#(they fuck in the utility room regularly)

[ieropilled]

they have a consensual workplace relationship. goodnight

[sp0o0kylights]

I started writing an enemies to lovers Steddie fic that starts off as Tommy/Steve/Carol with this prompt except Im tired and I lost the plot lmao so instead let me float the images of:

Modern college town AU featuring frat president Steve, who's been convinced no one will ever really love him by his parents, his past relationships, and Tommy & Carol. The latter not only "date" him but regularly use him and his money by utilizing his self worth issues against him.

Hes barely scrapping by in class, kind of wants to pick up a side job to get out from under his parents financial thumb, and enjoys talking shit with his sort of new friend Robin at a retro vinyl store, but with Tommy and Carol reporting back to his parents/the frat he's not able to take up Robin's offer to work there with her.

The frat keeps him busy the rest of the time--he's a legacy, and several members are deeply entrenched into a competition against the other fraternities that frequently cause problems on campus due to their pranks, parties and general bullshit. Steve has to run shoulders with the college Dean and such a LOT to peace keep.

Eddie works at the major game shop across the road from the vinyl place, which helps pay for the automotive program he's in part time at the college. He runs all the D&D campaigns, including several for adults and kids. A lot of the events he tries to get going on campus get shut down as the school and police target him and the "scary kids" in a show of misdirected anger at the frats they can't touch without risk of losing out on their parents money.

Eddies particularly pissed at Steve after an infamous incident involving Eddie spearheading a pokemon go event that came into contact with some kind of frat beer run, which led to Eddie being wrongfully arrested.

Their enemies piece began with Eddie storming into Steve's frat, demanding he do something as he's one of the more influential presidents and Steve, goaded on by Tommy and Carol, refusing.

This is further cemented when Eddie finds out one of his favorite high school players, Dustin, is close with Steve and defends him constantly, refusing to elaborate much when pressed other than to tell Eddie that Steve used to watch Dustin a lot as a babysitting gig and he's a "really good guy under all the frat shit Eddie, seriously."

(Dustin does not elaborate that his mother was on the PTA with Steve's mother and that she clocked his parents abuse, and used the babysitting angle to get Steve out of that house as a kid, and Steve sees Ma Henderson more as a proper parental figure than his own parents.)

Throw in some light sub/dom dynamics, Eddie breaking into Steve's room as revenge only to overhear Tommy and Carol being downright vicious to him, and a "who did this to you" crying in the rain scene before the prompt line finally kicks in.

I wanted Tommy and Carol to be fucking gagging crying throwing up furious when Steve finally blows it all up, and for the fallout to be so insane for Steve that he ends up either starting his own frat with Eddie or throwing away his title entirely and having several of the not shit frat boys follow him out.

[killthewhisperingart]

Meet Me After Class

Pairing: Gym Teacher!Dean Winchester x History Teacher!Reader

Word Count: 790

Summary: Of course he's decided to bother you while you're grading papers.

Warning(s): Smut. Smut. Sex.

A/N: One of my friends challenged me to do this, so I finished this in one night. :3

I am an 18+ Blog.

You groan softly as you shake your head, marking another answer wrong on a students paper. You didn't understand, you had pushed the test back by a week to better help your students prepare, yet they didn't utilize any of the extra time correctly. You know for a fact that this student probably didn't know what class this was.

You knew once you passed these exams back, and your students saw their grades, you'd be their worst enemy.

You rub your hand down your face, popping your wrists before stretching backwards. Your back pops in a few places before you melt, dropping your arms and preparing yourself to get back to grading. A glance to the clock on the wall tells you that you've been in your classroom for an hour and a half since the final bell rang.

A knock at your classroom door startles you, a stray mark now on the essay question in bright red ink. You scoff, capping the pen before pushing out your chair, walking towards the door, your lanyard jingling with every movement.

Dean smiles, holding a bag of takeout. You look at it, before slowly dragging your gaze to his face, your hand on the door still.

"What's this?" You ask, your brows furrowed.

"Food." He says simply, stepping into the classroom. He's no longer in his usual Gym attire, having changed into his usual jeans and T-shirt, though the whistle still lingers around his neck. You think he probably went home, got food, and came back to work. "You know Food, right? You eat it." He teases.

You can't hold back your groan, rolling your eyes before going to your desk. He pushes the door closed behind him as he enters the room, jiggling the handle to confirm it's locked. You crash into your chair, and it rolls backwards. You take your lanyard off, tossing it onto the desk as you pick your legs up to set your feet on your desk, careful to not step on the papers.

"Thought we weren't supposed to put our feet on the furniture?" He taps your foot as he sits on your desk.

"We're not supposed to put our asses on tables either, but I'm not getting onto you about it right now." You snap halfheartedly, hand out as he puts a burger wrapped in tin foil onto your palm. Still warm.

He wastes no time in devouring his own burger, grease running down his fingers, no regard for the sauce on the corner of his mouth. You scoff out a chuckle, opening your own meal.

You both eat in silence, well, at least you do. He can't seem to stop himself from making obscene noises for his burger.

"You're always working," He finally comments, tossing the wrapper in the trash, wiping his face.

"Well, I actually have to *work* at my job, so." You grin sarcastically, tossing your trash at his face. He takes it in stride, catching it and tossing it into the trash.

"I work!" He defends himself.

"No you don't!" You guffaw. "You get paid to make students stay in shape, but you don't do the same."

"I work out regularly!" He points out. "My stamina is amazing."

"As if."

-

The desk is hard against your chest, your hands gripping the sides hard. The wood furniture scrapes against the floor harshly with every rough thrust from behind you. His jeans rub the skin on the back of your thighs as he fucks into you.

"What was that?" He asks, a cocky grin on his face as he positions his head next to yours. "What'd you say about my stamina?"

"Shut up-" You choke out, whining as you scrape your nails against the wood.

"I can't hear you." He teases, biting your ear lobe, tugging roughly. You almost squeal, but you clamp a hand over your mouth, knowing you couldn't possibly be the only two people left in the school.

He's so damn talkative, never knowing how to shut the fuck up and just fuck you.

You push yourself up, turning your torso to grab the whistle around his neck. His eyes widen as you jerk it forward to connect your lips to his. He eagerly returns your kiss, kissing you just as sloppily as he eats his food.

His thrusts turn sloppy, his chest stuttering with every shaky breath. His saliva drools into your open mouth, and eagerly you swallow.

His grip tightens on your hips, body shuddering one last time with three final deep thrusts. He stays seated within you, collecting himself, the whistle jingling as you let go.

"Fuck-" You mutter, kissing him one last time. "Maybe your stamina is fine."

"Just fine?"

"We'll have to test this again."

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 2/4

Read on AO3

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

CW: I mean, the usual ones for Vampire!AU's. I'll throw a warning for consent issues inherent in vampire fuckery in this chapter, though nothing sexual happens (and won't happen) under said vampire fuckery, and the intentions are, believe it or not, mostly pure.

A witch. An actual witch, here, in the middle of a gathering of the most powerful vampires for hundreds of miles.

An actual witch, who was apparently strong enough to weave a spell powerful enough to incinerate a vampire into a single word of command…and yet untrained enough that he didn’t realize he was in the middle of a den of vampires the instant he’d set foot on the premises. A witch who was old enough to have a job serving alcohol, yet lacked a familiar—at least judging by the way that Tommy wasn’t, you know, being savaged by some kind of random animal currently. A witch, alone and without the support of their coven—because there was no way in hell a witch this young would have been allowed anywhere near Gerrard’s estate if his coven was worth a single damn.

It didn’t compute.

The young man was still fighting like a wounded bear, trying to bite at the hand Tommy had over his mouth, muffling any further attempts at spells. He struggled fruitlessly against Tommy’s hold, his eyes gone so wide the whites were showing all around, his heart pounding like a jackhammer, the scent of his terror almost choking the room. From further in the mansion, Tommy could hear a cacophony of screams from the human victims Gerrard had brought in, overlaid by the loud laughter of the crueler vampires, the pounding of feet as the humans tried to run for safety that no longer existed.

Tommy had a decision to make.

They weren’t likely to be alone for long. Not everyone would be running their chosen meal down like prey…some preferred blood flavored by other things than fear, and would be utilizing their other talents to entrance and ensnare their victims, dragging them to quiet corners and rooms to ease them into a much kinder death than Gerrard and his cronies ever bothered with. And Tommy was in one of the quietest. With a witch.

If the kid had been fully human, Tommy might have been tempted to let him go. Shove him towards the still-open French doors and let him take his chances trying to get off the grounds. He probably wouldn’t make it—no doubt Gerrard had people patrolling the estate in case someone did manage to escape the mansion. But he’d at least have a chance. Tommy wouldn’t need blood for another several weeks, and he hated the way the humans at these parties didn’t even have a sporting chance to escape. He could’ve just let the boy go and gone back out into the main part of the house, done his duty by his coven in grabbing up some poor victim who had no chance of leaving the place alive and putting them out of their misery.

The kid—Evan, he reminded himself, his name was Evan—wasn’t fully human, though. He was a witch. And witch blood…

Witch blood was a fucking treasure.

A vampire who drank witch blood was damn near unstoppable until it wore off. The power in witch blood was intoxicating, addictive. There were legends of ancient vampires regularly ingesting witch blood in order to be able to walk in the sun again. Tommy had no idea if any of those legends were true, but having tasted witch blood a handful of times himself over his long life…he could believe it.

The properties of witch blood on vampires were the main source of centuries upon centuries of conflict between the two. Even now, in this modern age that had forced them into an uneasy truce to keep the secret of their existence, there were occasional eruptions of violence. A witch willing to let a vampire drink from them could ask for any price. To the point where allowing a vampire to do so without express permission of their territory’s high coven was grounds for instant banishment, if not outright execution. The high covens governed the exchange of witch blood with an almost religious fervor.

As a guest on Gerrard’s territory, Tommy was risking outright coven war by not handing this kid over to him right the fuck now. Every second he delayed put his entire family at risk. And yet…

“All right, Evan—it’s Evan, right? I heard you talking to your roommate. Listen to me. Your friend’s dead…or if he’s not he’s going to be very soon.” Tommy said urgently, staring into the witch’s eyes. He froze at the mention of his friend, a stricken look flashing through them, a few tears welling up before he blinked them back furiously. “If the coven master of this place figures out what you are, you will never see the light of day again. He’ll keep you somewhere no one will ever find you, and you’ll spend the rest of your life being his personal blood bank.”

Inwardly, Tommy shuddered at the thought of Vincent fucking Gerrard having free access to witch blood whenever he wanted it. Never mind trying to ally with Ortiz, he’d have every coven from Canada to Mexico bending to his every whim. He’d be able to drive anyone he disagreed with right out of their territory. Every single advantage Alonzo’s small coven had, everything that kept them safe, would vanish. Damn near overnight. No, Gerrard wasn’t getting his hands on this kid.

But Tommy couldn’t just let him go to take his chances getting out of here on his own.

And if he didn’t put in an appearance in the main part of the house soon, people were going to notice. They could not afford to be noticed right now.

“I am going to offer you a way to get out of this alive. I’m gonna take my hand away. You’re not going to try anything. You might take me out, but there’s no way in hell you make it through every vampire in this place on your own. You pretend I thralled you, and I walk you out. It’s gonna be fucking horrific in there, but you can’t let on you even notice. Afterwards…okay, I don’t actually know what I’m gonna do afterwards. But I won’t kill you, and I won’t cut your tongue out and lock you up in a basement somewhere. Believe me, kid, that’s a hell of a lot better deal than anything else you’ll get in this place. Okay?”

It was a plan born of desperation, the only thing he could think to do that didn’t involve just snapping the kid’s neck and stuffing the body in the trunk of Lucy’s car before running back in to put in some kind of appearance at Gerrard’s feast. That would be the easiest solution, honestly. Gerrard and his allies could not get their hands on Evan. If Tommy wasn’t willing to do exactly what Gerrard would do to the kid—and he wasn’t—then the most expedient way to deal with the problem was to kill him. Weirdly, though, Tommy found he really didn’t want to be the one to snuff out the light in those pretty, pretty eyes. He was rarely so sentimental over humans. He didn’t go out of his way to be cruel like so many others of his kind…but nor did he especially care about them. Something about this one tugged at him, though.

The witch shook in his hold, the terror of an animal that knew its only option was to start gnawing its own leg off gleaming in his eyes. Tommy could practically hear his thoughts racing in his head. After a moment, though, Evan gave a hesitant nod. Tommy relaxed slightly, easing back his hold on him. When Evan made no move to try and lunge away, he slowly, slowly took his hand away from the kid’s mouth.

A different word this time. Not the fire spell. Still in the strange, lilting language that brought forth hazy images of Latin mass with the now-faceless woman of his dimmest memories. Tommy’s ears popped, and a massive, invisible weight slammed into him from above, driving him to his knees as Evan scrambled away from him and sprinted for the French doors. The air itself seemed to have turned to lead, pressing Tommy down, down, down, crushing him into the floor.

It would have worked on a younger, weaker vampire. Probably would have pinned anyone else in the mansion besides himself and Gerrard helplessly to the ground. A human, and even some of the youngest turns, would have been crushed to death. As it was, Tommy lost a few precious seconds pressed to the carpet with an impossible, invisible weight bearing down hard on him before he threw himself to one side with a roar. The spell was localized, the weight vanishing as soon as he rolled away from the boundaries of it. He leapt to his feet and closed the distance between himself and Evan in a few mere heartbeats, catching the kid around the waist just as he was about to cross the threshold out into the gardens.

Damn it, he’d tried to be nice.

Before Evan could react, could call up another spell, Tommy swung him around in his arms and gripped his chin, forcing the kid’s eyes up to meet his, now glowing with ruby light. A soft surprised sound punched out of Evan, barely a gasp as Tommy’s not-inconsiderable will crashed over him like a tidal wave.

Evan fought. He fought hard, twitching in Tommy’s grip, struggling to choke out another spell word. It had been ages since anyone fought Tommy this hard, actually…he would have shaken Lucy’s or Ravi’s thrall off easily. Probably could have shaken off Sal’s. He might even have been able to escape Tommy if he hadn’t been so terrified, or had more than a few seconds to collect himself.

In the end, though, he went still in Tommy’s grip, the fight draining out of him until Tommy was able to let go of him. He swayed lightly on his feet, staring dazedly into Tommy’s eyes. And still, Tommy could feel his hold over Evan trembling…it was like trying to hold a rudder steady in a fucking hurricane.

Who was this kid?

Where was his coven?

“All right, all right, just relax. Nothing’s wrong. You’re not gonna care what’s happening, okay? Don’t worry about the spell. Understandable reaction, really, that’s on me. I would’ve done the same thing. Sorry about this, but it’s probably our best chance of getting out of here in the end.” The screams outside the room were growing fewer and farther between. He was running out of time, and fast.

Tommy hadn’t prayed in centuries. If there was a God, he’d abandoned the man who called himself Thomas Kinard now long ago. Still, he hoped as hard as he could that anyone who might care would be too caught up in a feeding frenzy to notice him trying to leave with Evan. Once he got him out of here…

Shit, he still had no idea where he was going with this. He just knew he couldn’t let Gerrard get his hands on Evan.

“Come here,” he said, slinging one arm around Evan’s shoulders and drawing him close as he turned back towards the hallway to the main part of the mansion. Tension rippled up and down Evan’s back before he sank back down into eerie calm. “There we go. Don’t fight me kid, this’ll go faster. What’s your name? Your full name.”

Forget hurricane. Holding onto Evan’s will was like trying to steer through a tsunami.

“Evan…Buckley,” the kid gritted out after a moment, struggling against the compulsion to give into Tommy’s every want.

He didn’t especially enjoy subverting people like this…sure, it made hunting an order of magnitude easier, but he’d seen his kind inflict terrible abuses with this particular talent. If he tried very hard, he could remember the guilt that had eaten at him when he was newly turned, every time he’d done it. Could remember thinking that someone he never wanted to disappoint would have been horrified at him exerting his will like this over someone who couldn’t fight back. Taking choices away from innocent people. He couldn’t recall the particulars, anymore than he could recall the face of the woman who’d taken his human self to church. But he still didn’t like it.

“I know, Evan, I know. This sucks for you, and believe it or not, I’m sorry. I meant what I said, though—I’m not gonna kill you. I don’t know if we can get out of here without putting on a little show, but I can control myself. I won’t take much. Put your arms around me. Act like you want it.” He didn’t like it—but he liked his alternatives less right now. Needs must.

Evan obeyed with jerky, hesitant motions, fighting him every step of the way. But he wound his arms around Tommy’s waist, burrowed into his side and leaned into him. The delicious scent that had been driving Tommy insane since he’d first happened on the kid wafted up around him in a cloud, and Evan was so warm. He let go of Evan’s shoulder to hook his arm around his neck, pulling him even closer as they entered the main living room, where most of Gerrard’s guests had been congregating.

In less than ten minutes, the room had turned into a fucking abattoir.

Bodies were strewn over the floor and furniture, many of them so savaged that chunks were missing from their throats, wrists, and thighs. Anywhere there was a major vein. Blood soaked the floors and carpets, the rich aroma nearly drowning out Evan’s smell. Dozens and dozens of vampires lounged on every available surface, those remaining victims that hadn’t already been slaughtered caught in their grip. Out here, no one was trying to be gentle or seductive…this was a fucking slaughterhouse.

Evan made a ragged sound in the back of his throat, trembling in Tommy’s grip, and he tilted the kid’s face up to look at him again. “Eyes on me, sweetheart,” he said firmly, tightening his grip when Evan’s feet slid in a puddle of blood and viscera. “Just keep your eyes on me. Nothing else is going on.” He felt the thrall become firmer, less shaky—shock finally driving some of the fight out of the witch.

He made his way slowly and confidently through the room, Evan stumbling along beside him like he was drunk, clinging to him like he actually did want to be in the circle of his arms, the enticing scent and warmth more distracting than Tommy was expecting. Deliberately, he guided them past a few of Gerrard’s turns who had obviously already fed, eyes alert for Lucy or Sal. Neither of them were usually one for violent kills, but Lucy was still young enough that it would be hard for her to control herself around so much free-flowing blood. He and Sal always kept an unobtrusive eye on her during these things. He had almost managed to make it across the room, almost made it to the door that opened up into another maze of hallways and rooms…hopefully he’d done enough to sell the illusion he was just looking for a little privacy to enjoy his own meal. No one ever expected him to join in the wholesale slaughter, and hadn’t for a long, long time. He had never been so grateful he had a reputation for leaving soon after the feasting was done…usually without saying any goodbyes.

Another ten feet, and he could sneak them out to the cars. With luck, he could have the witch back at their own coven compound before he managed to fight off the thrall and then…

And then he could figure out what he was going to do next. Ten more feet.

He should have known better than to hope it would be that easy.

“Oh come on, little brother. It’s rude not to join the family for dinner!” a voice sounded behind him, the mocking, sneering tone of it as familiar as his own name. He’d spent centuries with it ringing in his ears at every turn. Escaping it had been the greatest joy of his life. He came to a halt, his back ramrod straight, Evan still swaying and slipping under his arm, clinging to Tommy’s waist and plastered against his chest in false adoration.

He forced a neutral, polite smile on his face and turned around. “Gerrard.”

[ratgirlexe]

Beyond Citadel

CWs: Gun Violence, Death, Gore, Incest, Body horror.

Beyond Citadel is a beautiful indie boomer shooter style FPS. It's gunplay is fantastic, it's story is esoteric, and it's atmosphere is beautiful. It's a great game and I highly recommend it with some very heavy caveats. It is a game that leans into the ultra violence inherent to the act of killing someone with a gun, and as such it's a game that comes with some pretty heavy Content warnings. While I feel some other retro-inspired FPS games as of late have also leaned into this idea of hyper-violence, (ULTRAKILL springs to mind) there's a certain grainy grit to it that I really enjoy that other games lack. ULTRAKILL, for all of it's blood-is-fuel ultraviolence rarely leans into what that sort of violence looks like in reality. In contrast, Beyond Citadel is *gruesomely* aware of what it looks like to hold a gun to someone's head and pull the trigger. It revels in this fact. The girls in this game are highly "gib"-able and as such you will regularly throw a grenade into a crowded room and after it explodes walk into a room full of viscera and half-dead women panting or gurgling on their own bloom, many of whom are now missing limbs. It does so with a delightful PNG aesthetic that is both wonderfully simple, and extremely detailed. If you shoot one of these PNG soldiers in the arm, their arm will be blown off, shoot them in the head and you'll punch a hole in their skull. Playing this game feels like the way reactionary talking heads discussed the dangers of violent video games in the aughts. Playing this game feels like being a cat playing with a dying rat. It's wonderful! I love it. But beyond this the game is just extremely fun to play. Shooting and reloading a weapon in this game feels like porn in every sense of the word. While some milsims might have more detailed mechanics for jamming/loading/unloading/fixing/repairing guns, Beyond Citadel allows for a degree of control that feels accurate and realistic, without being so bogged down in the details of how every individual part of the weapon goes together. Reloading takes three separate buttons, each of which represents a unique aspect of the reloading process. For some guns, reloading is as simple as loading a bullet into a chamber, some are significantly more complicated, involving a set 5 button-press combination of inputs. This might sound finicky and difficult to manage, but in the midst of combat it allows for a degree of panic when a gun randomly jams, or you're forced out of your comfort zone. This also adds a level of balance to some of the stronger weapons. Easy-to-use weapons might have simple reloading mechanics, while powerful heavy weaponry requires a significant amount of inputs to reload, but can blow most enemies away when they have ammo.

An anecdote on this topic that endlessly delights me, is the fact that at one point I managed to fully jam the AMR by accidentally reloading it's magazine with an open chamber and a bullet already loaded. This meant that the bullet in the open chamber couldn't be slotted, and since the chamber was open I couldn't fire. I had to take out the full magazine, close the chamber, fire while the magazine was unloaded, then reload the magazine to actually utilize the weapon, and the fact that this is simulated so accurately continues to blow me away. In any other arcade-style FPS this wouldn't be possible, since reloading would either be automated or simplified to a single button press but even so, the fact that you can fuck up your weapon that badly just by reloading it improperly is a really beautiful bit of programming to me.

But those are still really just the tip of the iceberg, as there's a lot going on in the deeper levels and the story that I want to discuss as well! This will be veering away from the format of a game review and into a short essay on my thoughts, but I'll keep the spoilery bits below the cut.

So. Beyond Citadel is weird, right? Like. The vibes are fantastic, but ultimately the story it's telling is pretty contemplative which is in stark contrast to the ultra-violence that is the gameplay. This can be seen in the simple music choice, which is largely soft piano tracks (with the occasional bit of upbeat electro retro goodnes) which make the game almost peaceful as you blow through swarms of demons and gun-wielding girls. It lends itself to a really beautiful experience, which leaves you almost in a trance as you progress through the game, even as the *act* of what you're doing is gruesome and awful. In my mind it mirrors the way in which the Martyr is progressing through the story. She's not here for the killing, even as every other NPC begs her to kill and kill and kill, she just... does not care. She's not here for that. She'll do it, yes, because she has to, but there's an air of indifference that really lends to that feeling of being a force of nature. This is increasingly explicit as you get deeper into the game, killing demons almost as an afterthought. Early on you're ducking behind cover, taking potshots at grunts and picking enemies off one by one, but by the end of the game you're nearly unkillable, even on the hardest difficulty. At a certain point the game just gives up on the idea of having lives entirely, and that's great! It's fun to see a game that is so willing to break its own rules for what the game *is*.

And then you beat the game. You kill the last demon, and that's that! The goal given to you by basically every character is complete. You kill the final boss, and that's that. It's a fine fight, and the level containing it is *genuinely* a bit cruel, but at that point you're so kitted out that even when the game is being unfair you can blast your way through most of your problems with ease.

And then the game gives you a fucking wall-run.

It gives you a wallrun *after* you beat the game, which is used in no other part of the game, but the epilogue.

It's truly a beautiful amazing thing, and I was genuinely floored. After such a delightful, fun game, it feels like a flex by the developer to have what would be a mainline mechanic in basically any other game, included essentially as a little bonus flair on top.

If this game was not made by a solo developer, if it had a publisher that was dictating what could and couldn't be in the game, this decision would never be made. It's genuinely insane to put your coolest power up in a handful of bonus levels at the end of the game, and not even allow for it to be used to break earlier levels in new game plus. And that led me to consider more on how *none* of this game could really have been made with significant publisher oversight, or as anything but the vision of one person who clearly loves guns and loves retro FPS games.

Much has been said by the developer about how this is *NOT* a guro fetish game. How this is *NOT* a porn game that freaks *DEFINITELY* should not get off to. And while I get where the developer is coming from (plenty of Japanese games are labeled as "fetish art" just because they feature anime style women), I do think there's a reason that my guro-fetish loving ass enjoys this game. Maybe the developer doesn't view it as fetish art, but when the girls are panting on the ground, gurgling on their own blood and you get to stomp their lights out, or put a bullet in their brain, or chop them up until their guts come out, it *is* pretty delightful.

But none of that would be possible with a publisher lording over the game. Hell, I don't even think the gunplay mechanics could get put in a more mainstream game that wasn't advertising itself as a tactical milsim.

Because this game is risky! It's niche! It's a small game where you blow pretty anime girl's brains out with guns that feel like glossier adaptations of real life weapons. Clearly a ton of love went into this game, but ultimately that descriptor just isn't going to fly with most audiences. Most people who like "violent" video games like games where there's a bit of blood, or you can chop peoples arms off and its a bit red inside. Most people do not want a game where when you die your guts come spilling out and you get to watch in your final moments as a giant spider creature tears your body apart until all you are is a severed head above a ribcage and spine. Most people who like FPS games like the feeling of shooting a gun without having any conception about what that actually entails. They like when you press R to reload and a gun has a good spray pattern or whatever, not when you have to actively unload the last chamber, and manually put in each bullet, and pull the handle on your SMG and your guns jam and sometimes you reload it wrong and your gun is out of commission until you do a 5 step process to fix it. Most people who like games with rich narratives like games where the story feels like a sweeping narrative, not a game where the story is patched together from different esoteric things people tell you, in which the story largely revolves around the fact that the main character and her little brother fucked. While this game is fantastic, it's just not a game for most people. I have several friends I love to recommend games to, and even then there's only one of them that I can *actually* recommend the game to, because a third of them will be put off by the scantily clad women, half will be put off by the gore, and the rest probably just wouldn't enjoy the gunplay or style of game that it is.

And that's okay! That's great! I'm just so glad that I played it, because this game feels laser targeted to me specifically, and it's a game I will be thinking about and replaying for a very very long time to come.

[chweverni]

Mate (pt.3) - what are we?

pairing; joshua hong x reader

synopsis; joshua asked you to keep a promise like no other. lately he's been too mushy and kind to you, or are you just too into this? he really left you wondering, what are we?

word count; ~1.4k words (new milestone!!)

author's note; i wanna thank @minhui896 for their huge support in this series aaa >.< im new to writing on tumblr so your comments and reblogs really make my day!! read part 2 here!

-

it's exam week right now. during this period, you normally shut off any kind of distractions and tend to study alone at most times, so you've been using that as an excuse to ignore the obvious bump in the road, joshua hong.

you two met up regularly after his birthday either at cafes, museums, the art room, math club, while going home (even though he lived on the opposite side of the city), arcades, you name it. and gradually, you realized that, your just a crush isn't just a crush anymore.

but we won't blame it on you though. joshua's been sending you really mixed signals lately. he would leave your favorite drink in your desk, along with cute notes which read, 'keep up this energy all day y/n! you got this :)' or 'is it just me cuz you look really bothered today? what's up?', which made your tooth rot pretty bad. because, how can someone keep up with being this adorable?

you suddenly decided it's best not to indulge in him for too long, because if you don't do well in the finals, your scholarship may be withdrawn, which you could not afford to lose.

your finals soon ended in a breeze, and the results came in pretty early. since it was just the homeroom period, you decided it's best to utilize this time to go check on the rankings. just this once. you thought to yourself as you shut your eyes hard while standing in front of the leaderboard. you felt the presence of someone else behind you and soon, some large hands covered your eyes.

"someone's checking up on their progress, i see?"

joshua. you sighed a sigh of relief. "don't ever jump up on me ever again! i will end you," you said, feeling his hands, in an attempt to nudge it away from your eyes. "care to explain why you've been m.i.a like for three weeks, y/n? do you have any idea on how worried i was? i thought you took yeon-du's attitude to heart!", joshua hurriedly said, and once again, you could see the pout on his face, even with your eyes shut. you turned around and removed his hands off of your face.

"why do you care for me so much?", you asked, and fuck, your heart felt like it was sinking. you hated how down bad you probably looked to joshua right now, but what's been done has been done. you stared at him with marble eyes. "because i do, y/n.", joshua replied, cupping your face with his hands, inching ever so close to you. you backed away, but the stupid wall hit your back. no where to go now.

"what are we?", you asked, grabbing one of his wrists with your hand, lifting it off your cheek. a tear made it's way down it right after. joshua looked at you intently. he halted for a moment, and then said, "that's not how you ask someone out, you dummy."

before you could even open your mouth to say something, he grabbed your shoulders and turned your body around to face the leaderboard. "oh look! miss y/f/n y/n placed first in the class! congrats love," joshua spoke, the last nickname being a smooth whisper to your ear.

what the fuck? you turned around just to see him walking away. you quickly paced to him and jabbed your hand in front of his body to stop him. "what did you just do?!", you asked, your blood finding its way all up to your cheeks. joshua flashed you a smile, handing you a torn piece of paper as he said, "you still owe me a wish, y/n. and you have a lot to make up for the three weeks of absence, remember? meet me here at 5 today!"

the paper had the address of a local restaurant, and well, how can one resist good food with a good friend?

-

you waited patiently at the table, tapping your nails on it to cure your boredom. what could possibly go wrong today? you thought to yourself. what if this is all just a stupid high school dare that joshua's been forced to do? what if, that was just his evil twin who tricked you into thinking that joshua, might, have the hots for you? while you busied yourself with those thoughts, joshua sat in front of you, smiling at your zoned out state.

"hi! i would like to talk to y/n; is she back from the underworld yet?", joshua spoke, as he slid a pink box towards you through the table. you flinched and grabbed the box to open it. it had a bracelet, with cute bunny charms in the middle. cute. you thought. "hello joshua! you didn't need to do this though, but did you make it yourself?", you asked him, your stomach releasing a thousand butterflies at the thought of wearing something your crush made for you.

joshua nodded. "i picked up this new interest recently, and i wanted to make one for you after i saw the bunny charms! reminded me of you.", he smiled. you couldn't hold your obvious smile back too, so you faced the ground, a bright red blush adorning your face. joshua chuckled. "what would you like to eat? we can take a walk near the beach afterwards! that'd be so fun!", joshua asked. you picked up the menu and voiced your orders to him.

while eating, some of the sauce stuck to the corner of your lips. you were telling joshua about why you weren't online for three whole weeks but you were interrupted by him wiping the sauce off of your face with a tissue. you nearly choked at the gesture, which left you coughing like crazy. joshua handed you a glass of water, as he softly rubbed your back.

you both decided to pay together, and headed outside towards the beach nearby. as you walked, your eyes landed on a small stall, selling cream buns. you absolutely loved cream buns. being unable you dragged joshua by hand towards the stall, asking for two right away. "my mom used to get me these as a kid; i still love them now! ah! i missed the smell so bad!", you squealed with excitement.

now it was joshua's turn to feel all mushy with love while he saw you absolutely devouring the food. you looked like a kid who was denied all her sugar rights by her mom. how can someone be this adorable? he questioned.

-

taking a walk in the beach had never felt this romantic. joshua agreed to take a few pictures of you on the beach, and you did the same. you both played with the seashells you collected and heck, you wondered if this was a date.

the sun was setting, and you were sat on the sand, your head laid on joshua's shoulder. "is this a date?", you asked, out of the blue, as you turned your head to look at him. "did you even confess to me, y/n?", joshua asked playfully. "forgive me for thinking you were gonna ask me out today.", you huffed crossing your arms and distancing your body away from him. he wrapped his arms around you and scooted you closer to him. "let's try this one more time, yeah?", he said.

"y/f/n y/n, will you go out with me, pretty please?", he asked, booping your nose with his index finger, his eyes forming crescent moons as he smiled.

"yes.", you replied short, inching your face closer to him, making your foreheads touch.

in no time, his lips crashed into yours, and your body felt like levitating. it finally happened. your crush likes you back, your scholarship was in fact, not withdrawn, and, thanks to your sweet boyfriend, both of you were made the new representatives of the math club. talk about relationship goals.

back to the kiss. it felt magical because he grabbed your hands and squeezed it tight in the midst of the kiss. and that made you lose your mind. you broke the kiss and hugged him tight. "thanks for today, my now-boyfriend, joshua hong!", you said with a smile.

-

back home, you decided to check up on your instagram. joshua had posted a few photos. as you swiped through the photos, you felt a sense of pride, cause you took them, obviously. but the collection also had your photos with him at the restaurant, which you thought was adorable. and the best part, the caption read,

proper date next time? @(your u/n)

let's just say your dopamine levels were really high all night.

-

ASSHSHS you've reached the end!! i hope you liked this final part. pls send me support as always <3

all creds to @chweverni only on tumblr!

[krakenshaped]

Nothing boring about having your projects clearly named! what is couch about tho? :0

Brjskhdkqjdna if I don't clearly name them I'll lose them cause I play a lot of dnd and have so many docs in my drive (too many I need to gut my Google docs so baaad)

Couch is about Manjoume going to therapy and lamenting being unemployed LMAO I wrote it at the beginning of this year and never really did finish it (I got a big chunk of one shots collecting dust like that)

I'll grab a snippet for the funny 👇

"Therapy was one of those necessary chores, you told yourself in an attempt to coerce yourself into going every two weeks. Kind of like cleaning your room or paying the gas bill or walking the dog. 

Jun doesn't have a dog. Nor does Jun pay his gas bill or clean his room or even clean himself regularly. He does go to therapy though. In some sort of strange, hopeful way that therapy will somehow fix his problems and give him meaning to his life, or… Something. At least it somewhat helped him stop thinking so much. 

Perhaps 5 years ago from now, he wouldn't have expected to see himself in this place. Y'know, he thought by 21 he'd be doing something important with himself. He'd be in the pro leagues, all sleek black suits and shiny cars, a name that people knew - no respected.

It would be plastered on billboards, on advertisements, on shining lights. Manjoume Thunder. Not just Manjoume, youngest of three or Jun, duel academy's second biggest crackpot but something more. 

Maybe he'd even have a girl by his side. 

Maybe that girl would Asuka.

But he's not in the pro leagues. He's not in a fancy car. He's not even in his bedroom back home - wherever home is.

He's on Tenjouin's couch. 

He's been on Tenjouin's couch for around a year now. The lead up to that was a rollercoaster ride. Turns out after the world almost ends multiple times and you literally die and are brainwashed into joining a cult all while studying for midterms, you don't have a lot of patience for your shitty fucking brothers - who are both pretty mad that you're back at their mansion and not a baby Seto Kaiba. But then, Manjoume remembered, hey, I'm not 15 years old, I can defend myself now, and honestly, he could only last a couple of months having to butt heads with his brothers over any and every miniscule issue.

God forbid he breathe without somehow getting paid for it. Those assholes thought he was some sort of living cookie clicker for shitty card games.

So he did what most young adults with a brain do when their shitty, rich, totally not abusive brothers slash guardians are completely unbearable to live with. He stole Chosaku's credit card, took all available money out the account and used it until it was frozen. 

Which was totally fine. For like. A year. All he needed was enough money to survive on until he could get a job and start living for himself. Easy. Right? If everyone else can do it surely he can. I mean. How bad can it be? He just needs to pay for his rent right?

Ah, but. He also needs to feed himself.

Hmm… He also needs utilities to make that food. Not to mention to pay for aircon, I mean it's pretty fucking hot in the Kanto summers. You expect him to not have ac? He's also gonna need a computer to type up his job applications… and then an internet connection to submit those job applications… 

Internet is how much a month…?

You have to pay what for a TV license???

At least he lasted the year.

Which to be honest. Is more than he initially thought after he crunched the numbers. He doubts anyone else would be able to survive in these conditions. If there's one thing Osiris dorms taught him is that you can survive anywhere in this world with wits quick enough and your brothers credit card. However that didn't really last forever. Jun didn't think there was anything more difficult than finding an affordable living that doesn't compromise his luxurious taste, until he realised he has to convince people he's worth employing.

People ask for so much. He had no idea that the assholes that run the workplace could be so demanding. They want you to be qualified but apparently the ever-so-lofty PhD in dueling isn't a valid qualification and even if it was they also want you to have experience - the places that don't need experience want you to be young so they don't have to pay you a full wage and to top it off you have to answer every question correctly. That includes the small talk. Don't forget, they also want you to be able to drive because how else are you supposed to be here at 6 and finish at 9 when the first bus in the morning is at 5.59, and forget it altogether if you have anything else going on in your life, because even the most flexible of jobs will knock you back if you have additional commitments.

And so it took him back to Tenjoin. Because who else in this world is his backbone if not Tenjouin Fubuki? Who else will swaddle him in linen cloth and hold him to his bosom like the holy child if not Tenjouin Fubuki? His guiding light. The brother he never had. The harbinger of all knowledge and wisdom this world had to offer- 

"I'm glad you have a support system that's so reliable, Manjoume-san, however if we can loop back to the topic? We were talking about the Society of Light."

"Oh. Right."

[finalgirlkateausten]

📚

ANOTHER DAY ANOTHER DRAMA

A 1960s Succession shivlina AU ~ 897 words ~ rated E

pinterest ask game

Shiv paces, barefoot on Roman's stupidly ornate carpet in his stupidly ornate sitting room. She knows her brother, and doubts he ever uses this room. It's all the height of luxury and simultaneously not his style at all. Still, his staff keeps everything clean, and she sinks her toes into the soft, thick carpet as she runs her hands over the back of the velvet couch. She's antsy like she gets when she smokes with Kendall, and she's done this enough times that she shouldn't be, but the whole situation is anxiety-inducing and she can't stop worrying that this time will be the last straw and, perhaps worst of all, her set-up requires her to trust her brother.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the front door opens noisily and she hears Roman yell down the long front hall. "Shiv! She's here! Pay me!"

Shiv pulls her white slip down as if she can make it fall below mid-thigh and grabs a wad of bills from her purse. Roman is halfway down the hall when she steps out, an annoying grin on his face and his arm around the waist of a tall, shapely brunette. Shiv hands him the money and he steps away from the woman as if he's been burned, bowing ridiculously to them both and then passing Shiv to exit out the back door, probably off to enjoy his own deviant sexual escapades.

Thirty years old, and Shiv can't pay for her own fucking prostitutes.

It's just a risk she can't take, like the clubs she'd frequented in her youth that she'd had to abandon once she obtained a husband who would question her whereabouts. New York is a big city but a small world, and enough of her father's associates utilize these sorts of services that she can't risk word going to the highest bidder that Logan Roy's daughter beds women semi-regularly.

Karolina slips her hand into Shiv's with a mona lisa smile, and as soon as they touch Shiv's anxiety fades away. She pulls Karolina into her even as Karolina tries to lead them back into the sitting room, and they end up kissing against the door frame. Shiv crades the back of Karolina's head so that she doesn't bang it on the wood, eager to muss her neatly-styled bob.

"I've missed you," she says, breaking the kiss with a smile.

Karolina's eyes flash as she returns the gesture. "I've missed your daddy's money."

"You are terrible," Shiv breathes, her voice getting husky at the zest in Karolina's rebuttal.

Karolina pulls her leg over her hip, rucking up Shiv's slip and sliding her hand under the hem of her panties. "Mhm? Then what does that make you?"

Shiv kisses her viciously for a few more minutes, until she can feel her pulse dizzy in her head and banging against her chest and hot in her cunt. Karolina's hands are everywhere, but her touch is too much and not enough all at once, and Shiv doesn't know what she wants and thinks maybe she doesn't-- can't-- want this, not right now. If she wanted someone to fuck her hard just to give her an orgasm and be done, she wouldn't pretend to be asleep by the time Tom got to bed.

"Lina," she gasps, the nickname a necessity born of her empty lungs and not truly an endearment, "let's move somewhere else."

Karolina just looks at her, with her dark eyes and slow smile. She runs her finger down Shiv's neck until she's pulling at the neckline of her slip, exposing the red trim of her red-and-white lingerie. "Whatever you want, Siobhan."

Shiv hadn't told her her full name until their third meeting. She hadn't expected to like it, in such an intimate but theoretically detached way. And then she had.

To be honest, this isn't as detached as she'd hoped either. There's a lot of things she hadn't expected about Karolina.

"You're a work of art, sweetheart," she coos as she leads Karolina into the sitting room. "Let's get you out of this dress... I wanna see all of you."

Karolina smirks over her shoulder at her as Shiv pulls the zipper down. "Well, maybe you should get undressed too.

Shiv drops Karolina's dress to the floor and obeys, removing her silk slip to show off her flattering ensemble, stark and clean with trim almost matching her hair.

Karolina is in an all-black set that feels much more severe, and it takes Shiv's breath away. She lifts herself to sit on Roman's chessboard, pieces scattering. A king rolls off the table and comes to a rest at Shiv's feet. She steps over it, placing her hands around Karolina's wrists and kissing her deeply. She sinks to her knees, watching Karolina's dark eyes flash as she moves her hands from her arms to her thighs.

"Please let me," she says softly. "I need to."

"That's what I'm here for," Karolina purrs, cupping Shiv's cheek and tilting her chin up so that they're making eye contact. The hanging lamp is giving Karolina a halo, a reddish-orange light thanks to Roman's absurd fixtures. Karolina's nails dig into Shiv's skin a bit as she finishes her sentence. "...to give you what you need."

When she lets go, Shiv buries her head between Karolina's thighs until she's able to forget about the outside world entirely.

[zmwrites]

Trick or Treat!! 👻

(Event Post)

Hellooo this is very late but Halloween is a state of mind so I'm still going to reply :)

I am going to share a very fun snippet from CAMRR WIP, aka the moment when Maeve's weekend goes entirely tits up.

“Maeve?” Rachel shouted from somewhere downstairs. Their bedrooms were on the second floor, there was a kitchen and small living space on the main floor, and the basement was mostly unfinished aside from the laundry and utilities.

“What?”

“Maeve!” This time her name was accompanied by the thunder of footsteps up the narrow steps. Rachel burst into her bedroom, eyes wide and phone so close to her face that the screen was almost touching her nose.

“Rach, we’ve talked about knocking. I could’ve been naked,” she said. She spritzed some product on her hands and worked it through her hair.

“As if I haven’t seen you naked before.” Rachel looked around the room and grabbed Maeve’s phone off her bedside table.

She frowned at her in the mirror. “Can I help you?”

“Did that Charlie guy give you his last name? Or tell you what he does for a living?”

“He said he worked in public relations. Why?” She turned just in time to watch Rachel unlock her phone. “Why do you know my password? What are you doing?”

“You’ve had the same password on your phone since the eighth grade,” she replied. “And I’m setting all of your social media accounts to the most private setting available.”

“Again, why?”

“Because shit is about to hit the fan.”

Just then, Rachel’s phone buzzed and Haley’s face popped up on caller ID. Haley was the third member of their trio that had been friends since elementary school, except she’d chosen to stay at home after high school, gotten engaged to her high school boyfriend, and had welcomed her first child a few months earlier. It was a very different path than Maeve and Rachel had chosen, but it seemed to suit her well.

Maeve snatched the phone from her dresser and answered it. Haley’s face filled the screen, her brown hair tied on top of her head and her mouth pinched with concern. “Haley, what is wrong with Rachel? She’s taken my phone hostage and won’t tell me what’s going on.”

“You didn’t get my texts?” she asked.

“I just stepped out of the shower and now Rachel—”

“You’ll thank me later,” Rachel said. “Do you have any socials you’d consider deleting completely?”

“What?”

“Rach, show her the article.”

“What article? What is going on?” Maeve demanded. She barely used most of her social media accounts, preferring to use them to keep up with the friends and classmates she’d lost contact with over the years instead of posting updates herself. The only one she posted on regularly was Instagram, and that was usually just photos of her and her friends.

“Trade?” Rachel offered, holding her phone out. Reluctantly, Maeve obliged, happy to have her own phone back in her hands but still confused. “Read your texts.”

Maeve opened her messages while Haley gently chided Rachel for freaking out. She’d only missed a handful of texts—her parents and younger sister Adrien discussing groceries in their family group chat, a notification that her phone bill was due, and then whatever was in the group chat with Rachel and Haley.

Haley: Don’t judge me for reading trashy magazines but Haley: Link - Check Out This Article From The Snapshot Review! Haley: Doesn’t this look like Maeve? Rachel: Looks like Home Slice too?? Rachel: Oh fuck Rachel: I think that IS Maeve

Maeve clicked the link, insides twisting into knots. Why would there be a photo of her in The Snapshot Review? It was a celebrity gossip magazine—heavy on the gossip, light on the actual reporting. Almost everything she’d seen from them had been inflammatory clickbait.

The webpage loaded. Sure enough, there it was: a photo of her and Charlie from the night before, sitting in one of the back booths at The Home Slice. She was laughing, half a slice of pizza in her hand. He had his head in his hand and was gazing at her with a softer smile than she’d noticed the night before. It was from later in the evening, after he’d taken his blazer off, and looked like it was taken from outside the window of the shop.

“What the fuck?” she whispered. 

Her eyes went to the headline: Brittany’s Prince Charles Steps Out With Mystery Redhead for Romantic Dinner; No Sign of Girlfriend Colette Bachelet.

“What the fuck?” she repeated, louder this time, and sank into her desk chair before her knees could give out.

And now you all know where the second R comes into CAMRR - cheesy ass modern royal romance.

I hope you have enjoyed this fun (and late) little treat!

[the-haunted-office]

What the fuck is up with the food situation in the Office? Does food spontaneously appear/ can it be conjured by those like Doom? Does anyone actually *need* to eat if most of them are all, uh, different beings? Is the fact waved away by the Narrative as an inconvenience? Do the residents/living guests simply starve and then respawn, or do they die frequently enough to never be hungry? (I'm not even going to ask about where the restrooms are, that's never important to a story, of course!)

What the Fuck is Up With That?

Glad you asked!

Most food in the Office is spawned in by Doomsday! That's right - the Office's biggest pain in the ass is single-handedly keeping everyone there fed, including all the guests who despise her. :p

Doomsday also regularly goes out and steals food from places. No, she does not feel bad about this. She can't perfectly replicate all food, since the way the food she spawns in tastes is based on her memory of the food. If she doesn't know what something tastes like and she spawns it in, it's going to either taste like nothing, or it will taste like what she thinks it tastes like. So sometimes, she will go out and find a specific food item so she can try it in order to be able to accurately replicate it, or just to have the real thing in the Office.

They do have other sources for food, though - including the vegetable garden that is kept by Timmy (one of the Office ghosts). Timmy loves gardening, and actually spends most of his time out there. He grows an assortment of veggies, including some of the weird, local veggies that evolved during the time the Office was stuck in a black hole. So things like stop signs, that are actually types of vegetables, and also headstone fungus - which is a type of fungus that grows on top of dead bodies - those are all things that Timmy can gather from around the area and bring to the pantry.

To answer some of the other questions, yes, the living folks do need to eat. Cyrus, Aurora, Thursday, Doomsday, Stanley, they all need to eat in order to stay alive. Granted, if they didn't eat, they'd die and respawn, but starvation is a terribly unpleasant way to go.

Cyrus and Aurora, being Nightcrawlers, can technically go outside and eat other things other than the food in the Office. They could go eat tree bark and grass and sticks if they wanted. They have a much wider diet allowance than humans do.

As for the ghosts, they do not need to eat. They can eat, but the food just falls right back out of them. Eating is more of an aesthetic for them. September can't taste food at all. Timmy can very faintly taste things, just enough to remember that he's dead. It's very upsetting to him, to the point where he just avoids food altogether, except to grow it in the garden.

Also glad you brought up the restrooms, because yes, they are in the Office - all over the place! There are the standard employee restrooms spread throughout the building, as well as individual restrooms that have been installed in some of the offices that were converted into rooms for the people who live there.

And speaking of restrooms - that's also in part how Dorian eats! That's right, human waste, in part, feeds living buildings. The waste is collected underground and used much like compost. Living buildings are, after all, similar to plants and trees. They also utilize trash and other decaying matter like food scraps and carcasses and such. Living buildings can subsist on a wide variety of sources, and many of them come from humans, hence why their existence alongside humans is largely symbiotic.

[rodolfoparras]

Yeah I'm pretty sure it's her little brother but it could be her cousin??? Idk I zoned out when MeiMei was on screen😒 I'm genuinely so mad I thought MeiMei and Utahime were gonna be in a cute lesbian relationship D: but no Gege had to be a weirdo😔💔

In black butler, there is also a reaper that has a whole ass push lawnmower as a death scythe and i???? How the fuck does he use that??? Like if he has to kill someone how does that even work?

Undertaker is the reaper with the most normal weapon because it's a scythe😭 William has some like long as pruner tool??? Idk I've noticed the reapers seem to have a theme with gardening tools but not all of them do. Also the dude with the lawnmower apparently has a girl he flirts with that helped get his lawnmower and Grell's chainsaw approved.

I know cupids typically look like angel ish but I really wanna give my oc some like white horns with soft pink designs :0 still feathery wings, big and fluffy!!! He ruffles them when angry and flaps them when really excited !!! Also he doesn't make people fall in love, just helps them. :3

!! And I'm glad you like Venus's design :33 I wanted him to look strong but he has a little chub on his stomach after he's been in the party for a bit!!! He's eating better and more regularly and just taking care of himself. The thick thighs and body hair was a must🙏 big hairy men with a little chub??? 😍😍😍😍 I hate drawing clothes though so he will not be given any at the moment

-🌱

The fact that her cousin/ brother is a little kid too💀💀 or at least he looks to be a child 💀

LAWNMOWER? I assume it’s saved for the worst kinds of people 😌 I mean keeping it on theme sounds fun and inventive but I know if I had been in the writers room when these were suggested I’d be cackling😭

The ruffling of feathers when upset sounds so cute and flapping when excited even cuter imagine how he must melt when someone gently strokes rhem😭

I love when characters are strong and chubby!! It’s literally the best combo but it’s rarely utilized also I can understand why you hate clothes I don’t think I’ve drawn a single piece of clothing in my 20+ years of drawing 😭

[thechroniclesofahotgirl]

Someone Get Freddy Out of the Microwave

Chronicles of a Hot Girl week 3

Mercury remained in the microwave for another couple of weeks.

With a full moon, a lunar eclipse and cinco de mayo, this Hot Girly opted for a weekend of rest. 

“As she should.”

By week three of microwaving Mercury (band name idea) I was depleted, defeated, and regularly depressed. 

The show was a heated mess and I was starting to spin out. 

Being a Hot Girl is truly a state of mind. It is not about how many dates you go on. It's not even conventional attractiveness. It is one hundred percent about being That Bitch. 

Taking life by stride, the ability to self sooth, identify and communicate your needs. A Hot Girly utilizes healthy coping mechanisms and works through their emotions. These are the hall marks of a Hot Girl. 

Sometimes though, in life we are the ex that comes back during a retrograde. 

I should be embrassed how quickly I answered after B messaged me. I had spent the last 3 days debating whether or not to message him. 

How you ask?

Typing up messages in snapchat and then copy and pasting them into the notes app on my phone. 

After the third day he had enough of being notified that I was typing only to not see the message. 

“I know you didn’t care that’s why I don’t ever actually send these messages.”

Maybe it is the anxiety. Maybe it is the delusion? Perhaps it is the unintentional gaslighting. If we are being honest, on both of our parts.  

Either way. He asked what was up. I called him, he called me, I messaged him, he messaged me. Then it was 3 am and I was wrapped up in his arms on the couch singing with him like our own depressing little karaoke night. It was something we were good at. 

We are on borrowed time for sure. I want there to be a way to fix that.

It didn't hit until I was in his bathroom at 5 am and noticed all the extra and new products lined up neatly on the rack in the shower and the pile of scrunchies on the bathroom sink. 

“When do you think you’ll make it official?” I asked him while he laid out naked and drained of life. 

“Probably soon.”

I calmly got up, grabbed my shorts, and made my way down the hall. 

It's a fucking miracle I can make my way around in the dark without breaking anything. 

As I get in the car I cry. The moment I had been holding my breath for since we picked up again in January is close. I thought I would be used to it 9th time around. 

B messaged me the next morning. I guess waking up without me there was jarring.

Let us just chalk this up to what not one but 2 psychologists deem as a form of self harm. If I say that out loud enough times it could possibly, maybe, hopefully sink in. 

So, how do we learn to take life by stride? 

 I always think back to when I first started learning how to compete in pageants. You really think you know how to walk until you’re about to walk across a stage in 4-6in heels for the purposes of being judged. Like actually judged for your grace in walking across a stage. 

My mother had used to get on to me for dragging my feet, so I was under the impression I had nailed that already. Or at least enough to keep her claws out of my arm. 

Alas, though simialry to an ugly ducking blossoms into a swan as did I. 

I forget the power a great walk can have. The affect grace and poster can have on how an entire room sees you. 

After a long week, I was having one of my trademark anxiety attacks. Everything fit wrong. I felt like the air wasn't working like it should. I categorize anxeity attacks a little differently from my panic attacks as the effects are all internal and somewhat scaled down. 

One of my friends was sitting on my bed as I told the 3rd person today what had transpired the night before and carefully (like a feral raccoon digging for a lil snaky snack) chose the perfect bright lacey corset top to juxtapose my light wash shredded shorts. 

The reaction varies from person to person. One says the relationship sounds like self harm. My boss thinks I should just be honest about my feelings. The last is honestly just living for the plot. 

We get to the *gasp* country bar, and from the moment I open the swinging door I can feel every head snap in my direction. Maybe that is because I did open the door a little aggressively and pop the trash can on the other side of it by accdient. The little swinging door looked heavier than it was. 

I cut through that place like butter. As I glide up to the bar, I can still feel eyes on me. 

The only two people I am there with are the only two I know. A perfect environment to dance and have a carefree time. Homeostasis achieved.  

For whatever reason though, it never seems the stars alligin in such a way that for me to spend too much time there. 

Not long after arriving to the country bar, I am back in my enclosure. The lavender and clary sage candle helped my little sunset light illuminate my room.

There is a lot I would love to be able to say to B. 

I spent a long weekend just trying to survive the annual hallmark reminder of my childhood trauma. I did my best to sEt MySeLf Up FoR sUcCeSs. I went to work, didn’t drink, even tried to water and feed myself. 

“I woke up for the first time in 6 months in a good mood for once.” Played on an ADHD loop for the better part of my Sunday morning. I went for a mile and a half walk which was short for me. I wanted to leave enough time to get ready for work, get my coffee and so on. I also had an 8 hour shift ahead of me. 

Getting to work with enough time to smoke it out with my coworker. She tries to be nice, but I know she doesn’t like me much. The shift is peaceful. Slow in my line of work isn’t the best financially speaking, but it is a lot easier to not have a mental breakdown if your job isn't activly giving you a reason to drink. 

The bartending industry by no means is making anyone do anything they don’t want to do. Now if you haven’t had the privilege of working behind the pine, it is likely you also don’t know the pleasure of taking a warm shot of lemon vodka after someone brings up your suicide attempt from 2020. (I know. Who didn’t have one that year?) 

So for me to not partake in the roaring twenties that is working on 7th ave because my mental state isn’t great is really monumental for me. I might have slipped when Andor came in for a hug, but I didn’t sleep with him, so that doesn’t count. 

Sunday night was also the night I let everyone involved in the show know that my child (my burlesque show) would be temporarily suspended. I felt like I had fired people which is so odd because literally nothing got done outside of me. 

Still it felt shitty. I wasn’t even mad. Just disappointed. 

The show must go on. On it will go. The show will live in August complete with a new band, new location, and new ideas to make the approprate show to kick off a production company. 

Someone took Freddy Mercury out of the microwave on the 15th which was a Monday. 

I woke up with $50 in my bank account, no show, no fun traumatizing situation-ship, and generally no idea how I was going to make the next few months work. If there is anything you should know about me, is I am a figure it out along the way kinda girly. 

No confidence? Fake it and if all fails just be kind. No money? Money jars and grab a shift or a gig. No love? Ha. Boys (girls) and Buses, baby. 

Until next time. 

[ere-the-sun-rises]

On the toolkit thing, here's some more pointers:

Dollar stores have tools, usually of decent quality too

Get an all-in-one screwdriver if you can find one

Get robertson head screws (square hole) in 1 1/2" and 2" - robertson screws are easier to install and remove than flat or philips (star/cross) heads and the screwdriver itself doesn't strip as quickly

Electrical tape - not only for cords, but for plumbing and other non-permanent/non-damaging items

Polyfilla and a putty knife can fill almost any hole in drywall and don't require any sanding to make even if you're careful

Caulking fills gaps really well, and bathroom caulking is also water and mold resistant

Spray foam is a cheap and effective insulator for gaps in the walls (just be careful bc that shit is hard to get off)

An adjustable wrench and adjustable pliers (specifically vice-grip curved jaw locking pliers) can solve nearly any issue

Toothpicks and wood glue effectively fill too-loose holes in cabinets. Pack toothpicks dipped in wood glue tightly into a hole, let it set for 24 hours, then come back and cut the excess away with a chisel or boxcutter. You will now be able to re-screw your cabinet door on.

Wood glue can fix most wooden furniture, but may need to be clamped/strapped in position (the tighter the pressure, the closer it will bind)

Pipe cement can stop leaks in outflow pipes (so long as it's allowed to cure)

Other unrelated tips:

NEVER fuck with your electricity. ALWAYS pay for that to be fixed professionally. Same with gas lines.

Plumbing can be fucked with, but don't try to replace whole sections of pipe without knowing what you're doing.

Rugs are superior to carpet. A lot of them (especially mats and runners designed for bathrooms) can be run through a washing machine. They are also easier to replace.

Windex and vim can clean basically everything in your house

Replace your furnace filters regularly (at least once a month if you have animals)

If your windows are drafty/cold in winter, there are plastic sheet kits in hardware stores to seal them up.

Linoleum is a (relatively) cheap and easy-to-usr flooring material that can cover hideous tile or splintering wood.

Cheap glassware is superior to plastic. It doesn't deform or stain and is microwave safe (sometimes even oven safe).

Make sure you know what runs on what electrical breaker

If more than one thing is powered by the breakers that control your furnace or electric stove, get that fixed IMMEDIATELY

Use soft white or yellow coloured light bulbs in rooms you just hang out in (like living rooms/bedrooms) and clear/bright white for utility rooms (bathroom/laundry/furnace rooms/kitchen). It reduces strain on your eyes.

Humans need greenery for our mental health. Put a little plant in each room.

If you're strapped for cash or time, don't buy anything in white. Opt for coloured clothes/sheets/furniture/paint bc it's way easier to maintain and hides dirt better

Mattresses need to be off the floor so they don't grow mold and can regulate your temperature better

Invest in good pillows you can machine wash.

Frozen and canned vegetables are just as good as fresh ones

Cooking roasts from frozen keeps the moisture in better than letting it thaw

You can do a lot with garlic plus and margarine

Real wooden furniture - even second-hand - is always superior to particle board furniture. It lasts much longer, is easier to repair and can be refinished if necessary.

Thick-bottomed stainless steel pots will last you a lifetime - if you have the money for a set, they're well worth it.

Dollar stores have glasses, utensils and poreclain dishware. If you're in a pinch, they're good and sturdy.

If you have a yard, invest in a mitre saw (for tree branches), an iron/steel spade, a metal rake and a metal snow shovel (if necessary) - all with wooden shafts. Plastic gets brittle through the cold. Also, a good bucket never goes awry.

Shop vacs can vacuum up water and medium-sized debris if the filter is removed.

For sandpaper, the lower the number, the more aggressive the grit is. Higher numbers produce finer sands.

things i wish i had known when i escaped my family household and couldn't ask my parents for help

invest in a good mattress early on. there are many other ends you can save on - sleep is not one of them. this is key to how much energy you'll have throughout the day

you don't need a bedframe but you do need a slatted bed base (even if it's just pallets)

opening a bank account is easy

there's youtube tutorials for everything. how to install your washing machine, how to use tools, fixing stuff around the place. channels like dad, how do i? are a godsend

change energy provider as soon as your old deal runs out. you'll get better offers elsewhere and avoid price gouging

assemble a basic first aid kid at home: painkillers, probiotics, alcohol wipes, bandages, tweezers, antihistamine tablets - anything you might need in a pinch

and an emergency toolkit: flashlight, extra batteries, a utility knife, an adjustable wrench, multi-tool, duct tape

set your fridge to the lowest temperature it can go. the energy consumption is minimal in difference and it'll give you +4/7 days on most foods

off-brand products are almost always the same in quality and taste, if not better, for half the price

coupons will save you a lot of money in the long run

there's no reason to be shy around employees at the bank/laundromat/store; most people will be happy to help

vegetarian diets are generally cheap if you make food from scratch

breakfast is as important as they say

keep track of your budget in a notebook or excel file - e.g. rent, phone and internet bills, food, leisure so you'll have an overlook on your spending over the months

don't gamble

piracy is okay

stealing from big stores and chains is also ethically okay

keep medical bills and pharmacy receipts for tax returns

also, file your tax returns early

take up a hobby that isn't in front of a screen. pottery, music, going for a run every now and then, stuff that'll keep you busy and sane

and most importantly... you're allowed to get the stuff you want. treat yourself to the occasional mundane thing. a good scented candle. a bath bomb. that body lotion that makes you feel like royalty. the good coffee beans.

you're free and you deserve to be happy.

[writer-updates]

Sebastian Knight

Chapter 11 - Sebastian

Pacing in my study, as I waited for Deigo, what was taking him so long. Today was a close call, I've never been that scared in my life. Seeing the fear in Liliana's eyes scared me, yes this life we have is dangerous.

Hearing the door open, I looked to see Deigo walking in, "Where the fuck were you?" I was hoping Liliana didn't hear me.

"I'm so sorry boss, I was trying to find more on that asshole who was chasing you and Liliana," Deigo replied.

I rubbed my forehead, as I stopped paying and looked at Deigo. I am forever grateful for his service, we've been friends for almost 13 years now.

Deigo and I headed out of the office as we talked only for Mrs Scott, my housekeeper came out of the utility room. We startle each other.

"Mr Knight - I didn't see you there." 

"Hello, Mrs. Scott."

"I heard what happened, are you and Liliana okay? It's been a while since you have been here," she commented.

"Yes we are fine, thank you. And yes it's been a while, I decided to bring Liliana here, so we can hide out for a few days. Thank you for looking after the place."

Mrs Scott nodded and smiled, "Would you like to run through the menus for the week?" she asked.

Right, menus, when I used to live here regularly I would have Mrs Scott do up menus for the week.

"Not at the moment, I may run by Liliana later what she would like for dinner," I replied.

Mrs Scott nodded and left without saying another word.

"I want you to find him Deigo, no matter how hard it takes. I want to know who it was. If you see anything sent it through" I spoke.

"Of course boss, but I have to say Liliana was a badass today. Her first chase and she handled it like a pro."

I couldn't help but smile, "She did amazing, I'm honestly still proud of her."

She is definitely not like her parents and Savannah, in fact she was much, much more than that. I was crazy about her.

"Alright, I will head out now and start getting Marcel to work on whatever we have. I will get him to contact you when he has something," Diego replied.

Nodding my head, I shook his head before giving him a bro hug. Thanking him before I headed back to my office and took a seat.

****

Not bothering to knock, I heard someone walk into the office. Looking up, I could see Liliana. A concerned look was on her face but I was on the phone with Marcel. I looked annoyed but not by her, not at all.

"So you can't enhance it further?" I asked, staring at the computer screen infront of them.

I was trying so hard to see whom it mat have been but the photo was blurry and Marcel can only do so much with the software he has and a lot of cameras are old.

I heard Liliana walk over to me, her feet quietly scraping the wooden floor. I turned my chair to face Liliana. I was looking at her confused wondering why she was in here.

Liliana said nothing but crawled into my lap, my eyebrows shot up in surprise. 

Her arms wrapped around my neck and cuddled into me. I wrapped an arm around Liliana keeping her close to my chest.

Missing half of what Marcel was saying, "umm.. yes, Marcel, sorry. Could you hold on for one moment?" I asked not waiting for a response as I cuped the phone with my shoulder. "Liliana, what's wrong?" I was concerned for her.

She shook her head in response, like she was afraid to speak, gently tipping her chip up, I gaze into her eyes. Liliana pulled up her head from my hold and tucked it beneath my chin. Curling up more onto my lap. Smiling softly, I wrapped my free arm around her tightly and kissed the top of her head.

Today was an eventful day for her, "Okay, Marcel. What were you saying?" I asked.

Wedging the phone once again between my ear and shoulder typing away on the laptop. A grainy white CCTV image appeared on the screen again. A man with dark hair and he was wearing a black shirt and jeans.

I pressed another key, and the man walked towards the camera, but his head board. I was able to freeze the fram to see him standing in a white room with what looks like a long line of tall and bulky black cabinets to his left.

"Okay Marcel, one more time."

The screen springs to life. A box appears around the head of the man in the CCTV footage and suddenly we zoom in. I could feel Liliana sit up on me once again, she seemed fascinated by it.

"Is Marcel doing this?" Liliana ask quietly.

"Yes, Marcel is really good at this," I answered. "Can you sharpen the picture at all?" I asked Marcel.

The picture blurs, then refocuses moderately sharper of the man consciously gazing down and avoiding the CCTV camera. As Liliana stares at him, a chill of recognition sweeps up her spine. There is something familiar in the line of his jaw. He has scruffy short black hair that looks odd and unkempt . . . and in the newly sharpened picture, Liliana sees an earring, a small hoop.

"Sebastian," I whisper. "That's Thomas White."

Her ex?! 

"You think?" I asked, surprised.

"It's the line of his jaw." Liliana points at the screen. "And the earrings and the shape of his shoulders. He's the right build, too. He must be wearing a wig - or he's cut and dyed his hair."

"Marcel, are you getting this?" I place the phone down on his desk and switches to hands-free. "I cant believe its him, actually him," I murmured, sounding none too pleased. 

"Yes, boss. I heard Liliana. I'm running face recognition software on all the digitized CCTV footage right now. See where else this ass**le - I'm sorry ma'am - this man has been within the organization."

Liliana glances anxiously at me, who ignores Marcel'a expletive. He's studying the CCTV picture closely"

"Why would he do this?" Liliana asked me.

I shrug, honestly I knew, so I could help her calm down. 

"Revenge, perhaps. I don't know. You can't fathom why some people behave the way they do. I'm just angry that you ever were involved so closely with him." My mouth pressed into a hard, thin line and his arm encircles Liliana's waist protectively.

"We have the contents of his hard drive, too, sir," Marcel adds.

"Yes, I remember. Do you have an address for Mr. White?" I say sharply.

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Alert Welch."

"Sure will. I'm also going to scan the city CCTV and see if I can track his movements."

"Check what vehicle he owns."

"Boss."

"Marcel can do all this?" Liliana whispered.

I nodded and gave Liliana a smug smile, I only ever hire the best for a job with me. If you fail to impress me, you are out. 

"What was on his hard drive?" Liliana whispered.

My face hardened and I shake my head. "Nothing much," I says, tight-lipped, his smile forgotten.

"Tell me."

"No."

"Was it about you, or me?"

"Me." I sighed.

"What sort of things? About your lifestyle?"

Shaking my head, I placed my index finger against her lips to silence her. She scowls at me, but I narrowed my eyes at her telling her to hold her tongue.

"It's a 2006 Camaro. I'll send the license details to Welch, too," Barney says excitedly from the phone.

"Good. Let me know where else that f**ker has been in my building. And check this image against the one from his SIP personnel file." I gazes at Liliana skeptically. "I want to be sure we have a match."

"Already done, sir, and Liliana is correct. This is Thomas White."

I could see Liliana smile as she was told she was right. I couldn't help but chuckle onside while I rubbed my hand up and down her back.

"Well done, Liliana." I smiled, to Marcel I say, "Let me know when you've tracked all his movements at HQ. Also check out any other GEH property he may have had access to, and let the security teams know so they can make another sweep of all those buildings."

"Boss."

"Thanks, Marcel." I hung up.

I looked at Liliana again, my eyes lit up with wicked amusement, "Well, Lilliana. It seems that you are not only decorative, but useful, too."

Liliana scoffed, "Decorative?" teasing me back.

"Very," I said quietly, pressing a soft, sweet kiss on her lips.

"You're much more decorative than I am, baby."

I grinned widely before kissing her more forcefully, winding her braid around my wrist and wrapping my arms around her. When we come up for air, we are both breathless.

[colorcodedbeanies]

S1E7-"A No-Rough-Stuff-Type Deal"

They look like a Youtube thumbnail. I hate that I miss this sometimes.

Pretty much everything about the cold open does my job for me in plain text. The (extremely subtle) "Meth=Death" sign. The way the stories about Hugo have already spiralled out from "possession" to "drug dealer" to "meth kingpin" to "feeding all the students LSD". The parents demanding to know why a guy with a record of marijuana possession was even allowed to be a janitor, and one mother in particular protesting that he was arrested in front of her daughter. Again, criminals aren't just people who have done wrong. They're a different class of humanity altogether, one that should be kept far, far away from nice regular people. The parents are so distressed at even the possibility of drugs in proximity to their children that they start throwing out extreme security measures: drug-sniffing dogs, metal detectors, locker searches, even strip searches. Obviously, the school does not implement these measures. But its extremely telling that these parents are willing to subject their children to, functionally, human rights violations in order to prevent them from touching drugs. A prison, if not by name then by function, is preferable to a junkie.

In the middle of all of this we have a non-repentant, extremely turned on Walt making most of the words I've spent on analyzing the relationship between crime and eroticism pointless when he fucks his wife ten feet from a cop car and tells her it was so good "because it was illegal". Walt is riled up by the fear and the confusion left in the wake of his crimes, by outsmarting the room and getting off apparently scot-free. He does not, it seems, particularly give a fuck about the innocent brown man that takes the fall for his crimes. What matters is that he, brilliant middle class white guy, is deceiving everyone around him and no one suspects a thing

He bounces from that to buying off Jesse's fear and trauma to enter into a business arrangement he is decidedly unprepared for. Walt scored a big victory with Tuco, and its empowered him to make plays that are more likely to get him killed than anything else. As Jesse says repeatedly, they make a lot of bad choices that would've been easily avoided if Walt had bothered to ask about things like where to host a drug meetup, what's a standard business arrangement for things like a loan, and how do we get our resources to make our product. He does some brilliant problem solving in this episode, but it wouldn't have been necessary at all if he hadn't gotten overambitious with a guy he knows is prone to beating people up. The unspoken assumption Walt has is that crime can't possibly be that complicated. His low opinion of junkies carries over here. There shouldn't be anything someone like Jesse does regularly that he can't pick up instantaneously. This rubs up majorly against Tuco's apparent insecurity around being perceived as stupid.

Bouncing to Skyler's plot, first of all, Walt describes the baby shower as "a day that's finally just about Skyler". This is pretty equivalent to buying your wife baby diapers for her birthday. Sure, she definitely benefits from it, but its a far cry from the day being "about" her. This is where the Marie-Walt parallels start to buildup, however. Much like Walt can't help but make Skyler's existence about himself and "his" children, Marie seemingly can't help but make Skyler's baby shower about herself with an absurdly expensive tiara. Both have a tendency to utilize her as a prop for their own ego. More on this in a second, I have to talk about the Hank scene.

Hank and Walt have a long conversation about legality and substances. Walt, clearly still attempting to rationalize his own actions, points out how fluid substance regulation laws can be, as well as attitudes around those regulations. Hank's a DEA agent and doesn't see a major issue with sneaking Cuban cigars. They both drink beer without question, even though the action would've been illegal during Prohibition. Hank doesn't really have an answer, derisively pointing out he sounds like the guys he's locked up for pot before reflecting that "some stuff used to be legal that shouldn't have been. Like meth...thank God they came to their senses on that one huh?" What neither party does in this conversation is really step back to address the WHY on why these substances should be a legal. They don't discuss addiction, harm reduction, or medical issues and severity. Its just a gut instinct conversation, with Walt functionally contemplating if anyone should care about lines of legality and Hank implicitly defending the status quo for the sake of it. Oftentimes a white middle class view of the law has less to do with right and wrong, and more to do with the code as written down.

Back to Walt and Marie parallels. So this episode marks the start of Marie's kleptomania subplot, a subplot that is so frequently understood and is a lynchpin of this analysis. Kleptomania is not a very well understood disorder. But notably: its an impulse control disorder. Functionally, it is a literal addiction to crime. Within the wife of the cop we manage to bring together both our themes of how we handle crime, and how we handle addiction, all in one fell swoop. Its frankly elegant. This is going to be an ongoing plotline and I'm going to have a lot to say about this as we see how she manages (or fails to manage) this disorder, and specifically how Hank understands and responds to it. Two things are worth drilling in on here though:

Skyler seems unaware of the condition, meaning either Marie developed it into adulthood, or Marie just successfully hid her shoplifting habit from her family in childhood. She approaches Marie as though the theft was done on purpose to embarrass her, or just out of basic obliviousness from Marie about anyone other than herself. This is a tone that gets taken with Jesse a LOT, especially by his parents. There's an assumption for many that addiction is a self-control issue, that the addict simply does not care about the consequences to them and their loved ones enough to stop. Whether or not she's currently cognizant of her having an impulse control disorder, Skyler penalizes her in the same way, assuming all of this is done intentionally. And its important to note: whatever issues with self-absorption Marie can often have, her kleptomania isn't something she's doing on purpose. She's not doing any of this to hurt Skyler, or Hank, or anyone else caught in the spiral of it. At the end of the day, the one who always suffers the most from addiction is the addict themselves, and losing sight of that is missing the forest for the trees.

Marie and Walt compartmentalize what they do in roughly the same way. This is made explicit when Walt feels called on to defend her (in a wildly disjointed manner that frankly should've got him caught a little sooner) and then asking Skyler what she'd do if he'd done something similar. Both functionally refuse to think directly about their actions, and when forcibly confronted, immediately reposture as a victim. Marie demands to know why Skyler would return her gift in the first place. Walt will eventually scream again and again at Skyler that he's doing this for the family. Both tend to throw up ingratitude as a retaliatory accusation to accountability.

This is all brought back around to that theme of legality vs morality. Walt has apparently decided to cope by deciding that any action done "for the family" must be inherently moral, with legality being something that can be altogether ignored. To people like Skyler and Hank, legality and morality are still for most intents and purposes synonymous. Thus, much like Jesse can't effectively argue against Walt's abusive boss strategies, they can't argue against Walt's actions in a way that makes him feel like he's actually doing something wrong. That failure of communication, to me, is functionally the essence of this season, and what makes all these character studies so fascinating to do.

[angelsndragons]

okay since folks really like my original cockroach party post i’m going to expand a bit and talk about how and why the mighty nein turned into a cockroach party.

but before we do that, i’m going to talk about mechanics on this post. warning: long post ahead.

first, let’s define terms. all adventuring parties find their own play style when it comes to combat. from my experience, these tend to fall into three broad categories that i am calling the glass cannon, the control, and the cockroach. to be clear, no one party style is better than another; the players and characters simply have different priorities and skill sets.  

glass cannon: these parties are built for doing damage. that’s basically it. they do damage and hope that they kill their enemies before their enemies kill them. these parties tend to be low on support casters, healers, or both. round 4 is where things start to get really rough for these parties and chances are good that if the fight has gone on this long, someone’s at least unconscious.

control: these parties tend to go around obstacles and enemies. there are a million ways to do this; for example, these parties can regularly avoid conflicts all together via stealth or charisma or some other check. when forced into combat, they excel when they have plans or traps to spring on opponents. they struggle a bit but ultimately triumph because they have a myriad of ways to not get hit or they are able to escape and lose their pursuers. 

cockroach: these parties don’t engage in combat, they endure it. their goal is to outlast their enemies via healing, support, and tanking. you hit them? joke’s on you, they don’t care. unlike their glass cannon counterparts, round 4 is where things turn around for the cockroach party. they’ve dug in and are starting to push back.

vox machina is a quintessential glass cannon party. part of that is simply down to player availability; ashley their cleric worked across the country so that made it tough for her to attend on the regular. but. the party technically still had a primary healer who could have stepped in and filled that role: keyleth. druids are pretty dang good healers and support casters, even moon druids. however. marisha and keyleth decided to instead take a dps and tank role similar to grog. this ain’t a diss either so don’t any of you all start anything, especially considering keyleth was often burning her higher slots just to get vm to different places. when keyleth was tanking in wild shape and focusing on dps, it meant that vox machina was reliant on: vex’s cure wounds (and with her being a half caster, you weren’t getting a lot of mileage of it), scanlan as the only support role, and later vax’s lay on hands for emergency healing. percy could heal himself a bit if things got really dicey, grog was taking half damage from most attacks, and the twins could hide as a bonus action or stay at range out of the way. in fact, most of vm had some method for staying at range and letting grog and keyleth tank. and this style worked for them for the most part. their biggest dangers were always the longer fights, with or without pike. longer fights meant more chances for these fragile kids to get hit and possibly drag out the fight even longer by trying to get someone up.

the ashholes from exandria unlimited is a great example of a control party. i count half of their encounters which they’ve been able to wriggle out of without killing their opponents. their liberal use of charm spells, high charisma, and just flat out out of the box thinking (they flipped a fucking crocodile!!) has saved their bacon so many times. during unavoidable combat, they have struggled a little bit, but they’re a low level party to begin with so struggle is expected. all the casters appear to be offensively geared with dariax and fearne having prepped utility on the side. even so, that control vibe still permeates the party; dorian’s most clutch move was that dissonant whispers on mister, which he cast not to harm mister but force him to move away from the rune that transformed and powered him, thus ending the combat.

and finally we have the mighty nein, the cockroach party. we’ll get into the hows and whys later, for now, cockroach parties are built on three major founding principles: action economy, mindset, and versatility. action economy is king in dnd. pcs get an action, bonus action, and reaction per turn. having turns each round is critical to a dnd party's ability to overcome the enemy and the more turns you have compared to your opponent, the better. for large parties, that is a sizable advantage over enemy monsters, which is why even low level monsters are packing multi-attacks, decent ac, and/or good solid hit points. more members means more attacks the creature(s) needs to take and focused fire adds up fast, even at low levels. for example, kylre had about 90 hp and was dead in three rounds, with fjord alone dealing 64 points of that damage. yeah. want to know why mid to high level monsters have legendary actions and resists? action economy. want to know why some silly min-max number crunchers think that cleric healing is severely under-powered? action economy. laura's assessment of healing, that it is better to damage the enemy and only heal to bring people up to make sure they get their turn, is a solid, reasonable assessment of the economy, especially when it comes to the cleric spell slot economy which I elaborated on here.

so, in light of the action economy, let's talk about the cockroach mindset. the cockroach party doesn’t ask ‘how do we beat this opponent’, it asks ‘how do we outlast this opponent.’ it’s a subtle difference in combat focus but an important one. survival of the party is the cockroach’s top priority and all members go into the encounter with that priority in mind. the players aren’t focused on the survival of their character, however, they are focused on giving their party another round to act. they give themselves room to breathe. whether that is stunning the enemy completely, whether it's lowering the enemy's attacking ability, whether it's giving a party member an extra action, whether it’s bringing someone up from unconsciousness, those methods combine with damage generation to win an encounter. cockroach parties don't rely on damage output to keep themselves safe, they rely on their own ability to survive and support their team. 

which brings us to versatility. cockroach parties tend to have a wide array of skills at their disposal and aren’t afraid to use them. while they have solid support roles, casters are not the only ones who can bring utility to a party. just ask beau. just ask yasha as she flew caleb out of danger in the first lucien fight. heck, just ask orym and his swip swap battle flop. or damian and the owlbear from the darrington brigade. cockroach parties, more than control and glass cannon parties, prefer to have a wide range of options available to them. the more tricks up your sleeve, the more likely you are to have something to deal with whatever the dm throws at you. marine layer, anyone? at the same time, the party also uses this wide array to have multiple ways to handle the same problem. jester is the backup stealth scout and teleporter. fjord is the emt, able to remove and heal injured party members if caduceus or jester cannot. caleb is the backup backup cleric with polymorph. veth can also stun/incapacitate enemies with her spells. caduceus is the backup backup tank and battlefield control via his shield of retribution and spirit guardians to beau and jester.

these three tricks combine into one inescapable reality: there is no one better or obvious target to take out. the entire party is one giant interlocking trap; break one and the others will reinforce the weak point and make you pay for the effort.

(incidentally, the cockroach approach is so ingrained in the cast that the vm side of the battle royale didn’t play with the urgency the vm playbook requires and that, more than anything, screwed them over. but that’s a different post.)

tune in next time for a break down of how, when, and why the nein went from glass cannon to cockroach because it is a fascinating ride.