#strange nes games

[obsessor-of-beautiful-things]

Considering the fact that the Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde NES game was not based on any film adaptation, but on the original novella, and that it was branded with the official Nintendo Seal of Quality, thereby making it fully recognised by the company, should therefore mean that the original Dr Jekyll/Mr Hyde is a completely viable charachter for Smash Bros. In this essay I will-

[dimalink]

Two Disco – catch a signal!

Pixel art for today based on videogame Power Rangers IV Unlimited. Or, ok, little easy, just part 4. Just a case, that it was a additional title to this picture. With UNL letters. This is a game for NES 8 bit! A system we all love! So, this way rangers are going cool at this system! Excellent action walking game and so on! Game has lots of parts. And I for myself has such a positive – that I have a cartridge with one of the parts. Game is excellent! Big sprites. Good graphics.

And this is my drawing based on the same theme. DiscSuit is on. And two Disco goes forward. But, well, it was not exactly like this. Funny guys were walking for new cartridges for game console. And they go to their fav videogames store. They stand for a long time near the store and speaks a lot about videogames. And so, they are appeared a mysterious other side warriors. From some one…They said they are warriors of someone…of something… well guys do not remember. But these otherside rush into videogames store and take from a shelf some discs.  And they throw a fog grenade. And do a teleport.

No, you cannot to do deals like that! Said one to another. And they return to their base. And take on Disco Suits. Two Disco goes to watch for disc stealers. Using a radar, that can detect interspace vibrations. Signal is received. Coordinates are entered for a portal. And two disco are jumping  into the portal!

They are appeared in some something close to their city look. But there is no one at the streets. All doors are closed. It is some dimension beyong the time horizon line. Sunset is flashing sometimes with different colors. Who knows, what does it mean? Signal leads forward! Follow the signal!

So, this is a picture about a Power Rangers. And a little from early Star Trek is taken some inspiration. About a empty city. Such a retro sci fi.

Dima Link is making retro videogames, apps, a little of music, write stories, and some retro more.

WEBSITE: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html ITCHIO: https://dimalink.itch.io/ GAMEJOLT: https://gamejolt.com/@DimaLink/games

BLOGGER: https://dimalinkeng.blogspot.com/

[pitagain]

Dream: The Dream Collector?

From: May 20th, 2023

Although I remember other parts of the dream, they were uninteresting, aside from one where I was playing a massive multiplayer rally car racing game (In which there was a 100 players online on a desert mountain, two people with red and blue cars teamed up to sabotage me and wasted lots of time, so I pushed them off the racing course with my white-and-green car when I caught up to them, which they’d bitch about as “illegal” with the swearing you’d expect from such sore losers), cuz then I “woke up” and had “memory” of that “dream within a dream”.

I was walking on ordinary concrete with the usual blue sky in the atmosphere, to an ordinary school/business building to visit a chubby human with a stereotypical “cartoon chubby boy” voice. He wore a magician costume, with black surrounding a dark blue vest underneath (Which may or may not have had some seemingly useless buttons on it), and a wide red tie. The top-hat had a thick red ribbon wrap around it, as did the area around the waist as if it was a belt. His arms had either black or blue sleeves, with white gloves covering the hands. The pants were about as black as expected for the magician attire, with either black or brown shoes. He had no beard either, just a humble looking person who never said his own name, although I addressed him during the dream as “Mr. Dream”, feeling some sort of excitement to finally meet him.

(This is an approximation of how his face looked, just with a more pronounced chin and a more orange skin tone; probably not of American descent. His top-hat covered up all semblances of hair, except his black eyebrows, so his hair color is likely black unless dyed)

We sat on a gray couch within the building after walking alongside a blue rug decorating an otherwise ordinary interior, and from our friendly talk, it sounded like Mr. Dream collected many documents from the many clients he visited, and could change the world with magic based on fortunes and misfortunes. I consciously brought up the aforementioned “racing game dream” I just had as if this dream was reality.

The dream seemed to “freeze” at this moment, or perhaps skipped to a part where I was told to wait until Mr. Dream returned, as I walked outside to notice a metal post near the entrance I came from, containing a document containing terms I thought I was familiar with, some terms being either highlighted in yellow or crossed out with a straight line. In hindsight, I must’ve been mistaken, but Mr. Dream stopped me from touching this document, saying something about his way of handling information being part of his creed. I seemed to have forgotten the “racing game dream” at this point.

Back at the gray couch next to Mr. Dream who was standing upright not on any couch, I decided now was the time to ask Mr. Dream to activate a fortune/misfortune based on his evaluation of my mind, which may or may not have anything to do with his whole dream schtick. As soon as he obliged to my request however, the whole world shaked up n’ down endlessly, not smoothly at all. Soon after, he seemed to say “oops” or “whoops”, before claiming that the world is going to end as a result of my misfortune. I did feel somewhat scared upon hearing this for a brief moment, but became even more half-conscious in the dream and saw this as an opportunity, as I put my hands in a begging pose with all my fingers crossing each other, asking him: “When I die, please make me a Pokémon in the Pokémon World!”

He looked very confused by this suggestion, so I repeated myself with more clarity: “When I die, please make me into a Pokémon in the Pokémon World!”. Whether Mr. Dream understood the request or not, I never knew, as the shaking got even more intense as my head bobbed up n’ down once before the dream came to a sudden end.

[srijellyfishtempura]

sorry we have to talk about how Nintendo just pronounced Tetrominoes

TetruhMEEnoes

[usedpidemo]

Plaid (Newjeans Hanni)

Hanni Pham is just about the perfect student: consistently top of the class, perennial dean’s lister, well liked among her teachers and peers, an active participant for every co-curricular and extracurricular activity, and overall just a good person to be around.

And you? You’re the exact opposite. Slow, lazy, constantly in self-isolation—always cutting classes whenever you can, struggling with just about everything. You’re surprised you’re still even attending this university as is, despite the countless talks with your professors.

Which is why when she greets you a good morning as soon as you run into each other in the hallway, the books you’ve been carrying crumble like Jenga blocks. 

She immediately jumps into action, picking up your dropped books in record fashion to hand them back to you. The cute, irresistible smile etched on her lips is icing on the cake. 

“Here you go!”

Admittedly, you feel some type of way about Hanni. It’s conflicting, constantly changing. A little bit of jealousy because she’s the student you wished you were, but also a bit of allure because of how surprisingly attractive she is. You’ve never felt any kind of attraction towards anyone in college besides her. And she turns out to be an exchange student, and you’ve never seen anyone with the combination of cuteness and beauty before she came along.

You take a moment to look into her eyes. Those gentle, warm irises perfectly capture the kindness emanating from her—God, why is she so damn irresistible. It isn’t that you’ve been giving her the cold shoulder, but you’re merely apathetic and neutral with her. Outside of the same brief rote exchanges—good morning, what’s your lunch, what are you doing after class later—you and Hanni have been, for the most part, worlds apart. 

The universe is doing its part to bring you two together, because you can feel it. Tension so thin, you can cut it with a knife. 

She never lets up. 

She wants to know you.

“I-uh, thanks,” you say, suddenly averting her gaze to your locker instead as you snatch your books back, then in the other direction. Anywhere but her eyes. 

Fuck. She keeps staring, leaning her head forward with a lively smile, her hands behind her back, waiting for you to continue. She talks with childlike passion and energy, “We have an exam in accounting later, did you study for it?”

“N-no,” you say, almost stuttering through the simplest of responses, as though your tongue is wrapped up in itself. It should be embarrassing for you to act this awkwardly in front of a sweet girl like Hanni. Mentally punching yourself to be better. It never happens. “Not exactly, I kinda forgot.”

More like you willingly neglected your studies for a nightlong gaming session. It’s an addiction.

Her eyes widen with amusement, as if she sees through the lie. Does she? You don’t know. Maybe she does. There’s so many layers to her that you never bothered to uncover. That’s the price for your negligence and decision to be a lone-wolf. 

Hanni reaches her hand into the pocket of her dress shirt and presents a folded up sheet of paper. “Then this with you. Just make sure to hide it underneath the test paper, got it?”

From bewilderment to amazement—your face goes through every emotion, unsure of what would perfectly suit the situation. She doesn’t know you well enough to casually entrust you with a cheat sheet, yet she’s perfectly fine handing it to you over her presumed friends, which includes members of the student council. 

Initially, you hesitate, but she’s steadfast in her position, as if you receiving this paper is doing her a favor. You ultimately fold and accept it from her. She grins as you tuck the sheet away in your coat.

“See you later!” she says, before walking past you to her next class. You slowly turn around, watch her leave and rejoin with her friends, one of whom is the student council head. Alone with nothing but your thoughts, you put the strange encounter aside and get moving again.

—————

The next time you see Hanni again is during world history class, right before lunch. Your rather senile professor, who doesn’t give a shit that half the class is either fast asleep, on the verge of, or doing everything else apart from listening to his monotonous lecture, drones on about Napoleon’s European conquest for the second week in a row. Even the patient student that you are, you’ve grown tiresome of it, especially with the dreadful pacing. You’re way behind schedule. At the very least, he seems to be paid well, so there’s a little silver lining.

Looking at her, you wonder if the gods were in a good mood on the day they made her. She’s as enthusiastic about the topic as if it's her first time hearing it. Listening to every single word intently, taking down notes furiously, taking pictures of the presentation even though she has it projected on her laptop because why the fuck not—she was born to be the teacher’s pet. Compare that to half of the class: even the supposed top student in the class is barely struggling to stay awake, clinging to the edges of her seat out of fear she could collapse from sheer boredom. It’s a miracle, really, that there’s at least one student showing this much interest.

The notion creeps up in your mind: Hanni’s right over there, without a care except for the lecture at hand. Your phone rests on the edge of your chair. Her smile, her shine—you want to keep more than just a mental image of her. Something to actively remind you that someone like her exists. It’s creepy, but it doesn’t matter when no one’s looking, especially not her. Only you. 

Little by little your hand crawls toward the phone. Then the moral compass inside you resists. You don’t know this girl—not in the slightest. Just because of a simple kind act doesn’t mean you’re completely smitten over her. Most importantly, you remember one important point about Hanni: she’s not from here. She’s an exchange student with a one year contract set to expire in—wait for it—two weeks. The semester ends before then, and it’s reasonable to assume she’ll be gone from your life just as quickly as she entered it once the page turns.

Right as the inner conflict inside your head reaches a fever pitch, the bell rings. On one side, you’re celebrating this moral victory; on the other, you’re punching a mental wall for not pulling the trigger. Before the professor even realizes the alarm already sounded off, all the students have filed out of the room in quick succession. 

You briefly consider searching for Hanni in the sea of students making their way around the halls, but seeing that she’s disappeared into the crowd, you decide to let her go. Perhaps the logical side of your brain might be telling you the truth: that she will be a mere afterthought to you after today.

But then there’s the unshakeable, unceasing part of you that refuses to give in. Even as you eat lunch at the corner of the cafeteria, you’re still trying to single out Hanni to no avail. A hopeless situation gradually growing worse with each passing hour. 

A not so subtle tap on your shoulder. Look to your side and there’s your angel, appearing at your hour of need. Hanni.

“Hey! Still have the cheat sheet I gave you earlier?” she asks. A few meters behind her is the student council president, Minji, and her secretary, Danielle, engaged in their own conversation, presumably accompanying their friend.

You scramble to find the folded piece of paper somewhere in your bag, forgetting that you’ve tucked the sheet away deep in your coat. Panicked, you jump from your seat to search within your clothes, still unable to detect its tiny presence hiding in your jacket. “Shit—”

“I can give you another copy if you lost it—”

“I’m sure it’s in here somewhere!” you interject, tonally desperate, repeatedly swiping your fingers on the same pockets with no success. 

Eventually, you frisk the deepest pockets of your coat, feeling something rough on the edge of your fingertips. Reeling it out, you present a folded piece of paper in front of her. It should be a small win, but it’s an embarrassing loss, especially right in front of Hanni.

“Good to know you still have it!” she says, grinning from ear to ear. You’re certain she was trying to suppress her chuckle the entire time, and based on her toothy smile, it’s not very difficult to jump to that conclusion. “Even if you didn’t lose it, I still would have given you another copy if you wanted it.”

“Hanni.” You turn to face her, a complete juxtaposition from her jolly, outgoing personality. Your expression looks stern in searching for answers. “Why are you like this? We barely know each other.”

Surprised by your sudden change in attitude, she takes a step back, pausing to contemplate her answer. Her usually bright demeanor gradually changes to reflect yours. Her smile remains, except it's hiding a little gloom, a little concern. “I just wanted to be kind to you. I saw you were struggling in some of the classes we shared and thought you needed some help. It’s only right to do the right thing, you know?”

In that moment, you regret showing a bit of attitude. Hand to your chest, as guilt occupies your heart and mind. “Oh.” You pause, stare back into those wanting eyes. “I-I guess you were really being kind to me, huh?”

“I don’t make fake answer sheets, let alone give them to people I dislike.” She leans forward, causing you to stagger back, bumping your thighs against the cafeteria stool. “And I like you.”

Your mouth gradually opens, trying to figure out what to say, how to react. Only air and silent noises come out. You genuinely have no idea how to respond to this sudden revelation. It’s not like you’re a popular name among the student body, let alone the ladies; if anything, you were mostly a ghost, only coming into light when needed—and in most cases, when the professors would ask you questions about the topic at hand. 

Blinking rapidly, you needed to do a double take. “Say that again?”

“I like you.” She repeats it for you. Twice. With increasing emphasis on those three words to drive the statement home. “I. Like. You.”

Let that sink in. You still don’t know what to say. “I—”

“We can talk about this later in the afternoon. Meet me at Room 204, okay? I’m in a rush and I just wanted to briefly check on you.” You watch her tone revert back to its beaming, bubbly self with each sentence. Before you even have an opportunity to say anything back, she rejoins her friends and walks away again, waving at you while shouting, “Remember what I told you about the cheat sheet!”

—————

Aside from accounting, where you followed Hanni’s advice down to the letter, the rest of the afternoon kept your thoughts mostly preoccupied with Hanni’s departing words. The two classes you shared with her during that period were opportunities to stare at her, watch her from a distance. Three simple words, and yet there’s layers upon layers to uncover. What did she mean when she said them? You barely interacted for most of the semester, yet she still considers you likable. During those long, painful hours of waiting, your curiosity and anticipation slowly built up.

And then, the bell rings at the top of the seventeenth hour. Time to find out.

While students file out in every direction, celebrating their regained freedom, you make your way through Room 204. Peeking from the outside, you see no one inside, not even Hanni. It looks about the same as when you left it—messy. You’re anxious, hesitant, cautious. There’s a part of you that believes she’s merely playing you in front of her friends, and that she might stand you up as a joke. And you have no reason to believe she genuinely likes you, apart from that one simple act of kindness from earlier.  

For the next few minutes, in those crucial moments of waiting, all your thoughts and presumptions begin waging war inside your head. You have one foot on the door, with the other looking to go home. It’s not the first time you’ve been stood up; you can write an entire thesis report going over each terrible experience and the feeling of bitterness and pining that followed. At the very least, should push come to shove, this wouldn’t be the worst of them—not even bottom five.

So you pace back and forth in front of the designated room, look at your phone, followed by your watch. Again and again. Minutes, stretching to hours, into days, into a slow eternity. You’re starting to lose hope.

Which is why when she comes across you in the hallway, you feel like a kid finding love for the first time all over again. You’re not even trying to hide your excitement. The stunned and relieved expression etched on your lips, the growing shade of red across your face, the hitch in your arms as they reach out to her because you couldn’t believe she would follow through on her word—

And when she flashes her toothy smile, her mouth speaking words you end up missing—you just want to take her by the hand and run away with her.

She ends up calling your name. Twice, thrice, a dozen times—you’re not exactly sure, but you can definitely lose yourself to the sight of Hanni’s presence over and over. With a hand held on the door, she’s telling you to join her inside, saying she has something important to share with you. At least that’s the very gist of it.

At her request, you leave your bag on one of the vacant seats; you end up sharing the same chair. The tension is palpable. Hanni paces back and forth in front of the desk, quietly ruminating, hiding her concerned look away from your eyes. A wakeup call for you that this is a serious matter. You have a lot of unanswered questions, but seeing the gravity of the moment, you conclude that it’s better to keep them to yourself a little while longer—at least once all the heavy air has been cleared. You stand there awkwardly, waiting for her to make the first move.

“I just want to say,” she suddenly says, still turned away from you, long streaks of dark hair covering her eyes. What they can’t hide is the frown on her lips. “I’m going to miss this place. All the profs, all the activities, but most importantly, all the people. Including you.”

“Me?” You’re not surprised at that statement; you’ve assumed she wasn’t going to be here for the long haul, considering she’s an exchange student. What does confuse you, is how she specifically singled you out from everyone else. You barely know each other. At best, you only teamed up for two group projects, which she mostly did the carrying for. For you, the bar has been set very, very low. “How come me?”

Hanni finally faces you, using everything in her willpower not to cry. Her usually lively eyes twinkle with tears waiting to be shed, but she refuses. Not even the warmest of her smiles can hide the somber and pained expression she has looking at you. “Most of the boys here are—excuse my language—a bunch of fucking jackasses and perverts.”

Not exactly wrong; if you weren’t part of an athletics club or hanging out at bars after class, you were likely to be one of their victims. You know this because you are numb to their asshole behavior. The girls would usually retreat in a subtle manner once they knew their presence, which wasn’t difficult to pinpoint.

Rolling your eyes, you reply, “You’re right. I hate their guts too—”

“But you’ve been kind to me from the moment I introduced myself, you know?” Hanni begins to walk toward you, rendering you even more frozen in place. “Even our brief good mornings meant quite a lot. It made me feel welcome.”

You didn’t really think much of it, unaware that it would have this profound of an impact in someone else’s life. And why would you—it’s a habit you’ve been taught since when you were seven. For a moment, you’d think she was being very melodramatic, as if she were practicing theater.

“And—” she pauses, takes a deep breath, “Let’s be honest; I know you like me too.”

When she drops those final words, your eyes pop. Wide. Enough to stretch through your forehead and fly up. It leaves you completely paralyzed. A whole truth bomb dropped just like that. She cusps your hands with hers; you freely allow her. Whether it's from utter shock or the desire to hold her like this for so long, you don’t know, but you definitely want to let this moment linger.

“I-I—” 

You can feel her hot breath against yours, her face inching closer, your bodies almost entangling into something passionate and warm. There’s nothing stopping you both from finally bridging the gap that’s been separating you for the longest time. Hanni, the charming, popular girl that everyone either wants to be friends with or to be her, seemingly knows you like a book read from left to right. More importantly, she likes you. Tells it straight to your face. 

Her arms snake around your neck, leaving you even more suffocated. No longer in her grasp, you find your hands pressed around tiny, fit waist. Her glinting eyes encourage you to let those innermost desires run wild. The suppressed thoughts you’ve been hiding slowly pull you under their influence. You shouldn’t be doing this, yet they’re right there: those sweet, puckery, inviting lips, waiting to be marked, yours and yours alone.

Instead, you end up in a tight embrace. It’s not as romantic as you envisioned. If anything, it’s bittersweet. Deep down, this is her way of saying goodbye, and you’re only realizing what this is really all about. An opportunity to bid farewell on amicable terms. It’s almost cruel that your first substantial interaction outside of school-related activities has to be like this.

You hold on to her tighter. She does the same. You’re unwilling to let go. She doesn’t want to, either.

Resting her head on your shoulder, Hanni whispers in your ear the most calming and soothing tone, “I’m going to miss you.” 

You don’t believe you’ve earned the right to say those words back. So the only thing you can do is hold on to her the best you can—for dear life.

Outside, the setting sun is gradually fading away, and so does the natural light it brings. You can stay here, from dusk to dawn, comfortable in this position if she wants to. 

She opens her mouth again, and she continues to hum and speak melodies in your ear. “I have one thing I want to do before saying goodbye. Can you help me?”

Without an ounce of hesitation, you nod, saying, “Anything for you.”

Hanni breaks the bear hug then leads you along with her to the desk. With the other hand, she lifts it back to her waist, placing herself in a new and unexpected position: her back arched against the table, with one knee bent beside yours. Her eyes glinting with utter desire, she couldn’t be any more obvious. 

Before the realization fully dawns on you, she does the unthinkable. 

A simple irresistible kiss, pulling you down by the collar of your coat. Next thing you know, you have Hanni’s back crooked further against the edge of the desk, your lip-lock turning more and more passionate. Nothing overly dramatic and sentimental—only passionate love making.

She wants it. Deep down, you want it too.

“I can’t—” you mutter, drawing your breath, pulling your lips away. But not your hands. It’s in Hanni’s custody now. Your coat halfway down your arms, she sneakily tosses it aside. “Not here.”

Surprised by your sudden change of heart, she leans forward, her fingers now pulling at the hem of your sleeves. “What’s wrong?”

“I mean—look around, Hanni. We’re in a goddamn classroom.” 

If only you could throw your arms around in protest to prove a point, but even that wouldn’t save you now.

“This is what I wanted from the start.” Hanni pulls you back in, her eyes hypnotic and irresistible, shining like gold. “You wanted this, too. Don’t play.”

“Hanni—”

She stops you right in your tracks with an impulsive peck on the lips. Curling them through the kiss to form a smile, she murmurs, “Don’t think, just do.”

And you do just that. Kiss her, make out with her as if your life depended on it.

Hanni’s lips taste like they’re meant for you. Sweet like honey. Divine. Heavenly. If it were possible, you’d want to choke on your own breath holding onto them for dear life. Not to mention the hums coming out of her mouth, those subdued mewls that she releases whenever you bite on her bottom lip—you can’t help but sink back in whenever you consider the thought of letting go.

There’s no reason not to; you have this pretty little thing, Hanni Pham, all to yourself. Even your body knows how rare of an opportunity this is. With one hand quietly slipping between her pencil skirt, you navigate your way to the depths of her heat without breaking the kiss. In a flash, she throws her head back, snapping her mouth wide at the new sensation. All that cool, calm expression, gone in an instant.

“Fuck—”

“God, Hanni. You’re so wet.” 

She grabs your wrist—that mischievous hand newly buried in her pussy—and urges you further, “Keep doing that. That felt so good.”

And God, does everything about finger fucking her feel incredible. The satisfying squelch of her cunt as your digits press against her warmth, the continuous twisting of her features as she crumbles from the pleasure, leaving her neck exposed for your lips to newly conquer, adding to the overwhelming sensations coursing all over Hanni’s body. Seeing her, this usually larger than life figure, fall under your spell pushes you even further. 

Like Hanni, you’re still young; there’s only pleasure and the thrill of moving too fast and reckless. One day you’ll end up regretting this, ruminating over memories that could ultimately end you before you even started, but you’d rather take this memento than leave with nothing at all. 

You’re both already past the point of no return. Hanni’s underwear hangs casually between her ankles while they’re wrapped around your waist, her neck filled with bite marks and deep shades of red that no piece of fabric can hide. Her dress shirt is partially unbuttoned, revealing a white camisole desperately seeking to be removed, and if that wasn’t enough, she’s made the crucial decision not to wear a bra today.

Fuck, that bulging ache in your pants is so agitating—both physically and mentally. 

“Wait,” you say, suddenly turning around and locking the door quickly, letting her panties fall freely to the floor. It proves to be a little struggle when you unknowingly use your slick-coated hand over your dry one. 

“Should have done that first,” she playfully chides, chuckling at you.

Returning to her with your drenched fingers pointed in the direction of her pussy, you respond, “Should have chosen anywhere but the classroom.”

“You’re saying you’d rather do this during our Christmas party?” Hanni lifts an eyebrow, taunting.

“Only if they allowed it.”

“And all those cheat sheets I handed you, all that for nothing?”

“Shut up. Didn’t need them, anyway.”

Hanni can’t help but burst into boisterous laughter. There’s no use locking that door now.

Even with the little time spent together, there’s clearly magic between you, the signs of what should have been a beautiful relationship. If only you both knew that. But now’s not the time to go over what ifs—only what’s next.

She stops you right as you ready yourself, grabbing the top button of your shirt. Using only her expressive eyes for approval, you steadily watch on till they’re completely undone. You’re left with the job of removing your undershirt and helping her toss your clothes aside. On the other hand, you’re in no rush to undress her completely; she’s a perfect mess as is with her unbuttoned uniform, her panties somewhere between your feet, and her taut nipples poking through the fabric. 

And Hanni wants it that way. You’ve barely entertained the idea of running your fingers through her skirt when she interrupts your train of thought. 

“You haven’t done it yet,” she says looking at your greedy, grubby hands, directing them with hers underneath her garment. “Make me cum. Please.”

As if you had any other intention. Maybe with something better, but that’s usually saved later—and for good reason.

You’re trying so hard not to curse through gritted teeth. Fuck. This. Damned. Skirt. Admittedly, it’s cute and perfectly suits Hanni; it adds to the appeal of seeing this usually meek, well behaved student asking for something more than naughty—it’s downright criminal—but you need to see what makes her really tick. Hanni’s clicking her tongue, growing more frustrated by the second than you are, anxiously waiting for you to come through. Carefully, you push a finger into her, then another, moving in delicate and systemic motion.

Then, it all clicks in perfect harmony:

She releases this pent-up moan from the depths of her chest, as though it were a heave of relief. The initial plunge from earlier makes plunging between her slick folds so much easier. You take a moment to let the satisfying sound sink in: the wet slop of her cunt as it reflexes against your fingers, unable to keep yourself from moaning with delight before you slowly draw back, then in again. 

From there, everything takes care of itself.

Hanni dissolves into a whimpering mess, under the hypnotic spell of your fingers fucking her pussy in tempered, intricate strokes, effortlessly and handily. Body shaking, desk quivering under the pressure of her weight, her hands struggling to find reprieve from the overwhelming sensations thundering all over her. She can barely breathe, let alone find the words to speak. Only quick curses. Each and every word so gratifying to hear.

“Fuck—fuck—its—its—so—good—more—”

You don’t give her any breathing room. In the brief moments when you lax, with your fingers either motionless deep within her cunt or pull back, leaving marks on her inner thighs with her own slick, you’re all over her, gently fondling her and kissing her. Half her uniform’s sleeve has fallen down her shoulder, giving you more of her body for you to claim as your own. With every little touch and thing you do, you continue to set her nerves ablaze with nothing to quench her lust.

It’s no wonder she’s such a teacher’s pet; she loves to follow along without any resistance or objection. A fact proven when you lift her undershirt to expose her taut nipples, and your free hand impulsively takes them. You give her left tit a twist, and from her needy lips comes a sharp whine. 

“Do it again,” she says, panting, nodding her head wildly, visibly overwhelmed. She doesn’t know what hit her, but it feels fucking amazing.

Of course, you wouldn’t pass up the opportunity, even if she hadn’t asked. Hanni’s body, all yours for the taking. Not everyone can say they fucked the top girl in the class in the classroom of all places.

And you let your body do all the talking. No amount of words nor their depth can adequately describe the sensation of tasting and feeling her figure. First your free fingers, then your tongue—they make their mark on her chest while your other digits crawl to a lazy pace inside her cunt. Not that she minds—she’s too engrossed in the blissful sensation to remotely care. Her hands find their way around your neck and back, scratching and digging away at your skin in an attempt to pull you even closer.

It aches—but not as much as the ache in Hanni’s core. As you inch her closer to climax, you can feel her tremble, propping her head on your shoulder now as her outlet, whimpering, crying, mewling. “Almost—” she mumbles, before she’s caught up again in the sea of her own pleasure. Knowing this, the rest of your body moves like it’s second nature. Faster and deeper, you continue your endless assault on her body, until—

Suddenly, Hanni freezes up, moans over your ear as a moment of silent calm follows. In the succeeding moments, you both remain clung together as her orgasm hits. And by god, it hits her like lightning. Sharp and brutal. Fingers stuck deep in her core as she gushes, quivers all over them. It lingers, leaves you both incapacitated.

Minutes that could easily stretch into hours, stuck on a desk, basking in the afterglow of unadulterated bliss. Eventually, she lifts up her head and lets out a deep breath of relief. Her hands remain entangled with your hair as she pulls herself back. A scope down gives you a short but telling extent of the damage: copious amounts of slick dripping on the edge of the table, down to the floor. You’re a little terrified of what your fingers will look like.

Through half-lidded eyes, Hanni flashes you a smile as she slowly realizes the mess she has become. Cheeks flustered with embarrassment, she quickly pushes down her undershirt, but they can’t hide her nipples’ rigidness. You’re both grinning at each other like mischievous pranksters. Something tells you that despite everything, it’s not enough. The fire in her eyes and the confidence in her laugh says it all: she’s looking for more trouble, and one way or another, you’re gonna be her accomplice.

Before you can even utter a word, you both hear a knock on the door. Through the casted silhouette, you recognize that it’s a janitor. Spent energy be damned, you’re brought back to reality. You quickly turn to Hanni in a state of alarm, “Shit. I told you not told to do this in the classroom—”

Reaching out her hand, she replies, “It’s gonna be fine! Give me my bag and I’ll get us out of this.” 

You immediately rush Hanni her bag, and while you hastily put yourself back in one piece, she grabs a pack of tissues to clear all evidence of your little escapade. In no time, you’ve somehow returned the place in nearly the same position you found it. Only one difference: her panties are left on the floor, and she hasn’t bothered to pick them up.

“Wait, your underwear—” you tell her as you pick them off the floor. She’s already on the edge of the classroom, opening up one of the windows to escape. It’s not a suicide jump; only someone with brittle bones could possibly break their legs doing the drop, and there’s really no other choice: run away with her or find yourself at the dean’s office on your first day back after the holidays.

“Keep it if you want.” Hanni shoots you a playful wink and a cheeky grin as she lifts one leg over the open window. “We don’t have much time, so unless you wanna explain yourself to the profs—”

“I’m already in trouble regardless,” you reply as you join her on the way out. You didn’t need to think about what to do. “Got eight missed phone calls from my fam. I’m fucked regardless. Might as well make the most of our time while we’re here.”

—————

A/N: Happy new year! I never thought I’d write something for NewJeans, but never say never. Hanni was easily the scene stealer for me at the Asia Artist Awards, she and the other members constantly waved at us from beginning to end, and they were killer performers! I can see why she’s so adored; she’s both talented and adorable. It’s been difficult getting back into writing after one month away, so this definitely is a feel-out attempt, but I hope it’s still good anyway. Here’s to the coming year and hopefully more to come. Thanks for reading!

P.S. I sincerely want to take this moment to apologize for my slow production. As previously mentioned, I got hit with a severe case of the flu, which kept me down for almost two weeks. Since recovering, I’ve been experiencing weird cases of brain fog, where sometimes my mind ‘isn’t there’ and it feels like my body’s been moving on autopilot. I’ve been getting healthier since then, but the so-called absentmindedness still remains. I’ve tried writing a few times since then, and it honestly feels like I’ve forgotten how to write. Hell, this fic was supposed to be out on Christmas day and I’ve struggled to put it together! It’s been very rough. I don’t wanna make promises because I’ll just end up breaking them, so I’ll just say that I’m trying my damned hardest to get back to that level I had been moving before my momentum stalled. I always want to deliver the best possible fic for you to enjoy. Thank you so much for being patient with me as always <3

[cxsmiicc]

fucking florida - emily prentiss x reader

word count - 1950

warnings - smut, eating out, vibe, office sex, alcohol, mommy kink, begging

first em fic so sorry if it sucks

cr @storiesofsvu for the vegas line i read a dangerous game all in one sitting the other night and it was stuck in my brain

------

“Fucking Florida,” you muttered on the way to the coffee machine for your third cup of the night. It was already after twelve and the mountain of paperwork didn’t seem to be getting any smaller. You began the permanent battle to get the ancient machine running and picked out a mug, savouring every second away from the towering files and microscopic print. Almost immediately after the overwhelmingly strong scent whipped through the bullpen a certain unit chief emerged from her office, silver hair dragged back into a haphazard ponytail and top three buttons undone. To say you were obsessed with this woman would be an understatement. Yes, she was your boss and yes, she was majorly off limits, but there was no telling your body that. There was no helping the shiver that ran down your spine when she spoke, the goosebumps that revealed themselves whenever she brushed against you on the jet, the way every little hair on your body would stand on end when she singled you out. In short, you had it bad for Emily Prentiss, with no end in sight.

“Didn’t know anyone else was still here,” she drawled.

“Everyone sane went home hours ago.”

“And who can blame them, look at us. Relying on far too much caffeine just to get us through the paperwork.”

“When in Quantico,” you said with a small smile.

She laughed slightly, picking up the coffee pot and pouring two mugs, “It’s too late for your bad jokes.”

“You’ll have to excuse my lack of comedic genius, I'm exhausted and working on an empty stomach,” you replied, taking one of the mugs from her.

“What! Why?” She asked.

“I’m not a breakfast person to begin with and then with all the chaos this morning and the flight and the paperwork I just haven’t had the time to breathe.”

“I just ordered food, you’re having some of it.”

“Where did you order from this late?” 

She chuckled, “A lady never kisses and tells.”

God you wished she would kiss you. You simply raised an eyebrow and took a sip of your coffee in response.

“It’ll be delivered to my office soon, grab a file and come wait.”

“Exactly what I’ve been craving, yet more blindingly dull reports,” you deadpanned, already heading back to your desk to sweep the top folder into your waiting bag and follow Emily to her office.

Of course you had been in there before, but never so late and never for an extended period of time. It was different, strangely exhilarating, walking through that door and being directed to the low table in the corner, sitting on the carpet and working this closely to another person. The two of you typed in comfortable silence until a knock came and a sheepish college student walked in with a huge brown paper bag.

“Finally, thanks so much,” Emily said to the poor boy, handing him the cash.

“Quick, move the case notes. Just dump them under the table for now.” You did so, pulling them all into a rough pile and quite literally dumping them on the floor under the table. She wasted no time in delving into the enormous bag, pulling out a burger, two boxes of fries and the biggest soda you had ever seen in your life.

“Good job I was hungry,” she joked.

“Fries.” You reached over and snagged a box, grease seeping through the bottom and onto your fingers before you even opened it. “Oh my god that’s good,” you said around a mouthful.

“I have an idea..” She swerved around the table, snatching a fry on the way and walked right out of the room. A minute later she came back in, bottle in hand.

“Rossi’s finest I presume?”

“Only the best for you,” She finished with a devilish grin.

“Glasses?”

“On ne fait que commencer.” And she took a sip straight from the bottle.

Fucking French. You reached over and stole the whisky from her, upending it and barely blinking when the amber liquid hit your throat. 

“Someone has a tragic backstory just waiting to be unlocked.”

“The years of greasy food and crushing loneliness have numbed me to the mundane sensations of everyday life.” 

“Preaching to the choir honey.” She raised the burger to her mouth and took a bite, sighing in content as she did.

The two of you kept eating in not quite silence, the crunching of fries and occasional clinking of the bottle providing the nights soundtrack. Only once all the food had gone and you were both sufficiently tipsy did you come up for air.

“Remind me to tell you I'm starving more often, this is the best time I've had in this building to date.”

“Anything to make some half decent memories in this place, all the bad we see deserves a little alcohol and fast food every now and then.”

“I know something you could do to make this memory more than half decent,” you muttered.

“Oh? Now what, pray tell, could that be?” She feigned confusion and came to sit on your side of the table, resting her head in one hand and looking up at you through her lashes.

“Fuck it.” Both of you leaned in at the same time, lips crashing together and a breathless gasp escaping from you, her hands drifting to your waist and tugging you onto her lap. It was desperate and clumsy and everything you expected it to be, everything you needed it to be. Her tongue pried your lips apart as you explored each others mouths, too desperate for contact to bother with technique. You fumbled with her buttons and she smiled against your mouth, breaking the kiss to pull your shirt over your head and undo the few buttons of her own that you had been unable to access. Breathing hard, you pushed yourself off of her and sat on the table, legs wide and one hand splayed behind you for balance, admiring the view in front of you. Not every day the unit chief of the BAU was shirtless in front of you after all.

Reaching for your belt, she asked, “Can I?”

“God yes.”

She made quick work of both the belt and your jeans, tossing them aside before slowly pulling your underwear all the way down and dropping it, slipping both hands between your thighs and slowly separating them. Lowering her face, she met your eyes and slowly kissed a teasing path from your inner thigh to your clit, stopping just before she made contact. You let out a whimper, already soaked for her.

“Desperate, are we?”

“Less talk more tongue,” You demanded.

Luckily for you, she obliged, wasting no time in wrapping her lips around your clit and sucking hard, dragging a savage groan from the base of your throat. Loosening her hold on your clit, she focused her attention lower down, flicking her tongue briefly in and out before delivering a broad lick to your cunt, finally setting for alternating between the two motions whenever your moans peaked in volume. Bringing her hands into the mix, she drew slow circles around your clit, successfully driving you to the edge as your breathing became faster and faster, the only coherent word coming from your lips being her name over and over in an increasingly high pitch. Her relentless pace never slowed, even as you finally came with a breathy gasp, fucking you through your high.

Dropping back down onto her heels, she smiled at you before reaching behind her back and unclasping her bra, throwing the purple fabric to the corner before grabbing you by the thighs and pulling you back into her lap for another searing kiss, easily parting your lips this time and taking full advantage of your post-orgasmic confusion. The haze clearing somewhat, you became aware enough to dive your hands downwards and play with her chest, flicking her nipples between your fingers and relishing in the soft whimpers falling into your mouth. It was you that pulled away this time, taking one of her breasts into your mouth and swirling your tongue around, eliciting a delicious moan from Emily. You bit down, hard enough to leave a mark, and she let out a squeal of pleasure, pushing you to do more.

Switching your focus to the other side, you repeated the movements, teeth pressing into her soft skin as your tongue worked overtime. Just as she released a particularly loud moan, your fingers forced their way into her waistband and found her clit, jerking it back and forth to the same pace your other hand was setting on the side of her chest not currently in your mouth. She was a mess, to put it nicely, grinding on your hand in a desperate attempt to get herself there. Feeling just how wet she was, you decided to forego any teasing and simply go faster, push her harder, anything to get her over that edge. Twisting your wrist for better access, you pushed both your fingers and tongue to the same brutal speed, stirring raw sounds from the woman above you as she peaked, ruining her formerly perfect suit trousers once and for all. 

Wordlessly, she pushed you off again and crossed to the desk, rummaging in a drawer until she came up with a small silver key. Bending down to where you couldn’t see, she fitted the key in the lock of her bottom drawer and yanked it open, retrieving something without bothering to close the drawer behind her as she walked back towards you, hands behind her back so as not to reveal what she had. The second she was close enough you stood and grabbed her trousers by either hip, meeting her eyes as you removed them. 

“So what is it that you keep locked away in that desk of yours?” You asked.

In response, she smirked and lifted up a bubblegum pink vibrator.

“Let’s see just how many more we can get out of you tonight sweetheart.”

She flipped you around and forced you onto the desk, pushing your legs apart as you whimpered in anticipation. Laughing at your eagerness, she pushed the toy into you, flicking at your clit as she turned it on at the lowest setting and you let out a groan. 

You glared at her. “More.”

“Manners, or mommy won’t do a single thing more. Besides, I bet you look so pretty begging for it.”

Breath hitching at her words, you felt the vibrator slip as you grew wetter, reaching to push it back in only for Emily to grab your wrist. 

“Please…” You muttered.

“I know you can do better than that baby, now come on, tell me what you want.”

“Please mommy please turn it up I need more god just please.”

“Since you asked so nicely…” She trailed off, pausing for a second before pushing the vibrator deeper into you and setting it to max, pulling a guttural gasp from the recesses of your throat.

“That's it princess, let me hear you.”

You held nothing back, letting her tear sounds from you that you didn’t even know you were capable of making for hours until you were both spent, collapsed on the office floor as the first threads of sunlight came through the blinds.

“Fuck Em it’s getting light outside.”

“Shit.”

The room was a blur of motion as both of you hunted for your clothes, her sighing when she saw the state of her trousers and rummaging through her go bag for a fresher pair. 

“Anyone finds out about this and we’re both royally fucked, capisce?”

You beamed at her. “What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.”

[seabirdtxt]

man idk why but i just kinda want to make creator! reader's backstory SAD like they were tortured (?) just to keep the rest of humanity/teyvat safe.. like i am a SUCKER for sad/traumatic backstories!! just a little brainrot i need to get out!!

i'll keep this short and sweet i told myself. lmao. i forgot i'm a sucker for easy angst

Blood of God

Notes: Sagau cult au, cut-based injuries, blood sacrifice. bunch of fun stuff. Reader is the Creator, golden blood, etc. read at your own discretion

WC. 976

----- ⚘ -----

When you first descended into Teyvat, You were initially met with praise and celebration. Countless festivals were held in Your name. Your beloved characters, Your acolytes, were the first ones in line to beg for Your blessings.

That's when everything started to go downhill.

With the realization that Your physical presence in the world meant no more divine guidance, Your acolytes grew desperate for Your blessings. Blessings that You, as a mortal human being, could not grant. Not to the same degree that You used to, when You played the game and bestowed buffs and upgrades aplenty to all Your teams, and generously ascended even those You didn’t have plans for.

But now, even as You stand before them in flesh and blood, Your godlike abilities have been reduced to mere party tricks. You spoke to the animals, and twisted the breeze. You made flames dance with a single gesture, and grew pretty flowers in your footsteps. None of this helped the acolytes, though.

Interest in Your well-being, in You, dwindled. Your acolytes wished You well, the rare few even questioning Your divinity, and sent You on your merry way.

Abandoned and unarmed in a world full of hostile creatures, You took up jobs with the Adventurers Guild. First, it was fetching and delivering goods for the city citizens. Then, it was carrying messages across the countryside from town to town. Lastly, it was picking off monster camps that strayed too close to civilization.

This is where a few of your acolytes found You, injured and bleeding brass-coloured ichor into the dirt and swinging wildly with Your adventurer’s sword.

Deity or not, Your acolytes were not ones to stand idle while another was put in harm’s way. Into the fray they jumped, and fought by Your side despite their reservations about You.

In the heat of the battle, the acolytes noticed something strange. Those sprayed with Your blood were given increased strength and capability for a short while, until the stain dried and wore off.

Encouraged, they investigated further. Using some of Your blood as war paints extended the duration of the blessing by nearly double, coating their weapons with it would increase the effectiveness of their strikes, and a brave few discovered that ingesting it would boost them all-around for the entirety of the day.

Harken, and rejoice! For irrefutable proof of the Creator’s benevolent presence has been revealed! And You, desperate for their love and acceptance, gave it to them without question.

A beautiful, elaborate temple was built in Your honour, with ceremonial blades scattered throughout the decor and deep channels filled with ever-flowing ambrosia running across the floor. As Your holy blood continued to be spilled, the hue of it began to run a shimmering gold.

Those who sought Your blessings need only visit you in Your temple, bringing offerings of kill trophies and unearthed relics. Then, they would partake of Your divinity by their choice of method, dipping their reverent hands in the rivers of ichor that pulse across the temple grounds.

You haven’t stopped bleeding in months.

It was bearable at first, when the first time the channels were filled You were pleased to discover that they would not run dry for some time. When the acolytes came for lessings, you would only need to refill the trenches every few days.

You asked if they could bring You softer offerings, of sweet foods and thoughtful bouquets. Such shows of softness were dismissed with a laugh. What need did you have for plants, when the strength you gave them could afford you even the rarest and most difficult trophies to obtain?

But the Abyss came. Celestia’s wrathful gaze descended. Your acolytes were fighting a war on two fronts.

They came on their hands and knees, emptying your stores quicker than you could refill them. Eventually, you took to sitting in the golden throne with your preferred blade, sluggishly carving yourself open to ensure the continued survival of your beloved acolytes.

It wasn’t enough.

Please, they begged. Give us the strength You once were able to grant. Show us the stars in your eyes and in your blood once more, that we might fight and win in Your name.

Filled with fear, and hurt, and love, you gave them everything you had left.

Their lips and teeth stained with brilliant auric gore, they took to the fields once again. The Abyss fell before them, the cursed beasts of the land fell into disarray and fled into the winds. Celestia conceded victory.

The acolytes cheered and danced in the aftermath of their slaughter. Eager to show their renewed devotion, they returned home to You.

But Your temple had crumbled, and the deep wells that once held Your pulse have turned to dust. Your blessing was but glittering sand in their mouths as they sort through the rubble to find any traces of You.

There was no way to know who broke first. Your acolytes realized too late the price for Your continued generosity, and squandered Your love on chasing strength and war.

Your temple was rebuilt with petals replacing every blade. The grooves filled with the soil that was steeped with the blood of the fallen, and flowers of all shades of vibrant, terribly human red grew there.

Dendrobium and Mourning flowers. Even the azure Sea ganoderma bloomed in rare patches where water pooled deeper.

Had they loved You as a human and not as a seemingly bottomless resource, would You have stayed? The thought of such a question shamed them. You asked for their love and they’d given You their blades. You asked for sweets and they’d brought you the bones of their enemies.

And yet, You wanted to stay. Even as they literally bled You dry, You had only ever wanted their happiness, no matter the cost.

And heavy was the cost.

[webslinger-holland]

The Responsible One | Eddie Munson

Summary: Out of the Hellfire club, the reader is the most responsible one and basically the mother of the group. But Eddie can’t bring himself to confess his feelings.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warning: none

Type: Oneshot

It has all started the first week of senior year. Now this was Eddie’s third time repeating his senior year, but he claimed this time was going to be different. And it was for one reason.

With each school year, Eddie picked out some little ‘lost sheep’ in the crowd to become part of his Hellfire Club. Just last semester, Eddie had found the most unlikely person to join their group. Her name was Y/n L/n.

In January, Eddie saw her coming to sit at the far end of their table. She silently sat by herself, lowering her tray of gross cafeteria food on the table. Then Y/n proceeded to pull out a D&D Monsters Manual book.

This caused Eddie to spit out the milk he was drinking from his little carton. The other members of the group turned to look at him with a quizzical look in their eyes. He’d never seen a girl that was interested in the game. He tipped his head to motion to the strange girl and all of their eyes followed his gaze.

By the end of the week, Eddie had worked up the courage to approach her and ask her if she wanted to join their club. She happily agreed to.

When Eddie received the news that he wouldn’t be graduating and he’d have to repeat his senior year once again, he wasn’t necessarily upset like all the other times.

This meant that he’d get to spend another year building his Hellfire Club. It also meant he’d get to spend more time with her.

At the start of the new year, the Hellfire Club was short on three people since three of their members had graduated in the spring. It didn’t take long for them to recruit three kids named Mike, Dustin, and Lucas. They were die hard fans of the game and they had been playing since they were little.

They proved their worth on multiple occasions, helping defeat various monsters. On Fridays, the club would wear their Hellfire shirts since they planned to play after school. This week was no different.

At lunch, Eddie lifted his gaze to stare at Y/n while he mindlessly played with his mashed potatoes. She was situated between Mike and Dustin.

The two boys had one of their first midterms coming up next week. Neither of them had studied. So Y/n was helping them out by walking them through some of the problems.

“Then the exponent goes-,” Y/n voice trailed off.

“Right there,” Dustin exclaimed as if the light had finally gone off in his head and it all made sense to him.

“Exactly!” Y/n said with a broad smile on her face. She scribbled on the piece of paper to write down the answer to the equation.

Eddie kept his gaze on his food, but the corners of his lips cracked into a small smile. He stole a quick glance towards her.

“Algebra is so much easier when you explain it. You’re even better than Mrs Miller,” Mike stated. He claimed he never learned anything from his teacher.

“Well, I’ve tutored a lot of kids. I’ve had practice,” Y/n explained.

“Speaking of tutoring,” Y/n peered around the boys to look towards the head of the table. “Do you need any help studying for Mrs O’Donnells midterm?” Y/n wondered.

While Y/n knew that Eddie’s grades weren’t the best in school and that he had failed Mrs O’Donnell’s class twice, Y/n couldn’t help but wonder if he needed or wanted any help.

“N-No thanks,” Eddie stumbled over his words. He quickly diverted his gaze by staring down at his food.

“Alright. If you change your mind, just let me know,” Y/n said as she rose to her feet. “I-I should get going. Got another class here soon,” she excused herself.

“See you after school,” Dustin called after her.

Once she was out of their line of sight, everyone turned their heads to look at the dungeon master himself. He raised his own head and looked at all of them. He shrugged his shoulders in defeat.

“What?” Eddie wondered.

“You never take up her offer to tutor you,” Dustin noticed.

“Don’t need to,” Eddie claimed. “I am crawling my way towards a D- in Mrs O’Donnells class.”

“And one bad score on your midterm could drop you even further back,” Lucas stated.

“Listen man,” Eddie began. “I appreciate the effort, but believe me, if Y/n tutored me…I wouldn’t learn anything.”

“What makes you say that?” Dustin perked up.

“It’s because he wouldn’t be focusing on the homework if you know what I mean,” Garett smirked and quirked his eyebrow.

“Shut up!” Eddie yelled.

“You like her?!” Dustin exclaimed in a quiet whisper. “Why didn’t you just say so?”

“How long have you had a crush on her?” Mike questioned.

“Ever since he saw her last semester reading a monsters manual,” Jeff interjected.

“Took him a week to finally talk to her,” Garett added since he had also been there last year to witness it.

“And he’s been gone every since,” Jeff added.

“Will you two just shut up?” Eddie demanded. He slammed his hands down on the table which caused all of them to jump and drop the subject.

There were a couple moments of awkward silence at the table. No one even dared speak up unless they wanted their head to get bitten off.

As if on cue, the lunch bell rang to signal the end of the period. Everyone at the table began to collect their things, throwing their trash onto their trays. One by one, they stood up to go their separate ways.

Finally, Eddie and Dustin were the last two at the table. They had a sort of bond. And Eddie couldn’t deny that he was closer to Dustin than the other two. There was just something about him that was loveable. It was almost like he was his younger brother.

“Hey. Listen,” Dustin said cautiously. “I know you probably don’t want to talk to Y/n because you don’t want to ruin the friendship you guys have.”

When Eddie didn’t say anything, Dustin took that as a cue to continue. He spoke softly so nobody could hear him.

“I don’t know much about girls but I’ve seen the way she looks at you. She really likes you,” Dustin tried.

“No,” Eddie shook his head in denial. “No, she’s like that to everyone. She’s just a kind hearted person. I’m no different than everyone else,” Eddie said.

“Well, if you say so.” Dustin sighed. He took his tray and began to walk away.

After Hellfire, Eddie always offered to drive the younger boys home since it was usually late at night. He’d also take Y/n home since she lived only ten minutes away from him.

The three boys clambered into the back of his van, obsessing over their last campaign session. They had just barely survived, but it was such an epic win. They couldn’t help talk about it.

Meanwhile, Eddie climbed into the driver’s seat and Y/n was seated in the passenger’s seat. He began to drive away.

He really wasn’t listening to the boys in the backseat, opting to steal temporary glances towards the person beside him. When Y/n would turn her head to look at him, Eddie would quickly look back towards the road. She smiled to herself.

Slowly, Eddie pulled up to Lucas’s house. He put the van in park and waited until he climbed out of the vehicle. All of the sudden, Y/n rolled down to window to call out to him.

“Don’t forget to study for your midterm,” Y/n called.

“Yes mom,” Lucas rolled his eyes while walking backwards. He sent her a small smile and a wave.

The van started up again. They began driving further down the street, taking a couple turns until they came to the next house.

At the Wheeler home, Mrs Wheeler was looking out the living room window. She had heard the van pulling up. She went to open the door and welcomed her teenage son home. She sent a small wave to the van as if to say thank you for bringing him home safely.

“What about that Eddie Munson and Y/n L/n?” Mrs Wheeler asked her son after she closed the front door.

“What about them?” Mike asked. He headed towards the kitchen and grabbed a cookie from the cookie jar.

“They’d make a good couple,” Mrs Wheeler confessed. She looked out the window to watch them drive away.

“They’re kinda polar opposites,” Mike said as if saying he knew them better than anyone. “Eddie is rebellious and Y/n is the responsible one of the group.”

“Opposites attract,” Mrs Wheeler claimed with a small smile. “You never know,” Mrs Wheeler insisted.

“Whatever,” Mike rolled his eyes. “Goodnight mom.”

By the time the van drove up to Dustin’s home, Dustin was fast asleep in the backseat. The two older kids turned their heads to look over their shoulder, smiling at the sight of Dustin sleeping with his mouth wide open.

“Should I scare him awake?” Eddie whispered.

“No! That would be mean,” Y/n stated. She unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the passenger door. She climbed out of the vehicle, prying open the door of the backseat.

Hesitantly, Y/n laid her hand on the young boy’s shoulder to waken him gently. He stirred in his sleep, tossing his head from side to side. He opened his eyes slowly.

“Hey Dustin,” Y/N whispered so softly. “You’re home.”

Lazily, Dustin unbuckled his own seatbelt and climbed out of the vehicle. She went to grab his jacket, throwing it over his shoulders. She then proceeded to zip him up like a mother would do for her own child.

She took his backpack out of the van. She handed it to him. She threw his cap on his head before gently pushing him towards his house. He shuffled up the driveway lazily and tiredly.

Afterwards, Y/n climbed back into the van. She buckled her seatbelt quickly. When she turned her head, she found Eddie looking directly at her with a small smile on his face.

“What?” Y/n smiled.

“Nothing,” Eddie shrugged. “You’re like the mom of the group.”

“Guilty,” Y/n laughed.

In that moment, Eddie started the van once again and drove away. The two of them sat in the most comfortable silence. The only thing that could be heard was the sound of wind coming through the cracked window.

When Eddie looked at Y/n, he saw her hair blowing in the wind as she looked out the window. Her facial features seemed to glow in the light of the moon. She looked heavenly.

Much to Eddie’s dismay, he made the turn to her house. He pulled into her driveway and turned the keys of his van. The two of them sat there in silence for a couple minutes.

Suddenly, Eddie turned his head to look at the young girl sitting beside him. He clambered out of his own car, which caused his car to rock back and forth. He hurriedly ran around the backside of his car like the insane kid he was.

He went to open her door for her. He offered his hand to her like a gentleman. She smiled at his actions, gladly taking his hand as he escorted her out of the van. He closed the door behind her.

The two of them walked towards her front door. As she began to unlock the front door, he leaned against the door frame. He watched her movements so carefully. He mentally took note of how her hands shook slightly which caused him to furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

“Well, this is me.” Y/n said nervously. She motioned to the door.

“Right,” Eddie nodded. He shoved his hands into the depths of his pockets, rocking back and forth on the heels of his feet.

She said a small goodbye before opening the door of her house. She walked into her house, closing the door in a slow motion.

“Wait! Y/n!” Eddie called.

To stop the door from closing, Eddie took a step forward and slammed the flat of his hand against the solid door. He held it open.

“W-would you still be willing to tutor me? I don’t want to fail my class again. I could really use the help…just didn’t know how to ask for it,” Eddie confessed.

“Of course I’ll help you,” Y/n said with a small smile on her face.

“Say tomorrow? Around 3pm?” Eddie suggested.

“Alright,” Y/n agreed with a curt nod. “I’ll see you then.”

Once again, Y/n began to close the door behind her. But Eddie had to ask her one more question. He put his hand out again to stop the door from closing.

“A-And maybe…i-if you want to,” Eddie said slowly. “I could take you out to dinner afterwards,” Eddie offered.

“Eddie Munson,” Y/n said slowly. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

“Would that be such a bad thing if I was?” Eddie challenged.

“No. It wouldn’t be.” Y/n said with a small shake of the head.

“Great,” Eddie said. “Then it’s a date.”

In response, Eddie could feel the corners of his lips tugging into a broad smile. He stuffed his hands back into his leather jacket pockets.

Out of nowhere, Eddie awkwardly stepped forward and leaned down to her eye height. He pecked his lips against her in the most innocent manner. It was so quick that either of them could really process that it just happened. It only lasted a second.

When Eddie had pulled away, he quickly dropped his gaze to stare down at his feet. He kicked some of the gravel with the heel of his foot. He was trying to bud the evident blush creeping up his face and coloring his cheeks.

Unbeknownst to him, Y/n was also blushing profusely at his action. She popped her lips into her mouth to hide the growing smile from forming in her face. She balanced her height from one leg to the other.

“Alright,” Eddie announced a little louder than normal. He took a step backwards so she could finally close the door. “I‘ll see you tomorrow,” Eddie said.

“For our date,” Y/n confirmed. She watched him take a couple more steps backwards, heading towards his van.

“Yes! For our date,” Eddie repeated. “I’ll see you there.”

“Bye Eddie,” Y/n said. She finally closed the door behind her.

“Goodbye Y/n,” Eddie said to nothing in particular.

As if he didn’t believe what just happened, Eddie spun around on the heels of his feet. He pondered his thoughts carefully, reliving everything that just happened.

In disbelief, Eddie weaves his fingers through his long locks of hair. He smiled to himself, scoffing at the mere idea that he had a date. He hurried to the driver’s side of his car.

Once inside, Eddie closed the door behind him. He gripped the steering wheel tightly. Then Eddie jumped enthusiastically in his seat. He cheered to himself in success. It had taken him long enough to work up his courage. Now he’s be reaping the benefits. And he had a date tomorrow night.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Cater, Ruggie: The Secret in a Smile

Caycay, bestie… I am so sorry that SSR Crowley stole your spotlight 😭 (Is that why Cater looks so Mean Girls in his groovy... He's seeking petty revenge against Crowley/j)

Some cute stuff from the vignettes that I wasn't able to include in this fic: Cater makes a reference to TsumTsums! He mentions being into this mobile game with cute round creatures. Cater also tells a story about a 5-year old girl giving him a flower after his club's performance at a cultural festival (omg, do they mean the one in book 5?!). Ruggie teases him and says Cater must have been that little girl's first crush 😂

A Tale as Old as Time.

“Ne, ne, Ruggie-kun! Check this one out~ It's all the way from the Queendom of Roses!"

Cater jabbed a thumb at a painting of a young blonde girl dressed in a modest sky blue frock and apron, a small black bow in her hair. She couldn’t have been older than 10 years of age, still petite enough to squish inside a glass bottle with a narrow neck. The bottled child was adrift in a sudsy sea, her face frozen in an expression of slight worry.

Ruggie took one look at the artwork, then wrinkled his nose. “Sure sucks to be in her shoes. What’s this even supposed to show us, anyway? Doesn’t make a whole lotta sense to me.”

"Not a lot from the Queendom does if you aren't already familiar with its topsy-turvy stories~" Cater placed a hand on his hip and leaned forward, grinning. "This one is pretty popular! It's about a girl that wants an audience with the Queen of Hearts. She gets lost on the journey there, meets strange people and experiences even stranger things on the way. This is just one leg of that trip!"

"Wouldn’t the castle be further inland? How'd she end up in the middle of the ocean?"

“It’s about the perspective of the shot.” Cater formed a frame with his hands, catching his underclassman in it. He pulled back, creating the illusion of sizing Ruggie down. “She drank this bottled liquid she found and that shrank her down—so really, the ocean isn’t that big.”

A grimace.

“Man, talk about no sense of self preservation. She just chugged an unlabeled bottle without a second thought. Must’ve been real desperate.” Ruggie paused. “Weeeell, not like I’m one to talk about being desperate. You really can’t afford to be picky sometimes. If it fills your stomach, it fills your stomach.”

“You’d drink it too, huh… I don’t think I could do that. I’d at least want to see how the menu describes it before I order—though I guess it also depends on how ‘cammable the drink is! And hey, think about all the cool pics I could grab from a worm's eye point of view!”

"Heh, you don't seem too pressed about living life as an ant."

"Cay-kun likes to look on the bright side of things!" he declared with a wink and a peace sign. "The lost girl... she worried so much about finding her destination, she forgets to stop and smell the roses. She overlooks a lot of the fun people she could have spent time with."

Hopping from place to place, missed people—familiar elements, resurfacing a childhood of being uprooted and dragged about. Never to fully settle.

A tea party here, a brief convo there. Just enough to keep him placated, but not enough to see beyond the surface of the looking glass.

His curiosity still left wanting.

She got into so much trouble, but didn't have any real friends to come and help her.

Sadness tugged at his heartstrings, but Cater's smile didn’t waver.

"... I can’t help but kinda pity the poor thing," he said quietly. Then, brightening in the next moment, "All her issues could've been avoided if she just looked before she leapt and made some connections."

“Yeah, she definitely should’ve played smarter, not harder. Maybe if she kissed up to the locals, they’d have come to her rescue." Ruggie shrugged. "It works for me and Leona-san."

“Right? A smile goes a long way to getting what you want!” Cater poked the corners of his mouth. “You totes get me.”

“Cuz it takes a trickster to know another one on sight.”

"Wow, it sounds so mean when you put it like that. We're not tricksters, we just know how to use our smiles to problem-solve~"

"Giving a word a fresh coat of paint doesn't make it any less shady. At least be honest with yourself," the hyena smirked.

“Eeeh, I’m always honest!”

They shared a laugh—Ruggie, a snicker. Cater, lighter, more bubbly, like a carbonated mystery drink. When the effervescence died down, he cast another glance at the painting.

Too big for her small world of the sea, too small for the big world that loomed beyond it. Trapped within glass walls. Curled into herself in her delicate chambers.

Her perspective and his, one and the same.

Poor thing, poor thing, poor thing.

Cater summoned his strength and bore the full brunt of his smile.

“I’m sure she’ll find what she’s looking for… one day.”

[toastedjeans]

Siren Tower AU!

I wanna keep this more on the silly side, but here's the basic gist of it.

There's a huge tower submerged in the ocean where many sirens and other sea creatures have found a home, and somehow humans have discovered it. They want to study and explore this tower, and the sirens are NOT happy about it, not wanting their home to be potentially destroyed. Pretty reasonable. But now, this random middle aged pizza baker somehow gets roped into this whole mess.

And here's the characters! (I tried to keep their heights accurate but idk if i succeeded)

And down there is some more info about everyone!

HUMANS (and Brick)

Peppino

He still has his pizzeria, but it's located a little closer to town. While business is slightly better than in game, he still has debts. But hey, he has his own apartment!! No more sleeping in the back of the pizzeria or on the floor!!

Peppino will sometimes just come to the shore or the port in the evening or at night to clear his head or be alone with his thoughts. Depressed guy. Will sometimes talk to himself when he thinks he's alone. He isn't necessarily afraid of the ocean, but because he can't swim, once he's in water the fear kicks in and he starts panicking.

He doesn't believe in sirens, mermaids, or other such creatures. Thinks they're just made up to tell scary stories of the sea. Jokes on him, he's about to meet the jolliest shark gnome man he's ever seen.

Brick

A gigantic rat that lives with Peppino, who didn't get a say in this. Just appeared one day, and no matter how many times Peppino tries to get rid of him, Brick always comes back. After a while Pep reluctantly accepts him and sometimes even takes him for a walk.

Brick actually loves to swim, but doesn't stay in the water for too long cause Pep won't join him. Like, he'll just leave if Brick stays too long. Kinda rude if you ask me.

Mr. Stick

Tax and debt collector, and a friend of Peppino. He often comes over for a pizza, then proceeds not to eat much, and rarely pays (he either says he's deducting it from Pep's debts or he lets someone else pay). He's kind of a piece of shit but outside of the whole money business he can be pretty nice.

He strikes me as a gambler tbh, either he's extremely lucky or extremely unlucky. Likes playing poker, and invites Peppino and Hazel to play after work from time to time.

Doesn't believe in sirens, but if he ever saw one he'd try to exploit it for money. He wouldn't kill it or anything though, mainly because he's too weak and he doesn't know how to handle guns.

Noisette / Hazel

She runs a little cafe near Peppino's pizzeria, and is good friends with him, but can sometimes be a little annoying. They hang out after work from time to time. When she notices that Peppino is having a rough day, she'll sometimes bring over a free cup of coffee or a slice of cake for him. Sometimes experiments with... interesting... food combinations, which are strangely popular.

She has loved mermaids and sirens since she was young and is very fond of them. Once she discovers they're real, she becomes even more fascinated and obsessed with them. You better believe she wanted to be a mermaid when she was young.

SIRENS

Gustavo

A little round shark man who is perfect in every way. He's curious and adventurous, and even though sirens and humans are enemies since, uh. A long time. He doesn't believe that humans are inherently evil. He'll help out whenever and however he can, but can get very aggressive when his friends or brethren are threatened. You will regret it if you anger him.

Noise annoys him often but they don't harm each other. He isn't really friends with Noise, but he will defend him if he's threatened or attacked.

One day he saves Peppino from drowning, which makes other sirens sceptical of him, especially those who think humans are evil. He will later try to learn human language to be able to communicate with Peppino better.

Noise

Goblin shark. He can theoretically go on land for a bit, but needs some water nearby. He's a little sceptical about humans, but not outright hostile. He likes annoying pretty much everyone, especially Peppino once they meet (he thinks his reactions are funny).

He throws sea urchins and pufferfish at others like bombs, as he (like most sirens) is immune to their poison / venom. While he's usually an unhinged gremlin, he just about melts when with Hazel. But of course he tries to hide this from others.

Fake Peppino

Created by Pizzahead from DNA of frogs, newts, and Peppino (obviously). He was meant to be a weapon for sirens against humans, and thus is supposed to be hostile. Unfortunately, he turned out to be extremely affectionate, and he loves hugs. Much like Gustavo, when friends are attacked, he can get downright deadly. He can also regenerate body parts like an axolotl, unless his brain has been damaged. Like, you can rip both his arms off and they'll grow back within a day.

He becomes close friends with Gustavo, and is kind of fascinated by Peppino (other humans too, but mostly Peppino). He would play in the water with Brick once they meet, and become friends with Hazel. Can go on land as well, but prefers the water. He communicates with croaks, gurgles and other noises, and can speak very limited human language (very few fractions of words or sentences, it just sounds like gibberish), taught to him by Pizzahead.

Pepperman

Lumpfish (idk either just roll with it). He's kind of indifferent to humans, but he does think he's better than them. I could see him making a brush or something out of seaweed to draw. And then always getting upset that his drawings never stay cause of the water, but he keeps drawing anyway. Blames Noise for destroying his art even if he knows it's the water (Noise thinks it's funny). "Borrows" seaweed from Vigi's farm to make new brushes. But he'll also make statues out of various rocks and other things he finds laying around. Mostly of himself. Some humans think they're built from ancient civilizations, while others think it's some sort of elaborate hoax. Nobody recognizes Pepperman's talent :(

Vigilante

Sea slug. He genuinely believes humans want to kill sirens for nefarious reasons, possibly cause he's a little older i guess. Hands just appear when he needs them.

He has an underwater equivalent of a farm (like, he grows and tends to seaweeds, anemones, corals, etc), that he inherited from his grandpa. He'd love to just tend to the farm all day, but feels obligated to punish anyone who does wrong. Unofficial officer / sheriff of the sea. He still has his cowboy hat because i said so let me be silly on main.

Pizzahead

Ribbon eel. He can give others a little shock as if he had like a hand shocker thing. It mostly just hurts a bit and isn't lethal cause cartoon logic. He does not like humans, but mostly because he grew up with everyone around him telling him they're evil. Actually he's very curious and fascinated by humans, which is why he decided to clone Peppino. Mostly cause he sees him the most on the shore. Somehow. How he actually got his DNA is a mystery.

Later on he decides / attempts to make Fakey into a weapon after witnessing how strong Peppino is. He obsessively learns human language and tries to understand as much about human culture as he can. But he'll twist things around and tell others that he does it to "better understand their weaknesses". Right.

Pizzaface

Stingray. The leader of sirens in the elusive Siren Tower. He HATES humans, especially after some divers discovered the tower and continuously come there to explore. Basically just doesn't want his and his fellow sirens' home discovered or threatened. He's disappointed in Pizzahead because he taught himself human language, even after given an explanation (or excuse).

SPECULATION CORNER

Aka characters i can't quite figure out what to do with yet

Burton

A whale shark bc I can't get enough of sharks apparently. Sharks are cool okay

Alternative: just Mr. Stick's husband who sometimes comes with him to Peppino's

Gerome

A sentient rock and John's older brother, who always took care of him and helped him with the tower. Now just does maintenance and keeps John company.

Alternative: Peppino's janitor, but still made of rock because that's silly

John

A sentient rock that used to carry the tower around through the oceans but somehow got cursed and is now part of the foundation and can't move anymore. Was he a siren before? Or just a pillar? Or maybe a fish made of stone? We don't know.

[dimalink]

Squirrel and strange house

Pixel art for today based on videogame Oscar for game console Sega Mega Drive. Game is about good and kind animal. I guess it has a name Oscar. And he is doing something. Oscar is funny and run and jump. I am as always never played this game before! But now I am catch up. I start to play in James Pond at Sega. Cool theme also. Lobster there. And he saves a sea animals. Graphic is bright. I am sure that Oscar in such kind of games! I need to try it.

And this is my drawing about the same theme. Here you have a squirrel. Squirrel is living at the little house at the magic tree. In a forest. Squirrel has a big house at the tree. It has lots of rooms. Squirrel is often going to hike.  To see the forest.

And so, one day squirrel finds a one more house in a forest. It was nobody there. Looks like no one lives there. It is a very big house. With lots of floors. Squirrel knocks at the door. And enter the door. Looks what’s inside. And inside – there are lots of rooms. There are nuts. Very delicious. Little squirrel takes few of them. And so, door was closed behind. And now you need to find another exit in this strange house.

So here there are lots of floors. And it is some funny farm here.  As like it is a house of mad scientists. Some creatures runs here and there. Windows shows different places. Somewhere you can see night and stars. And some places it is day and good weather. Cannot understand anything. It is good that there are lots of lamps here. And it is good light here and you can see everything.

Again this bug garble everything – cry someone. And around you, it was running some strange little animal.

 It is not a moon! It is not a moon! Bug garble everything! I want to the moon! To dig into he moon sand! – mumbled some more strange animal.

It was a spider runs near you. He runs fast. And speaks – Bug is all time is doing some mess.

Squirrel jumps back. And fall into one of the rooms. And when he gets out of the room, into the corridor. It was already everything another place. It is good to find exit from this place. Squirrel thinks. So, this is adventure! I hope, that till evening for tea with a rabbit I will do it!

Squirrel starts to explore this house. And every room, what room it has. Such crazy arcade. Not Jazz Jackrabbit. Another., But also interesting!

Dima Link is making retro videogames, apps, a little of music, write stories, and some retro more.

WEBSITE: http://www.dimalink.tv-games.ru/home_eng.html ITCHIO: https://dimalink.itch.io/ GAMEJOLT: https://gamejolt.com/@DimaLink/games

BLOGGER: https://dimalinkeng.blogspot.com/

[theharlotofferelden]

Pressuring Astarion into having sex is interesting to me in terms of how it was handled. You don’t get a cinematic of having sex with him. There’s no “reward” for doing so, and nor should there be. This is specifically a role playing choice that is telling you that what you’re doing is wrong, and they hammer it home with Astarion directly saying as much. There’s no option for reconciliation and there shouldn’t be. You’ve just shown him that you only care about what he can physically offer you; you don’t respect or care about what he wants.

Moments like this are usually fucked up by showing too much. A notorious example of this is G*me of Thr*nes showing all of the rape scenes in unsettling detail. What’s happening to these characters is traumatic and is inviting the viewer to objectify them. It makes a spectacle of a traumatic event. Rape scenes should not be titillating.

I feel this scene was handled well. But I do find it surprising how inconsistent the game is when it comes to stuff like this. Like, it feels like whoever wrote and/or was in charge of directing this knew that this is how a scene like this should be handled.

But then you have like…..The choice to pressure Gale into having a foursome (and perhaps fivesome with Halsin) with the drow twins. This is the guy who makes it explicitly clear when it comes up that he’s monogamous. He’s not interested in more partners. Yet there’s a persuasion check to convince him to do it with you. It’s a difficult check, sure, but the fact that it was included has me side eying whoever thought this was a good idea.

Like, these are both moments where consent is dubious at best, yet Astarion’s is handled seriously and with the dignity it deserves, but Gale’s is played mainly for laughs. I don’t get it.

I can only guess that there wasn’t any communication on this because the whole thing feels inconsistent in terms of tone and writing. It feels like the scene was originally conceived as something to play for laughs. But then you’ve got Astarion disassociating (which I feel was included from input from his writer) and Halsin admitting he was kept as a sex slave while being all ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ about it. And then you have the stuff with Gale and it’s like….

I haven’t played his romance but I find it strange that as a monogamous person he’s okay with his partner sleeping with a prostitute. Idk maybe I’m generalizing here (I’m not monogamous) but I feel most monogamous people are against this sort of thing???

But then on top of that you’re able to coerce him into doing something he clearly doesn’t want to do. The disrespect displayed here is very similar to pressuring Astarion into having sex with you. But he doesn’t like, have a big problem with this? This isn’t something worth breaking up for even as a monogamous person???

Idk, besides the weird inconsistency in characterization, these scenes feel like they were written by different people. I hope that was the case because, like, what the fuck, dude.

[aelkurai]

Last week something happened. A strange feeling that I had forgotten, buried deep within my being. I watched FFVII Rebirth and my heart exploded in mid-flight, aboard the Tiny Bronco. I was suddenly propelled back almost 20 years, to the time when I discovered the game, to the time of Advent Children which had given me a cosmic slap in the face. These two resurfaced from the depths of my being, took me by the hand and led me into their adventures with all the fantasies that it aroused in me. I feel like Vincent waking up from a long sleep, and connecting with myself. I'm getting back to writing. I write about them. My desires for drawings are made only of them. I live again. I find this bit of madness and excitement that had abandoned me following several burnouts and depression. This illustration is just the beginning. The start of a new adventure.

*********** La semaine dernière il s'est passé quelque chose. Une drôle de sensation que j'avais oublié, enfoui au plus profond de mon être. J'ai regardé FFVII Rebirth et mon cœur à exploser en plein vol, à bord du Tiny Bronco. J'ai été brutalement propulsé presque 20 en arrière, à l'époque où j'avais découverte le jeu, à l'époque d'Advent Children qui m'avait foutu une claque cosmique. Ces deux là on ressurgit du fin fond de mon être, m'ont pris par la main et mon entrainé dans leurs aventures avec tout les fantasmes que cela suscitait en moi. Je me sens comme Vincent se réveillant d'un long sommeil, et me connectant à moi même. Je me remet à écrire. J'écris sur eux. Mes envies de dessins ne sont fait que d'eux. Je revis. Je retrouve ce brin de folie et d'excitation qui m'avait abandonné suite à une plusieurs burn out et dépression. Cette illustration n'est que le début. Le début d'une nouvelle aventure.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Medaman the Fried-Eggman

Debut: Devil World

No, I did not make up that name! That is really what this thing is called! This is Medaman the Fried-Eggman. Medaman the Fried-Eggman is a devoted follower of Satan!

"Jesus? GET OUTTA HERE!" -Medaman the Fried-Eggman

If you know Devil World, you know it is the most The Devil game Nintendo has ever released. It's in the name! It's his world! This game is so The Devil that it took 39 years for it to become officially playable in the United States. Nintendo of America didn't want to release a game with such blatant religious symbolism, and on one hand, I get it. It is very blatant. But on the other, this is a game where The Devil is clearly the Bad Guy, and the goal is to use crosses and Bibles to help thwart him. Would that really have been so controversial? Any moreso than Bible Adventures (NES)? I don't know!

What I do know is that the Devil oversees some funny little guys, and my favorite is the one shown here about to be killed by a fireball! This is the only official art Medaman the Fried-Eggman has.

So, Medaman is a little cultist-looking guy whose face is nothing but a gigantic eye! A lot like a Satanic Waddle Doo! "Medama" translates directly to Eyeball, and I don't THINK that eyeball is a fried egg, but I could be wrong. When hit by a fireball, Medaman will turn into a fried egg that Tamagon (the little Christian-passing dragon whose name DOES have to do with eggs even without localization) can eat. Maybe the "pupil" is really a strange yolk that's blue when raw, and orange when cooked? I don't know!

Aside from being the most basic enemy, two Medamans (Medamen?) are always in the bottom corners of the screen, turning cranks to move the screen in whatever direction The Devil points. These two would SO be his highest-ranking bumbling minions in a cartoon adaptation!

If you have Nintendo Switch Online, you can play Devil World right now! I played it. It's fine. And even if you don't have Nintendo Switch Online, you can also play it right now for free, using Delightfully Devilish methods!

They could have made so many deviled egg jokes with this game. They just didn't. I'm salty about it. Like a delicious deviled egg!

[andmaybegayer]

Hello. So what's the deal with computer chips? Let's say, for example, that I wanted to build a brand new Sega Genesis. Ignoring firmware and software, what's stopping me from dissecting their proprietary chips and reverse-engineering them to make new ones? It's just electric connections and such inside, isn't it? If I match the pin ins and outs, shouldn't it be easy? So why don't people do it?

The answer is that people totally used to do this, there's several examples of chips being cloned and used to build compatible third-party hardware, the most famous two examples being famiclones/NESclones and Intel 808X clones.

AMD is now a major processor manufacturer, but they took off in the 70's by reverse-engineering Intel's 8080 processor. Eventually they were called in to officially produce additional 8086 chips under license to meet burgeoning demand for IBM PC's, but that was almost a decade later if I remember correctly.

There were a ton of other 808X clones, like the Soviet-made pin-compatible K1810VM86. Almost anyone with a chip fab was cloning Intel chips back in the 80's, a lot of it was in the grey area of reverse engineering the chips.

Companies kept cloning Intel processors well into the 386 days, but eventually the processors got too complicated to easily clone, and so only companies who licensed designs could make them, slowly reducing the field down to Intel, AMD, and Via, who still exist! Via's CPU division currently works on the Zhaoxin x86_64 processors as part of the ongoing attempts to homebrew a Chinese-only x86 processor.

I wrote about NES clones a while ago, in less detail, so here's that if you want to read it:

Early famiclones worked by essentially reverse-engineering or otherwise cloning the individual chips inside an NES/famicom, and just reconstructing a compatible device from there. Those usually lacked any of the DRM lockout chips built into the original NES, and were often very deeply strange, with integrated clones of official peripherals like the keyboard and mouse simply hardwired directly into the system.

These were sold all over the world, but mostly in developing economies or behind the Iron Curtain where official Nintendo stuff was harder to find. I had a Golden China brand Famiclone growing up, which was a common famiclone brand around South Africa.

Eventually the cost of chip fabbing came down and all those individual chips from the NES were crammed onto one cheap piece of silicon and mass produced for pennies each, the NES-on-a-chip. With this you could turn anything into an NES, and now you could buy a handheld console that ran pirated NES game for twenty dollars in a corner store. In 2002. Lots of edutainment mini-PC's for children were powered by these, although now those are losing out to Linux (and now Android) powered tablets a la Leapfrog.

Nintendo's patents on their hardware designs expired throughout the early 2000's and so now the hardware design was legally above board, even if the pirated games weren't. You can still find companies making systems that rely on these NES chips, and there are still software houses specializing in novel NES games.

Why doesn't this really happen anymore? Well, mostly CPU's and their accoutrements are too complicated. Companies still regularly clone their competitors simpler chips all the time, and I actually don't know if Genesis clones exist, it's only a Motorola 68000k, but absolutely no one is cloning a modern Intel or AMD processor.

The die of a Motorola 68000 (1979)

A classic Intel 8080 is basically the kind of chip you learn about in entry level electrical engineering, a box with logic gates that may be complicated, but pretty straightforwardly fetches things from memory, decodes, executes, and stores. A modern processor is a magic pinball machine that does things backwards and out of order if it'll get you even a little speedup, as Mickens puts it in The Slow Winter:

I think that it used to be fun to be a hardware architect. Anything that you invented would be amazing, and the laws of physics were actively trying to help you succeed. Your friend would say, “I wish that we could predict branches more accurately,” and you’d think, “maybe we can leverage three bits of state per branch to implement a simple saturating counter,” and you’d laugh and declare that such a stupid scheme would never work, but then you’d test it and it would be 94% accurate, and the branches would wake up the next morning and read their newspapers and the headlines would say OUR WORLD HAS BEEN SET ON FIRE. You’d give your buddy a high-five and go celebrate at the bar, and then you’d think, “I wonder if we can make branch predictors even more accurate,” and the next day you’d start XOR’ing the branch’s PC address with a shift register containing the branch’s recent branching history, because in those days, you could XOR anything with anything and get something useful, and you test the new branch predictor, and now you’re up to 96% accuracy, and the branches call you on the phone and say OK, WE GET IT, YOU DO NOT LIKE BRANCHES, but the phone call goes to your voicemail because you’re too busy driving the speed boats and wearing the monocles that you purchased after your promotion at work. You go to work hung-over, and you realize that, during a drunken conference call, you told your boss that your processor has 32 registers when it only has 8, but then you realize THAT YOU CAN TOTALLY LIE ABOUT THE NUMBER OF PHYSICAL REGISTERS, and you invent a crazy hardware mapping scheme from virtual registers to physical ones, and at this point, you start seducing the spouses of the compiler team, because it’s pretty clear that compilers are a thing of the past, and the next generation of processors will run English-level pseudocode directly.

Die shot of a Ryzen 5 2600 core complex (2019)

Nowadays to meet performance parity you can't just be pin-compatible and run at the right frequency, you have to really do a ton of internal logical optimization that is extremely opaque to the reverse engineer. As mentioned, Via is making the Zhaoxin stuff, they are licensed, they have access to all the documentation needed to make an x86_64 processor, and their performance is still barely half of what Intel and AMD can do.

Companies still frequently clone each others simpler chips, charge controllers, sensor filters, etc. but the big stuff is just too complicated.

[etheries1015]

Dom!Sariel x needy!reader

18+ Minors DNI

for my IRL best friend who is #1 Sariel fan, hope you liked this bestie I love you

General warnings: Fem pronouns, AFAB reader, reader is more forward than MC in-game.

TW: Aphrodisiac, Face fucking, whipping, spanking, Dacryphilia, hair pulling, almost being caught

After not meeting expectations for a recent exam given by the Minister himself and your lover, you were surprised to see instead of his typical chastising, Sariel sits you down with a cup of tea. Unbeknownst to you, the true punishment lie at the bottom of the teacup... where he snuck a particularly strong aphrodisiac.

"What is the name of the 4th king of Rhodolite, and what is he known for?" A seductive voice inquired, looking down at your naked body stomach down and back arched upon the very desk you had failed your exam on. Your wrists were bound together and your legs spread by the force of Sariels strong arms, teasing your dripping entrance with the tip of his cock. With your cheeks flushed red and beads of sweat covering your trembling body, it was obvious to any on-looker that you were not focused on the words coming out of his mouth.

"I- urgh-" You whined, "Don't know- fuck..." You let out a high-pitched moan as you tried to move your ass in an attempt to deepen his length inside of you, a desperate attempt to fill the emptiness that was itching for the comfort of your lover. Sariel 'tsked' and hummed in disappointment, completely removing himself from the warmth between your legs leaving you complaining about his absence. You attempted to move your head to flash him a needy stare, however, he pushed your head back down to the wood with a look of condensation.

"Uh-uh-uh..." Sariel sang, "I did not give you permission to move." You heard the familiar crack of a whip with a stinging left upon your ass that you had become tolerant to. That didn't make it sting any less, though. You yelped in surprise, going to scoot away from the black-haired devil before his hands wrapped around the outside of your thighs and roughly pulled you back with his hands. Without saying a word, he whipped you once more with a choked-out sob and moan leaving your body confused between the line of pleasure and pain. He frequented the use of his whip, but with the added sensitivity of the drink he had given you left your body in such a state of desire and sensitivity that it was particularly a strange sensation. The way the stinging left you wetter with every snap of his whip despite the pain it was supposed to bring, the hairs on your body standing on edge with great anticipation of every new mark he left upon your skin.

"This aphrodisiac is far more effective than I gave Prince Keith credit for..." Sariel smiled with satisfaction, using a gloved hand to spread the lips of your entrance and watch as your glistening slick substance dripped from your twitching hole. "If I hadn't known better, I would have mistaken you for a bitch in heat," instead of entering his fingers into you as you had hoped he would, instead you heard footsteps back and you turned your head in an attempt to peek at what he was doing. It was obvious he was teasing you, not giving you the fullness you desired, and completely disregarding your begs and whines. He could tell you were becoming more and more agitated every time he would touch you without gratifying you fully, the annoyance showing in your defiant glare.

Sariel folded his arms and looked down at you with a smirk and eyes of mischief, taking his whip out once more and caressing the handle of it.

"Since that question was so hard, I'll give you another chance. But I caution you to think through it wisely," he hummed, using the popper of the whip to glide gently as a warning against your sore bottom.

"This is- ugh," You huffed, "This is dumb! I'm sorry I got the exam wrong, but this is just cruel," You whined, your arms and knees throbbing from holding your body up, "Please Sariel, please fuck me, It burns, I need something in me..." You whined. Raising an eyebrow, Sariel bit his bottom lip at such a needy and desperate display. It wasn't often you were as vocal with your needs, the filth that was drawing out of your typically collected lips caused him to harden almost in an instant.

"If I simply gave into what you want," He held back his urge to ravish you right then and there, adjusting himself where he stood in front of your face, "Then that would defeat the entire purpose of your punishment. You failed your exam, and now you must pay the price for it...I'm disappointed in you, you know?" He pointed out, grabbing your hair and pulling your head towards his throbbing cock.

"Let us make a compromise, then. If you do well in this task, then I will give you what you want. Does that sound fair?" Without so much as a complaint coming out and only eager to receive what you were craving, you were almost too eager to open your mouth and take in his length. He chuckled at such a pathetically needy display, groaning as the warmth of your mouth engulfed him as far as you could go.

"I know you can do better than that," Sariel let out a groan from the back of his throat, gently wiping the tears that pricked the side of your eyes as you attempted to take him further. He used his thumb to rub your cheek with the affection of a man you wouldn't have guessed had tricked you into drinking an aphrodisiac, such small gestures leaving your legs like jelly and your stomach riddled with butterflies.

That kindness was short-lived, and you now realize was sweetness disguised as an early apology for what was yet to come. Pursing his lips and sweat beading his forehead, Sariel seemed to have reached his breaking point as he used both of his hands to grab the back of your head, forcing it down on his cock. He began to fuck your throat with reckless abandon, the sounds of wetness and gagging filling the air and tears streaming down your eyes. Watching you become an entire mess with your makeup smearing and your mixed liquids wetting your lips and cheeks, Sariel came almost embarrassingly fast. He let out a deep and uncharacteristically loud moan as he pulled out of your mouth, releasing himself over your face. You coughed aggressively and didn't have a moment to chastise your lover before he was already pulling out a handkerchief and rubbing your face apologetically.

"You did well," He said with honey coating his voice, "would you like your reward now? Or shall we stop here? I understand I was a bit-"

"Please!" You were quick to answer, "I've been asking you this whole time, please, fill me up! I need you," You whined. Sariel raised an almost surprised eyebrow before chuckling at your neediness and planting a chaste kiss on your lips, throwing the dirtied handkerchief to the side and moving to the other side of the table where your ass remained arched for him, showing off your dripping cunt enticing him to plunge inside. He pulled the top half of your body off of the desk, where your feet were now touching the ground. This made it much easier to have access to you as he pleased, lining up the tip of his cock to your entrance. Rubbing circles around your hole and spreading around your slick, he thrust forward gliding his cock on the outside of your lips to lubricate himself with your sticky substance, another needy complaint coming from you.

"Stop teasing me already and-" Your squabbling was interrupted as fast as it started, Sariel pushing himself all at once deep inside of your drenched pussy. You let out a moan and a shiver of relief, feeling full just as your body had craved. The pleasure was short-lived, for soon after beginning your moans were muffled by a hand shooting over your mouth and his hips stopped his movements against yours. You were about to protest before he whispered in your ear to be silent as footsteps sounded outside the door.

"Nobody was scheduled to be around my office this time...how annoying," Sariel grumbled. You would have put more thought into that statement if you weren't so distracted by his hips slowly and intimately grinding into you, hand still over your mouth.

"I suppose that means you'll just have to be cautious in your volume. If you make a single sound louder than permitted, we will get caught. Do you understand?" Giving him a weak nod simply to appease him, he kissed your head with a "Good girl" prior to his hips picking up in speed. His threats had little meaning as the low voices and tapping feet outside of the room faded down the hallway without even a glance to the door where such sinful acts were taking place, and you were almost certain you were now in the clear. Especially with the way the dark-haired man snapped his hips against yours, it was obvious it was empty words with little regard. He was acting as if he had been the one to drink the aphrodisiac, ironically the man who had done the planning to make you needy was acting as a wild animal drunk on the way your walls clenched down on his cock.

"It seems," He grunted, "perhaps the properties of the aphrodisiac make you much warmer inside...hah..." The slapping of skin filled the room, yet the fear of someone walking in was the least of your worries. He skillfully removed the ties around your wrists before pulling your arms back, lifting the top of your body roughly ravishing you as if he were a man starved of touch for days on end. You were in no better of shape, despite the throbbing of your knees and the film of sweat covering your exhausted body, your mind was blank with nothing but pleasure electrifying from where your lover took his place between your thighs.

tilting his head back and pulling you by your hips against his as he moaned with pursed lips, closing his eyes while his cock twitched inside your walls while your legs trembled with release. High-pitched moans elicited your lips as ropes of cum painted your swollen insides white, Sariel pulling out to watch your body practically collapsed to the ground. He swiftly caught you in his arms, smiling gently and planting a kiss of affection upon your forehead. You panted and looked up at your lover with lidded eyes fluttering shut, Sariel stroking your hair apologetically.

"You did well," He hummed with love honeying his voice, "Shall we clean you up now, my dear? And I believe a true reward is in store for your wonderful performance..."

You really did get the princess treatment afterward. After getting your clothes on he cleans up the mess left behind by your...endeavors, Sariel helped you back to your room where he bathed you and pampered your body with medicine and love. About two hours later with the effects fully worn off, you were lying in bed resting in his arms, talking about the effects of the aphrodisiac and how exactly it made you feel. You complained about the way he teased you when you felt so needy and at the mercy of his touch, the way that your body ached to have him inside of you yet his endless teasing leaving you feeling...well, words that you were not even able to properly convey.

You huffed, noticing the way he seemed to not fully grasp the extreme in which you had just gone through. Frustrated at his lack of understanding, you twisted a proposal to him.

"Next time, You're drinking that fucking potion."