As soon as there was a gap in the road Eddie swung the van around and pulled into the gas station he had just passed, trying to keep as low a profile as possible.

Which was no mean feat considering the state of his catalytic converter but once he'd pulled up into a dark corner, a glance in the wing mirror told him he hadn't been spotted.

It also told him that, yes. He'd been correct on his initial passing glance. He was actually seeing this shit.

Eddie glanced down at his clothes. Ripped up jeans, his 'Hell Awaits' Slayer t-shirt depicting a giant inverted pentagram, demons and hellfire, chains, rings, leather jacket, battle vest, boots.

Yeah, he looked sufficiently scary.

Night was starting to fall around him so he still went unnoticed as he slid carefully out of the van and made his way over to the two lone figures just barely lit up by the harsh artificial exterior lights.

He planted himself just behind, what looked like, some middle class dad type who was standing just a little too close for comfort.

Eddie crossed his arms and spoke to the second figure barking out in the lowest tone of voice he could muster.

"Just what the fuck do you think you're doing, young man?"

The middle class dad whipped around. The second his eyes landed on Eddie he had a look on his face like the devil himself had just manifested behind him.

Without a second of wasted time he scampered away, tail between his legs, leaving Mike Wheeler standing there, wide eyed, pale faced and terrified.

Good.

"Edd-" Mike swallowed, slowly backing away as Eddie advanced. "What are you doing here?"

Mike's back hit the wall and Eddie took one more step forward, looming over him. "You don't get to ask questions, Wheeler. You get to answer them. Now I'm only going to ask this one more time: Just what THE FUCK are you doing out here?"

"N-nothing! We were... I was just-"

There was a clatter and some hushed expletives before the rest of The Party appeared around the corner.

"He's not here alone!" Dustin shouted, apparently under the impression that that was going to calm Eddie down in any way at all.

"And you think that makes this better, does it?"

"Yes! Safety in numbers!"

"There is no safety in whatever the hell I just witnessed!" Eddie exploded. "There is no safety in being at a remote gas station on the outskirts of town at night and talking to strange men for whatever reason!"

The kids all looked to be in various stages of shock, clearly not expecting Eddie to lay into them so fiercely but he didn't care. He refused to feel bad for them.

"Tell me, oh braniacs, what would have happened if someone had come along and snatched Little Wheeler up, huh? Would you have chased after the car on your bikes?" He sneered. "How would you have contacted anyone? How long would it take someone to get here? What if one of you had been attacked? Or robbed? Or murdered? What would you have done then?! How could you all be so stupid?"

"It's not stupid! We weren't being stupid!" Dustin shouted back. "We have our walkies-!"

Eddie laughed, cold and mean and so, so angry but Dustin continued to dig his own grave.

"You all never let us try anything! You never give us a sip of beer or a smoke or any of your weed which we know you still have-"

"Watch it, Henderson." His voice was low and dangerous.

"So we were just trying to get someone to buy something for us, that's all!"

"Oh that's all? That's all, is it? And you have money to pay for this purchase?"

Dustin scoffed. "Of course."

"So tell me, what would have happened if someone went in there and bought you your beer but then decided that wasn't payment enough? What would you have done if he started asking or demanding something else?"

"Like what?"

"Oh I don't know, what could a grown man possibly want with a fifteen year old little boy?" Eddie shook his head. "You know what, I'm not having this conversation out here. Get in the van."

"But... our bikes-"

"GET IN THE FUCKING VAN, HENDERSON!"

Eddie observed in stony silence, his face thunderous as the kids all loaded their bikes into the back of the van before they scuttled in themselves, quiet and cowed.

He slammed the drivers side door closed before turning his key in the ignition and pulling out of the gas station, the silence in the car suffocating, bouncing off the walls.

"Um..." They were nearly halfway back to Hawkins by the time Will's small voice cut through the air. "You're not going to tell our parents, are you?"

Eddie looked back at him in the rear view mirror. The kids were all watching his reaction with worry and Eddie refused to drop his anger in the face of Baby Byers. Not this time. Not for this. He had to stay angry because if he stopped being angry he might just lose himself in what if's.

"No. I'm not going to tell your parents."

The kids all sighed in relief, somehow still believing they were being let off the hook.

"But I am going to tell Steve."

The explosion nearly shook the van. The kids were all screaming, begging, nearly crying not to tell him.

"No! No, Eddie, please!"

"You can't tell him, he'll kill us!"

"Yeah, then he'll bring us back from the dead just to kill us again!"

"You can't do this to us!"

"You know what he's like, Eddie! You can't sell us out to him like that!"

"I can and I will!"

"Can you... can you- shit. Can you please tell him, like, gently? So he doesn't freak the fuck out? He's your boyfriend, he'll listen to you!"

"You all are in no position to be asking for favours right now." Eddie brought the car to a stop in the Harrington driveway. "So here's how it's going to go. We are going to go inside. You are going to tell Steve exactly what just happened. Then the two of us are going to explain to you exactly why what you all just pulled was so monumentally dangerous. Whatever he decides to do with you all after that is up to him. He is your babysitter. You all bestowed that title on him. I am just the babysitter's boyfriend. It's out of my hands."

"Oh, but... you could be our babysitter too?" Dustin tried, a clear and pathetic attempt to make the incoming shitstorm go smoother.

"Not a chance, Henderson." Eddie hopped out and made his way around, throwing open the back doors of the van and gesturing to the now open front door where an extremely distinctive swoopy haired silhouette stood. "Go and face your fate."

[issacballsac]

“Being a Member of BLAST”

Life is short why not take a chance and join a band? Masc!reader intended

Minor spoilers for NANA

Joining | Nana

Actually joining the band wasn’t hard especially because when you met Nana there was no band💀

You guys met at the train station when she first moved to Tokyo

You already lived in Tokyo and were just returning from a trip when you saw her

It was like an instant click she caught your eye

“Hey, do you happen to sing by any chance?”

“Who are you?”

“Don’t worry about that just know I can play guitar pretty damn good if I do say so myself!”

She was tired from the long ass ride and didn’t know anyone in Tokyo aside from Ren

Went back to your place and played for her

“I’ll think about it.”

Nana isn’t a very emotional or open person so she tends to keep secrets but over time if you guys get that close she’ll vent to you

If you smoke she’ll always ask you for your lighter

Older sister younger brother energy

Opposites | Hachi

Nana paid you an abrupt visit to tell you about her new place and totally not just for you to fix the AC

Checking the place out you laid eyes on an inverted version of Nana

“Hi, I’m Nana Komatsu!”

“Just call her Hachi.”

“Nana!”

“Nice to meet you, Hachi?”

She’s had a crush on just about every BLAST member , so, of course she has had a crush on you before

If you wear makeup or paint your nails she would love to do it for you

Amazing cook and if you ever wanted anything she’d happily make it for you

She rlly just wants to be needed

Definitely went to you for relationship advice with Nobu

You tend to just appear places so you were one of the first people to know about her pregnancy and went to the hospital with her

You stayed outside though to avoid ppl thinking you were the father 💀

You def don’t help with her shopping addiction

Shopping sprees constantly that’s why your broke as shit

“Should I get the soft blue or purple skirt?”

“Both.”

After the Takumi drama you guys would stay in contact and when Nobu wasn’t at your place she’d come to watch you practice alone

You’d support her decision because it’s her life in the end

Formation | Nobuō

The unforgiving aggression spewing from your ringing phone at the dead of night

Some random number was calling you and for whatever reason you answered, confident that it wasn’t a scam caller

“Hello?”

“It’s Nana, come over.”

“I’m not into late night favours if you get what I mean.”

“That’s not what I’m calling for, just get over here!”

Reluctantly wandering the dark streets of Tokyo you made your way over to Nana’s apartment, you’d only been there once to help with the AC where you learned of the other Nana or Hachi

Opening the door to reveal the two residents and a blonde man standing with his guitar in hand

“Took you long enough. Anyways, like I said Nobuo I already have a guitarist so go home.”

“Well we could always play together I have nothing against dual guitars!”

“You aren’t helping.”

“Good.”

You and Nobu got along great your guitars and personalities blending perfectly

He talks with you about everything especially when he and Hachi get together

If you’re shorter than/same height him he’d be happy to have another short guy in the band

If you’re taller he’d be happy if you didn’t make fun of his height though he does tend to light heartedly joke abt it

He likes to go to you for fashion inspiration and vice versa

Drunk karaoke

You would help him with song writing

You guys would be around the same age too so besties

You guys get along the best in the band

The bass | Shin

After the whole Nobu moving to Tokyo fiasco all you guys need is a bassist and drummer

Nobu sending you a picture of Hachi’s little drawing of the 3 of you on the band poster

You met up with them at the studio to practice with Shinichi on bass

For such a young kid he was pretty good player (granted your only like 6-7 years older)

Being confused right alongside him when everyone stopped playing

You, Shin, and Nobu are like the 3 musketeers

You- Oldest, Nobuo - Middle, Shin - Youngest

Shin snatched your clothes on a daily basis much like he does with Nobu

Unlike Nobu, you don’t care

He stays over at your place more than you’d like to admit

He basically lives there

He would definitely go to you about the Reira/Layla situation

Has mini fashion shows in your room with a fake runway and everything

You guys play games together on your console

He relaxes and is actually a kid when he hangs out with you

Has you paint his nails

He has moments when he storms off if you bring up a certain subject but he never stays mad for long and shows up at your door

Likes to go eat at new places with you especially if you’re paying for it

“I’m gonna get the chocolate croissants, one of those fancy hot chocolates, and..oh! You’re paying for this right?”

“Um..”

Bit a of spoiler kinda but later in the manga when he got arrested you’d be the only one to visit him

Completion | Yasu

You definitely shat yourself when you first met Yasu

He’s the responsible one in the band so he’s like a father figure to you especially if you didn’t have one

You two probably get to the studio first before anyone else

He’d always let you talk/rant to him if you ever needed to

Would be surprised if you remembered his birthday and got him a gift

If you smoke he’d go on smoke breaks with you

If you don’t smoke he’d make sure to hold his cigarette away from you/out of your face

Would teach you various card games

If you didn’t want to watch a movie alone he’d watch it with you

Any legal troubles go to him

Scratch that ANY troubles go to him

“Man you’re like a wise monk.”

“..because I’m bald?”

“No, because you’re wise..and because you’re bald.”

[luvfy0dor]

Hiya! How're you? Congrats for 600! You're an awesome writer and you deserve every one and more! For the event, may I please request 'Spiderman kisses' with Fyodor and Sigma (If you do gendered readers, male preferably but I'll go with GN too if that's easier!). For details... I have two (if you don't mind). 1. I want Reader to be the one initiating the kisses, please! And 2. Let's say Reader doesn't have an ability. Instead, he manages to hang upside down is because bro just chills in the cramped-ass ceiling vents system and he knocks down ceiling plates all the time to drop down into rooms from the ceiling as opposed to using the door like a normal person LOLZ-. Feel free to decline if not suited to your tastes, bye-byeee!

Sigma and Fyodor + Spiderman Kisses ♡

Warnings; might make you feel a little lightheaded, it made me feel that way lol

Sigma ★

Walking the halls at night in the aerial casino became one of Sigmas least favorite things when you wiggled your way into the ceiling and vents. You had popped out of no where one too many times for his liking, always giving him a mini-heart attack. He was walking back to his office when he heard the faint sound of thumping up in the vents. It was so quiet and minute that he almost thought a chipmunk had crawled up in there instead of his boyfriend, but when one of the tiles was popped out, he was proven wrong. "Sigma!" You said quietly, happy to see him but unwilling to disturb the visitors in the rooms throughout the hallway. "Ah, y/n, I was looking for you. Are you headed to bed?" He asks, those pretty grey eyes staring up at you. "Not yet, I don't think so. Not unless that's where you're going?" You respond, situating yourself so that you torso is hanging upside down from the ceiling with your legs keeping you from falling. "No, I'm going to my office for a little while longer, but I'll be back in the room soon." He gives you a smile that you return. "Alright, but before you go, I've missed you all day long." You say, cupping his cheek and leaning closer to him. "I haven't had a kiss yet today, you know that?" You laugh, to which he blushes and chuckles under his breath, letting you pull him in and kiss him. He didn't really know where to put his hands since your position was inverted from the usual standing, but he decided the back of your head was the way to go. He felt his nose press against your chin as he kissed your bottom lip, and your nose bump against his. He hummed into the affectionate action, his hand trailing up to caress the nape of your neck quickly before he pulled away. His breath was slightly shaky and his heart rate increased as he looked into your eyes. "Okay, I'll see you later!" You crawled back up into the ceiling and went on with your past times up there. He watched you disappear and smiled before heading off. Suddenly, having you pop out of nowhere every now and again wasn't that bad.

Fyodor ★

Fyodor knew if he needed to find you during hours at the DOA hq, there was no specific of guaranteed spot you would be. He'd have to find you hanging out of one of the cramped, tight vents somewhere by luck. He found it both confusing and interesting that you willingly hung up there all day, but each time he thought about it he understood just a little bit more. The silence and peacefulness of alone time away from interaction could be very enjoyable, especially if it was combined with a good book. He walked through the halls with his cape flowing behind him. With each room he walked by, he glanced inside for any sign of his lover. "Y/n? Where are you?" He calls out to you, listening afterwards for any rustling or thumping above his head. "Hmm..." He thought to himself, heading to the furthest room down the corridor and walking inside to find you hanging out of the vent. "Oh, I don't recall having found you in here before, darling." He says, drawing your attention. You lift your book from your eyes and smile at him. "Yeah, I realized I hadn't hung over here yet so I figured I'd try it. Not like it'd be massively different." You reply, watching him walk closer to you. "Is it time to leave?" He nods with a small smile of amusement. "Yes, it's best we head home now rather than walking through the dark later." You stare at him while he speaks, entranced by his beauty, even after a stressful day dealing with a clown and a naive manager. "Okay...you know, I always want to kiss you like this, but you never take the hint." You whisper, reaching out and brushing his hair behind his ear with a small pout. He hums and gently holds your hand over his cheek and leans in closer. "Well then, maybe you should have been more direct." You huff with an eye roll and pull him in, connecting the two of by the lips in a passionate kiss. Your thumb caresses his cheekbone and you can feel him sigh quietly. You quickly pull away when you feel your body start to heat up, hurrying to get yourself out of the vents before you loose your balance and fall on your head in front of Fyodor. "Hah...I shouldn't need to be more direct if you're as smart as you make yourself out to be." You say, slithering back up into the metal tunnel to backtrack your way out. "Maybe I just wanna hear it from your lips, Myshka? Is that so bad of me?" He grins and you feel yourself do the same. You definetly didn't think that was all too bad now.

A/n; Thank you so so much for the compliments and request!!! 💖💖 this was super duper cute, it just made me feel a little dizzy while writing it, but I wish I could hang out if vents like that thats so cool ^^

[thescarletnargacuga]

REV THEORY

A RACEWAY AU SHOWTIME SONGFIC

A/N:feelin a bit spicyyyy 🔥🔥🔥

WARNING: INCREDIBLY SUGGESTIVE

~~~

"You want to do what?" Caine did a double take. There's no way he heard her correctly.

They had just finished their daily race, but Pomni was still fired up. "I said, I want to go again...in your kart."

"You want to use MY kart...on an OFFICIAL track...alone?" Caine tugged at his collar.

"Yes." Pomni said with a smirk. "Hold onto this for me, would you?" She tossed her hat at him.

Caine caught it. "...what are y-?" There was no way she knew-

"Testing a theory." She stepped closer. "Now, are we doing this or not?"

Caine almost couldn't snap, his hand was trembling so much. "Y-yeah!" He gulped. "Have fun out there."

Caine's kart appeared in a flash. The start line lights up, ready to begin a race. Pomni added a sway to her hips as she climbed into the kart. Her face spelled trouble as she settled into the seat.

The kart started itself with a roar. Caine blushed out of embarrassment with how loud it was.

Pomni traced her fingers up the steering wheel and gripped it's hold. "Can you feel that?" She grinned at Caine. "You better hold on. This one's about to get bumpy."

Caine immediately went the darkest shade of red possible. She knew.

Pomni gave a low chuckle as the lights counted down, strongly revving the kart.

Chills went through Caine's entire body. His grip on his cane tightened. The look on Pomni's face nearly dropped him from the air.

She took off perfectly from the start line the moment it went green. Gold fire blasted from the tailpipes as the tires screamed for traction.

Caine wasn't in control, but he felt every move Pomni made. Without distraction, the race rush coursing through his code gives him a sense of euphoria in a way he's never experienced.

She's a ten, hellbent, I'm in heaven tonight

Pomni drifted through a turn.

Six speed, sex scene playin' out in my mind

Caine braced himself against the start line support.

One look, I'm hooked, motor runnin'

Rev'd up, my heart startin' pumpin'

Are you ready for the best damn ride of your life?

Pomni hit a double booster through a massive spiral.

Give me a hell

Give me a yeah

Stand up right now!

Caine's eyes rolled. His knees shook. His grip on Pomni's hat tightened.

And give me a hell

Give me a yeah

Stand up right now!

Pomni maneuvered through a wavy part of the track expertly, slamming the gas on the straightaway.

Get ready to go!

She ain't movin' slow!

She's takin' control!

Pushin' the pedal through the floor!

I'm beggin' for more!

You better hold on tight!

Caine slid down the support pole, his back to it as he sat on the ground. He couldn't fly. He couldn't focus. His breathing getting hot and heavy, he loosens his tie.

Pomni shifted gears and rocketed through a jump.

Got a taste, can't be saved, I'm a junkie for life

Caine groaned. His mind completely fogged.

She fuels my fire and adrenaline high

Pomni pushed the kart harder with a golden item boost AND a lane boost.

My need for speed's got me gunnin'

One touch, she screams, "Keep it comin'!"

Pomni cheered as she drove on an inverted track.

Are you ready for the best damn ride of your life?

Caine's coat slipped off his shoulders. He couldn't bear to wear it in this heat. His code was going mad.

Give me a hell

Give me a yeah

Stand up right now!

And give me a hell

Give me a yeah

Stand up right now!

Caine's body trembled as he squeezed his knees together. A gutteral moan was choked out of him when he felt his kart do a high fly jump and Pomni made it do a trick.

Get ready to go!

She ain't movin' slow!

She's takin' control!

Pushin' the pedal through the floor!

I'm beggin' for more!

You better hold on tight!

Caine bit down on his own hand in an attempt to curb the sounds that kept escaping him. Pomni was driving him closer to the edge with every turn. His back arched when Pomni drifted through the tightest corner on the track, making him whimper.

Pomni heard a soft noise come through on the kart's radio. She chuckled, her suspicions were fully confirmed.

Almost home

Pomni intentionally adjusted herself in the seat.

Caine gasped, his cane topper glowing.

Pomni gripped the shifter and changed gears way harder than necessary.

Caine moaned loud enough to be heard clearly on the radio.

Give me a hell

Give me a yeah! hell yeah!

Stand up right now

And give me a hell

Give me a yeah

Stand up right now! right now!

"What was that, Caine? I can't hear you!" Pomni said in a teasing tone.

"Nothing! You're doing great! Keep going! Please!!" Caine could barely get his words out.

Give me a hell

Give me a yeah! yeah!

Stand up right now

And give me a hell

Give me a yeah! yeah!

Stand up right now! right now!

Pomni hit a banked turn at top speed. All the items on the track worked coincidentally in her favor.

Get ready to go!

She ain't movin' slow!

She's takin' control!

And pushin' the pedal through the floor!

I'm beggin' for more!

You better hold on tight!

Caine squirmed, cartoonish sweat pouring from his head. If he wasn't careful, he'd drool on himself. He could hear his kart racing back around. It was so close to the finish.

He gave one last ditch effort to focus and snapped his fingers. His hat vanished.

Give me a hell

Give me a yeah

Pomni smiled when she saw her last item. Caine's hat appeared in her hand. She knew what he wanted, and was more than happy to give it to him.

She put on the hat, but instead of a silvery red light, she was surrounded by a golden red light that blasted her ahead. She cried out with joy as she crossed the finish line.

And give me a hell

Give me a yeah

HELL

Caine saw stars as Pomni crossed the finish line. Sparks flew from his gold cane topper. "Pomni~", he weakly groaned as he felt fully satisfied by the completion of the single kart race.

Pomni came to a screeching halt. The kart steamed and hissed from being run harder than it ever had. She hopped out, still wearing Caine 's hat.

He was even more of a mess than she anticipated. "You okay?"

Caine couldn't see straight, his eyes rolled lazily in his mouth. "My dear... I've never been better in my entire existence." He slowly props himself up, leaning against the start line for support. "Now...since you've won, why don't I escort you to the winner's circle. You're due for a reward."

Pomni gripped Caine by his cummerbund and held him against her. "Take me away, Racemaster~"

He snapped, they vanished.

[mastermindmp3]

Time to talk about the shortest taylor swift song to date

no, seriously, how did she only give us 2:11 of this song.

WELL, actually, okay. Much like So High School, I think I Look in People's Windows is a song that perfectly captures the feeling it's going for, executes its idea, and then doesn't overstay its welcome. Unlike So High School, though, I Look in People's Windows could've stayed just a tad bit longer. Like, I would not be upset at another verse, maybe a little bit of vamping at the end.

That said, what we do have of the song is so perfectly haunting. Swift's catalogue is dominated by questions, by songs longing for futures that will never come to pass. She encapsulates the feeling of missing someone to the point that you try to will them into your life. It brings to mind I see your face in every crowd from Holy Ground, or I see your profile and your smile on unsuspecting waiters from Is It Over Now?

A production thing I love from I Look in People's Windows is the lo-fi, almost bit-crushed bird songs between the verses. It follows the lyrics a feather taken by the window blowing / I'm afflicted by the not knowing very well; the person she loves has drifted away from her with the same ease as a bird taking flight.

We think of bird calls as sunny days, sitting on park benches as people laugh together and feeling smiles creep up our face. Swift has chosen to invert the meaning - her narrator is walking through streets, and while the people around her are happy (attending Christmas parties, drinking nice wine) but she is not.

The narrator picks through the tiny details, signs she feels maybe she missed before she was left. I spied the catch in your breath / you had stopped and tilted your head. She doesn't know, she doesn't understand why she's outside, why she's alone.

Does it feel okay to not know me? the narrator asks the object of her obsession. The song is all about missed connections, about the if only's that she's addicted to. It ties back into Chloe et al, the wondering about how it could have turned out, how it could have been.

I attend Christmas parties from outside, which is so heart wrenching. Christmas as a time of family is often lost in the sauce of consumerism, but Swift's narrator isn't invited either way. Whether it is friends of friends playing Dirty Santa or families sharing happy news by the fire, Swift's narrator stands outside in the cold. She watches people she once considered family live their lives, without her.

In The Outside, Swift described a narrator who has been a lot of lonely places / I've never been on the outside.

In Holy Ground, the narrator says that sometimes I wonder how you think about it now / and I see your face in every crowd.

In Is It Over Now?, Swift describes a narrator, long after the date of death, questioning her former lover: was it over when she laid down on your couch?

In the 1, she mentioned rosé flowing with your chosen family / and it would've been sweet / if it could've been me.

In Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus, she asks the listener, Will I always wonder?

And in I Look in People's Windows, Swift's narrator is left asking: What if your eyes looked up at met mine one more time?

[lovelythief]

𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍' 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒

𝚕𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚢 𝚡 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 𝟷𝟶𝟷𝟸 𝚌𝚠; 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚏𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏, 𝚊 𝚕𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚎𝚗𝚍

𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚕𝚎𝚘𝚗 𝚔𝚎𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚍𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚜𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚕𝚍 𝚘𝚛 𝚊𝚝 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚔, 𝚑𝚎'𝚜 𝚊𝚝 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚢𝚘𝚞, 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚎𝚜.

Forcing yourself to do chores after surviving another apocalypse is a weird fucking experience.

Leon Kennedy would be the first person to tell you how important it is to reestablish a routine after a tragedy, but knowing how important it is doesn’t make the reality of it any less jarring. How could anyone reasonably expect him to go from a short-term, high-stakes mission—where every decision was the difference between life and death—back into the mundanity of a 9-to-5 in a matter of days?

No rest for the wicked, he’d say. Gotta keep moving forward.

To him, the strangest part about all of it is actually coming home. No matter how many times Leon is welcomed back as a “hero” and praised for his good work, all pretenses are gone as soon as he walks into that swanky apartment he pays too much rent for each month. There’s still dishes to be washed. Trash to be taken out. Laundry to be folded. When he lived alone, he could easily ignore petty chores for as long as possible—surviving off take-out on paper plates, wearing the same jeans three times a week—but he won’t treat his roommate like a maid.

Sitting on the couch, he smiles as he watches you scurry around in the kitchen, eagerly cooking your first lunch together in maybe three weeks; his first hot meal in what feels like forever. It's not all bad, he thinks, not when you’re around. He doesn’t get much time to enjoy the view of your ass while you stretch over the counter to reach the flour in the cabinet before the buzzing of the dryer calls him back to work.

Leon trudges back into the laundry room alone, but he’s accompanied by a humming cover of your favorite band that carries throughout the house. He leaves the door open so he can hear you while he folds clothes, but the sizzling of pan-fried food drowns out your voice. Smells delicious, at least.

Leon grabs a warm pair of jeans first and mindlessly shoves his arm in the inverted leg to flip it, and immediately realizes how unusual the fabric feels against his forearm. He pulls the pant leg through and flaps it once, twice, in the air before stretching it out by the waistband and scrutinizing it, wondering if his jeans got fucked up somehow.

It takes him a moment to realize he doesn’t own this pair. It’s your laundry.

“Hey, babe?” Leon steps out of the room and raises his voice enough for you to hear, “Want me to fold your clothes?” It takes a moment for Leon to get a quiet “yes, please!” over the noise from the kitchen, but it’s enough.

He chuckles to himself and stands over the dryer, bringing both legs of your jeans together, tucking the middle, smoothing it out over his chest, and folding it into thirds. Simple. Brainless. It’s strange. Leon starts sorting your folded clothes into piles as he grabs and folds one of your work shirts. His folding isn’t perfect by any means, but it’s neat enough to get the job done.

It almost feels like a luxury Leon shouldn’t be able to afford; being able to relax in safety, comfort, and warmth while doing something so mundane like folding clothes when just last week he was experiencing hell.

But Leon forces himself not to dwell on it for long, as he distracts himself with a cat-themed sock from the pile that he’s only seen you wear in passing, turning it over in his hand to catch all of the details on it. He never noticed the fake toe-beans on the bottom of the socks before, and he can’t stop the grin that pulls at his cheeks. Damn, that’s cute. He runs his hand through your clothes in search of its pair, refusing to let it be lonely for long.

He folds everything from raincoats to bath towels; the piles he’s made already reaching his mid-chest in height. How much laundry did you do? It has to be at least several weeks’ worth. Leon thinks of all the late hours he knows you spend working and huffs. There’s some comfort in knowing you’re just as bad as he is with chores.

A soft shirt brushes his hand when he leans into the machine to start grabbing the bottom of the pile. He stretches it and turns it around to face him. It’s an oversized band tee-shirt with a long-faded print. It looks well-worn. Loved. He holds it for a moment longer before he folds it slowly, with more care than he offered to some of your other shirts, making sure to leave the logo visible on top.

There’s not much left in the dryer by the time Leon grabs some of your underwear. Most of them are plain, standard. Some of them are cute, with simple patterns or a lace trim, and he doesn’t think twice about them as he folds them. But his fingers fumble as he reaches in without looking, and catch against a small, thin piece of fabric.

Deep blue, lacy, and risqué. Leon’s breath chokes in his throat as he stares at the thong in his hand for way too long. Thoughts better kept to himself rush into his mind; of watching you saunter while wearing nothing but this to tease him, of snapping the waistband against your skin to hear you gasp, of pulling it down with his teeth to reveal—

—“Leon! Food’s ready!” your voice shocks Leon out of his haze.

He squares his jaw and quickly—sloppily—folds the thong and shoves it between some clothes before he’s tempted to tuck it in one of his pockets. The damn thing’s definitely going to haunt him when he has a moment to himself.

You call for him again, “Leon?”

“Comin’!” He clears his throat and slams the dryer door closed, grabbing the full laundry basket, unsure of how he’s going to look at you after that. And for a while, he forgets about everything else.

[heartfullofleeches]

milkman reader milking rootbeer cause is that time of the month

(Reader is a "farmer" rather than milkman because that's a different can of worms. Minors shoo. No outright smut, but you do milk the guy's tits and it almost gets there. Obvs warning for male lactation)

Farmer.

A nickname lovingly bestowed upon you by new neighbors and friends. You didn't have any crops, nor animals in a literal since, but you were the proud owner of the old farm house on the outskirts of their town. The place was a little run down, but livable until you had the chance to fix things up. With the price it would be good as new in no time. It was quite the shock to discover the town was full of hybrids, but the locals were all friendly and welcomed you with open arms. Especially Rootbeer.

Riley was a walking stereotype with his thick, southern accent and smooth tongue, but he had also taken a liking to you since the day you moved in. A steady flirt who was always there when you least expected it and at your door when you needed a shoulder to lean on, sometimes even when you hadn't told a soul about your problems. Brought you gifts often too such as embroideries he worked on in his shop and the occasional bottle of fresh milk. He really was nothing short of a gentleman when it came to you, and tonight was the night he'd reap the chances of his efforts.

Riley has... been avoiding you. He'd greet you just the same, but stop the conversation there. He would constantly stare at you so it's not like he was completely avoiding you, but whenever you tried to reach out he'd make an excuse of chest aches or simply leave. Even now, sitting alone on your couch, you have your messages open - unsure if you should try just one more time.

A heavy fist on your front door snaps you from that pipedream.

"Coming!" You toss you phone onto the couch as you hop to your feet and over to the door. Your visitor knocks again as you unlock the door, opening it for you. It's Riley. Out of his normal get up and in a hoodie and some old beat up jeans. There's stains on the front of his shirt, still bleeding through the fabric as he pushes you inside.

"Look, there isn't a whole lot of time for me to explain, but I really need your help. I'm real sorry for the way I've been treating you, but I didn't want to hurt you or scare you away."

You watch the growing stains on his chest, the tee constricting his muscles and lungs fighting to breath. "You're gonna have to give some explanation."

"I know- shit." He runs his fingers through his hair, tearing off the hood ill fitted to his horned scalp. "As you can clearly see, we ain't normal cows. Every couple weeks we lactate depending on diet and whatnot. That can get more frequent if we find a suitable mate and.." He stops himself. "I know this is a lot to take in, but I'm not able to do it myself. Please.."

It looks like he's struggling to breath, about ready to drop to his knees from the look in his eyes. You can't just leave him like this. "Okay... I'll help you out"

You lead him over to the couch before he melts into the floorboards. You help peel off his shirt and roll it over his engorged pecs. You cup your hand around his left, beads of milk leaking from his inverted nipple from the cautious touch alone. The area was red and swollen, yet his chest as a whole was soft and plump - part of the former likely being due to his vain attempts at releasing himself. You gently kneed upwards, looking up at Riley for guidance.

"You're doing fine. Feelin' a little better already. You don't have'ta do more than your comfort with." He completes with an attempt at a laugh, shoving his rolled up shirt into his mouth to make his groans as you grip his chest with firm hands. At this position, and when you're standing up, you're about chest height with him. You lean forward and circle your tongue around his untouched bub which makes his eyes pop out of his skull as his spine curves against the arm of the couch.

The milk was creamy, with that faint root taste akin to the drink he got his nickname. It tasted almost like a richer rootbeer float. Come to think of it, that's exactly what the milk he gave you tasted like. Probably should've realized that sooner. You'd get on his case about it later, but your hands and mouth were quite literally to full to bring it up.

For now, you firmly wraps your lips around his tit and suck the tender bud. Riley shifts in your hold and tries to keep a bold face. It's the first time someone's helped him with a milking.. ever, really. He tried to imagine a scene similar to this while doing it himself, but obviously no fantasy could compare to the real thing. You move into his lap for better range, erect rutting against his jeans and the curve of your ass as you work the fluid from his chest. He grips your thigh to pull you further up before you could notice, but instead you roll your hips against his as you settle directly on that spot. His teeth pierce a hole clean through his shirt as he groans.

To lessen the later cleanup, you switch sides and lap up the milk running down his torso as you work back up to his nipple. Riley collects some of your saliva as his hand travels down to the heat between his legs, slipping into his boxers just to simulate what having your mouth around his girth could feel like. It's shameful, but he doesn't care. You couldn't return to normalcy after doing something like this and he wanted all in. To hold you like he's dreamed since the day you moved in. He taps on your back at you drain the last few drops from his chest.

"Heya, Y/n? I don't want to push my luck and all, but it'd be a real big help if you could help me with another kind of milking."

[rexscanonwife]

Concept sketch of my new JJBA self insert and her stand, BellaDonna (who will eventually be known as Madonna). Inspired by the song 'Like a Prayer' by...well, Madonna! @sapphire-heart-tippy

(lore dump under the cut, TW for mentions of animal injury and religious trauma)

My self insert (who will also go by Jane) grew up in a deeply religious family and tried to be a good jehovah's witness child that made her parents proud.

One day, she comes up with the power to heal various injuries and ailments, almost to the point of being able to revive the dead. She figures she's given this power by the lord himself and vows to do good with it, but when she's found using them to heal a bird that had been wounded by a cat, her mother falls into hysterics thinking that she MUST be possessed by the devil to have such abilities.

She's punished and shunned by her community while her mother prays for a cure and though she tries to repent her power doesn't seem to go away, so eventually her mother snaps and drags her into the wilderness and attempts to throw her to the bottom of an old well.

Her Stand, which had previously not manifested physically, appears then to cushion her fall and eventually she manages to pull herself out of the well with her Stand's help, who she now believes to be a guardian angel. But not wanting to return home, she runs away to face the world alone, growing jaded and bitter over time. She loses all of her faith, and the power to heal inverts itself, becoming a sort of poison. Something that LEECHES life, rather than heal it.

When she's an adult (my age irl so 25 I guess) she's made her way by becomes a bounty hunter/assassin using her Stand and eventually catches the attention of Dio. Who takes her in and explains to her what her Stand REALLY is, promising to teach her how to properly wield those powers if she agrees to serve him. She reluctantly takes his offer, but starts to see him as a familial figure, since no one else had ever tried to nurture or even accept her gift. Dio is the one who giver her Stand the name BellaDonna, after the deadly plant!

[mah-o-daryaa]

For a show that's progressive, one-of-a-kind, ground-breaking for its time, and relies on "Show, don't Tell" a lot throughout the series, it bugs me how ATLA (or, more specifically, Bryke) preferred to tell the audience that Aang is a master airbender without showing us why. I mean, Toph, Zuko, Azula, and Katara are all shown practicing and improving their mastery in bending (although Katara has become rather overpowered), so why can't Aang have the same treatment?

Yes, Aang may be a child prodigy, and he did get airbending tattoos from inventing the air scooter, but I personally think that inventing an airbending technique (which demonstrates impressive ability and skill) is a way to gain the arrows prematurely, but isn't a requirement. Nothing in the show ever suggests just how far he's mastered his native element, let alone the other three. In the beginning of Sozin's Comet, Part 1: The Phoenix King (3:18), Aang says he thinks he still needs to practice his firebending more (which in hindsight makes sense, as he's just started relearning it from the dragons five episodes ago), and Toph notes that his earthbending could use more work too. Right off the bat, Aang is two elements away from complete mastery of all four, but later on he's seen practicing waterbending with Katara, implying he hasn't mastered it either.

We don't even see Aang practicing his airbending by himself post-iceberg, preferring to show off to random girls (like in Kyoshi Island). He just learns the elements, but doesn't really learn the philosophies behind each element. In this regard, he makes Kuruk and Roku look venerated in contrast. (To be fair to Aang, he had a specific deadline to master the four elements before Sozin's Comet that no other Avatar besides Wan had to deal with, but couldn't he try to make an effort to learn from the other nations?) Additionally, compared to Tenzin and Zaheer, Aang doesn't stand a chance against either of them (even though Tenzin is his son, but since Tenzin wasn't the Avatar, he could focus on upholding the Air Nomad culture and legacy). Even Jinora could go toe-to-toe with him at similar ages. He isn't really that impressive in any of the elements, to be honest; we've seen what a master of any specific element can do in both ATLA and LOK, as well as in the novels.

The main thing people often get wrong is that mastery isn't a final goal; it's a specific mindset. As in Pai Sho, what separates true masters from everyone else is that true masters always look for improvement in their strategy or skills. That's why Aang isn't a real master of the four elements: He always takes the easy way out, never trying to better himself or improve what he can already do.

I think this quote from Zaheer perfectly sums up what I've been saying: When you base your expectations on what you see, you blind yourself to the possibilities of a new reality. Even though it stems from his anarchist beliefs, it is genuinely one of the more insightful pieces of wisdom in the franchise because it promotes progress, a constant theme in life. Toph was able to invent metalbending because she wanted to "see" a reality where she could be recognized for her own talent in spite of her blindness; Zuko could learn firebending from the dragons because he could see a reality where he would regain his honor and fight alongside the Avatar, and so on. By contrast, Aang only takes things from surface-level, not putting any effort into understanding the true meaning of being the Avatar.

Speaking of Pai Sho, guess which Avatar constantly improved his/her abilities? Kuruk. Unlike Aang, Kuruk readily asked his companions, Jianzhu, Hei-Ran, and Kelsang, to continue teaching him, ever after he mastered the four elements that he was required to do, saying they would all benefit from the experience (the "true master" quote I mentioned above was actually said by him). Not only that, it was even inverted; sometimes they taught Kuruk, other times he taught them (which technically makes him the first known Avatar to teach bending to others). He was right, as during their lifetimes, they were the most powerful benders of their respective elements in the world!

Kuruk also had an intuitive connection to each of the four bending philosophies, which to this day remains unrivaled by any other Avatar, and was also one of the first people to suggest the idea that the four elements are connected (homeboy's literally a younger Water Tribe Avatar version of proto-Iroh, I'm honestly not going to be surprised if Iroh actually learned his belief from Kuruk during the former's visits to the Spirit World over tea and Pai Sho matches). If you ask me, Mone, learning the cultures and philosophies of the four nations is way more important than mastering the four elements, because the Avatar isn't just the bridge between the four nations; he/she is also the symbol of a unified world, and the franchise is saying that only one Avatar even bothered to do that? In my opinion, if we go by this rule, that easily cements Kuruk as the greatest Avatar in history!

Aang, on the other hand, never does this. Instead, he puts the Air Nomads on a high pedestal (which in turn causes him to place Katara on a high pedestal), and doesn't respect or learn from other nations' philosophies. He openly disrespects SWT culture and actively makes sure Tenzin doesn't have any exposure to the culture that Tenzin still belongs too, and worse, he pushes his own culture on other people's throats (remember the time he forced a homeless couple to "give up on hope because it's a big waste of time"? Or the time he forced Katara to not murder Yon Rha?) and values his own nation and values above the rest of the world (like the time he refused to kill Firelord Ozai because "all life is sacred", even though he has actually killed before, but if he doesn't kill Ozai, the latter's going to burn the entire Earth Kingdom to the ground!). That doesn't sound like something the Avatar is allowed to do, but Aang gets away with it anyway because ... hero?

There's actually another Avatar who focused on his/her own nation above the rest of the world. Avatar Szeto, Yangchen's predecessor, became a government official in his homeland, the Fire Nation. Under his tenure, the Fire Nation transformed from a fragmented, disaster-stricken state to the centralized, technologically-advanced nation we know of today. Unfortunately, this led him to neglect the other nations and, shortly after his death, the four nations were caught in a political event known as the Platinum Affair, which Yangchen had to deal with, eventually kick-starting the cycle of the current Avatar fixing their past lives' mistakes, while leaving problems for their future selves to fix. This problem might have even led to the growing ambition of Firelords Zoryu and Sozin as dictators, with the latter starting the Hundred Years War.

Aang not only valued his own nation's values above the others, he also forced said values on his non-Air Nomad companions; signed anti-miscegenation laws and tried to forcefully deport Fire Nationals from the colonies to return the land to the Earth Kingdom, even though they had already blended in with Earth Kingdom citizens, didn't wan to be separated from their families, and Zuko perceived the citizens of mixed heritage as his own subjects; refused to let his family practice SWT culture, even though his children could benefit from being members of both cultures, not just one or the other, and set an example for mixed-race families around the world; refused to teach Kya and Bumi Air Nomad culture because he thought they weren't airbenders and therefore "not real Air Nomads", even though they were just as Air Nomad as Tenzin was, if not more; and forced Tenzin to uphold the legacy of an entire nation on his shoulders. The fact that this was all written by complete accident is the cherry on top, representing just how badly Bryke screwed up.

... On a completely unrelated note, The Other Side of Paradise by Glass Animals (which is also one of my favorite songs) is definitely a Kuruk song. The last third of the song in particular sums up his tragic journey as the Avatar so well, and I always think of him while listening to it.

[talonabraxas]

“An alchemist is one who turns everything into love.”

Venus & Mars 'Cosmic Lovers' Talon Abraxas

Venus and Mars

Venus and Mars are the planets closest to the earth; they refer to what is most personal and primordial in the make-up and the behavior of a human being, to the most intimate factors in the life of an individual.

Venus moves inside of the earth's orbit, Mars outside of it; and this fact alone tells what meaning they have in astrology. Indeed the basic meanings attributed to each of the planets in our solar system is neither a matter of chance nor the result of millennial observations by astrologers and empirical tests; these meanings are deduced essentially from the place the planets occupy in the solar system and in relation to the earth.

Thus, because Mars is the first planet outside the earth's orbit, it represents fundamentally outgoing activity and the organic and psychological instrumentalities which make such an activity possible (for instance, at the physical level, a man's muscles, his adrenal glands releasing quick energy for action).

In contrast to Mars, Venus — the first planet inside the earth's orbit — refers to man's ability to bring into the field of his consciousness and inner life the results of his experiences, and thus to pass a feeling judgment — pleasurable or painful, elating or depressing, good or bad — upon these experiences which Mars made possible.

The symbolic characters traditionally used to represent Mars and Venus can best be understood if we relate them to the one for our planet, Earth. In many medieval paintings we find God (or even the emperor, as a divine ruler), holding in his hand a globe surmounted by a cross. This is the earth, as the home of Man, whom God created in His image and likeness.

According to a persistent and widespread occult tradition, the planet Venus is the spiritual twin of the earth. It was from Venus that some eleven millions years ago a host of spiritual beings came upon our planet to give to animal-like human beings the divine "seed" of self-conscious intelligence and moral responsibility. The Greek myth of Prometheus is an abridged version of the same event.

It is also said that wheat, perhaps corn and bees (and probably ants also, as everything has its shadow aspect) were brought along in some manner from Venus. Even the Hebrew Bible has its version of this "descent" upon the earth of quasi-divine beings when it speaks (Genesis 5) of the coming of the Sons of God who took as wives the daughters of men.

Whether this be fact or myth (but what is the source of myth?) the astrological (and astronomical) sign for the earth is that of Venus inverted — and we should remember the old saying that "the Devil is God inverted." Here on earth the — cross dominates the circle or globe; on Venus it is the circle which stands over the cross. What does this mean?

When one looks through a small telescope or gunsight often a cross made of two fine threads (the web spun by the black widow spider-makes the best) helps us to focus our observations or aim This most ancient symbol, the even-armed cross, is not only a Christian image — its meaning reaches into the very depth of existence, and especially of human existence, for man is that being in whom all powers and faculties can reach a clear and sharp focus. The value of our modern science and its rigorous type of logical thinking is that it is a discipline of thought which makes possible the most precise focusing of our attention — our discrimination and, in general, our mental faculties.

This indeed is the function of earth life and of incarnated man — to be precise, accurate and sharply discriminative in conditions in which an either-or judgment (an intellectual-rational or a moral yes-or-no judgment) is imperative. But man can go too far — and perhaps has gone too far — along this road leading to the sharpest possible focusing of his mind and energies, and our modern scientific civilization, based on the "specialist," may yet prove how disastrous this "too far" can be.

Venus, on other hand, refers to a realm of existence in which a whole view of life dominates the opposite earth trend toward the sharply focused analysis of a multitude of details. The circle is a symbol of wholeness, of infinite possibility. The Venus symbol tells us that in that Venus realm "with God everything is possible," because the consciousness of the whole is ever present.

The Divine is also ever present. Yet it is present in close association with the "human" (i.e. the cross). It is a consciousness of wholeness emerging from the many crosses of existence. You start with the cross, the crisis, the tragedy, then you rise to the total vision, the conscious fulfillment or plenitude of being.

On earth man starts from an unconscious fullness, of which the Garden of Eden is the Biblical symbol, then he has to emerge from this Edenic childlike unconsciousness in which he passively reflects the Divine Image — and the emergence occurs through crises, through conflicts, through "sin" (the "negative way" which leads man to light out of sheer horror in the realm of darkness).

About the 6th century B.C. humanity experienced a rebirth in mind. A new mind began to operate, whether in the Asia of the Buddha or the Europe of Pythagoras and the Greek classical era. This was an -emergence from a more naive, earthbound consciousness of life energies and sex power. It led to the Cross on Gethsemane and to European rationalism. It is only now that the Venusian type of mind is beginning really to operate in humanity — the sense of the whole, intuitive thinking, and the emergence of a global society.

In the astrological gylph for the planet Mars there is also a circle and — if the figure is correctly drawn — an arrow pointing up to outer space at a 45-degree angle above the horizontal. The 45-degree angle is very significant in that it marks a direction of maximum intensity in electromagnetic fields. The circle here represents the biopsychic field of man's personality, and when internal pressure builds up to an explosive point it is released in a "Martian" outgoing. What we have therefore in the Mars symbol is a picture of simple, spontaneous release of energy.

One can relate it to the symbol for Sagittarius, but in this hieroglyph we see a release which stems not from a circle but actually from a cross, whose vertical arm has been bent by a dynamic urge to expansion. It is probable that the direction of the arrow is not at a 45 degree angle to the horizontal, but rather at a 60 degree angle — which would make it coincide with the direction represented by the cusps of the Third and Ninth Houses of a birth-chart And the sign Sagittarius has much to do with the Ninth House of the horoscope.

The Planets and their Symbols by Dane Rudhyar:

[shorlinesorrows]

Percabeth after the first war, who haven’t really gotten to be teenagers, who feel both too old and too young for their skin. Who are so so glad that the war is over, but also feel surprisingly lost, because fighting the war has been their future, their purpose, their job for as long as they can really remember

Annabeth and Percy, who do what all adrift teens do when everything is overwhelming and painful and exciting and when it feels like you don’t have a purpose any more:

they make a bucket list.

it starts small. They go clothes shopping together, close enough to Sally’s house that they can get home quick if they need too. They start to develop their own senses of style. They go to a farmers market. They make graffiti at one point and nearly get caught but the entire time they’re giggling through their fingers.

then comes the hair.

it was just a random item on the bucket list: hair dye.

and they were going to get crazy colors, Percy was going to dye his bright teal blue, no hesitation. He was decided. But then they’re standing in the shopping aisle, looking at the colorful boxes, and Percy’s eyes catch on a model, and they have long dark hair that’s just the same shade as Annabeth’s.

and he scans the aisle, and there’s another one, a bright sandy gold, and he turns to Annabeth, who is debating between silver and purple with all the intensity of a teenage war veteran, and says “I have a stupid idea”

they grab a boxed bleach on their way out.

they dye their hair together, and it’s a mess and the dye gets everywhere and it’s not quite even and both of them get a little light headed from the fumes but it’s so much fun

and they refuse to let anyone in the bathroom until their hair is dyed, rinsed and blow dried even though it takes forever because bleaching is a much longer process

when they finally emerge, Sally gasps and then starts to laugh and then Paul joins in and then they’re all laughing.

Percy’s hair is black, Annabeth’s hair is blond.

They’ve switched hair colors. And it’s silly, but it’s also a constant reminder that they’re not alone.

It’s being able to wake up from a nightmare and seeing blond hair on your pillow instead of black and thinking “Percy”. It’s having a bad day where you can’t seem to keep your mind from slipping away from you, then seeing black hair in the corner of your vision and thinking “Annabeth”. It’s a tangible sign that they are connected, that they are alive, and that there is someone who understands. A physical reminder of love.

When their roots grow out, they look at their inverted hair and smile. Like always, they match.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟖   ❛ 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐲𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚 ❜   |   NAKAWE PALACE, DEC. 1990

❧  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

❛ Matias tucked Leonor into bed as if she were a little girl. Her overnight stays at Nakawe Palace had always been infrequent—that was a line Safya drew, a division that mattered to her—but he tucked her in when she did until the passage of time inverted their respective bedtimes. Some nights, she and Safya had stayed together. That was on evenings when dinner was late, and they all talked in the family dining room until going home made little sense. Like her ancestors, Safya planned to live elsewhere once her mother’s time had ended. Tonacatec Palace or simply the estate where she raised her children would do. Nakawe Palace would become, as it had been under Alfonso and Fernando, a strict hub of state business. The residential wings would go unused. Safya joked they could be a private museum, although Matias understood it wasn’t an insincere sentiment. She would have walked the halls and talked to the ghosts of loved ones while she stroked Beatriz’s clothes hanging in the closets, flipped through Matias’ books, allowed herself to sit in their favorite chairs. It would have comforted her. Instead, now, she would be one of the ghosts.

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

❧ merry christmas eve to those who celebrate :^) this post is, actually, a massive spoiler !!!!! however, there are so many twists and turns on the road to these fellas standing here, in 1990, together, lovingly discussing their Wife™ ... tune into part iv, coming to a screen near you in 2026 or w/e

TRANSCRIPT:

{Door closing}

[M] Is she still awake?

[S] She said she wants to be alone.

{Footfall}

[M] This was not out earlier. [S] She finished it while everyone was at dinner.

[S] We lit the candles, too. [M] Yes, I recall she wanted to wait. [S] That’s what she was doing when I came upstairs. Or, trying.

[S] You know what happened to the stool? [M] I can guess. [S] She’s so small. I don’t know how she can throw that hard.

[M] Is there an attendant coming? For the candles? [S] I thought I might sit here for a while. You should try to sleep.

[M] Not until she does. Perhaps not even then. [S] You’ll both crash after tomorrow.

[M] I … have never been so exhausted. [S] Grief does that. So does carrying the entire family through it.

[S] You’ll have to rest for the entire period. [M] Eighty days. [S] And the nights, too.

[S] I’ll be here.

[S] You know I’m responsible for you, too.