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[viperify]

1k celebration | ᴀᴄᴀᴅ. ʀɪᴠᴀʟ ꜱᴜ��!ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

⋆˚𝜗𝜚 ˖ Good Boy.

Short Summary: Tom Riddle and you have been fierce rivals for as long as you can remember. The year you finally beat him for top student, certain secrets come to light.

Warnings: 18+ only! sub!Tom—I mean it. submissive. mentions of intoxication, unprotected p in v, begging, brief handjob, teasing, edging, slight dacryphilia, creampie, face riding, oral f!receiving

A/N: here it isss!!! This is based of @tomriddleemp’s request! Thanks again for requesting, baby!

wordcount: 3,4k

in this fic, you will find HINT NR #6

The Great Hall erupts in cheers when your name is called. Your heart drops—head spinning. You’ve won it, made it. Become student of the year. You remember how hard you have fought for it. Pulled countless all-nighters just to get ahead of Riddle—who had defended the title for as long as you can remember.

You walk up to the professors and headmaster, facing all other students who seem to be quite pleased with your victory. Then, you hold your winner’s speech that you have prepared—half as a joke, half seriously. Your eyes flick towards Tom, briefly. The chatter and cheers fade into a blur, silence engulfing you as though time stills the moment your eyes meet his.

He sits there, next to his friends. They glance at him, then at you. None of them dare to move, sitting there like carved out of stone. As always, he’s controlling them as though they were his puppets. His expression is closed, guarded—like he can’t believe it. There is fire behind his eyes. Hatred. Probably already thinking about a way to make you pay for it. Find a reason for his failure.

That same evening, his head hurts from how hard he’s been trying to figure out how to discredit you. There is nothing. You’ve beaten him fair and square. He might hate you even more for it. 

Hates how much he admires you. For not backing down, for working hard all year long—when he took time off, you studied. He admires you for what you have become. 

He’s known you for years. Ever since you boarded the train as eleven-year-olds. Now, many years later—you are the person who’ll receive the opportunity for an internship at the Ministry this year. Instead of him.

The end-of-the-year party hosted the next day is mandatory for all students—he wouldn’t attend otherwise. There are more important things to do, and partying has never sparked his interest.

—

But just like the top student, interests can change, can’t they?

He’s gotten himself more drinks than he intended. And when one of them tastes slightly off—he doesn’t notice at first. Assumes they have put less alcohol in his firewhiskey. Goes to complain about it, just to almost get kicked out—his vision is blurry, his usually strong vocabulary reduced to a few select words. Barely able to walk. Other students are staring at him now—and the state of him.

It was not the Tom Riddle people knew—and he’d surely hate himself for it in the morning. Drinking, because of you. He’s never done this. Resort to alcohol when he is upset. And he knows there is more behind it—something he can’t quite grasp.

“Riddle! I want you and Riddle to go in there.” Your friend giggles, almost spilling her drink all over herself. Your eyes widen in horror. She can’t be serious, right? You clasp your hand over her mouth, but it’s too late. The others cheer you on, and Tom turns around from where he’s standing, having barely even registered his name being called.

Before you get to complain, a hand wraps around your wrist, and you are pushed towards a nearby broom closet—Riddle following you.

Your eyes narrow at the sight of him. One of the Gryffindor guys tugging on his sacred suit—and he doesn’t even bat an eye. His walk is unsteady, a half-empty glass of firewhiskey in right hand. Then, he gets shoved into the tight space, right next to you—and the door shuts close.

You fetch your wand, creating a small source of light. Tom is looking right at you, smirking while he takes a sip. You stare back at him for a moment, eyes scanning over his taller figure. Unsteady legs, dilated pupils—smell of alcohol so thick in the air, you have to keep yourself from gagging.

“You shouldn't look at me like that when we're alone. You know exactly what you're doing to me.” He manages between a few breaths, voice husky and suggestive.

The dots connect in your brain, and you take a step back, eyebrows furrowed.

“You are drunk, Riddle. Since when do you even drink?”

“M’ not,” he slurs, leaning in so close you have to push him away, steadying him. You definitely prefer him all arrogant and untouchable—not like this.

“Come on. I have a sober-up potion in my dorm. Can’t have you embarrass yourself—even I have some decency left.” You say quickly, intertwining your arm with his and slowly pushing the door open, checking whether anyone is watching. Then, you lead him away from the crowd, into the corridor and towards your dorm.

You have to stop several times so he doesn’t trip.

“Taking me to your dorm, huh? I have always wondered what it might look like from the inside. If you have pictures of your family, friends—your adorable little hobbies. What was it? Crocheting?” He stops mid-track and takes another sip.

These were probably the clearest sentences he’s spoken all evening—and you wonder how he knows all of this—why he knows and has remembered it. 

Why he chose to tell you.

You shake your head. “You are out of your mind, Riddle. What have they given you to drink?” You snatch the glass he’s been holding this whole time and hold it close to your nose. Immediately, you recognize a trace of something herbal that was definitely not firewhiskey.

Veritaserum.

Well, you certainly do not have an antidote for that. It is badly brewed too—Veritaserum is supposed to be taste- and odourless. So the effects may last shorter or longer—

“Let’s go. Quick.”

When you shove him past the entrance to your dorm, closing the door behind you, a deep sigh falls over your lips. A drunk Tom Riddle in your room is not how you pictured this night to go. Certainly not a drunk Tom Riddle who is overly affectionate and honest.

You open your drawer, scrambling through the contents. A blue vial catches your attention, and you grab it. That must be it.

“Here, drink this.” You say, turning around—just to see him sprawled out on your bed, eyes scanning your room. Pausing at the pictures of you and your family on the wall next to your bed. You walk over to him with hurried steps, grabbing his arm and pulling him upright.

“Please just— drink this.”

His lips lift into a smirk, and his hands grip your waist, pulling you closer. So close, you almost lose your balance and fall on top of him.

“Sit on my lap,” he instructs, looking up at you with those big brown eyes of his. So soft now—unguarded and genuine. You’ve never seen them this close. Your heart skips a beat, and you look away, suddenly feeling hot all over.

Fuck.

He is drunk, you tell yourself. He’ll push you away as soon as the first drop of the potion touches his tongue.

“You don’t actually want me to. It’s the alcohol that’s talking for you,” you try, but he shakes his head.

“I have never wanted something as much as I want this.”

Usually, you pride yourself on your rational thinking skills. They are screaming no. But your instincts are screaming louder—and they are saying yes.

Then, you do get on his lap. Carefully. Hook one leg over his, then the second. He pulls you closer.

Darkened eyes instantly dropping to the hem of the dress you are wearing—it’s short, almost too short now. Your favourite. A black, satin material with glitter elements. It’s gorgeous—and he can’t take his eyes off you. How perfectly it hugs your curves, cut low enough for him to see the soft swell of your tits.

Your face heats up at the realisation of what he might be thinking. Meanwhile, his hand comes to rest on your thigh, wandering higher and higher—

“Drink this. Now!” You blurt out, opening the vial in a haste, placing the head of the bottle against his lips—and he empties it in one go.

You watch his reaction. His pupils shrink back to normal, and he breathes out—shakily.

Instantly, you try to get off—but he stops you. Without words, just tightens his grip. One hand on your thigh, the other on the curve of your hip. Fingers digging into your skin. He watches you for a moment, takes in his surroundings. The situation he is in.

At peace, no longer surrounded by loud music and the thick stench of alcohol in the air. Instead, it smells like perfume—a sweet scent, floral. Jasmine, perhaps. 

With—you on his lap. He only faintly remembers how he got here.

Still, he can’t find himself complaining.

Your head spins as seconds pass. And suddenly, he is everywhere. His breath, his eyes, his hands. The bulge you feel growing beneath you.

“Stay.” He murmurs, finally.

You nod, reluctantly. Relax against him. The tension between you two is at an all-time high—and it feels different now. Not the academic type. It feels like the one-wrong-move-and-I-moan kind of tension. You try to avoid his gaze as best as you can, looking over to the drawer.

“I— I can look if I have another. You are not well.”

He shakes his head. “I am doing fine.”

“But—“

His hand cups your face, gently guiding your gaze back to his. “Shhh.” He whispers, drawing soft patterns on your waist. 

Your protest catches in your throat as you get lost in the depth of his brown eyes—and he uses that moment to tenderly brush his thumb over your lips. Then, he leans in, slowly but surely, and presses a kiss to them. Soft, gentle, deliberate.

“We shouldn’t,” you whisper against his lips, shaking your head.

“You are right, we shouldn't. But that's exactly why it feels so good.”

His fingers brush your skin as he eases the first strap of your dress from your shoulder. You kiss him again—and your mind goes blank. Suddenly the year-long rivalry between you both is forgotten, or doesn’t matter—not now, at least.

What matters is him and you, this moment.

“Do you hate me as much as you pretend?” You whisper as you break apart.

His eyes scan your face. “No. Never have.”

You’ve never thought there’d be a day where you would thank whoever invented Veritaserum. But it has come.

The second strap follows—and your dress slips down to bunch around your waist—Tom’s gaze following the satin fabric, lingering on your tits for a moment, placing a kiss to your sternum—looking up at you as he does. His grip on your thigh softens—the slightest twitch in his finger. Yet, you feel it. Feel how he softens, opening himself up to you. The usual harshness vanished—big brown doe eyes staring back at yours. 

The energy between you shifts in that moment, and both of you sense it. Confidence blooms in your chest, and you slide off his lap, stepping out of your dress as it drops to the floor. He watches your every movement, eyes following your hands as you undress in front of him.

First your bra, discarding the lace on the floor. His hands cup the soft curve of your hips once more, trailing kisses up your lower tummy as his fingers hook into your panties, slipping them down your legs. An action so calculated, you could mistake it for one straight out of your countless romance novels.

“What are you waiting for, Tom?” You purr, pulling him closer by his tie as you bend over, kissing him. “Need me to help you?”

Words fail to form in his brain. He nods, breathless. “Please.”

You sit down on his lap again. Naked. He swallows, hard. Fabric of his trousers stretching taut over the dent that has formed beneath them.

Piece by piece drops to the ground. His suit, his tie, his shirt. Lastly, his trousers and underwear. You let him step out of them, capturing him in another kiss.

“You like when someone takes control for once? Gives that beautiful brain of yours a break?”

Again, he nods.

You huff a laugh. “Lay down, then. Just lie there and look pretty for me, okay?”

He follows your order without a moment of hesitation. Lies down on your soft mattress, which dips beneath him. His eyes don’t leave yours, not even when you climb on top of him and settle on his thighs.

“That’s what you do best, after all.” You continue, trailing your hands up his thighs—making him breathe in, sharply. “Looking pretty—a shame you weren’t just as good in class this year. I wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

You don’t give him time to find an answer—wrapping your hands around his cock, your finger ever so gently following a thick vein on the underside, which stretches all the way to his flushed tip—already glistening with precum. His head drops back at the sensation, eyes squeezed shut, lips slightly parted.

God, he is gorgeous like this.

Tom’s hands reluctantly reach to touch you, palming your tits—but you shake your head, pinning them to his side instead. “No touching. Just watching.”

Then, your hand wraps tightly around his length, giving him a few gentle strokes. He hisses as you do—hips jolting upwards. 

So sensitive.

“Fuck,” he rasps, fingers curling into the bedsheets. “I need to feel you. God— let me feel you.”

“Hm. I think you forgot something,” you reply, thumb swiping over his tip, a ghost of a touch—but he is so, so reactive.

“Please,” he whimpers, finally. “Please let me feel you.”

You grant him his wish. Positioning his tip on your entrance, you slowly, carefully sink down on his length. Inch by torturous inch. Until you are flush with his hips—a soft moan escaping you. He is the perfect combination of girth and length, stretching you open perfectly. You place your hand on his chest and start moving. Rolling your hips against his, gently at first.

Tom has to fight himself not to touch you. He wants to—so badly. Wants to feel your smooth skin, feel your curves beneath his hands when he closes his eyes. Yet, he refrains. Lets you have control over him. It’s hard—but the longer he endures, the more he enjoys it. Being able to shut off his brain. Just feel.

You swipe a curl from his face, leaning over to press a kiss to his swollen lips. “Touch me.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Hands wandering over your hips, waist, to your tits. Palming them, squeezing. Whimpers here and there when you take him all the way. Reacts to every change in pace, angle. Looks at you as though you were an angel sent from heaven—soft, beautiful, mesmerizing. How tight you are squeezing him, how you manage to make each moment better than the last. Your own soft moans music to his ears. It drives him to the edge of sanity.

You notice when he gets louder, his eyes fluttering closed. Take in his expression, stilling your movements. 

“Look at me,” you murmur, taking one of his hands in yours.

Tom whines as he does—soft, broken. Lips swollen and bleeding from how hard he’s been biting them. Tears pricking at his eyes. He is so close—just in reach. So sensitive, it hurts.

Lifting yourself slowly, you sink down again—steadily, just to tease him.

Yet, you feel him pulse inside you, eyes rolling to the back of his head—hips stuttering beneath you.

“Shh.” You whisper, silencing him with a finger on his lips, shaking your head softly as you force him to look into your eyes. “Don’t come yet. Don’t you dare come yet.”

He nods, a tear rolling down his cheek. You wipe it off with your thumb.

“Don’t cry, pretty boy. All you need to do is ask.”

No hesitation. Pure and raw need. “Please— fuck, please let me cum. Please—“

Smiling at him, you get off—instead taking his cock in your hand, soaked in your arousal. You caress over his tip—which pulses at your touch. He moans, hips jerking up at the slightest contact. Chasing your touch—anything.

“That desperate? Poor you. Just want to cum, don’t you, Tommy?” You mock with fake sympathy, head dipping to place a kiss right below his sensitive tip. 

He nods, hastily. Groans when you give him a single stroke—slow, not even remotely tight enough for it to feel good. Yet—his eyes beg for more. He’ll take anything at this point. You grin at the state of him, satisfied. You’ve broken him. Great Tom Riddle, looking up at you like a lost puppy with his big brown eyes. Even prettier than usual. So soft, so submissive. You could get used to this.

“Why don’t you tell me how much you want it? Show me how pathetic you can sound while begging?”

His lip quivers. “I am— God, I want— I need it. It’s all for you— just please—“ he whimpers, and you press a kiss to his forehead, shushing him.

“Good boy. Such a good boy.”

Your hand wraps around him again, giving him a few more strokes, dragging it out. Over his swollen tip, eagerly leaking with need. “No, Tommy.” You whisper. “Not yet. Wait for my permission.”

You are pushing him to his limits, and you know it. “Please,” he whispers, broken, half a sob. “I’ll do anything.”

Deciding to end his torture, you sink down on him once more, angling yourself better. Using the last bit of strength left in your thighs.

“Come for me, pretty boy.”

And he does—hard. The feeling of your warm cunt wrapped so snugly around him, clamping down—he loses it. Whimpering your name as thick ropes of cum paint your walls white, hips stuttering beneath you, every muscle in his body wrung tight. Hands interlocked with his as you guide him through it, praise him.

It lasts several long seconds—and after, his body just goes limp on your bed, chest heaving, eyes closed.

You give him a minute to calm down before you gently lift yourself off of him, getting a towel to clean the both of you.

But he stops you. Holds onto your wrist. You turn to face him, about to ask what’s wrong—

“Sit on my face, please?”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I don’t need to—”

“Yes, absolutely. Please?” He asks again, and you don’t deny him this time.

Fingers digging into your hips, pulling you even closer—and God, his tongue works magic. Licking and sucking on your clit just the right way, you soon find yourself a trembling mess on top of him.

“How do we taste, Tommy? You like it?” You breathe, accompanied by a moan.

He nods, humming against your soaked cunt—greedily lapping up your mixed arousal. “Good. So good.”

Tom doesn’t let go immediately—not even when your climax washes over you with such force, you see stars dancing in front of you, vision going black at the edges. Your thighs tremble, no longer able to hold yourself up—but he loves it. Doesn’t stop sucking on your clit until you beg him to.

After cleaning everything up, you settle down beside him—and he pulls you in, holding you close until you fall asleep.

Tom knows he can’t stay. That you might regret this the morning after.

So, after double-checking you are asleep, he quietly gets up, dresses himself. Looks back one last time at your sleeping form. Smiles to himself. Then, he pushes down the handle of the door, and with silent steps walks down the corridor to his own dorm, the first golden sun rays of the morning lighting his way, casting a glow on his messy curls.

When you wake the next morning, the spot next to you in your bed is empty, cold. He’s gone, and that for a while, although it’s only 6:00.

You wonder whether he regrets last night, if he regrets you.

That is, until you spot a note on your bedside table.

thank you for reading! feel free to reblog and leave feedback <3 — masterlist. | 1k celebration. <- event masterlist.

©2025 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

[blackdollette]

"HIS PRETTY BABY!" ᝰ rafe cameron

♬.ᐟ now playing: cola. - lana del rey

synopsis: just a lingerie shopping trip between husband and wife. what could go wrong?

⊹₊⋆ pairing: husband!rafe x female!reader

⊹₊⋆ word count: 3.2k

⊹₊⋆ contents: rafe being an ass, degrading if you squint, fluff if you squint, public sex, unprotected p in v, hardcore-ish sex, implied creampie, teasing

“you’ve got 5 minutes to try everything on, y’hear me?” 

rafe called out as he plopped down onto the small, overstuffed leather couch placed strategically outside of your dressing room for husbands just like him to wait on as their wives took their sweet time trying on debaucherous amounts of clothes. he grumbled under his breath at your lack of response, instead hearing the sound of you beginning to rustle through one of many bags. so much for a fun shopping trip. he’d be lucky if he made it out of this place while the sun was still up.

inside the small room, you had an assortment of clothes in front of you, ranging from long flowy gowns to dark blue baggy jeans and designer sweaters. chic, stylish, pretentiously modest. you had picked out a top-tier selection of clothes, if you could say so yourself. but you knew far too well that nothing that currently hung from the clothing hangers would appeal to rafe’s risque taste. but you decided to test your luck anyway. who knew, maybe he’d like something today.

you strip out of your simple, lacy sundress. the one that was slightly too short and hung just a hair too low at the chest. rafe thought it was just fine, especially when the wind would pick up and give him a flashing view of your luscious assets. once reduced down to you bra and panties, you slip on the first piece of attire: a navy blue sundress that left absolutely everything to the imagination.

minutes later, you stepped out and stood right in front of him, wearing your first dress. “how’s this one, hon?” his eyes were downcast, conspicuously oozing with boredom as he strolls mindlessly on his phone. your expression begins to flatten, his typical apathy already ticking you off. you tapped him on the shoulder, only earning half of his attention along with a slight snarl etched onto his hard expression. “the fuck do you want now, huh? are you done yet? can we get the hell out of here?” the slight eagerness in his tone is the first sliver of emotion you had earned from him all day. you sigh, taking a step back from him to provide a full view of the outfit.

“tada, what do you think?” you chirp, looking down at him with wide, hopeful eyes. yet all you are met with in response is a sour scoff and a good old-fashioned eye roll right at you. “...i think you’re fuckin’ joking, that’s what i think.” he mutters under his breath, his attention falling right back to his phone after taking a single glance at the rather subpar choice of dress. you pouted, moving your hand to his chin to make him look at you. “don’t be like that. c’mon. rate it out of ten.” you give him a little spin, the long, swishy skirt doing a poor job at giving him even the slightest peek or tease. “i don’t know what to rate that shit, okay? goddamnit, maybe a… fuckin’ two or somethin’.” he met your gaze with the smallest hint of a snarl. “now change out of that thing and let’s get the hell out of this place. i’ve seen all that i need to.”

your jaw hangs agape in protest. “but, rafe..! i’ve got other things i wanna try on.”

he snaps up to his feet, putting his hands on your shoulders to spin you around and push you back into the dressing room. “you’d have to shoot me in the brain before i’ll ever let you degrade yourself with clothes like these. if you’re not out of here in two minutes, i’m leaving your ass here, do you understand?”

you scowl severely at his blunt impudence, snatching the dressing room curtain and shutting it in his face with as much aggression as you could put into it. you muttered angry curses under your breath as you stripped back out of the rejected dress, slipping your own back on over your head. you whip the curtain back open, storming out of the room and leaving him dashing behind you to catch up.

you walked out of the dressing room empty-handed, leaving everything behind since none seemed to give you the reaction you had wanted from him. he snatched up your hand, dragging you out of the store and back into the main mall. “...good fucking riddance,” he murmured lowly as you and him walked out of the store’s exit. “i’m taking you home. there ain’t nothing in this place that’s worth our time.” he said with finality, tugging you along behind him as your eyes scanned the assortment of stores surrounding you until they landed on one that would surely sell clothes that would blow his socks off.

you shook your head, looking up at his face with an expression that didn’t hide your displeasement in the slightest. “not yet, i just wanna go to one more store. please, just one more place?” you plead with controlled desperation, knowing exactly the right buttons to press in this type of situation to get exactly what you wanted. “...goddamnit. only one more, okay? get whatever the hell you want and don’t waste my time again.” he sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose as if the mere thought of entering another store with you was conjuring up an immense headache. “you head on inside, i’m going to grab a coffee. i’ll meet you in the dressing room.” you didn’t waste a beat stepping quickly in the direction of the store with the neon-pink fluorescent sign.

you dashed into the store, the cool and sensual aroma that hit your nostrils foreshadowing a much better outcome. the outfits shown in the display window confirmed your thoughts instantly, ranging from lacy lingerie to pretty dresses stitched with just the perfect amount of raunchiness. now, these were the exact kinds of clothes that made rafe lose his attitude and get all over you within seconds. you had to have them, and so you would get them. you made a beeline for the section selling those exact items, being on a mission to retrieve the perfect picks. you wasted no time grabbing up everything you saw, picturing the look on his face when he’d see the clothes on you. that blush that would swarm over his cheeks, the way his pupils would dilate so vastly in his sea-blue irises, how his hands would inch themselves higher and higher along your thighs, knowing exactly where to go. you settled into the further dressing room, right in the middle of putting on the first ensemble when that familiar low voice caught your ear.

“where the hell are ya? are you finished yet?” rafe called as he sipped on his hot drink, not knowing in the slightest what he ordered but hoping it would give him the energy to get through the next wave of your shopping spree. “in here, honey. just gimme a sec, okay?” he sighs deeply, something tiny inside of him nearly melting at the sound of your voice. “...yeah, yeah. just hurry it up in there, okay?” he sat down on the seat in front of your dressing room, legs planted firmly apart as his eyes traced your feet’s shadows in the tiny crack beneath the door. “this damn woman…” he whispered to himself, just to be interrupted by the noise of you walking out, standing right in front of him looking like a mouthwatering cross between a 90s bombshell and a pornstar.

you didn’t have to tap him to get his attention this time. it snapped right over to you like a killer instinct. his eyes were caught by the black thigh-high leather boots you had on. they were skin-tight glossy, his gaze almost not wanting to pull away from them but being compelled to by what treasures awaited him. his eyes traveled up slowly, dragging along your figure and first landing on your dangerously short pleated skirt and low-cut tube top that showed just enough cleavage to make his breath hitch. you placed your hand on your hips, looking down at him as he swallowed hard, immediately putting his phone down and gripping the seat tightly. it wasn’t like rafe to ever lose control of himself, but you didn’t miss how his body was already responding to the first course.

“you like this one, baby?” you took the words out of his mouth, his cheeks covered in a bright pink stain as his mouth gaped open. he cleared his throat, nodding nervously as a stupid little smile tugged at his lips. “...you shittin’ me right now? that’s what i’m talking about, gorgeous. give me a little spin, will ya?” your face lit up and you twirled, making the skirt lift up just a little to give him a quick glance at your ass as your heels clicked on the ground. rafe squirmed, shifting his position so he was sitting with his legs crossed, suppressing a painfully obvious boner.

“rate this one outta ten, hon?” you say with a smile, lowering yourself onto his lap and shivering slightly as his arms instinctually go to wrap around your waist, a wandering hand taking a hearty squeeze of your ass.

“...well, shit… this one’s gotta be a 10, dollface. at minimum…” he drawls lowly against your neck, his lips peppering soft kisses along your soft skin as his fingers peek underneath the skimpy slip of fabric that’s considered a skirt. “shoulda known you’d pull some bullshit like this. lookin’ this good and think i ain’t gonna do anything about it, huh?” without warning, he hoists you up in his arms bridal style, his eyes not missing the chance to watch how your tits spill out of that pornographic disgrace of a tube top. “...c’mon, baby. we’re gettin’ outta here.”

your eyes widen, your hands gripping his shoulders with tight quickness. “wait! i wasn’t done in there yet, silly.” you stop him quickly as he began to take quick strides in the direction of the exit, probably fully prepared to leave the establishment without payment. he grumbles deeply, turning around on his heel and setting you down on the ground. “f’course you fuckin’ weren’t.” he groans with exasperated, giving you a pat on the ass and beckoning you back into the dressing room. “alright, alright. fine. hurry up in there, y’hear? or i’m dragging your ass out myself…“ his tone lost its threatening edge halfway through as he gaze fell down to the ethereal sight of your ample rear as you walked away. goddamnit, you were just as hypnotizing to him as the first time he laid his eyes on you. and he didn’t know how much more he could take before dealing with you the only way he knew how. it had been a damn long time since he’d last blown your back out in an outfit as flattering as this one, as he was just itching for an opportunity to break.

he exhaled a deep breath through his nose, lowering himself back onto the seat as his fingers drummed on my clothed abdomen. rafe was a lot of things, but patient had never been one of them. not in the slightest. within the span of a few minutes, rafe found himself impatiently tapping his foot as the restlessness planted within him began to bloom. and if that wasn’t bad enough, your little stunt had given him more than just a boner. it was fully up and ready for battle, just as hungry as he was for a taste of that ever so succulent pussy. his hard cock was straining against the rough denim of his jeans, making him groan quietly as he placed a hand on top of his bulge in a vain attempt to soothe the throbbing sensation.

his knee began to bounce with raw anticipation, his itch turning into an insatiable craving. it didn’t take much at all before he couldn’t take it anymore. “...damn it all to hell.” he sprung up from his seat, taking a long stride to the entrance of your dressing room and pushing the curtain to the side. you yelp as he invites himself in, chiseled arms crossed over his chest as his eyes widen once again. 

you stood in front of the mirror, wearing a small tennis skirt with a plaid pattern on it, paired with a white silky shirt that was more revealing than your bra. and your cute little feet in those white knee-high socks didn’t help the matter either. “rafe, what the hell?! i’m not done in here yet!” 

“...i don’t give a damn, sweetheart.” he rasps out as he feet carry him right toward you, backing you into the cold wall. not missing a second, he grabbed the curtain with a slightly shaking hand and closed the curtain of the room, pinning you to the wall and pressing his body into yours, his raging erection pressing right into your stomach. you gasped, the heat of blood starting to pool in your core as he grabbed your face and pulled you into a very sloppy kiss.

“goddamnit, woman… what the hell am i gonna do with you, huh?” he grabbed your ass, lifting you off the ground and making you wrap your legs around his waist, your clothed, throbbing clit now in contact with his pulsating bulge. you moaned into his mouth as he kissed you again, this time using his tongue to trigger yours with his intentional flicks.

your hips began to grind against his, desperate for even the smallest amount of pleasure to still your nerves. that was all it took to do it for him. you always had a way of setting him off with your little antics. rafe groaned deeply, cursing lowly as he hastily undid the button and zipper of his jeans, whipping out his cock and letting it spring up and slap against your clothed cunt. you glanced down, seeing that his girth had nearly doubled in size because of how swollen it had gotten. he rubbed his leaky tip on your silky panties, feeling your wetness through the thin fabric.

you let out a shaky moan, grabbing onto his muscled biceps as he set you down on the wooden bench that was meant for clothing. he pushed everything else off, leaving room for only you as he pushed your legs behind your head, the wet spot on your panties much more conspicuous in this position.

rafe bit his lip as he grinned from ear to ear. “that’s my model… my dirty little wife…” he trailed a teasing finger down your cleavage until he got all the way down to your dripping wet cunt. he replaced his finger with his cock, getting off from the feeling of your wet folds hungrily attempting to swallow him.

“...gonna fuck you good today, baby… i goddamn swear it…” he dragged his cock along the lubricated line of your slit, pumping himself discreetly in the process. losing composure, he pushed the tip underneath the thin string that did a poor job at concealing your pussy, breaking it away with a light tug. your breaths wavered as the cold air hit your grooling cunt. it was such a pretty sight, one that he would never be able to get enough of. rafe spat on his thumb, rubbing messy circles onto your clit as he lined himself up with your hole.

the tip slipped in effortlessly, along with the first few inches. you writhed beneath him as a strained moan slipped from your lips. rafe clamped his hand over your mouth, forcing two fingers onto your tongue to shut you up. “...hey, quit that, okay.? you’re fine… don’t wanna get caught like this, do ya..?” with a low groan, he pushed in the remaining inches of his rod, making your eyes well. with his jeans down to his ankles, his hips began slapping into yours.

your eyes rolled to your back on your head as the perfect curve of his dick made him reach nothing but your cervix. you felt your drool bubbling all over his hand as deep, heavy breaths escaped from his parted lips. his large cock abused and stretched out your tiny hole, much to his pleasure.

his fingernails dug into the back of your thighs as his balls slapped your asshole with every deep thrust. your hands found his wrist and forearm, gripping the skin tightly as a white-hot knot began to tie in your stomach. rafe’s orderly thrusts quickly lost their composure as your muffled moans made his core boil.

strings on precum connected him to you each time he pulled out. he flipped his hair out of his face, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed back curses that threatened to break free. “s-shit… that’s it, baby… little pussy’s takin’ this cock so fuckin’ well… so goddamn good…” 

your back arched as you ground your hips against his, desperately chasing the orgasm that was just in your reach. your gushy folds hungrily ate up his cock, making him toss his head back. “...e-easy there… shit…” you brought your fingers to your clit, choking out whines into his hand as you felt your climax hit like a freight train. he grabbed your hips, fucking you at lightning speed as his balls sagged with cum. as his orgasm arrived, it was likely that his shameless profanities were heard by all within a 50 foot radius. though neither of you had it in you to care. in a matter of seconds, he was filling up your tight, swollen pussy with loads upon loads of his hot seed.

“...o-oh my… fuck…” rafe swallows thickly as his entire body buzzes with the nerves ending that he’s encountered countless times with you. he was practically seeing stars as his jaw hung open, releasing heavy pants as his heart raced rapidly. yup, you were just that good.

he pulled out of you, watching as his cum cascaded out of your hole like a milky waterfall. you panted breathlessly, struggling to regain your composure as rafe swiftly tucked his cock back into his pants before getting you all cleaned up as well. you often joked that all it took for him to become a gentleman was a good, old-fashioned orgasm. as true as that was, he never found it funny.

you put on your clothes, looking at the mess you two had just made in a public residence. but before you knew it, rafe was out of the dressing room, carrying all of the clothes you tried on. you walked behind him quickly, desperate to catch up with the sudden eagerness of his pace. “honey? where are you going?” rafe looked back at you with a slight grin playing at his lips. “the hell does it look like? i’m buying you one of these fuckers in every colour. i look forward to my little model putting on a show for me every night.” he dumped the pile of clothes onto the counter, the cum-stained skirt above everything else like a cherry on top.

[serpentface]

A kulustaig bull, the distinctive cattle landrace of the highlands.

Kulustaig have striking differences to other native cattle found across the Imperial Wardi claimed territory. Their aurochs ancestors were domesticated in a separate event from those found south of the Inner Seaways, and the broader cattle population kulustaig derived from may have trace bison genetics. The progenitors of this landrace were brought south across the Viper seaway by the ancestors of the contemporary Hill Tribes, and were gradually shaped into the kulustaig in adaption to the high altitudes, mild but dry summers, and cool/snowy wet seasons.

These cattle are mid-sized and stocky in build with large, broad faces, most distinguished by curly manes and 'beards' and thick, V-shaped horns. Genetically undiluted kulustaig are almost ubiquitously black, white, and/or gray, though breeding with other cattle has introduced a greater variety of coloration in contemporary stocks.

They are adapted to higher altitudes, having larger hearts and a bigger lung capacity than comparable lowland breeds, and grow thick, curly winter coats that allow for superior resistance to seasonally cooler temperatures. They can maintain condition on less food and lower-nutrition grasses than the average cattle, and are excellent instinctive foragers. This particular quality makes them attractive for crossbreeding efforts with cattle stock of the dry scrublands in the south of Imperial Wardin, though most of their other traits are highly unfavorable for hot, low altitude environments, and scrub-kulustaig hybrids with idealized traits are rare (and highly sought after as studs).

These are all-purpose cattle that can adequately fulfill roles as meat, draft, and dairy animals, though the latter role has the most importance in day to day life, and they show the most selection for milk production (though are not as high-yield as pure dairy breeds). Their meat is mostly lean and somewhat gamey, as they rely more on thick winter coats than fat stores to manage cold, and the vast majority subsist entirely on wild grasses and forage.

Most kulustaig have fairly calm, gentle temperaments, and accommodate well to human handling (it is not uncommon for cows and geldings to be passively ridden by herders otherwise traveling on foot). Their herds have strong, well defined, and stable dominance hierarchy structures, which reduces actual fighting and lends to them being more easily managed by their human herders. In most traditions, the dominant female in each herd is regarded as blessed by and belonging to the agricultural goddess Od, and will not be milked or slaughtered (this untouchable status is often maintained even if the cow's rank in the hierarchy is displaced, though traditions vary).

Bulls are almost ubiquitously given personal names by their owners (the honor often belonging to a family or clan's matriarch, who is generally considered the owner of the herd and other familial assets), while other traditions vary between just the bulls and dominant cows, personal favorites, or entire herds receiving names.

These cattle are of tremendous importance to the peoples of the highlands (particularly tribes and/or individual clans living above the river valleys, who fundamentally rely upon them for subsistence). They provide much of the meat and dairy that the core diet revolves around, and are the greatest measure of wealth within the highlands. Non-native cattle can be commonly found in parts of the highlands in the contemporary (and may be bred in to impart unique qualities to established stock, such as improved milk production or fattier meat), but kulustaig are typically prized above all the rest. These cattle are often a source of great pride for individual clans, and one of few agreed upon markers of shared identity and pride for all of the collective Hill Tribes.

Cattle raiding is a near-ubiquitous practice (both as a practical resource acquisition, and a less immediately lethal method of settling larger disputes than open warfare), and most cattle will be branded with a mark identifying their owning clan as a method of dissuading theft (often futile, particularly given cattle marked as belonging to certain wealthy clans may be especially prized). Nose rings are commonly used to assist in the handling of bulls, but have secondary protective functions that lend to their common use in even the most docile of cattle. Rings are usually blessed or have spells woven into their making as a supernatural barrier against theft, or against malicious (or at least devious) mountain spirits such as tiirgranul (who take pleasure in frightening cattle (and their herders) and are known to cause stampedes) or wildfolk (who are known to sometimes steal or curse cattle when offended, or just bored).

The word kulustaig derives from the common word 'taig'/'taigr', which refers to cattle in the contemporary languages of both the Hill Tribes and Finns, and the 'kul' root (heavily antiquated and not used in contemporary speech, most commonly recognizable in the name of the kulys plant), which has connotations of hardiness/robust qualities. The name would have derived from complimentary descriptions of the animals as 'the best and most robust of cattle'.

[personostient]

if all of your OCs fought, who would win?

With much consideration and manic thought processing…

Its chaos on the battlefield, one I’m not meant to keep up with… Its ANYONE’s game.

Keep reading below for the beat down breakdown!! vvvvv

Color codes:

❤️ - Physically overpowers

💙 - Psychically overpowers

💚 - Refuses to fight

🩷 - Fuck you Magic ✨

💜 - BULLYING THEM!!!!!

I’ve complied this non-exhaustive web of 1 v 1 face offs, offering a basic “summary” for some of the resulting battles. I’ve had to reduce the full roster to a select “rogues gallery” for sake of time, space, and to reduce redundancy. Sorry to those that do not see your favorite blorbos, those excluded were either too new, had too little lore created for them, or provided nothing new or interesting (imo)

You’ll quickly notice not every character fights everyone. 1- i forgor, 2- i dunno how to make the arrows legible at this point. I didn’t think this shit through. TO MAKE UP FOR THAT… Some battle highlights:

Dr. Arachne is a nightmare (ha) for ALL mecha ocs to deal with because [redacted] Therapy is pretty much a requirement to fend off the good doctor and honestly Diogenes is the only one capable of keeping his shit together around here.

THAT SAID. the doctor is built less structurally intact than a single pringle and disappoints their dietary nutritionists year round.

The bug ocs are just lil guys... they really weren’t meant to face off against war machines, murder plants, or capitalism. A for effort...

There are only two genders: Inflamed or flammable. And the gender ratios are SKEWED. I’m sorry.

Your chances of losing against Annabelle rests on your working relationships to the concept of time and how easy it is for you to lose track of it… good luck.

Argos could win more battles depending on how actively in danger Captain is… +1 for simps around the world.

The space lasagna is a force to be reckoned with but it really doesn’t want to be here right now.

Inviting Dragon and Virga… Coughing babies vs. 2 Hydrogen Bombs

That’s it for now. Hey feel free to ask me for more details too :]

.

..

…

Did I say it’s anyone’s game? I lied. Annabelle’s the scariest mf here.

[zeroseuniverse]

Can I pique your interest for a moment? Hear me out before you scroll

after doing my twisted fairytales series I missed the ones that weren't in the focus so ofc I thought of a new series!!

Monster High AU with a twist or like 10 lol

|Fair warning: The story is gonna be chaotic, based around a curse, It's gonna be dark. I've been working on World building for this idea all day its gonna be in depth and meticulous. I personally went through researching every type of monster and their characteristics so I could better categorize each of the idols selected. Each idol will have their own X reader fic based off of the prologue of their ways of beating the curse! there will be mentions of cursing (with words and spells lol) and blood as well as maybe violence, the romance for some can be classed as dark romance but remember i never write pass a few kisses so don't expect smut.|

The Ones I'm gonna focus in on this one are gonna be as followed:

|Taeyong| Yuta| Ten| Haechan| Yoongi| Namjoon| Taehyun| Jungwon| Soul| V| Jongseob| Keeho| Theo| Jeongin| Changbin| Jungkook| Jimin| Jin| Beomgyu| Yeonjun| Kai| Doyoung| Jay| Heeseung| Jiung| Yujin| Sunghoon| Soobin| Yeosang| Sunoo| Seungmin| Hyunjin|Wooyoung| Hongjoong|NI-ki| seonghwa| Yeonjun| Felix|

Prologue

They never planned to fall in love. They only wanted to survive.

He was hunted. Not just because of what he was, but because he had outlived the world that made space for monsters. Once regal, once terrifying, now reduced to a fugitive with silver burns on his chest and nothing but time left to lose.

When she found him, collapsed in a forgotten shrine, he didn’t ask for help. He just stared at her like she was a hallucination—too soft, too human, too late.

But she knelt anyway, touched his face with trembling fingers, and said, “You’re not the first monster I’ve saved.”

She was meant to be a healer. Taught to bind wounds, not rebuild legacies. But she had read too many burned books and buried too many good creatures to keep pretending the world was fair.

When she saved him, she thought it would end there. It never did.

They built the school together with blistered hands and stubborn magic. Stone after stone, they carved a safe place out of a hostile world.

For every shadow dweller, scale bearer, spirit walker, and blood drinker, there was a room, a dorm, a class designed not to punish their difference—but to help them live with it.

For a time, they called it sanctuary.

And then it started again.

Monsters vanished. Magic cracked. Normies pressed too close.

So they searched. Desperate. Devoted. They found a spell, older than language.

The Pact.

One soul a year. Given freely. In exchange, the veil would hold. The world would forget.

It was a cruel kind of salvation. But so was the world.

She offered herself before he could. He screamed at her not to.

“This magic doesn’t care who’s braver.” “Then we should fight it.” “We don’t have time.”

That night, they didn’t sleep. They argued. They kissed. They promised things that the spell would never let them keep.

By morning, she was gone.

Not dead. Not buried. Just... gone.

And so was her name.

He remained—alone, quietly breaking. No one remembered her. Not even him. Only the ache stayed. That empty, echoing grief with no shape and no source.

The castle sealed its doors. The spell began. Each year, the cost is paid again.

One soul. One sacrifice. One love, devoured before it can take root.

The students call it rumor. The teachers call it tradition.

But the castle remembers.

In a sealed-off garden behind rusted gates, two statues sit crumbling. A hand reaches toward another, never quite touching. The nameplate is blank. Moss swallows what’s left.

Sometimes, late at night, a dream drifts down the hallway like smoke. A pair of voices.

“If I had loved you less…” “You never could have.”

And the whisper that follows?

“This is not the end.”

Taglist: @zaycie @sh0dor1 @tinyelfperson @lezleeferguson-120

[compneuropapers]

Interesting Papers for Week 3, 2025

Synaptic weight dynamics underlying memory consolidation: Implications for learning rules, circuit organization, and circuit function. Bhasin, B. J., Raymond, J. L., & Goldman, M. S. (2024). Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, 121(41), e2406010121.

Characterization of the temporal stability of ToM and pain functional brain networks carry distinct developmental signatures during naturalistic viewing. Bhavna, K., Ghosh, N., Banerjee, R., & Roy, D. (2024). Scientific Reports, 14, 22479.

Connectomic reconstruction predicts visual features used for navigation. Garner, D., Kind, E., Lai, J. Y. H., Nern, A., Zhao, A., Houghton, L., … Kim, S. S. (2024). Nature, 634(8032), 181–190.

Socialization causes long-lasting behavioral changes. Gil-Martí, B., Isidro-Mézcua, J., Poza-Rodriguez, A., Asti Tello, G. S., Treves, G., Turiégano, E., … Martin, F. A. (2024). Scientific Reports, 14, 22302.

Neural pathways and computations that achieve stable contrast processing tuned to natural scenes. Gür, B., Ramirez, L., Cornean, J., Thurn, F., Molina-Obando, S., Ramos-Traslosheros, G., & Silies, M. (2024). Nature Communications, 15, 8580.

Lack of optimistic bias during social evaluation learning reflects reduced positive self-beliefs in depression and social anxiety, but via distinct mechanisms. Hoffmann, J. A., Hobbs, C., Moutoussis, M., & Button, K. S. (2024). Scientific Reports, 14, 22471.

Causal involvement of dorsomedial prefrontal cortex in learning the predictability of observable actions. Kang, P., Moisa, M., Lindström, B., Soutschek, A., Ruff, C. C., & Tobler, P. N. (2024). Nature Communications, 15, 8305.

A transient high-dimensional geometry affords stable conjunctive subspaces for efficient action selection. Kikumoto, A., Bhandari, A., Shibata, K., & Badre, D. (2024). Nature Communications, 15, 8513.

Presaccadic Attention Enhances and Reshapes the Contrast Sensitivity Function Differentially around the Visual Field. Kwak, Y., Zhao, Y., Lu, Z.-L., Hanning, N. M., & Carrasco, M. (2024). eNeuro, 11(9), ENEURO.0243-24.2024.

Transformation of neural coding for vibrotactile stimuli along the ascending somatosensory pathway. Lee, K.-S., Loutit, A. J., de Thomas Wagner, D., Sanders, M., Prsa, M., & Huber, D. (2024). Neuron, 112(19), 3343-3353.e7.

Inhibitory plasticity supports replay generalization in the hippocampus. Liao, Z., Terada, S., Raikov, I. G., Hadjiabadi, D., Szoboszlay, M., Soltesz, I., & Losonczy, A. (2024). Nature Neuroscience, 27(10), 1987–1998.

Third-party punishment-like behavior in a rat model. Mikami, K., Kigami, Y., Doi, T., Choudhury, M. E., Nishikawa, Y., Takahashi, R., … Tanaka, J. (2024). Scientific Reports, 14, 22310.

The morphospace of the brain-cognition organisation. Pacella, V., Nozais, V., Talozzi, L., Abdallah, M., Wassermann, D., Forkel, S. J., & Thiebaut de Schotten, M. (2024). Nature Communications, 15, 8452.

A Drosophila computational brain model reveals sensorimotor processing. Shiu, P. K., Sterne, G. R., Spiller, N., Franconville, R., Sandoval, A., Zhou, J., … Scott, K. (2024). Nature, 634(8032), 210–219.

Decision-making shapes dynamic inter-areal communication within macaque ventral frontal cortex. Stoll, F. M., & Rudebeck, P. H. (2024). Current Biology, 34(19), 4526-4538.e5.

Intrinsic Motivation in Dynamical Control Systems. Tiomkin, S., Nemenman, I., Polani, D., & Tishby, N. (2024). PRX Life, 2(3), 033009.

Coding of self and environment by Pacinian neurons in freely moving animals. Turecek, J., & Ginty, D. D. (2024). Neuron, 112(19), 3267-3277.e6.

The role of training variability for model-based and model-free learning of an arbitrary visuomotor mapping. Velázquez-Vargas, C. A., Daw, N. D., & Taylor, J. A. (2024). PLOS Computational Biology, 20(9), e1012471.

Rejecting unfairness enhances the implicit sense of agency in the human brain. Wang, Y., & Zhou, J. (2024). Scientific Reports, 14, 22822.

Impaired motor-to-sensory transformation mediates auditory hallucinations. Yang, F., Zhu, H., Cao, X., Li, H., Fang, X., Yu, L., … Tian, X. (2024). PLOS Biology, 22(10), e3002836.

[is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not]

Turkina 'Ghostbird'

(mini by u/VersusJordan)

Mass: 95 tons Chassis: JF X-Composite Power Plant: 285 JF Extralight Cruising Speed: 32.4 kph Maximum Speed: 54 kph Jump Jets: Standard Jump Capacity: 90 meters Armor: JF Ferro-Fibrous Armament: 52.0 tons of pod space Manufacturer: Complex Beta, Olivetti Weapons Primary Factory: Ironhold, Sudeten Communication System: JF Integrated w/ Neutron Star CEWS Targeting & Tracking System: Series JFIX/Olivetti Pinpoint Advanced Introduction Year: 3153 Tech Rating/Availability: F/X-X-X-X Cost: 34,525,969 C-bills

Overview The Turkina is a powerful OmniMech that was first seen in the Turkina Keshik at the Battle of Tukayyid, and entered general service with Clan Jade Falcon following the end of the Refusal War. This specific Turkina was constructed in late 3151 on Sudeten, and assigned to Star Commander Alexis Zarnofsky by personal order of Jiyi Chistu, then Khan of the Jade Falcon Remnants. Named by Alexis to share her 'Ghostbird' callsign, the 'Mech would rapidly find use in repelling Hell's Horses attacks on Sudeten.

Capabilities By 3153, Alexis' personal configuration, based off an upgraded Prime config, is armed for mid-to-long range combat with twin ER PPCs, LRM-15s (with Artemis V FCS), and Light Autocannon/10s, offering increased firepower and accuracy over the base Prime variant. Five extra double heat sinks and a Radical Heat Sink System keep heat manageable, while enough ammunition is mounted to keep the Turkina in the fight for extended periods. In addition, the legs and feet of the 'Mech have been reinforced and fitted with integrated talons, making for deadly kicks and Death from Above attacks. A Neutron Star CEWS system ensures that Star Commander Alexis can stay in contact with her Starmates, while provided electronic warfare capabilities. In keeping with common Star League design specifications, Ghostbird has had its cockpit reduced in size, fitted with control customized to Alexis' exact ergonomic considerations, and then armored, while additional armor was placed over the head area.

Deployment Ghostbird is the personal 'Mech of Alexis Zarnofsky, and thus has deployed with her on all operations where Zarnofsky has taken part.

History Alexis and Ghostbird have seen significant service - initially in the defense of Sudeten against various foes of the Jade Falcon Remnant forces in the Hinterlands. In October of 3152, Clan Hell's Horses would launch an attack on Sudeten, their second that year. Nearly overwhelmed in the defense of Hammarr, Star Commander Alexis was preparing for a last stand with her Khan, Jiyi Chistu, and other members of the Clan. Just as the situation seemed hopeless, the Jade Falcon Remnants were suddenly and unexpectedly reinforced by a joint force consisting of forces from Clan Jade Falcon, Wolf, Ghost Bear, Smoke Jaguar, Snow Raven, and Sea Fox, the SLDF's Royal Black Watch, and elements of the Northwind Highlanders. Under the command of SLDF Brevet Commanding General Melissa Hazen and arriving via a suborbital drop, the combined reinforcements confused and routed the Hell's Horses, saving the Falcons of Sudeten. During this battle, Alexis would account for ten enemy 'Mechs killed by her own hand, with another five shared, and three probables. After the battle, she would be promoted to Star Captain by personal order of Melissa Hazen, and be personally selected to serve alongside both her former Khan (now saKhan) Jiyi Chistu and Khan Stephanie Chistu in the command Star of the Turkina Keshik.

Type: Turkina Technology Base: Mixed (Unofficial) Tonnage: 95 Battle Value: 2,906

Equipment Mass Internal Structure Composite 5 Engine 285 XL 8.5 Walking MP: 3 Running MP: 5 Jumping MP: 3 Double Heat Sink 16 [32+7+4] 6 Compact Gyro 4.5 Small Cockpit (Armored) 2 Armor Factor (Ferro) 293 15.5 Internal Armor Structure Value Head 3 9 Center Torso 30 45 Center Torso (rear) 15 R/L Torso 20 30 R/L Torso (rear) 10 R/L Arm 16 32 R/L Leg 20 40

Weight and Space Allocation Location Fixed Space Remaining Head None 2 Center Torso Jump Jet 3 Right Torso 2 XL Engine 6 4 Ferro-Fibrous Left Torso 2 XL Engine 9 Ferro-Fibrous Right Arm 2 Double Heat Sink 8 Left Arm 2 Double Heat Sink 8 Right Leg Jump Jet 0 Ferro-Fibrous Left Leg Jump Jet 0 Ferro-Fibrous

Right Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm Left Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm

Weapons and Ammo Location Critical Heat Tonnage Radical Heat Sink System (Armored) CT 3 - 4.0 Artemis V FCS RT 2 - 1.5 Double Heat Sink RT 2 - 1.0 LRM 15 RT 2 5 3.5 2 LAC/10 LA 8 3 16.0 Artemis V FCS LT 2 - 1.5 CASE II LT 1 - 0.5 LRM 15 Artemis V-capable Ammo (16) LT 2 - 2.0 LRM 15 LT 2 5 3.5 Caseless LAC/10 Ammo (40) LT 2 - 2.0 Armored Cowl (Armored) HD 1 - 1.0 Nova Combined Electronic Warfare System (Armored) HD 1 - 1.5 2 Double Heat Sink RA 4 - 2.0 2 ER PPC RA 4 15 12.0

Features the following design quirks: Accurate Weapon (all), Battle Computer, Combat Computer, Cowl, Easy to Pilot, Extended Torso Twist, Improved Communications, Improved Cooling Jacket (all), Improved Sensors, Multi-Trac, Nimble Jumper, Reinforced Legs, Variable Range Targeting, Illegal Design (overweight; mounts Talons without weight and space needed)

[insanelyadd]

The Collector's Hat Sewing Pattern and Tutorial

Image of the pattern I made with measurements:

As a little heads up to people with big/small heads and/or more voluminous hair, this was based on measuring my own head which has a circumference of 22 inches which is dead on the average and my hair is completely straight and relatively flat. You may need to do some adjustments of these measurements because the final fit is very fitted, in that it can be easily put on and taken off but does not fall off on it's own under typical circumstances.*

This pattern is meant for knit or other stretch fabrics, I did not make a completed version with woven or stiffer fabrics, so quality may vary depending on the material you select. I recommend knits.

If you are new to sewing or this is one of your first projects you are doing without a physical pattern, I recommend following the given measurements and drawing it out on some type of paper first and then using that as reference for yourself. I am an outlier when it comes to not making patterns and drawing the shape of what I want out onto the fabric directly, and you shouldn't follow my horrible example. This hat is actually the first time I've even made a muslin prototype.

When you are going to cut out the pieces you need to make sure, like double and triple check, that if you were to lay them pattern/top side up, that they would mirror each other like in the above picture. If you don't then you'll have two lefts or two rights.

The first actual step for sewing is taking the straight lines from the V shaped notch in the top of the hat, and lining them up by folding the piece in half so the patterned/top of the fabric is on the inside of the fold, like in the picture above. You do this on one half at a time. When they are lined up sew them with a straight line stitch a 1/4 inch (1/2 cm) in from the cut, starting at the fold towards the top of the hat.

After that you want to lay them pattern to pattern, and pin them into place to make sure it's aligned properly on both sides. To reduce bulk I recommend making the excess fabric from the darts (the V cut-out) point in opposite directions, as shown in the above picture.

After you've sewn the sides together there is an optional step that I did to make sure the seam lies flat on the top of your head. I opted to sew both sides down onto the blue half of my hat because my machine was being picky and skipping stitches on they grey fabric if there was no blue fabric as well (I got around this on the hem by inserting thin pieces from the blue's selvage into the seam). But if your machine isn't being picky or you are hand sewing this, then you could split the excess and sew them down onto their corresponding half. Example above, as usual.

Optional step that MUST go here. If you are attaching a ribbon, or lace for a trim to edge you have to do it now. I do not recommend this step to beginners. I recommend sewing it down while rolling the edge to create the hem, and then securing the other side of the ribbon/lace further into the piece because this guarantees a better placement and straighter lines. If you are doing this step along solely the bottom or front edges then let the lace/ribbon stick out further than the edge of the fabric, so you can fold it under the hem.

The final required step is to hem it, just fold what remains of the raw edge and sew it down.

Final optional step is for adding little trinkets. I added trinkets to the front corners and the floppy bit in the back like the Archivists are depicted as having. I used embroidery thread and slid the needle to go between the seams and tied it off on the inside. If your trinkets are not detachable, like the little stars on my hat, you need to thread the needle through the ring before putting it back into the hat and tying off the thread. Thinner cord or thin ribbon could work as well.

*I actually just did some tests and I have to be tilted further back than lying flat on my back for it to fall off. I was able to bend over and look through my knees and it didn't fall off. I tested it's wind resistance against my two strongest fans and neither could knock it off my head even when I shook it. So I think it will stay in place just shy of someone pointing a leaf blower at you.

Enjoy these pictures of the finished product, including a glamor shot of me wearing it backwards while I fumble with my phone for a picture.

[nemkero]

its the same anon as before-

Can I just say I love the way you add depth to the skin tones and I also love your color line art?

The textures and expressions ahahghjdbhjdgjdfbdf <3 not to mention the lighting on some of these are just great!

uh if you don't mind can you tell me how you do your colors? Like the base ones I don't mean all the lighting stuff

im still fairly new to digital art so how do you color inside the character instead of just each individual shape?

jfbdskjbjksfbdf thank you ^v^

THANK YOU SO MUCHH!!!! much appreciated c:

im pretty bad at explaining it but usually i just use much more saturated and warm colors in my art since im biased (i like warm tones a lot) and i also think it more eyecatching!

heres an example-- i make the values generally similar with mainly the darker colors (hair, shoulder thingy) being lightened slightly to reduce contrast so its more easy on the eye & makes it look softer ig? i also like to choose one color in particular to "base" all the other colors around, and that color is usually some sort of primary color and the most saturated. in this case, its a red/orange color, so i had all of my other colors shift closer to it (in reference to the color wheel)

heres another (really crappy LOL) example based around a more orange tone (though looking at it i think i made sokka a little too orange... whoops) and if you look at the values themselves...

basically the same! most of this is just preference too so its not like you need to REALLY stick to the original values or anything, but all that id look out for is that you pay most attention to stuff like skin tones just to make sure youre not like whitewashing by accident lol

im overcomplicating things but its kinda just something i think you learn over time? the way i figured colors out was by abandoning any and all reliance on blending layers (stuff like multiply, add, overlay, etc.) and just eyeballing literally everything and it kinda forced me to figure out how to make colors look good without relying on filters!

as for blocking in colors in general... i forget how to draw sometimes so im never really consistent with it LOL but lasso fill is your best friend! i either just use a random color and lasso fill the whole character manually (left) and set that layer to alpha lock/protect alpha, or i just lasso fill each color individually (right) bc im a freak sometimes

what i recommend doing/the fastest way is using the magic wand to select outside of your lines, invert the selection and then fill in the selection with a color and setting that to alpha lock.

i dont use it as much anymore mostly because i dont line so my stuff is really sketchy (so stuff like on the right happens) and i kinda like messy coloring anyways soooo... but yeah!!! i dont really recommend using the fill bucket that much unless the situation calls for it c:

(and if you do struggle with this and ur results look like whats on the right, try just manually closing your lines or seeing if your wand has an option for automatically closing gaps!)

[not-goldy]

I think a lot of ship fights might be put to rest if Jungkook starts being more vocal about his relationship with the members.

Right now it's usually Tae and Jimin talking. Jimin actually reduced a lot now and Tae has just increased.

Jungkook can always speak more. Just more about regular things. Like I was out with Jimin, or I called Jimin or I ate with Jimin, you know basic things so Jimin doesn't get called a liar everytime coz JK never says anything to confirm.

Who's calling Jimin a liar???

Give me a lock of their hair☠

Also I don't think he's saying much these days either which to me is a very good thing. Silence is Golden.

On the part of Jungkook I see what you mean but I might have to respectfully disagree with you on this.

He tells and shows just as much. I mean had it not been for Jungkook we wouldn't know most of thr Jikook tea we know today. Their fights, Jimin staying up all night to browse the internet, them sharing a bed, Jungkook elbowing Jimin, their travel show, jikook stonewalling eachother etc

Jimin likes to talk about them but I feel he's very selective in the things he shares. While Kook doesn't have much of a filter so he'll share anything as and when the good and the bad and anything that leaves a lasting impact on him.

Eating Ramen on live- oh that reminds me of the Ramen Jimin and I ate yesterday. We were exercising at the gym last night. Proceeds to akiki over something random Jimin said and did when no one asked. Things like that.

Also, they are both triggered to share by different things. They both may share sometimes just to rub it in our faces. But for Jungkook it's usually when some members make it seem like they are more close to JM than him. He may not care what you or I think of their dynamic because we don't bother him much and he doesn't see us as a threat. Just a bunch of nuisance. However if there was someone present with them in a moment he felt threatened their dynamic he would get triggered sometimes.

Jimin cares about how you and I perceive their relationship. He is rarely bothered by the people around them- except for that one time with V where he felt he needed to assert himself. Even that I feel it was more because we were present on the live.

He cares about these things. So sometimes, sometimes, he likes to talk good about their relationship to us. And he likes to show off his man too. He gets giddy excited when Kook does things for him and he likes to share that too. He's more inclined to let us know he got the price you know, mah man treats me so well kinda shit. My man rich kinda shit. My man man man kinda shit.

Jungkook does this too. He just doesn't do it with words. He does it by bringing Jimin up every five seconds, forces us to watch ours and hours of Jimin content, and laughs all to himself while doing it🥴

They both whipped as fuck

And the fact he would follow Jimin around with a camera make him the focus of his attention zoom in on his face and lips-

He may not have to prove anything and he may not be questioned as much as Jimin is questioned because most times he comes with receipts.

I think what I all comes down to is people questions Jimin's assertions more than they do Jungkook's. Jimin gets called a liar when he shares more than Jungkook does.

I think it's the same for Taehyung. People question the intentions behind him showing off their dynamics more so than they would Jin Jungkook or any other member.

When Jungkook posts Jimin he is ship feeding. No one is assuming he is doing so to piss off certain groups of fans or to incite his shippers. When Tae does it, he is trying to incite his toxic shippers and to piss off jokers.

I think they may have contributed to these assumptions because time and again vmin are the members who frequently say they are taking pictures with Jungkook for "fans". So it stands to reason that people would assume they are fanning shipping flames when they post pictures with Jungkook or speak of their interactions with him

I won't lie to you, I have lost my train of thought 🥲

[riririnnnn]

ngl as much as i like isagi it gets boring when he's winning too much 🤷‍♀️ i still hope he wins tho lol but he needs to lose sometimes idk wtv i love kaiser

Hm, I agree with you, but at the same time, I don't too—Isagi isn't winning 'too much', he is, simply, reaping what he sowed.

So, let's start from the start:

Isagi's initial ranking was 299 which is HELLA low, but, you know, that ranking was, somewhat, pretty.. false.

In short, there were 5 strata and EVERY team in each stratum was named from V to Z and EVERYONE, initially, held a ranking from 241 to 300, so we have no way to truly calculate Isagi's true ranking out of 300.

One more reason why I don't trust that ranking is because Ego is one hell of a cunning man—I bet there were more than just 'skills' as a criteria to rank them because I can never in my whole life accept that Niko ranked above Kunigami.

And in the first selection he LOST to Barou—he did NOT win right away. He did NOT score ALL the goals in their subsequent winning matches too—Bachira, Chigiri, Gagamaru, Kunigami, even Kuon shined in their own times. Isagi did NOT have the spotlight onto him all at once.

Skipping towards Second Selection, we remember him getting praised by Anri that, "Ooh, that kid is improving so fast," and it was, by no means, a protagonist point because, my brother in Christ, one of his abilities is literally adapting!

And after we get his new ranking of 15, and as said by Ego, it's a true ranking rather than a false one like earlier.

Then the story proceeds and he challenges Rin, and guess what?

HE LOSES TWICE AGAINST RIN!!

And then.

HE LOST AGAINST THE WORLD FIVE TOO!

HE IS THE LITERAL PROTAGONIST AND HE HAS BEEN SHOWN LOSING SO MANY TIMES ALREADY!!!!!!!

If he really had an actual plot armour, then he would've won against Rin the second time and would've gotten VERY close to winning against the World Five too.

You getting me?

And then he doesn't even have a ranking in the Top 6!?! His ahh wasn't even the runner-up of it—Bachira was!

And trust me when I say it, if it would've been any animanga other than Blue Lock, then that protagonist would've been the CF during the U-20 because WE ALL KNOW HOW IMPORTANT THAT MATCH WAS SINCE BLUE LOCK'S LIFE LITERALLY WAS DEPENDENT ON IT!!!!!

I'm so sorry. I promise I'm not angry or yelling at you. Please don't be mad at me, I'm just being passionate.

Now comes the current arc: NEL

I've already made a post about why Kaiser chose Isagi to be his rival (it may differ once we get Kaiser's backstory revealed), so keeping it aside, I want to say that Isagi is THE pacifist because if Kaiser did all that to ME, then I would've swung so fast like who tf you calling a clown, huh? You wanna catch these hands? Guess what, I'll give you these legs too.

Well, now focusing on FC Barcha match, remember that Isagi didn't score. He PASSED. How can people even forget that? Yukimiya nearly threw hands because of that only!

And then came Manshine City—bro, he literally got blocked by Kaiser and then he PASSED again and then he FAINTED!?!?!?!?!

All this time he was SLOWLY building up momentum and that's what we low-key saw in Ubers match and are seeing in PXG match.

He EARNED everything.

He wasn't winning everytime.

He has lost many times too.

We just have too many characters who are given proper amount of character developments which sometimes reduces Isagi to being just a protagonist—God! Us Fandom is so spoiled, aren't we? We are so well fed that we have become bratty, LMFAO.

And yes, I love Kaiser a lot too.

But in the end, the Roman Empire fell too, right?

[ikinremu]

KINKTOBER DAY 13: Billy Russo x Hate Fucking

Camera Room

Billy Russo x Fem!Reader

Tags: P in V, Unprotected Sex, Degrading, Public, Light Choking

You hated your boss. He was condescending. He was a complete killjoy. And honestly, he was borderline cynical. And, blatantly enough, the feeling was mutual.

It probably should've meant something that nobody really agreed with this distaste when either of you raised it - though the both of you were utterly absorbed by your dislike for one and other to care.

It was improfessional, sure, however you excelled as Billy's employee and he excelled as your boss - petty rivalry aside. So, therefore, it only made sense for you to be selected to - begrudgingly - accompany him in the dire, elongated period of todays training exercise - truly, as an Anvil employee, you were only required to offer supervision, but it was likely better than being cooped up your office all day.

You'd attended several of the sort before - they all played out the same. You'd quietly perch beside your superior inside the rather unexciting, dimly-lit the camera room, scrutinising whichever unit's practice, scribbling surface-level notes on a clipboard that nobody would even take the time to read over.

Helplessly fidgeting atop your decade old, loosely wheeled desk chair, you felt the familiar, keen laser of his gaze burn deep into your back.

Unmoving, you spat seemingly innocent - though painfully bitter - words, "Any problems, Billy?"

"What was that?" The dense, superiority-ridden response loomed both above and behind you.

Thankfully unknown to him - you sported a quite impatient, slight roll of the eyes, following with a resentful correction, "Mr Russo."

"More like it." Billy countered, words doused in his thick, Albany accent, "And no, no problems thank you. But you'll do well to lose the the attitude."

Softly, you cleared your throat, still so firmly faced away from the intolerability of the room, "I will once you stop looking at me like I'm gonna infect the place."

Irritably awaiting another retort, you flickered the heavy focus of your gaze over the screen of tightly-collaged camera angles, carefully observing the dozens of scurrying agents - all geared in Anvil's very own equipment.

You witnessed yet another patience-thin response, though it was - evidently - hissed through harshly gritted teeth, and certainly floated a little closer than the previous, "Watch your tongue. I'm your boss."

"Really? You should've mentioned." You uttered, tone laced with such deep, blatant sarcasm.

It was a wonder you hadn't been fired yet.

Rather abruptly, and definitely through zero control of your own, your crooked, flimsy excuse for a seat swirled around. Opposing your expectations, Billy wasn't at all stood tall, towering above you - instead, his quite grand frame was crouched to your very same level, eyes glaring into your own.

In a - somehow - both soft and intimidating manner, he planted a slender, callous finger beneath your chin before slightly parting his pinkish lips, "I said watch your tongue. Understood?"

Desperately wishing you were without the familiar, lusciously warm tingle in your stomach, you braced a thick swallow, "Understood."

Deeply, he chuckled, voice suddenly reduced to a low, sultry whisper, "Don't get all shy on me now, where's that attitude gone?"

Following a surprisingly well-steadied, sharp inhale, he continued, "What? Made you nervous?"

Frantically shaking your jaw from the chilled, callous touch of Billy's finger, you peered directly into the dark, inky depth of his eyes, "Don't flatter yourself."

With a rough, quiet chuckle, he whispered a rich trail of flowing words, "Well, you aren't moving back? That's gotta mean something."

Unfortunately, he was correct, it meant something - though you couldn't place exactly what. You hated him. So fucking much. But for some completely unknown reason, you just couldn't find it in yourself to want this to end.

A thick, extremely elongated silence lingered between you.

You couldn't quite unravel who initiated the happening, though by the very next moment, the sweet, deprived pillows of your lips crashed to the soft, ravenous plush of your boss'.

Unstoppably driven by the most conflicting blend of both detest and lust, you - less than elegantly - scrambled up, Billy instinctively mirroring the disorderly motion. Fiercely gripping the thick, snugly-clothed flesh of your hips, he stepped you backwards, slick, humid mouthes not once disconnecting as you haphazardly bumped against the table. The compact row of computer screens clanked together slightly, wavering at the desk's timid vibration.

"Up." He ordered, only now shattering the embrace.

More subconscious than anything else, you obeyed, softly jumping atop the heavily-chipped, planked table.

"Oh, now you're good at doing what you're told?" He remarked - the sheer ego to his scoff making your skin crawl beyond belief.

"Fuck you." Was all you could sputter back, strikingly heady from the whole situation.

Visibly, his irises darkened, pooling with such strong, untold intent. Suddenly, thrillingly, the harsh, rather possessive grasp of your hips was utilised - leaving your entirety both stunned and flipped, body leniently bent over the desk as a sharp, withheld gasp was elicited from your lips.

"Well," Billy grumbled, briskly nibbling at your lobe, "Guess I'll just have to fuck the attitude out of you, huh?"

Entirely possessed by a brusque, incredibly keen shiver, you were nearing on dumbfounded - desperately wishing that wasn't the case.

Much to your irritation, Billy slipped a gruff, breathily amused chuckle, "Nothing to say for once?"

God, he made you so fucking angry - though what was done was done, and the deepest levels of enticement certainly couldn't be burnt out now.

Wrong. You still managed a single, bitter retort.

"Just shut up and fuck me."

In hindsight, you truly couldn't comprehend your words - let alone the fact they were directed to your unbeatably asshole boss.

At that, your freshly ironed, formal work trousers were so fiercely yanked down, fabric pooling around your bare, shamefully buckled knees as the familiar clink of an unbuckled belt and crumpling materials was heard behind you.

"This what you wanted this whole time? To be bent over and fucked by your boss?" Billy taunted, swiftly easing his hard, pulsing length within the slick, tight warmth of your hole.

Perhaps not the whole time, though it was undeniably what you wanted now - however, you carried far too much dignity to admit to either.

A light, airy mewl slipped your tongue, well-honed teeth denting into your lower lip.

Further burying his cock within your gently pulsing, heavily dripping cunt - Billy marked his first thrust, inevitably rocking your semi-concealed body against the table, "So fuckin' wet." 

Mercilessly, your arousal spiked, stomach only tingling - the utterly delectable blend of his words and motions coursing through your entirety, "I'm gonna fuckin' ruin this pretty cunt." 

Contriving a divine rhythm, Billy's low, previously unheard, groans flooded your ears. Your swelling, puffy clit convulsed so inescapably at each deep, irritatingly fulfilling buck of his hips. 

You fucking despised the man, but you'd never felt like this before. This wasn't just some careless, lousy fuck. Not in the slightest.  

Shamelessly attempting to compress any upcoming whimpers, you - far more severely - dug your teeth into the sweet, dented pillow of your lip - you were far too stubborn to unveil anything close to the ridiculous effect he had on you, it'd only fuel his pompous ego. 

His thick, leaking tip slammed deeper, tantalising your utmost sensitivities. A firm, familiarly callous hand snaked to the back of your neck, its opposition still rested upon the thick, tender flesh of your hip, flawlessly guiding you against each individual thrust, "Such a good fucktoy, ain't that right?" 

"Fuck.." Squashing a light, overly-satisfied moan, you briefly spluttered out a wavering response, "Not for you, Russo."

The very same chuckle echoed through you, rich with ego. 

"We'll see about that." 

Billy tightened the forbearing control of his grasp upon your naked hips and neck, hauling you against his every thrust - pace taking a rather significant spike. The timely throbs of your clit could only further as his long, pulsing shaft filled your sopping cunt. 

More than anything, you hated how fucking good this felt; his quick, deep-reaching cock stretching out the convulsions of your dripping hole as he rolled into you - bent body further slamming against the desk.

Overwhelmed by an all too familiar, body-melting tingle, your cunt spasmed around him, drenching his shaft as your approaching release only steepened.

"That's it." He panted, smirk somehow evident in his voice through the likes of mere audibility, "Cum for me, slut." 

Too hypnotised by the sloping release, you simply let the comment slide - far too intoxicated to snap back.

Your humid, semi-nude bodies shook the table at an excessive rate, bare legs trembling as a sudden orgasm submerged you. Sinking into the depths of euphoria, you heard Billy’s low, gruff grunt - an abrupt burst of hot, white ribbons coating the back of your thighs as he slipped from your sopping arousal.

“I still fucking hate you.” You babbled out.

“So much.” He finished.

You sincerely hoped nobody would inquire about the operation’s success, because, truly, you had no fucking idea.

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! Please feel free to use the asks feature on my page for requests of oneshots/drabbles/blurbs etc.. would be greatly appreciated, though I will be responding to them after kinktober since i’m doing the full month! <3

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Marshall Cohen at CNN:

The pro-Trump cable outlet Newsmax and voting technology company Smartmatic settled a major defamation lawsuit Thursday in a last-minute agreement, averting a high-stakes trial over the airing of false 2020 election claims. The terms of the settlement were not immediately known. The deal comes hours after jury selection got underway in a Wilmington, Delaware, courtroom ahead of opening statements scheduled for Monday. The parties, and a court official, announced the settlement Thursday afternoon. “Newsmax is pleased to announce it has resolved the litigation brought by Smartmatic through a confidential settlement,” the network said in a statement. Smartmatic lawyer Erik Connolly said in a statement that the company was “very pleased to have secured the completion” of the Newsmax case.

“Lying to the American people has consequences,” Connolly said. “Smartmatic will not stop until the perpetrators are held accountable.” The closely watched trial would have been the first of several high-profile lawsuits filed against right-wing media companies in the wake of the 2020 election to reach a jury – and was set to determine whether Newsmax defamed Smartmatic by airing false claims the company’s machines had rigged the results against Donald Trump. Newsmax denied wrongdoing and said its coverage was protected by the First Amendment.

[...] Smartmatic has claimed that the lies promoted by Newsmax, Fox News, and other Trump allies destroyed its reputation and cost the company billions of dollars. However, as the Newsmax trial approached, Smartmatic’s lawyers reduced the company’s damages claim to approximately $370 million, lowering their demands by about $1 billion, according to statements from both parties. This drop was spurred in part by Delaware Superior Court Judge Eric Davis, who ruled Monday that Smartmatic could only seek compensation for provable losses, eliminating the possibility of additional “punitive damages” that might result in an eye-popping damages award.

Right-wing propaganda network Newsmax and Smartmatic settle the election defamation lawsuit prior to the Smartmatic v. Newsmax case heading for a trial. During the aftermath of the 2020 election, numerous Newsmax hosts (esp. Greg Kelly), contributors, and guests pushed election denialist conspiracy theories about the outcome.

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

The education of Aileen Cannon

July 16, 2024

ROBERT B. HUBBELL

Judge Aileen Cannon is not smart enough to come up with the idea of ignoring controlling precedent to hold that special counsel Jack Smith’s appointment violates the Constitution. Instead, she received not-so-subtle tutoring from six reactionary justices on the US Supreme Court who have signaled that judicial precedent has the binding force of fairy tales—“just so” stories to be invoked when convenient but otherwise irrelevant to the process of judicial decision-making. When precedent is meaningless, the law is rudderless, and we are reduced to judges running popularity contests or selecting random outcomes from a Bingo hopper. To state the obvious, that is not good for the rule of law.

On Monday, Judge Cannon gave Donald Trump a hostess gift for the Republican National Convention. She dismissed the federal indictment against him for unlawfully retaining defense secrets after the National Archive, DOJ, and FBI demanded the return of the documents. To achieve that lawless result, she ignored dozens of other decisions—including binding Supreme Court precedent, which previously held that appointing a special counsel is consistent with the Constitution.

Cannon dared to tell the Supreme Court that its prior acceptance of the validity of special counsel appointments was “dictum”—that is, unnecessary surplusage not relevant to the decision in a case. See Just Security, Judge Cannon Dismisses Trump’s Classified Docs Case: What’s Next?

As explained in Just Security, the Supreme Court upheld a subpoena by special prosecutor Leon Jaworski issued to then President Nixon. Although the Supreme Court did not rule on a challenge to the validity of Jaworski’s appointment in US v. Nixon, the Court did rule on the authority of Jaworski to issue a subpoena to the president. If the Supreme Court believed Jaworski had no authority to issue the subpoena because he was not validly appointed, it would have told him so. It did not. Rather, the Court ruled unanimously in US v. Nixon that the special prosecutor had the authority to issue subpoenas to the president—and that the president was required to comply with those subpoenas.

The justices on the Supreme Court who unanimously joined in the US v. Nixon opinion were Warren Berger, William O. Douglas, William J. Brennan, Potter Stewart, Byron White, Thurgood Marshall, Harry Blackmun and Lewis F. Powell. Several legal giants were included on that bench!

But Judge Cannon rejected the unanimous ruling of those legal giants in US v. Nixon and instead favorably cited the solo dissent of Clarence Thomas in Trump v. US—a case that involved the existence of a legal defense but not the validity of the special counsel’s appointment. None of the other reactionary justices joined in Clarence Thomas’s baseless dissent in Trump v. US in which Thomas claimed that appointment of the special counsel violated the Constitution.

Is Judge Cannon’s lawless decision good? Bad? Both? The answer is a qualified “Both.” Jack Smith has already announced he will appeal the ruling to the 11th Circuit. In a world where the 11th Circuit follows the law, it will overrule Judge Cannon and remove her from the case. That would be a good result.

But what will the Supreme Court do? In a just world where the Supreme Court respects the rule of law and its own precedent, the Court should affirm the reversal of Judge Cannon’s opinion. But after its gonzo ruling in Trump v. US, predicting outcomes in the Supreme Court is dangerous business. See, e.g., Robert Hubbell in this newsletter,

When precedent is meaningless, the law is rudderless, and we are reduced to judges running popularity contests or selecting random outcomes from a Bingo hopper.

 Moreover, Judge Cannon has ensured that the defense secrets case cannot be tried until after the 2024 presidential election. No matter. We are precisely where we were before Judge Cannon’s ruling: The courts will not save us. Trump will be held accountable only if Joe Biden wins the 2024 presidential election. We are not merely electing Biden; we are defending the rule of law.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[sephirthoughts]

Vincent's New Kid Just Dropped CH7: Back in the present, Nero, Sephiroth, and Cloud go to the grocery store.

rating: mature (for now) CW: implied/referenced incest

(right after Deepground Flashback Part 2. maybe i should start properly numbering these)

EDIT: I PROPERLY NUMBERED AND LINKED THEM YAYYY

🕷️🪽🥀 the Valentines 🥀🪽🕷️

Nero had never been to a grocery store, but he knew of them conceptually. Not that he had any burning desire to experience one firsthand, now, but Sephiroth made it clear he didn’t have a choice, and told him to go get ready. 

With as bad a grace as possible, he went upstairs and came back down again, dressed in some of the clothing the obnoxious blonde man purchased for him. In the face of Nero’s utter indifference and flat refusal to choose anything for himself, Cid had evidently decided the young man’s theme color would be purple, and made his selections accordingly. 

Thus, Nero now wore a dark-purple hoodie, black, acid-washed motocross jeans, purple converse high tops, and a black turtleneck, to hide the Shinra-made restrictive collar, which supposedly prevented him spitting out clouds of people-eating darkness miasma, or at least reduced the ability somewhat. 

“Ah-guh!” the hyper-alert noise machine announced, over the shoulder of the little blonde (as Nero uncharitably thought of Cloud, despite the fact that they were the exact same height), alerting everyone to Nero’s entrance. 

He shot the baby a glare, then his eyes fell on Sephiroth, and his lip curled. “Why do you look like that?”

“Keeping a low profile,” Sephiroth said tranquilly.

His boyfriend smirked. “Meaning, he’s the most famous war-criminal in the world. He can’t be seen in public looking exactly like his wanted posters.”

The hitherto silver-haired giant was dressed in his usual white v-neck t-shirt and black jeans, with the addition of a leather jacket, but his long hair had changed to jet black, and his eyes were now crimson, like those of the rest of the Valentines. With their coloring coordinated, Sephiroth’s resemblance to Vincent was downright unnerving. He looked even more like him than Nero did.

“Look at your brothers, Ollie. They're almost as pretty as you,” Cloud cooed to the baby, who gurgled and drooled about it.

Nero gave a ‘hmph’ and went to lean on the wall, with his arms crossed, unconscious of the fact that this was among his father’s most characteristic behaviors, and one highly recognizable to his associates. 

Cloud and Cid looked at Nero, then at Vincent, then at each other, and had to cover their mouths to stifle laughs. Vincent appeared bewildered and asked what was so funny, which only made them laugh harder.

Before the young men could depart on their errand, there was the ordeal of transferring the baby from Cloud’s arms to Cid’s, which took a measure of sleight-of-hand and trickery, and to which she took great umbrage. She made her displeasure known by turning bright pink from head to toe and howling like a banshee, despite Cloud’s assurances that he’d be back soon.

“Nero,” Vincent said, as the three young men walked out the door. 

Nero stopped and turned back sullenly, prepared for the highly unsurprising lecture about behaving himself and not harming civilians and blah blah blah. 

Vincent, however, failed to produce the expected admonitions. He only pushed something into Nero’s hand. It was a pair of dark-lensed sunglasses. Nero looked down at them and back up at the man, in blank perplexity.

“It’s bright outside,” Vincent said simply. “The polarized lenses help.”

Then he turned around and went back in the house, without another word. Nero stared after the man, as the door swung shut, muting the baby’s raucous wailing inside.

His vision went red, teeth clenched tightly and hand shaking, around the black sunglasses, as a big, ugly knot of pain and rage and other unidentifiable emotions surged up in his chest, choking him and making his eyes sting with tears. 

He wanted to smash the stupid things to fragments, hurl them at the door and scream curses at that man. Rip open his bleeding chest and force his so-called father to look at the mangled insides of the ruined creature he brought into this world, and then tore away from the only person in it that he’d ever loved. 

Then the cold reason of his dark side rose up, black flowing into red, and cooled the rage. Calmed the storm. Reminded him of his objective and the tasks before him. He needed to gain these people’s trust, if he was to get back to Weiss. Childish outbursts would only hinder his purpose. Patience. Patience.

“Nero, are you coming?” Sephiroth called out, drawing him from his ruminations.

Nero shoved the sunglasses onto his face, to hide his pink-rimmed eyes, and stalked gloomily to the vehicle. 

The little blonde had arrived on a motorcycle, but that was an impractical means of conveyance, for their errand, so the three of them were to drive to town in one of the many vehicles that belonged to the Valentine-Highwind household. 

This one was a small work truck, with a pickup style bed and cab that technically seated three. Technicality butted heads with reality, however, when Sephiroth was one of the three involved. 

Cloud was driving, since neither of the others had a license, and Sephiroth’s six-foot seven-inch frame was already pushing the limits of the truck's capacity, even in the passenger seat. As a result, Nero wound up packed like a sardine into the middle seat, between his ostensible elder brother, and his brother’s former-nemesis-slash-current-boyfriend. 

He very quickly began to suspect this was some method of psychological demolition. Because, if the entirety of the prison system had coordinated its efforts, it could never have contrived a more devilish torture for him, than this exact situation. 

Not only did Cloud drive like a lunatic, causing Nero to be constantly bumped and jostled about between the two, but Sephiroth kept reaching over him, to fiddle with the radio dial, simultaneously invading his personal space, and causing all kinds of disjointed snippets of songs to blare briefly from the vehicle’s speakers. 

Finally, much to Nero’s relief, Cloud smacked Sephiroth’s hand away. “Cut that out. I’m driving, so I get to pick the station. Besides, you have the absolute worst taste in music.”

“I do not,” Sephiroth contended.

“He does,” Cloud intimated to Nero. “He was raised on nothing but classical music, for optimum cerebral development, and now he’s taking revenge by soaking his super-brain in the most atrocious, top-forty pop garbage imaginable.”

“The music you claim to prefer is full of screaming, and instruments that sound like rusty bandsaws,” Sephiroth put forth. “I simply do not enjoy music with such an aggressive sound and violent themes.”

“Said the most violent man on the planet.”

They went on like this for the remainder of the drive, with Nero seething silently between them, his eyes squeezed shut behind his sunglasses (for which he was very grateful, now), and darkness tendrils stuffed into his ears, against their affectionate banter.

At long last, they arrived at the grocery store. It was a massive, fluorescent-lit, commercial monstrosity, that a corporation had christened Mid-Mart without a hint of irony. They paused, just inside the entrance, and Sephiroth tore the grocery list into three parts, handing a piece each to Nero and Cloud.

“We can get this done more quickly and efficiently if we spread out,” he explained. “Everyone take a basket, gather your items, and we will rendezvous at the Mt. Nibel Dew display, in thirty minutes. Understood?”

Cloud returned a jaunty salute, and before Nero knew what was happening, he was handed a red plastic basket with black handles, and then left on his own, in a grocery store full of innocent, unarmed civilians. Him. The known terrorist, official enemy of society, and former de-facto leader of Deepground. Like his custodians were mentally deficient. 

Luckily for them, now was not the time to make a move. He had his own plans, and no intention of playing his hand, just yet. Storing the sunglasses in his hoodie pocket, he studied the list of items, and began the daunting task of searching for them, in the glossy, chaotic fever-dream that was a modern grocery store.

Shopping was not as difficult an undertaking as had it seemed, at first blush. The aisles, though arranged according to no logic decipherable by man, were labeled with their general contents, and items tended to be grouped together with other, similar items.

Following this pattern, he quickly gathered the first several things. Next, his list had ‘maple syrup’ and ‘strawberry jam’ on it, which were in the same aisle as breakfast cereals and granolas, but not the peanut butter or honey. 

As Nero turned into the aisle, he encountered the little blonde, choosing canisters of something called ‘rolled oats.’

“Hey,” he hailed, as Nero approached. “Finding everything ok?”

“Yes,” Nero answered, putting a jar of strawberry jam into his basket. “It isn’t a particularly challenging task.”

“So, um. Sephiroth told me a bit about you,” Cloud ventured. “What happened with your brother, and all that.”

Nero’s crimson eyes flickered to his face, then away. “And?”  

“And…nothing. I’m just sorry you had to go through that. I know what it’s like to lose your only family member.”

Ugh. Concerned sympathy from a fellow griever. Nero was repulsed by this kind of thing. He knew how to shut it right back down, though. “Weiss is more than just a family member. He is my lover.”

“He’s…what?” Cloud asked, confused.

“Weiss is my biological half-brother. He is also my lover,” Nero said slowly, pronouncing every syllable clearly, as if defying Cloud to take issue with it.

Cloud balked, blindsided by his frank assertion. “Y—you mean…”

“Yes. I mean exactly that.” Nero narrowed his eyes and tilted his head questioningly. “Is me sleeping with my brother—the only person who has loved me and taken care of me, in my entire life—somehow stranger than you sleeping with the man who burned your hometown to the ground, and murdered your mother?”

Cloud’s golden brows lowered angrily, but he swallowed whatever sharp retort was on his tongue and took a deep breath, before he answered. “Look, I didn’t mean to come off like I was judging you. I don’t know about your relationship and it’s none of my business. I was just caught off-guard, is all.” 

“I'm not offended, I was merely illustrating a point,” Nero said serenely. 

“Which is?”

“The heart can be neither ruled by law, nor governed by reason. Thus, reason and law have no place in the dominion of love, which will reign over a man’s heart, one way or another—whether it is as a ruthless tyrant to a captive slave, or as the benevolent sovereign of a willing subject.”

Cloud blinked. “Uh…”

“Pickles.”

“Huh?”

“Pickles are the next item on my list,” Nero clarified. “Do you know where they can be found?”

“Right. The ones Cid likes are pickled cucumbers, in the refrigerated section, with the cheese and cold snack foods. The ones Vincent likes are Wutai-style pickled vegetables, which are in the international foods section, on aisle thirteen.”

For the briefest moment, Nero’s curiosity got the better of him and he paused. “Is he—”

“Half Wutaian. Grew up bilingual. That’s why everyone in the house speaks Wutaian. You didn’t wonder?”

“I don’t bother myself about what others are doing,” Nero replied, with a haughty toss of his head. “If learning languages amuses them, then so be it. It’s nothing to me.”

“Maybe you should try learning a little, too,” Cloud suggested. “It’s part of your family’s heritage.”

“Those people are not my family,” Nero said icily. 

“Yeah, sure,” Cloud snorted. “Whatever you want to tell yourself.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean you don’t know them as well as I do. Once they’ve decided you’re one of their own, they won’t ever give up on you, no matter how much you kick and scream. Trust me, I speak from experience.”

Nero gave a mirthless laugh. “Yes, well, thank you for the sage advice. If you have nothing further to add, I am going to collect the rest of the items on my list.”

With that, he turned on his heel and strode off, leaving Cloud feeling flustered and annoyed, and rather glad to be rid of the intractable, unpleasant young man, who seemed so much older and wiser than himself, but was actually several years his junior.

In aisle thirteen, where all the Wutaian foods were grouped together in one section, Nero found the pickled vegetables, without much trouble. To his exasperation, however, there were spicy and regular varieties, and no one had specified which was wanted. 

On the other side of the aisle, as he was deliberating, there was a woman near a partially filled cart, with a girl of around two years old, sitting in the child seat. The woman was talking on her cell phone, whilst perusing the products on the shelves, with her back to the child. 

As such, she failed to notice that the little girl had got loose of the safety restraint, and was reaching for something on the shelf, stretching her little hands out further and further, till all of a sudden, she toppled out of the seat, headfirst.

Quicker than sight, Nero’s darkness tendrils shot out and caught the small girl, just before she cracked her skull on the tile floor. He was setting her gently back in the cart, when the mother turned around and let out a bloodcurdling scream, dropping her cell phone and snatching up the child. The child, startled by the scream and being yanked around so abruptly, immediately burst out sobbing.

“My baby!! Help! Help!!” the woman shrieked. “This monster is trying to take my baby!!!”

Nero sighed and placed the jar of pickled vegetables (spicy variety) in his basket, now deeply regretting that he hadn’t just let the child fall and break its stupid neck. 

Meanwhile, footsteps came clattering from every direction, as the store employees, manager, security guard, and curious onlookers stampeded over to see what the commotion was. Fortunately for all of them, Sephiroth and Cloud arrived faster, and got between them and the extremely volatile bio-engineered weapon, in a purple hoodie.

“What’s—what’s going on, here?” the rather portly manager panted. “Ma’am, are you alright?” 

“He’s a monster!” the mother intoned, clutching the bawling child to her bosom. “He tried to snatch my Sally, right in front of my face! He grabbed her with these horrible tentacle things, like some kind of demon!!”

The gathering crowd turned on Nero, muttering and glaring at him, with open hostility and disgust. There were cries of ‘damn freak!’ and ‘arrest him!’ 

“Everyone shut up!” Cloud bellowed, in his rather impressive command voice, giving the manager and security guard (who were already sweating, looking up at the towering Sephiroth) a jolt. “Did anyone here actually see what happened?”

There was general murmuring from the crowd, but it was apparent that no one had. 

“I saw!” the mother said furiously. “I already told you what happened! Were you not listening?”

“Ah…ha. Let’s not be hasty, ma’am,” the security guard attempted, in a conciliatory tone. “Is it possible you saw wrong, or—”

“Why are you questioning me instead of arresting this man!” the woman interrupted. “Look at him! Look at his eyes! He’s clearly dangerous!!”

“Nero, what happened?” Cloud asked, while the manager and guard were attempting to soothe the woman.

“Didn’t you hear?” Nero sneered. “I’m a dangerous freak. I tried to snatch a baby with my monster tentacles.”

“That attitude isn’t helping,” Sephiroth told him, in an undertone. “If the police get involved and assault charges are filed, you’ll be in violation of your house arrest, whether you’re guilty or not.” 

“Fine,” Nero sighed, as if he was being sorely put upon, and pointed to the mother. “That idiot was on her phone, not paying attention to the child. It fell out of the cart. I caught it, before it landed on its head, and put it back. Then she started screaming nonsense at me and making a scene. In hindsight, if she’s going to raise it to be another fool like herself, it would’ve been better to just let it crack its skull on the ground, and end its misery.”

“How dare you!” the woman scolded. “You’re calling me liar and victim blaming?! And wishing harm on an innocent baby?!”

“Sir, this store has security cameras, correct?” Cloud asked the manager. “Shouldn’t a review of the feed clear all of this up?”

“Ah…ah, yes! In my office. W—we can look at the footage in my office,” the shiny-faced, balding man stammered, nodding like a chicken pecking rice. 

The woman tossed her head. “Hmph. I know what I saw, but fine. It’ll just prove I’m telling the truth.”

“Right this way, right this way,” the manager said, directing the involved individuals toward the back of the store. “Gerome, disperse the, uh…other guests, please? Thank you.”

The security guard waved people along, as the group followed the harried manager back to his office, which as turned out, was a rather tight squeeze, for five adults and a baby. Everyone wound up inelegantly clustered together, over the bank of monitors, while he scrolled back through the international foods aisle footage, to a few minutes ago.

The video showed the incident more or less as Nero described it, save for the fact that his darkness tendrils didn’t show up on cameras, so there was a bizarre moment when it looked as if the child stopped its fall and hovered in midair, then floated back into the cart, of its own accord.

“Ma’am, is that satisfactory?” Sephiroth asked, looking down at the woman, who was packed in between himself and the manager.

The woman’s lip trembled, and tears welled up in her eyes again. “I—I thought…I just saw tentacles grabbing my Sally, and this man with scary, red eyes. I can’t be blamed for thinking the worst, right?”

Sally, meanwhile, seemed to be enjoying all of the excitement, very much, and was busily yanking on Sephiroth’s long, inky-black hair, with both tiny fists. 

“Sally, no—we don’t pull hair,” her mother chided, gently prying the baby’s hands open. “Sorry about that, she grabs everything these days.”

“It is quite alright,” Sephiroth replied mildly. “My little sister is about the same age. I have to wear my hair in a braid at home, unless I want it all to wind up in her mouth.”

“Oh, I can imagine, with long hair like yours. That’s why I’ve cut mine short. It’s just easier that way,” she smiled, softening at finding common ground with another (sort of) parent. Then she hesitated, glancing awkwardly at Nero. “Look, I apologize for overreacting. We keep hearing these horror stories about people coming back from the frontlines deranged and with all these horrible mutations, and attacking people right in the streets. I lost my husband to the war, and Sally’s all I’ve got now. If I lost her too, I just—I don’t know what I’d do.”

Nero, however, was looking the other direction, studiously ignoring the conversation.

“All’s well that ends well, so there’s no sense in dwelling on it,” Cloud answered for him. “I’m sure we’d all just like to finish our shopping and get home.”

After the woman and baby had gone away, the manager apologized and sweated profusely, at the three gentlemen, for a few more minutes, and even went so far as to offer them a twenty percent discount on all their purchases today, by way of compensation for the trouble, though it looked like it cost him a pang to do it. 

“So. Your first foray out of the house, and you saved a baby from getting seriously injured,” Cloud remarked to Nero, as they drove homeward, a little while later. 

“I didn’t mean to,” Nero scowled, behind the dark sunglasses that he’d put back on, the moment they exited the store. “I acted without thinking. Needless to say, I won’t be making such a foolish error again.”

“Our father will be very pleased to hear of your good deed,” Sephiroth put in, looking exceedingly smug. “It seems you’re already making progress toward becoming a productive member of society.”

Nero crossed his arms disconsolately, shrinking down in the cramped middle seat. “I hate this stupid family.”

“It’ll grow on you. You’ll see,” Cloud chuckled, as he swatted Sephiroth’s hand away from the radio, yet again. 

NOTES:

Sephiroth picture: user screenshot by MrsPika with a mod for black-haired Sephiroth. No idea what they used for the eyes when ollie says "ah-guh" that's ollie for "er-ge" which is mandarin affectionate for "second elder brother", pronounced like "ahr-guh"

LINK TO CHAPTER 8

[marxistfurry]

Duckstation PS1 4K

To play PlayStation 1 games in 4K using DuckStation, follow these steps:

1. Download and Install DuckStation

Obtain DuckStation from its official website or GitHub repository.

Extract the files and set up the emulator on your PC. No installation wizard is required

2. Configure Video Settings for 4K

Open DuckStation and navigate to Settings > Graphics.

Adjust the Internal Resolution Scale to 9x, which corresponds to 4K resolution. If you have a lower-end PC, test lower resolutions first to avoid performance issues

Enable Texture Filtering (e.g., XBR for smoother textures) if your system can handle it

3. Enable Enhancements

Turn on PGXP Geometry Correction under the Graphics settings to fix texture warping and jittery animations common in PS1 games

Enable True Color Rendering to disable dithering and improve color depth

4. Optimize Performance

Select a suitable graphics renderer (Vulkan or Direct3D) based on your GPU capabilities under Settings > Graphics.

Enable V-Sync to reduce screen tearing if needed

5. Additional Tips

Use a controller for an authentic experience, setting it up under the Controller Configuration menu

Test games to ensure your hardware can maintain stable performance at 4K resolution (60 FPS is ideal)

These settings will allow you to enjoy PS1 games with enhanced visuals and smooth gameplay on