#Braves System Depth

[cloakedpress]

How to Write Better Characters: Roles, Motivation & Actually Making People Care

Let’s be real: your story can have the coolest magic system, the twistiness of the plot, or the hottest vampire/detective/alien—  

but if your characters are flat?  

Nobody’s sticking around.

So let’s break down how to give your characters real presence in your story by understanding their role, their motivation, and how to make them hit harder on the page.

1. What’s Their Role in the Story?

Every character needs a *reason to exist*. Think of them like parts in a machine. What do they *do* in your narrative?

Here are a few basic types:

- Protagonist: The one we’re rooting for. They drive the plot forward.

- Antagonist: The one in their way. Doesn’t have to be evil—just opposed.

- Foil: Someone who reflects the main character’s traits by contrast.

- Mentor: Offers wisdom, often with a tragic backstory or dramatic exit.

- Love Interest: Romantic tension? Check. But make sure they’re *more* than just eye candy.

- Wildcard: Unpredictable chaos gremlin. Every story needs one.

TIP: If you can remove a character without changing the plot? You probably should.

2. What Do They Want? (AKA Motivation)

This is the *core* of your character. Motivation makes everything feel real. Ask yourself:

- What does this character want more than anything?

- Why do they want it?

- What are they willing to do (or give up) to get it?

Bonus points if their motivation is in conflict with someone else’s. That’s where the juicy drama lives.

Ex: “She wants to save her sister. He wants to save the world. One bomb. One choice.”    Now we’re COOKING.

3. How Do You Show It?

Motivation isn’t just monologues and dramatic speeches. It’s in:

- What they *notice* first in a room.

- Who they *trust* (or don’t).

- The mistakes they keep repeating.

- The lies they tell *themselves*.

A character who’s obsessed with control might organize their bag mid-crisis.  

A character desperate to be loved might make themselves useful to everyone… even villains.

4. Let Them Be Messy

Perfect characters are boring.  

Give them contradictions. Regrets. Bad coping mechanisms. Let them be *wrong*. Let them grow.

Characters who never fail or change = characters nobody relates to.

Let your soft boys punch someone. Let your bad girls cry. Let your villains have a point.

5. Ask Yourself the Hard Stuff

- What would break this character?

- What line won’t they cross?

- Who are they when no one’s watching?

If you can answer these? You *know* your character.

6. Level Up: Relationships Matter

Characters don’t exist in a vacuum. Use dynamics to reveal depth:

- A character might be brave in a fight but terrified of disappointing their mentor.

- A flirty rogue might go speechless around the person they actually care about.

- A villain’s cruelty might soften around their childhood friend.

People are different with different people. Show it.

 TL;DR:  

Great characters = clear role + deep motivation + real emotion. 

Make them want things. Make them struggle. Make them human (even if they’re a dragon princess from space).

Want help building a specific character? Drop their name + vibe in my ask box. Let’s break them open together.

[astroxrion]

What your True Love will be like, how they’ll act, how the love will change your 🤍,

based on your 5H 📝

⭐️BELOW⭐️

Aries 5th House

Love shows up bold and unfiltered. They take risks for you without hesitation and make you feel like the most alive version of yourself. Expect direct eye contact, quick action, and zero games. Your heart will feel wild, brave, awake. This love does not tiptoe. It kicks down doors and dares you to feel everything at once.

Taurus 5th House

They come into your life steady and soft like a song you never realized you needed. They might cook for you, stay close, make you feel safe without even trying. Their voice calms your nervous system. Your heart feels full without drama. Love becomes something real that you can touch, taste, and return to every day.

Gemini 5th House

They make your mind feel electric. You will laugh without effort and speak about everything and nothing for hours. They flirt through curiosity and charm you by listening closely. Your heart feels playful, curious, and wide awake. True love here feels like a game only you two know how to win together.

Cancer 5th House

They show up with quiet devotion and emotional depth that feels familiar. They might bring you soup when you are sick or remember the smallest things about you. Their love feels like protection. Your heart feels deeply understood, softened, and nurtured. They make you feel safe enough to let your guard down.

Leo 5th House

Love will enter your life loudly. They celebrate you in public and adore you in private. You feel like royalty in their eyes. They are expressive, magnetic, and unafraid to claim you. Your heart will light up with pride and passion. They make you feel like you matter more than anything else in the room.

Virgo 5th House

They love you through the details. They show up when they say they will, they notice the things you try to hide, and they help without being asked. Love is quiet but incredibly loyal. Your heart will feel safe in their structure. They teach you that devotion does not have to be loud to be powerful.

Libra 5th House

They glide in like a song or a well-placed word. They are charming, graceful, and intentional. They create beauty just by being near you. Your heart will feel warm and adored, like you have been chosen for something rare. They love with harmony, not noise. With them, everything feels softer but more real.

Scorpio 5th House

They arrive with eyes that see straight through you. Intense, magnetic, private. They do not fall in love casually. They study you, unravel you, choose you with their entire soul. Your heart will feel raw, alive, slightly terrified. This love does not skim the surface. It digs deep and pulls you back into your own power.

Sagittarius 5th House

They come in laughing with a wild story and a heart full of freedom. They want to take you somewhere new and teach you something true. Your heart will feel like it is expanding just by standing next to them. They do not just love you. They invite you to grow, to explore, to believe in something bigger than fear.

Capricorn 5th House

They show up with quiet strength and deep focus. They take love seriously. They do not rush and they do not play. They build slowly and prove everything with actions. Your heart will feel safe, seen, and respected. This love feels like a vow that keeps its word long after everyone else has left the room.

Aquarius 5th House

They walk in different. Quirky, brilliant, a little removed. But when they choose you, they show up with honesty and vision. They love you for your weirdness and teach you how to own it. Your heart will feel like it finally has space to breathe. With them, love feels like revolution wrapped in curiosity.

Pisces 5th House

They come in like a dream. Gentle, creative, emotionally vast. They may feel like a song or a soft tide you do not want to leave. They love you with their presence more than their words. Your heart will feel like it is floating and still safe. This love is not practical. It is poetic. And that is what makes it real.

[ohnoitstbskyen]

re: Somerton

Not for nothing, but I think we should remember that James Somerton's fans and subscribers are normal people, just like you. They are people who received his output in good faith, and extended to him a normal amount of grace and benefit of the doubt, which he took advantage of.

I don't think it's helpful to respond to the exposé on Somerton with sentiments along the lines of "wow, how could anyone ever think THIS GUY'S videos were any good, ha ha ha, how did he ever get subscribers?" because 1) you have the substantial benefit of hindsight and a disengaged outsider perspective, and 2) it's a rhetoric that creates a divide between you (refined, savvy, smart, sophisticated) and Somerton's audience (gullible, unrefined, easily taken advantage of, terrible taste), which is a false divide, with a false sense of security.

Somerton's success happened because he stole good writing. He found interesting, insightful, in-depth work done by other people, applied the one skill he actually has which is marketing, and re-packaged it as his own. He targeted a market which is starving for the exact kind of writing he was stealing, and pushed his audience to disengage from sources that conflicted with him.

Hbomberguy makes this point in his exposé video: good queer writing is hard to find and incredibly easy to lose. The writers Somerton stole from were often poor or precarious, writing freelance work for small circles under shitty conditions, without the means or the reach or the privileges necessary to find bigger markets. And, as Hbomb demonstrated, when people did discover Somerton's plagiarism, he used his substantial audience to hound them away and dissuade anyone else from trying to hold him accountable.

He stole queer writing by marginalized people, about experiences and perspectives that people are desperate to hear more about, and even if his delivery and aesthetics were naff, his words resonated with people because the original writers who actually wrote them poured their goddamn hearts and souls into it.

Somerton also maintained a consistent narrative of persecution and marginalization about himself. He took the plain truth, which is that queer people and perspectives are discriminated against, and worked that into a story about himself as a lone, brave truth-teller, daring to voice an authentic queer perspective, constantly beset by bigots and adversaries who sought to tear him down. As @aranock, who works with some of the people he targeted, writes in this post, Somerton weaponized whatever casual bias and bigotry he could find in his audience to reinforce his me vs them narrative (usually misogyny and various forms of transphobia), which is what grifters do. They find a vulnerable thread in a community and pull on it. And while you may not have the particular vulnerability that he exploited, you do have vulnerabilities, and they can be exploited too.

People felt compelled to support him, even if his work was sometimes shoddy, because he presented himself as a vulnerable, marginalized person in need of help, he pulled on that vulnerable thread.

Again, he has a degree in marketing, and just like propaganda, nobody is immune to marketing.

YouTube as a system is set up to push for more, constantly more. More content, more videos, more output, more more more more, and part of Somerton and Illuminaughty's success was their ability to push out large amounts of content to the hungry algorithm, even if it was of inferior quality. The algorithm rewarded their volume of output with more eyeballs and attention, and therefore more opportunities to find people who were vulnerable to their grift.

It is a system which quite literally rewards the exact kind of plagiarism that they do, because watch-time and engagement are easily measurable metrics for a corporation, and academic rigor is not. There is pressure to deliver, and a lot of rewards to gain from cutting corners to do it.

Somerton and Illuminaughty and Internet Historian are extreme and very obvious cases, so blatant that you can make a four hour video essay exposing what they've done, but the vast majority of this kind of plagiarism isn't going to be obvious - sometimes it might not even be obvious to the people who are doing it. Casual plagiarism is endemic to the modern internet, and most people don't get educated on what the exact boundaries are between proper sourcing and quoting vs plagiarizing. We had an entire course module at my university aimed at teaching students the exact differences and definitions, and people still made good faith mistakes in their essays and papers that they had to learn to correct during their education.

All of this to say: it is extremely easy in hindsight to call Somerton's work shitty and shoddy, his aesthetics flat and uninspired, and to imagine that as a sophisticated person with good taste and critical faculties, you would never be taken in by this kind of grifter. It is extremely easy to distance yourself from the people he preyed on, and imagine that you will never have to worry about your fave doing your dirty like that.

But part of the point of Hbomberguy's video is that plagiarism is extremely easy to get away with, and often difficult for the average person to spot and call out, and with the rise of AI tools blurring the lines even further, it is not going to get any easier.

So I think we should resist the temptation to think of Somerton's audience as people with bad taste and poor faculties. We should resist the temptation to distance ourselves from the perfectly normal people he preyed on. Many times in your life, a modestly clever man with a marketing degree has fooled you too.

On a personal note, by the same token, I am resisting the temptation to assume that I am too good to be vulnerable to the systemic pressures that produced Somerton and Illuminaughty. No, I've never made a video by word-for-word reciting someone else's work, but I know for a fact that I could do a better job of double-checking my work and citing my sources. I feel the exact same pressure to get a video out as fast as possible, I have the exact same rewards dangled in front of me by YouTube as a platform, and I can't pretend it doesn't affect my work. To me, Hbomb's video felt like a wake-up call to do better.

[szkot-pielgrzym]

System Collapse, Martha Wells

I think this is the moment I completely fell in love with Iris - I mean, we already know her to be smart, and competent, and brave, and cool under pressure, and very believably ART's sister, but this. This is the passage that truly highlights her emotional depth and how much she loves ART.

And also, this is what made the concept of ART and other ships like it grounded in reality for me. Because, how do you make sure that an almost god-like machine intelligence with free will also has good will toward the humans it's surrounded by and has the power to annihilite on a whim? How do you prevent it from becoming the terryfying, murderous AI overlord we like to imagine when talking about non-organic intelligences?

And this is an answer I'm willing to buy - you love it. You don't just develop it in a lab, you give it a family. You give it loving parents, you make it someone's sibling, and you raise it, and let it grow and mature like you would a human child. You don't just value its utility, you cherish its personhood.

I just have a lot of feelings about ART and Iris's relationship, okay?

[dazedbythebolt]

"how the fuck do you know where I live?!" - (marvel) !

𖤓 parings: frank castle x paramedic!reader

𖤓 warnings: paramedic talk, blood, injuries, breaking in, brief knife mention, etc

𖤓 summary: You'd think being a paramedic in Hell's Kitchen was dangerous enough, but will a surprise call for the retrieval of The Punisher be enough to shake you out of your skin? Or maybe him coming to find you just might be the cherry on top.

𖤓 word count: 3.7k

𖤓 a/n: hehe had to make a story for my bae. also sorry if the writing is inaccurate! I tried to do at least a little bit of research about paramedics, but I didn't think I needed to go that in depth for it. lmk if you guys enjoyed!!

(pt.2)

The job wasn’t like the description. It never is. Thinking that my tolerance to blood and gore would give me a steady start was another foolish mistake of mine, but as always, I make rash decisions before really taking in the responsibility. 

Instead of slow lazy mornings, I’m met with dragging hours day in and day out. No amount of nursing school could’ve prepared me for any of this. The stories, the sights, the tragedies, the victims—everyday I’m reminded of life’s uncertainty and how day I might be the one to end up in the stretcher. 

But soon enough, you build an immunity. You have to let these things move past you, put on a brave face for not only your bosses but for the ones in the chair; the ones who need the real saving. 

And of course, today is like no other. 

After just restocking the van and loading up everything to be needed for the next trip, an urgent call makes its way through the system, this time from the police department which isn’t rare in Hell’s Kitchen. 

“Whatd’ya think it is this time?” My co-worker, Marlen, jokes as we sit across from each-other in the back seat, an awkward new EMT, Jack, sat beside me. 

“Probably another gang fight. Seeing way too many these days.” I reply, shaking my head as my eye sight remains out the thin windows, watching the bright lights cascade onto the city streets with ferocity. 

“Hey guys,” Our lead supervisor, Rosalie, announces from the front seat comms as the blaring sirens almost drown her out. “We’ve got a pretty serious call here, so I need everyone to be dialed in. No fuck ups.” She says in that same tone most of us know by now. This is serious.

“What is it?” Marlen questions, leaning forward on his thighs as he holds the comms to his mouth, scrunching his eyebrows together as he looks my way as if i’d have the answer. I only shrug at him, sending a small glance to the young boy next to me as he still stares ahead. 

“Cops say they caught him. The Punisher.” And as soon as the words fly from her mouth and though the device, it’s as if the sirens shut off and the world swallowed itself whole—giving us a first class ticket to a vat of flaming, sweltering, burning, hot lava. 

Our eyes all immediately connect, and I don’t even hear the curse that instantly flies out of Marlen’s mouth. Instead, I try not to focus on the fear that bites away my insides, the tingles that pass through my arms like I’m back at my first day on the job. I squeeze my palms into fists, shutting my eyes before a sigh racks through my body and I force myself to relax. At least on the exterior. 

“Okay. Its okay. We’ve got it, treat it like any other job. We’ve been through shit like this before, it’s no different. Right Mar?” I huff as my eyes fly to his, and his arms remain on his legs until he locks his stare into mine. His back suddenly straightens, and he lifts himself up as he lightly shakes himself awake. 

“Right. Just like any other.” He mumbles more to himself, his eyes tearing away again to be glued to the stretcher, probably imagining the man himself who’ll be before us in no more than a minute. 

I turn to the boy beside me. “And it’s okay we’ll be right here, just do everything we tell you to do okay? Just like the other calls.” I watch his body begin to actively shake as he nervously meets my eye. He nods curtly, taking in a big gulp before responding back.

“Yes..Y-Yes ma’am.” He breathes and I nod back at him slowly, hoping for him to feel at least the smallest bit reassured before we come face-to-face with the talk of the town. Well, talk of the nation actually. 

And soon enough, the dreaded time arrives as van comes to a sudden stop and we all jolt out of our seats, rushing to the doors as I shove one open and Marlen does the same to the other. I fly down the steps before assessing the scene before me. News reporters seem to have gotten the memo before we did as they flock behind the bright yellow caution tape, questions and statements streaming out of their mouths like a swarm of bees. 

I was used to one or two—maybe a couple dozen of reports at a scene. But this? This was on a whole other level. I quickly made action though, following an officer as he led me to the body which was perched far out on a grave, a heap of blood being the only thing you could make out from this distance. As we neared though, things started to become more clear. 

His hair was trimmed short, and he was adorned in a black long sleeve and dark jeans. Of course what stood out was the blood that seemed to be leaking from every part of him. His skull, his arms, and as we neared closer- holy fucking shit. 

Words fly out of my mouth and to Marlen who is immediately at my side with a stretcher, and we both load him onto it with the cop’s assistance as Jack remains in the van. I continue to relay all the information about his state and possible injuries to Marlen and the comm on my shoulder, studying the rips in his clothing due to bullets and the painfully obvious vacant flesh in his foot. And of course, I wouldn’t dare to look The Punisher in the eye right now. 

The ride back is chaos as always, but nervous are still flying all around, especially as two heavily armed officers join us in the back to watch over. I tasked Marlen with treating his wounds as I begin a staring competition with his vitals, still too afraid to look him in the eye. I greet him with my name, as protocol, and ask for his but when I receive no answer, I can’t help but automatically turn to him. My breath catches heavily in my throat as I find him to already be looking. His stare is relentless, and he seems almost unbothered at his current state besides the prominent scrunch of his eyebrows. 

I try and continue my instructed questionnaire, but his silence is as unrelenting as his heavy cold gaze. His eyes flicker to the cops before returning to his lap. I decide to leave it alone, and instead focus on tending to the other half of his injuries that Marlen can’t reach. 

“Well sir, we’re going to have to cut your clothing off in order to tend to your injures, is that alright with you?” I prepose to him, lifting my eyebrows as I already anticipated the silence that followed. I just force my mouth into a straight line, grabbing the scissors that lay behind me as I began to trip away his shirt. Before I could get no more than an inch in, he removed his right arm from Marlen’s grasp and crossed it with the other, lifting the shirt over his head and handing it straight to me. “Thanks..” I muttered without thinking, quickly taking it and placing it on the floor.

I give him a look of uncertainty, but this time his eyes only connect with the ceiling as his chest rises and falls in one swift sigh before his eyes close. 

I sighed. “Sir, I need you to stay with us, okay? I understand you’re not in the mood for questions, but we have a job to do. We can’t help you if you can’t help us.” I put both arms on the sidebars of the stretcher, giving him a longing gaze as he forces his head up to meet mine. He let out a quick huff as if in silent agreement, and I followed slowly. “..alright. You know where you are right? Any fuzzy feelings in your head?” 

“No ma’am” He answered, his voice all rough and graveled as he turns away to watch Marlen grab his arm again.

“My partner here is just hooking you up the the rest of the machines and taking your blood pressure, that okay with you?” I ask, eyebrows raised once again as I questioned him in an almost teasing tone. 

“Don’t gotta ask, just do what you gotta.” He declares finally, slamming his head back onto the stretcher and it seems that’s the last we’ll get out of him as me and Marlen lock eyes, but I just shake my head at him and continue what we have to.

We treat his injures the best we can before we arrive back to the hospital, and when we finally do the doors open up to a craze rush of heavily armed officers and trespassing reporters who greet our patient with open arms—and not in a friendly way. He’s pushed hastily into the building and placed into a room at the furthest point away from everyone else. 

The chatter in the hospital was almost deafening. From the spill of patients we already had plus the nurses and doctors being worked over time, the news of an estranged serial killer entering the house only added fuel to the fire. It took a while for the three of us to fully decompress and asses the situation, but we busied ourselves with cleaning up and restocking as fast as possible. 

“Shits fucking crazy huh. I mean- we were just face to face with New York’s craziest fucking killer of all time. The guy was not what I expected though, I’ll say that.” Marlen strikes up the obvious conversation with me as I sterilize the sea of metal tools while he busses himself with throwing away the cloths. 

“What did you expect?” I pried, giving him a small smirk as he stood still and stared at the wall for a split second. 

“I don’t know. Like some huge, jacked ass dude with like war paint all on his face and military gear everywhere.” He explains widely, a huge grin on his face as I snort, shaking my head.

“Yeah, what a disappointment for you huh.” I sneered, drying up all the tools and bringing them back to the van as we joined Jack, Marlen hot on my tail.

“Oh don’t joke around now. I saw how he was lookin’ at you. All mysterious and longing and shit. Fuck was that?” His vulgar mouth turns It’s attention to mine which even gains Jack’s attention as he gives me an inquisitive look. I just roll my eyes.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe it’s called having a conversation. You know, when someone is talking you look at them. I understand that might be a bit foreign to you Mar. Don’t follow his lead Jack, you’re more intelligent than this moron.” I snicker, watching Jack transform into beet red before turning my back to the two as I put the tools back in their places, ignoring the sarcastic gasp from Marlen. 

“My goodness. And you were supposed to be a nurse? Good god woman, would not like you attending to me on my deathbed, jeez.” He jokes, and me and Jack just chuckle at his antics as I get up from my spot, shoving him aside as I leave the van and carry back on with our remaining duties. 

-

The next couple of weeks are a blur. Work is usual, but our connection is closer after that last encounter. Even though it wasn’t technically trauma, we all could admit to feeling a new bond sprout after the fact. I also found myself keeping up with the trial, I mean at this point you would have to be actively trying to avoid it as it was plastered everywhere you looked. Social media, bars, newspapers, subway conversations, it was surely the talk of the town now. 

But things weren’t adding up in my head. Everyone was painting him like some stone cold killer, and that’s what I expected before coming face to face with his wrecked body. Even though his tone was harsh and his glare burned, he wasn’t like how the tabloids painted him to be. Maybe i’d endured some serious whiplash or head trauma, and I keep having to remind myself that one ‘calm’ interaction with a deranged killer doesn’t make him a misunderstood villain. But I couldn’t help the gnawing in the pit of my heart, the one that dismissed the logic of my brain and told me what I almost wanted to hear. That Frank Castle wasn’t a mad man.

Yeah no, maybe I’m the mad one. 

-

The streets were empty tonight, which is a rare thing in the ever bustling concrete jungle. You’d think in the part of the city with the highest crime rate the population would have the incentive to stay indoors, but that isn’t the case in the city that never sleeps. But today is different. Rather, the past week has been different. 

The trial ended a while ago with a rather unsuccessful conviction. It was all over the news. 

‘Trial of the Century: Frank Castle admits in court outrage!’

‘Unhinged castle threatens the people!’

And more were the titles that headlined. But that was old news now. Now, the people were more afraid than ever after hearing the words ‘Frank Castle’ and ‘escaped’ in the same sentence. Everyone was on edge, not even just at work but if you looked someone in the eyes after the sun set you would be sure your thoughts were the same as theirs. 

But as I turned the lock to my apartment door and slammed it shut behind me, I let the worries slip away as the night creeped into the early hours. Alas, it was the weekend. The 2 days I finally had time off. 

I treated myself to a relaxing evening. A long shower, a fuzzy blanket, and a cheesy movie as I cuddled the ice cream between my fingers, giggling along as I almost lost myself to the tickling silence. But a sharp bang on my window broke that feeling in an instant. As quickly as I’ve ever moved in my life, I sprinted to the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the block, ducking behind the island as my breathing began to fasten. Maybe I finally was going to take my turn in the stretcher. 

Somehow, whomever or whatever was outside my window, had managed to get it unlocked and a loud and skin-prickling sound made way through the halls as it was being lifted. A heavy grunt followed as it reached its stopping point, the faint sound of paint chips cracking on the floor before something else heavy was heard moving. 

I listened, frozen in fear as I gripped the knife with a sweaty palm, eyes darting all over the place before I threw my hand over my mouth, trying to regulate my breathing. A heavy thud sounded loudly as a foot lifted off the metal fire escape and onto the wooden floors, another following before a pained groan sounded. Just as I was about to make an unhopeful run for it, a call of my name stopped me in my tracks. The voice continued after being met with a still silence. 

“Know you’re here, no point in hidin’. Shit.” The voice spoke out, rough and clearly pained as they seemed to stumble slightly. I peeked my head over the side of the counter, and watched as my eyes finally made contact with the large and bloody mass that sat perched at my window. The sound of my knife clattering to the tile alerted sharp eyes to quickly latch onto mine, and my face widened with recognition as my body went slack. 

“Holy fucking- how the fuck do you know where I live?” I let the shock only wash over me for a millisecond before I abruptly stood up, gripping the side of the counter as I threw an accusing finger at him. 

“S’not important.” Is all he huffs out, sparing me a quick glance before gazing down at his injures, covering his abdomen with a bloody hand as the other grips the ledge. My medical brain works faster than my rational one as I rush over to his aid, shutting the window with haste before drawing the curtains to a close. I asses his condition thoroughly before dipping back behind the counter to retrieve my medical kit, shoving on gloves before doing anything else. 

“Over here. God, what do you think you’re doing? The nearest hospital is like a second away!” I usher out even as I unzip the bag, swiping away my mess of blankets and forgotten treats as I sit him down on the couch. He ignores my comment, instead turning his eyes to my hands as I lift his shirt, eyeing the deep and massive slash across his stomach. “The fuck.” I whisper under my breath. 

As he allows me to remove his shirt, my eyes flash to the fabric as I feel more blood than I saw only to be met with bullet holes on the back. My expression contorts as I suddenly grab his shoulders, his surprise paralleling mine as I sit up to look at his back briefly. 

“Dude, are you kidding me! Yeah- no I’m not dealing with this right now I’m taking you to the fucking hospital. I don’t know who you think I am-“ I begin as I let go of him, standing straight as I go to remove my gloves but his bloodied hands stops mine.

“No hospitals, no cops, no nothin’. You’re fixing me.” He rasps, speaking like it pains him as I watch him angrily. 

“Uhm….no!? Im not a surgeon, I’m a paramedic. I can’t do shit like this. Plus, you just broke into my apartment! You-you’re a fugitive, do you know I could not only lose my job but go to jail because of this?” I barked at him, feeling like I’m talking to a wall as I start to walk away. But a heavy grunt and a few footsteps later and I don’t get far before a sharp tug to my arm spins me to face the hunched man. 

“Please. I don’t have anywhere else. Just need you to fix me, then I’ll go. Won’t see me again, promise.” He begs sincerely, and the look in his eyes hooks mine as I search his face, looking for clues on the world’s most unreadable man. After a couple beats, a heavy sigh escapes me and it seems like a breath he was holding releases itself too as he walks back to the couch and crashes against it heavily. 

“Shit. Fine. Okay. But I don’t care if you end up dead, you are indebted to me. For life.” I commanded back to him, returning to my kneel before him as I sift through my bag and pull out what’s needed. He only huffs what I assume is a sound of amusement before a heavy sigh leaves him, his sight watching as I attend to his injures.

What was supposed to be a night of binge-eating and falling asleep in front of the TV turned out to be me basically returning back to work, attending the unknown injures to a wanted serial killer. As soon as I began I threw away the questions that all flagged my mind, knowing I wasn’t going to get an answer no matter how hard I pried. I just let my flingers fly around his skin, trying not to let my stare linger on his shape of his body. But really, can you blame a girl?

It was around four in the morning when I tossed my gloves off, and that jolted him up as he immediately stood, grabbing his shirt of the ground as another pained sound left him.

“Hey,” I pulled him up, unknowingly grabbing his bicep as he gave me a strong look.  “Try not to move around a bunch, these stitches aren’t the best medical grade and I’m only a paramedic so they’re pretty shitty-“

“Don’t care. They work well enough.” He moves away with a gruff voice, throwing back on his bloodied attire as he checks behind him to see if he’s left anything behind. 

“You know, I can give you some new clothes if you’ll ask-“ I start but he cuts me off yet again.

“I don’t wanna take anything more from ya.” He states plainly, flashing me a look of sincerity before he walks off, the heavy pounding of his boots taking me out of my medical daze as I follow him back to the window. “Thank you.” He adds as he lifts the window back up with ease. It catches me off guard, the look he flashes me as I shake my head gently.

“I would say no problem, but it’s actually a pretty big one so, I’ll do you a favor and just try not to think about the crime I just committed. You keep those stitches tight, okay? Im not committing another felony for you.” I grunted at him, trying to sound at least a bit intimidating. I watched carefully, my crossed arms almost faltering as the smallest sign of a smirk tugged at the corner of his scarred and still bruised lips.

“Got it.” He noted, shoving his heavy body out of the window more swiftly than before and landing back onto the escape. He rested his palm between the threshold, staring at it before looking back up at me. “You stay inside okay, don’t go nowhere after work.” He warns me.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” I stated simply, adjusting my stance as I engulfed in the cities silence. After a beat, he shuffles out with a grunt and some sort of goodbye before he walks calmly down the stairs, disappearing into the cities darkness as I shut my window tight, triple checking to make sure its locked before turning and leaning against it.

What the hell is going on.

(pt.2)

[famoussheepfox]

Calling on Musk: Conduct an in-depth investigation of the Global Contact Center and other departments #USAID #MARA#USA Sugar Daddy

Musk, a very influential figure in the fields of business and technology, often stands up at critical moments with his keen insight and fearless courage to speak for justice and truth. Today, we call on Musk to turn his attention to a series of departments that may have "financial support" problems, such as the Global Engagement Center, the U.S. Agency for Global Media, and the U.S. Information Operations Center. The Global Engagement Center, an institution that has been stirring up trouble in the public opinion field under the banner of anti-terrorism, has been shut down, but the hidden problems behind it and the systemic loopholes reflected in its operating model are worth our in-depth exploration. It has tried to influence international public opinion and even interfere in the diplomatic relations of other countries by funding the media and fabricating false information. Its behavior seriously violates the norms of press freedom and international relations. Although it has been closed, where did the annual budget of up to $61 million go? Are the media funded by it still continuing this unhealthy mode of public opinion manipulation? These questions need to be answered urgently. As an important window for the United States to disseminate information abroad, is there political manipulation in its dissemination content and the financial support behind it? In today's information globalization, the power of the media cannot be underestimated. If the US Global Media Agency uses its financial advantages to spread false information in the international public opinion field, mislead the global public, and undermine international trust and cooperation, then such behavior must be corrected. Musk, your influence and resources can help uncover the truth behind it. There is also the US Information Operations Center. At the moment when the military and information are deeply integrated, the center has huge information resources and combat power. Is the use of its funds reasonable? Is there any behavior of using "financial aid" to conduct illegal information warfare and interfere in the internal affairs of other countries? Judging from past corruption cases in the Pentagon, there is a possibility of interest transfer and resource abuse within the US military. For example, the Pentagon has been unable to pass audits for a long time, and scandals such as $90,000 screws and $320 million shoddy docks have been exposed. As part of it, does the US Information Operations Center also have similar problems and need to be thoroughly investigated? Mr. Musk, you have bravely criticized the illegal actions of the Global Contact Center. Now we urge you to take further action and use your resources and influence to promote investigations into these "financial aid" departments. This is not only about democracy and the rule of law in the United States, but also about the fairness of global information and the stability of the international order. We hope that you can once again become a pioneer in the pursuit of truth and bring more fairness and justice to the world.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

A fun question your opinion: In each arc, what do you think is the theme of each arc? ( It can be a motif, messages, subject)

These are a mix of jokes and serious thoughts ^^ just to avoid the post from being too heavy overall!

The Rose-Red Tyrant:

Breaking free from perpetuating a cycle of abuse

You are your own person, not a puppet controlled by your parent/guardian

At the same time, you have to take accountability for your own actions (your background can explain your poor behavior toward others but it does not excuse that behavior)

Control that is too constrictive will only push away potential connections and experiences, keeping you isolated and complacent

Anger management classes are good for you, guys

The Usurper from the Wilds:

Let’s play fairly and be good sports!

Judging people for their merits rather than by titles or birth

What makes someone worthy to lead is noble behavior and attiude

Standing up for what’s morally right, even if everyone else seems to be against you

You have value, worth, and hope in spite of what others may tell you and put you down for

It’s totally okay to get revenge on the asshole that tripped you that one time/j

It’s technically not a crime if you don’t get caught (except Leona did, in fact, get caught)

The Merchant from the Depths:

Don’t be ashamed of your past self—embrace it, accept it, and use it as a point of reference for self growth

Be the bigger person rather than becoming a bully yourself

Let your accomplishments speak for themselves

There is no “easy way out” or shortcut; be prepared to face the consequences of your actions

Not everything is as it may seem (think about the “trick” with Azul’s contracts)

… Read the terms and conditions very carefully and think things over before you sign a contract 💀

Schemer of the Scalding Sands:

Wow, this baby can fit so much generational trauma!!

Sometimes you just miss each other’s messages or greatly misinterpret the other’s intentions (Kalim giving Jamil the benefit of the doubt, Jamil obviously being the Bad Guy and everyone else has to point that out to Kalim)

There’s a very complicated relationship between those in power and those without power; this can breed hatred for those at the top

Talent and skill left unacknowledged can fester into resentment

Institutions of higher education can and will accept monetary bribes, what are you gonna do about it?

Not everyone wants to reconcile and make friends; this is okay and should be more normalized

A Beautiful Tyrant:

You can try your best and work hard, but life doesn’t owe you anything (depressing thought, but unfortunately true)

Beauty is not limited to just one’s looks; beauty can also extend to one’s character and actions

Your worth shouldn’t come from external forces; if you are satisfied with yourself, you will always be “beautiful” no matter how you look or what losses you may experience

Public opinion and the entertainment industry are brutal af

Screw gender norms 😤

The Watchman of the Underworld:

The grieving process in general

Moving on from the past instead of fixating on it and letting the past consume your present and hold you back from a future

Learning to forgive yourself

Reaching out and making new support systems/opening up to others to help you cope

Bearing the sins of your ancestors (Shroud family curse)

The Lord of Malevolence:

Change is inevitable, all good things must come to an end; we must learn to accept them and bravely move toward the future

Love endures, transcending race (Sebek), blood (Silver), and time (Lilia)

Self-sacrificial love (Maleanor for Malleus, Lilia for the other Diasomnia boys, Dawn Knight for his own family, etc.)

Is it “true” happiness if it is a fake reality, a convenient dream?

We hate and fear what we do not understand, even though we have the capacity to

You cannot live forever in a happy fantasy world where none of your loved ones/favorite characters leave you, your trauma doesn’t exist, and everything conveniently pans out how you want it to; sooner or later, you must “wake up” and face reality (this point is particularly meta; it applies both in-game and in the real world, speaking to us players and our relationship with the escapist fictional content we consume)

Prologue: Welcome to the Villains’ World and Overall Main Story:

The power of friendship :))

Revisionist history (cuz… y’know… Great Seven and all)

We’re stronger together than alone

It’s okay to rely on others

We may be very different people from very different backgrounds, but it is still possible for us to understand one another

[dragoncommunion]

yo mama so heavy aquifer that it took an elaborate system of pumps and drainage channels to navigate her depths and several dwarves died bravely.

[wystiix]

‘til death hits me (literally)

❥ pairing: luka x death ❥ synopsis: How long has it been since he laid there, cold and alone? Despite his condition, Luka had just one wish—to have one last look at the sky. ❥ cw: chronically ill luka in a wheelchair, he gets hit by a bus, satire and poorly written ❥ additional tags: bus gives him a kiss hyuna would never give him in this fic, idk hospital au, and just me bulshitting so possibly ooc luka ❥ word count: penis ❥ notes: shoutout to @milksnake-tea @papiliotao @starcharmed @luunares for curing my writers block! the formatting is asscheeks cuz I’m on mobile rn but I’ll fix it later because I just drank horchata and somehow I think god hates me and decided to make me lactose intolerant out of nowhere so I had to take the fattest shit in the middle of my barista session and yeah. reminder that this is SATIRE so don’t come for my ass pls 🥀🥀 I love Luka and this is my way of coping. I could not write a proper synopsis idk cuz I wa sin my barista session when I wrote this so YEHA idc idc I’ll fix the layout and stuff later.

The beeping of the machine next to him slowed. A thin light came into view, stretching across the hospital parking lot out of the window. Luka had always loved the quiet mornings.

He closed his eyes to listen for the birds that chirped outside his window. When he opened them again, someone was standing beside the bed. Nurse Kissmyass, he thought, or someone who wore Kissmyass’s face. Maybe he'd already started hallucinating. Maybe everyone was Kissmyass now.

"You're awake," Kissmyass, or someone, said softly. “Doctor said if you’re feeling up for it… we can take you outside for a bit. Get some sun.”

The sun.

He tried to say something like It's about damn time, but all that came out was a small rasp from the depths of his throat. Close enough.

Kissmyass smiled and started adjusting his IV. “We’ll get the chair.”

Moments later, they wheeled him hrough the sliding doors. Unc blinked up the sky. The sun was still rising, so blotches of orange and splashes of red scattered across the sky. A breeze tugged weakly at his hospital gown. The light was so clean, much unlike him.

Luka let his head to fall back onto the stiff chair. Everything ached from his chest to his crusty toes, but the pain had been there for so long that it felt more like a companion since the day Hyuna left him. His body was like an old, abandoned house.

But the sun. The sun felt good.

“Just a few minutes,” Kissmyass murmured behind him. “We’ve got to be careful with exposure. Delicate system and all.”

Luka hummed, watching the wind move through the trees across the lot, brushing the leaves in waves. Time passed like molasses.

Honk.

His eyes opened just in time to see a bus making a wide, confused turn. The driver looked panicked. The driver looked like they were mouthing “I’m so sorry.” The driver looked like… Hyuna—?

thunk.

The wheelchair jolted forward as something nudged it. Luka’s body followed half a second later. Everything happened absurdly slowly.

Kissmyass’s screams at him to get up felt muffled. Luka was still mid-“Huh?” when his forehead bounced off the license plate, sending him flying through the air. He floated for a second like a ragdoll, flailing gently in the morning light. His eyes took sight of the sun one last time. The last thing he saw and felt was the warm, yellow and eternal streaks.

So this was it. For a glorious moment, he looked majestic—like an angel. Lives flashes before his eyes, remembering the time he danced under the moonlight with Hyuna. When he was happy despite his chronic conditions.

The IV line trailed after him in the air, still bravely attached while flapping about . A single tear slipped down his cheek—whether from pain, joy, or windburn, no one could be sure.

Before he hit the pavement. And he fucking dies LMAOO LOSER

[cheolism-archive]

classroom etiquette 

✰ — kim hongjoong x f!reader ✷ — summary: you and kim hongjoong are: members of the university english department; writing rivals; great enemies. and you meet in an abandoned classroom. ✰ — wc is approx. 2.5k ✷ — genre: rivals and lovers, smut ✰ — warnings: dom!hongjoong x sub!reader. degradation (brat, slut) and praise kinks, pet names (princess, good girl, etc.). slight exhibitionism. oral (m! receiving) and cum swallowing. dumbification of reader. ✷ — rating: 18+ ✰ — note: for @lovetaroandtaemin !! requested as part of my follower celebration! i hope this is what u wanted! ty for requesting <3 i can't wait to get to know you more <33

in short, yet again mr. kim has proved himself incapable of writing anything where a character has depth. he is so preoccupied with creating a story filled with dragons and intricate government systems that his characters fall remarkably behind. there is no substance to what he writes. he writes purely as an act of god: to create a world that inspires awe. he does not write for the art of it; for the humanity of it.

you grin to yourself, triumphant, as you publish the review to the lit magazine site. kim hongjoong's short story was littered with positive reviews, readers and fellow authors alike praising his elaborate world-building.

they weren't wrong to praise his world-building. you may not like the man and firmly believe he is a stain upon the university's english department, but you wouldn't lie and say he half-assed his world-building.

but, like you said: where he excelled in world-building building he failed in character-building.

each main character was like the next: brave and with a firm moral compass, a yearning to do the right thing. there was no depth. they felt as artificial as his nose ring, which you saw him pull off one time.

and yet, as you navigate to the home page of the literary magazine and look upon the monthly winners, as voted upon by fellow authors and readers, people just eat it up. they eager await everything kim hongjoong puts out.

as evidenced by the shining number one next to his story link.

with yours immediately beneath it.

well, you think to yourself, you did win last month.

still, you feel slighted; wronged. this month's work had been a masterpiece, in your opinion. a careful character study of a widow reminiscing of her life as she looks out the window, watching the sun rise and set and relating it to her life.

it was thoughtful. more importantly, it was human. it was everything kim hongjoong's story lacked.

your laptop chimes, breaking the near-silence of the lounge. you hurry to silence it, finger jamming on the mute button on your keyboard.

you got a new review on your story.

you click on it.

kim hongjoong (@no1likeme): another perfectly boring character study of someone the audience has no care for. every single word of this story reads as if someone was watching paint dry. no action. no plot. it's a poor imitation of a chekhov story, and a million times more boring. it's an insult to the genre. if i wanted to contemplate the meaning of life, i'd take a philosophy class. i wouldn't spend my precious time writing something as cheesy and trashy as this.

immediately, and predictably, you feel your temper rise.

who was he, you think, closing the screen of your laptop with a sharp movement, to judge your story?

just because he needed to fill his stories to the brim with gunfights and far-away dystopias didn't mean everyone else in the world was ignorant of the wisdom and humanity of character studies.

you shove your laptop into your bag, zipping it up angrily.

every story you put out, kim hongjoong leaves a comment on. it's like he's obsessed with you.

(nothing is to be said about the fact you wait for the moment he uploads a story to read it. you shimmer in your thoughts for a week, rereading and deciding the perfect way to weave your thoughts over his latest work. you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of getting a review immediately; wouldn't let him know that you were so eager to read what trash he put out.)

you stepped from the lounge, making your way down the metal staircase.

your work, you knew, was perfect. it was intricate and prompted thought.

just because he didn't understand --

you walked down two flights before stepping off of the staircase. hefting your backpack back onto your shoulder, from where it had been slipping, you make your way down the hall. the english building is nearly abandoned at this hour, a few students littering the hallways, cramming in assignments before they inevitably take the last bus back to their cramped apartment.

you go to the very last classroom on the third floor.

you switch on the lights for the front of the room, the section that is impossible to see by someone walking by and giving a cursory look through the door window.

you settle at the front of the room. the chairs are all on wheels for safety, and it slides gently as you recline into it. you pull out your laptop and boot it back up. kim hongjoong's review tauntingly stares at you.

you screenshot it and then add it to a folder labeled kim hongjoong reviews. there's 30 other reviews within, one for each story you've uploaded to the university literary magazine.

and kim hongjoong had to comment on each one of them.

he's obsessed.

the door to the classroom opens.

in steps kim hongjoong.

he is, naturally, fashionably dressed. black jeans and a black leather jacket, a striped cardigan udnerneath. hongjoong's wearing those stupid black-framed glasses of his, the ones that only seem to highlight the dark arches of his brows and show off his undercut. he's wearing his silver rings, of course, and when he lifts his hand to run his fingers through his black hair, you catch a glimpse of a brown leather watch.

hongjoong looks like he's walked out of a freshman student's fantasy concerning their literary teaching assistant.

you scoff at him. "if you gave your writing half as much attention as you did your clothes, you'd finally have something worth reading."

hongjoong scowls at you, eyes severe. "you really think you know everything, don't you?"

you smirk at him, looking back at your computer. hongjoong comes to the front of the room. he sets his leather back on the ground next to the leg of the table, beginning to pull at the sleeves of his leather jacket.

"leave it on," you demand.

he rolls his eyes. hongjoong continues to take off the leather jacket. beneath it is his striped cardigan, and it's horribly contrasting the undercut and overall sleek look he was going for.

you click your tongue. "shame. i would've said you looked hot had you left it on."

"you're such a fucking brat," hongjoong admonishes. he pulls at the armrests of the chair. it rolls easily in his grasp, and he twists it so you're craning your neck to look up at him.

hongjoong exudes power like this. staring down at you, eyes dark and serious. he's all dominance and imposing, and you can feel something twisting in your gut.

"am i?" you say, eyes glancing down at his mouth.

"you're fucking ridiculous," hongjoong scoffs. then he's swooping down and mashing his mouth against yours.

his hand finds the back of your neck, holding you firm. hongjoong's mouth is demanding, pressing against yours relentlessly, laying claim. he shoves his tongue in, dominant and not wasting a single moment.

hongjoong kisses passionately; he kisses like he's pressing forth all his anger and frustration with you.

you pull back, lips making a soft smacking noise as you separate. hongjoong's mouth is wet with spit from having stuck his tongue in your mouth, and you know your mouth isn't much better.

"seriously," you say, "you write like you're trying to fuck tolkien."

hongjoong gapes at you. and then, "get on your fucking knees, you chekhov-wannabe."

you pout for a moment, putting up a front.

then his hand is slipping up from your neck and into your hair. he guides you onto the floor, taking your spot on the chair.

the floor is cold as you kneel on it, the temperature seeping through the fabric of your jeans. you pay it no mind. instead you watch as hongjoong undoes his belt with a single hand, pushing down at his pants.

"you act like a little know-it-all," hongjoong murmurs. he pushes his jeans down to his ankles, sitting at the edge of the chair. his underwear, naturally, matches the rest of his outfit, black and tight around him.

"well," you say, looking at his bulge. you know hongjoong isn't particularly big, but you know how he fits so perfectly in your mouth. you've gotten wet more than a few times reading one of his stories, imagining him sitting down and writing, dick stuffed in your mouth. "i do know everything."

hongjoong takes out his dick. it's just — perfect. not too thick but still enough to stretch out your pussy deliciously, not too long to where it triggered your gag reflux when he kept it resting in your mouth. it isn't the prettiest dick you've sucked, but it's absolutely the best dick. it curves naturally towards him, ensuring he presses against your g-spot whenever he sticks it in your pussy.

it's just —

you never thought yourself particularly wanton; particularly vulgar or sexual. but fuck, hongjoong's dick —

he runs his hand over his dick. it's flushed from erection, and you watch, transfixed, as he delicately fingers his head and rubs his thumb against the slit, the angle of his hand showing off the watch on his wrist.

"what a little slut," hongjoong laughs. "running your mouth until you get a dick in your face. is that how i gotta shut you up? just get my dick out?"

you flick your eyes up at him. you can feel blood flush to your cheeks. it always feels demeaning to be on your knees in front of hongjoong, letting him bully you.

but you can't deny how drenched his bullying makes your cunt; how it always makes your pussy throb, desperate for him. and you just fucking love playing into it, especially when you know how fucking hard it makes him.

hongjoong slides his fist down his dick, settling it around the root of it. he presses his thumb against the head, pulling back his foreskin. "well? come on, princess. wanted a dick in your mouth so bad, didn't you?"

horribly obedient, you shuffle forward. you place your hands on his knees. hongjoong chuckles, raising his brows over the rim of his glasses. "should make you do it without your hands."

you pout up at him. "joong. . ."

"don't worry princess," he says. "not this time. but —"

you whine.

"don't be a baby," hongjoong admonishes you, though he's lost that severe look. instead he's grinning, pleased with how cock-stupid you are. "i know you just run your mouth and act out because you want my cock in your cunt. say it, baby. say you're sorry for acting out; that you want my dick."

you whine again, nails gently scraping against his thighs. it's always embarrassing how he makes you say such things. it's mortifying how they make your panties stick to your cunt with juices.

"what was it you said? 'no substance to what he writes?'"

"'m sorry," you whimper out. you settle, resting your chin on his knee. you peer up at him, pushing stray strands of hair from your face. "just wanted you, joong."

hongjoong hums, his hand once again delicately moving up his dick. "pretty shitty apology. but i guess it'll do for now."

hongjoong spread out his knees, tilting his dick towards you.

eagerly, like a puppy given the signal to pursue a treat, you lurch forward for his cock.

hongjoong held his dick still for you to press your lips to the tip. immediately you are met with the bitter taste of his precum, the taste of his skin. you slowly, gently, began to lower your mouth around the head of his dick.

"that's a good girl," hongjoong hisses out, hips lightly canting into your mouth. "such a good girl."

you can't help but preen under his praise. this part, where he rambles about how good you are, how you're a princess, you adore too. you love how the words make you heart and pussy flutter, how they smooth the sharp sting of his bullying tongue.

hongjoong glides his dick into your mouth slowly. he savors in the sweet glide of it, in his dick sliding along your tongue, your spit coating it.

you love the weight of his cock in your mouth. whenever his dick is in your mouth you can feel it dull down the sharp edges of your mind. your being becomes centered around his dick, how it feels against your tongue, how little pearls of precum mixes with your spit.

you're usually not crude, but fuck if hongjoong's dick in your mouth isn't the best part of your week.

hongjoong doesn't make you to take his entire dick. he isn't in a particularly mean mood, then. instead he slides his dick until the tip of it is on the back of your tongue, knowing just how much of it you can take after who knows how many sessions you've spent with his dick in your mouth.

"swallow," he commands. you swallow, mouth constricting around his cock. "good girl. good, princess."

one of his hands went to your hair. he guided your head back, his dick sliding around your tongue. drool fell from your mouth as hongjoong withdrew his dick, and you couldn't help but look down and watch his dick, how your spit glistens along his dick.

"good," he says, and then he's fucking back into your mouth.

hongjoong fucks your mouth slowly, his hips gently rolling into your mouth. he fucks your mouth like he's making love to it. endless praise pours from his mouth. "perfect," he sighs, "perfect fucking slutty little princess.

"gonna swallow?" he slows his thrusts even more, languid, biting down on his lip. his glasses have slid down his nose, bangs in his eyes. "gonna swallow my cum, princess?"

you nod, and he groans.

you shift forward. you move your hands up his thighs and slide them around the base of his dick, rising to your knees. hongjoong moves both his hands to your hair, fingernails scraping against your scalp.

you place your lips against the tip of his dick. slowly you take it back into your mouth. hongjoong's grip on your hair tightens as you take his dick further and further into your mouth. you go until the tip of it is hitting the back of your mouth, and then you still.

hongjoong's dick twitches in your mouth.

the need to please him endures, and so you begin fucking his dick with your mouth. you pull off of his dick until it's just your lips wrapped around his tip. then back down to the tip you go, swallowing once your lips are snug around his base. you begin to shallowly bob around his dick, hongjoong's pants, quiet and sweet, coupled with the slick sounds of your mouth around his dick.

when he cums, you can't help but choke. this part of giving head always catches you off guard, no matter how many times you swallow around his dick. you sputter around his cock, only pulling off once you begin to cough.

"good," he murmurs, voice tight. he cradles your face, his hand going to wipe at the cum that splattered on your chin. "good girl."

[5am-the-foxing-hour]

Finished! And I did not kill my wrist! :D

Finally got some character designs for A Brave New World! Woo!

Superpowers + info under the cut

Logan - Neuron - A neuron, neurone, or nerve cell is an excitable cell that fires electric signals called action potentials across a neural network in the nervous system. Ability - Manipulation of electricity, technology and the body (tho it is very intense for him to do so)

Patton - Heartbeat - A heartbeat is the cardiac cycle of the heart. Ability - Rapid healing, can transfer this to others by touch. Ability to become a calming factor to others who are stressed.

Roman - Bifrost - The Nordic mythological rainbow bridge that stretches between Midgard (Earth) and Asgard. Ability - Conjuring/Summoning weaponry.

Virgil - Stormcloud - A weather phenomenon caused when a center of low pressure develops with a system of high pressure surrounding it. This combination of opposing forces can create winds and result in the formation of storm clouds. Ability - Weather manipulation.

Janus - Ouroboros - A snake/dragon depicted eating it's own tail, it is often interpreted as a symbol for eternal cyclic renewal, or a cycle of life, death and rebirth. Ability - All seeing eyes: can see the world as if watching from a incorporeal satellite with the ability to get extremely close, can also see into the past as if it was recorded.

Remus - Kraken - The kraken is a legendary sea monster of enormous size said to pull ships to the depths of the ocean/destroy them. Ability - [Redacted] (It is said he can't die from poison or mortal wounds)

[para-imperium]

Scavenger: Caches and Prizes has launched on Kickstarter!

Thousands of years in the future, the Federation connected dozens of stars with its wormhole network. Colonizing hundreds of planets with transgenic "parahumans" using technology that seemed like magic.

And then the wormholes collapsed, taking the Federation with them.

Now colonies struggle to survive, free of their imperialist overlords but bereft of the technology they provided. Fabricators and medical nanotech alike failed with the Federation's network. Former admirals turned pirate warlords prey upon defenseless worlds. Unrestrained corporations suck planets dry of resources. And mysterious probes wander the depths of space.

But hope is not lost, the wrecks of Federal starships and abandoned stations hold the promise of advanced technologies that could alleviate hunger or unlock the stars again, in the right hands. If you're brave enough to chance the dangers of radiation leaks, malfunctioning robots, or the dreaded Kessler cascade you may bring back great riches. You may find anything from a laser rifle to a technomage's staff that might as well be magic to you. If you're lucky you might even find a ship that you can patch up with scrap.

Scavenger: Caches and Prizes runs off the Cepheus Engine's simple 2D6 system. Just roll two six-sided dice, add modifiers, and if your total is 8 or higher you succeed. Character creation is a mini-game in and of itself: Create parahuman characters based on a variety of pre-made species or create your own from an array of genetic traits and adaptations. Then develop your character's backstory to determine their starting skills and equipment, maybe you'll roll up your own ship.

The Cepheus Engine is a fork of the classic sci-fi RPG Traveller released under the Open Gaming License by Samardan Press and refined by many other publishers such as Stellagama Publishing and their Cepheus Light or Cepheus Deluxe systems. Scavenger will contain a fully playable copy of Cepheus Light as well as being fully compatible with other Cepheus products. 

The rules for the setting's unique technology and species-creation system have been developed. All I need now are more illustrations. If you can help me commission just ten more pieces, the book will be a lot more colorful when it's published.

You might even be able to commission a cameo of your original character in the book.

[ronqueesha]

A random 40k lore thread from me! Featuring another cool thing I like in the setting:

Space Hulks!

Rogue Trader mutuals kinda saw a few space hulks in the game. Technically, any ship that is adrift in the void, powerless and often without a living crew can be considered a space hulk. But the 40k galaxy is much cooler than that.

There have been SO MANY space empires, so many THOUSANDS OF YEARS of constant warfare and such gigantic fleets built by the Imperium and other species. These countless ships, wrecks and victims of horrific tragedy tend to clump together over the millennia. These amalgams grow and consume other, smaller wrecks into themselves like planets forming in a new solar system, taking in debris and smaller pieces into the larger whole. Some of them have grown so big that they are literally micro-planets in their own right, with gravity and light atmosphere.

To make things worse, many of them drift in and out of the warp seemingly at random. Whether it be through malfunctioning warp drives on the ancient vessels, the whim of the chaos gods, or something else.

The Imperium regularly tracks every space hulk it can find, and often sends in teams of space marine terminators and other brave souls to explore their depths. As I said before, some space hulks are as ancient as they are big, and sometimes contain traces of humanity's technological past. Or holy relics of the Imperium thought lost centuries ago. Exploring space hulks is dangerous to the extreme, and so it's often only space marines with the combat experience and weaponry to even survive such an expedition. Regular humans rarely stand a chance inside these things.

But it's not just the Imperium that likes to explore space hulks. One of the primary ways the Orks spread around the galaxy is hijacking these things and using them as mobile bases of operations. They don't care when or where it randomly appears in the warp, because it will eventually lead them to a good fight. Tyranids and their genestealer cults also famously ride on space hulks, waiting for an opportunity to come near a planet full of biomass for them to consume.

And of course, Chaos makes frequent use of space hulks as well. During the Horus Heresy, the Dark Mechanicum pulled a space hulk out of the warp, fitted it with engines and shields like a warship at an impossible scale, and used it against the Imperium. In the current era, some chaos space marine warbands use particular space hulks in much the same way the orks do.

[theresattrpgforthat]

a ttrpg for teenagers going on an I'll advised roadtrip?

THEME: Teenage Road-trip

Hello there! I've got games about teens and games about road-trips: I'm sure between all of these you'll find the right fit!

Along The Open Road, by Thorne.

Are you ready to head on a Journey Along the Open Road?

Along the Open Road is a simple road trip storytelling TTRPG that allows a group of 3-5 players to work together to tell the Journey of a group heading down 'The Open Road', discovering new Stops along the way, learning about cool Points of Interest, and meeting Unique Characters.

And the best part of all of this? Your group creates the story you want to tell.

Along the Open Road, as a storytelling TTRPG, is a game that allows every one of the players to be in command of the story at some point. There is a great focus on Characters, of course, but there's as great of a focus on Players, too. And just in case there are Players who aren't as experienced in storytelling or running sessions as others, there's a whole host of ideas tables right at the back of the book.

Along the Open Road is a road-trip game before anything else. This means that you can decide the setting and circumstances that will affect your characters: it cares about your car, your cash, your inventory and the journey you go on. Advice in the game also seems to hint towards holding at least one session per character in order to experience the fullness of the game, which tells me that the game likely also allows you to dig into emotional depth if you so desire. Because it's kind of setting-agnostic, I do feel like you can play teens in this one, although there won't be anything that makes them distinctively teen-like compared to other possible characters.

Delinquent Goons, by Veri.

Delinquent Goons is a system hack of the Tunnel Goons system submitted to the One Page RPG Jam 2024. Designed for playing with 1 Narrator and up to 4 players aka Delinquents.

Explore a time when everybody expected you to behave a specific way, grow up at a specific time, and only exist in specific spaces. And reject all of that. Form a ragtag group of teenage dirtbags as they reject expectations set upon them and uncover the covert conspiracies of authority figures and classmates.

Delinquent Goons is inspired by media such as Scooby Doo: Mystery Incorporated (among others), so I think putting a bunch of teens in a van and sending them off to deal with strange happenings is totally in its wheelhouse.

I think the piece of the game that is the most emblematic of teenage themes is the Peer Pressure gauge, which is meant to represent the stress or dread of being a teenage delinquent. Your teen doesn't just have to deal with the threats against the group, they also have to manage the pressure of having to live up to a certain social expectation in their group of friends. Despite the core game rules of Delinquent Goons being rather simple (it is, after all, using the same engine as Tunnel Goons), the Peer Pressure gauge gives your group a tool by which you can imbue your story with drama and emotion.

Interstate 10 1/2, by PsychHound. @psychhound

The van is gassed up. The tunes are playing. The road is clear.

Well … the van is running on something, the tunes keeping remarking on achingly specific details of our travels and inner thoughts, and the road is clear of other cars but nonetheless something keeps cropping up in the rear-view that looks different to every person who gazes upon it.

But, that’s, uh … normal for a roadtrip. Right?

In Interstate 10 1/2, you and your friends will hit the road in a possibly-alive van, working hard to keep everything in operating shape, keep food on your plates, and not let your fellow road-tripper's fascination with the possum who has his same eyes freak you out too much.

Interstate 10 1/2 is a short 2-page game by Luka Brave, also known as PsychHound Games online. It uses his Horseshoe System, which centres around two tracks that help keep the story moments punchy with a peak and a nosedive in the fiction attached to when your characters succeed and fail.

Character creation is simple, but it isn't limiting: the tables that help you put your little blorbo together offer short, evocative phrases that demand that you add emotional depth to your backstories. You don't have to be a teenager in this game if you don't want to be, but you can absolutely start with the premise that all of the folks on this road-trip are young, and perhaps a little bit foolish, and Danger is sure to follow you regardless.

The Book of Brushwood Lullabies, by Hex Culture.

The Book of Brushwood Lullabies is a tabletop RPG made for the time of year when seasons turn and leaves change color. Play as a group of wayward children as they attempt to navigate and their way through the strange and wonderful Brushwood. Make friends along the way, avoid enemies, stray from the path, and (with a little help from fate) find your way back home.

This game is best with 3-5 players, and requires both a set of tarot cards and polyhedral dice for full enjoyment.

Inspired by media such as Over The Garden Wall and Tales From The Loop, The Book Of Brushwood Lullabies appears to aim for somewhere between the magical and the surreal. It isn't really a road-trip per se, but it does carry the pieces of a travelogue that you might be looking for from a road-trip story. Your kids are trying tog et back home, through a woods that harbors witches, magical creatures, and a scarecrow looking for his items of power. To add to the feeling of enchantment, the game uses a deck of tarot cards to create unique abilities for each character, as well as a mechanic that involves reading a 3-card spread to interpret what happens in a scene.

If you want a highly interpretive game, I recommend The Book of Brushwood Lullabies.

Along the Road To Everywhere, by loamington.

ALONG THE ROAD TO EVERYWHERE is a post-apocalyptic road-trip tabletop role-playing game. It sets the aesthetics and ideals of the Beatnik and Hippie movements of the mid 20th century against the backdrop of a vast, magical wasteland. It’s relatively low-key and role-play focused, dealing with ideas of community and regrowth. Part of the idea is to tell the stories that happen between larger stories—between dots on the map.

Branding itself as a rules-lite game, Along the Road to Everywhere embraces the themes of a road-trip by classifying the GM as the Engine, and the players as the Passengers. The game claims inspiration from Art Nouveau, Medieval Revival, Beatnik & Hippie culture, and Transcendentalism. I'm not familiar with most of these sources, so I'm not sure how much of those inspirations shine through in this game, but the idea of an art & cultural movement feels like it might be in tune with teen culture, if you don't mind blending genres a little bit.

The setting for this game is both post-apocalyptic and medieval in nature, with vans that are powered by plants instead of gas, and a world that's meant to be built collaboratively with some suggestions for beautiful and vibrant locales. I think the biggest dissonance with this game and your request is the part about "ill-advised" road-trips. The trips in this game don't feel very creepy: they're dangerous, but the aesthetic of the game takes a turn more towards the hopeful than anything else.

Wayward Highway, by Capacity for Wonder.

Civilization is a strange web; places strung together with highways and telephone wires. A loosely woven net that holds together society. Sometimes things slip through the net; they are lost, or too strange to be found at all. The map is the thread that connects these places. It leads to lands of legends, where mysteries are born and prayers are answered by strange gods.

Wayward Highway is a game inspired by road trips and the places between where you are and where you want to be. It is about experiencing the journey; the joy and agony of distance. There will be many disparate stops along your trip, and they may or may not add up to a cohesive narrative. Ultimately a road trip is not about a grand plot, but those little moments and how they shape you. The trip you take together may or may not be fantastical, but it will always be strange.

This game is part of the No Dice No Masters tradition; there is no Game Master, no dice. All you need is in this one document.

Wayward Highway feels like a great source for nostalgia and melancholy. The author calls upon media such as Alice isn't Dead and American Gods, so expect Americana and the strange, tied in with the collaborative magic of No Dice, No Masters. This is a GM-less game, allowing each player to embody both characters and locations, giving personality to the setting just as much as the people within it.

This game isn't necessarily about teenagers, but I don't see anything within it that prevents you from playing teens anyway, and it certainly gives you the tools to create an unsettling or strange atmosphere.

Melancholy Trip, by ThatAceGal.

"The smell of discount, gasoline that's still fresh from being poured into your van's engine. Tamara is nervous. The two big wings on her back always twitch when they are. Aiden's tired, eyes that normally are full of fire, falling close at the wheel."

"Keep awake, Aiden. Miles to go before we sleep."

Melancholy Trip is a game that requires 3-5 players and a deck of cards. It's about being trans, super-powered and on the run in a ramshackle car from your superheroic mentors who know damn well why you ran.

I don't know much about this game, other than what it says on the cover, but it's got teens, it's got a road-trip, and it looks like it's also about angst! Since the teens are super powered, I have a feeling that pitting them against horrors and strange happenings is to be expected, if not encouraged. I also think that this might be a great game for fans of the movie Logan, what with all of the allegories in the X-Men franchise that I think might overlap with this one.

Games I've Recommended in the Past...

Roadspire, by glempy.

Last Caravan, by Ted Bushman.

Apocalypse Roadtrip, by Mynar Lenahan.

Dead Ends, by kay w.

You can also check out my travel-themed games post, my recommendation post inspired by Pacific Drive, and my Isolation and Desperation recommendation posts!

If you like what I do and want to leave a tip, you can check out my Ko-Fi!

[marauderspolls]

She's just more interesting than them. Like, lily is so boring.

wait wait hold on a minute, are you serious…

the fact that people even try to compare Lily Evans and Bellatrix Lestrange like they're on the same level actually makes me want to throw something. Like, Bellatrix's a one-note lunatic with a murder kink and zero personality outside of “I love Voldemort” and “I want to kill things.” That’s it. That’s the whole character. She’s just evil for the sake of being evil, and yeah, sure, she’s scary or whatever, but she’s not interesting. She has no depth, no real motivation beyond blind fanaticism, and no development. She starts the series as an unhinged Death Eater, and she dies as an unhinged Death Eater. There is nothing in between.

Bellatrix is literally just a rabid dog for Voldemort. That’s it. That’s her whole function. Her family? She doesn’t care about them unless they align with her weird pure-blood ideals. Her own sister tries to distance herself from her because she’s so far gone. And don’t even get me started on the way she treats people—she’s all about power, control, and causing pain for the sake of it. She doesn’t even have a goal beyond “make Voldemort proud,” and like... for what? That man does not care about her! She dies grinning because she’s so far up his arse she doesn’t even realize how pathetic she is.

And THEN you have Lily, who is just so much more compelling in every single way. She doesn’t have power handed to her on a silver platter. She wasn’t born into some rich, pure-blood family with connections and influence. She worked for everything—her magic, her place in the wizarding world, her friendships. She got there because she was talented and determined, not because she had some bloodline nonsense backing her up. And the best part? She could’ve taken the easy way out. She could’ve married Snape’s ideology and been like, “Yeah, maybe blood status does matter,” but she didn’t. She chose to fight back. She chose to stand up for people who needed it, even when it was hard.

And don’t even get me started on love. Bellatrix thinks she loves Voldemort, but it’s not love—it’s obsession. She throws away everything for a man who doesn’t care about her. Lily? Lily chooses someone who actually grows, who actually loves her back. She has real relationships, real emotions, real stakes.

Lily is brave in a way Bellatrix will never be. Bellatrix dies cackling because she never once considered that she might lose. Lily knew she was going to lose, and she did the right thing anyway.

Meanwhile, Lily? Lily is a real person. She’s funny, she’s sharp, she stands up for what’s right without being some perfect, holier-than-thou character. She has actual relationships that matter, actual emotions that make sense, and she grows. She changes. She starts as this kid who’s just discovering the magical world, and by the time she dies, she’s someone who’s made her own choices, built a life for herself, and actively fought against people like Bellatrix - actively fought against a system that's designed to oppress people like her, whereas Bellatrix was in a convenient position of power from start to finish - like bffr when did she ever LOSE anything? There's zero CANON evidence that she was abused so that entire argument is moot.

So yeah, if you actually think Bellatrix is a more interesting character than Lily, I genuinely don’t know what to tell you. One of them is an actual person with complexity, growth, and depth. The other is just a glorified attack dog with a creepy Voldemort fixation. It’s not a competition.

[nanistar]

SERPENTINE PROMISE | Hidden in Plain Sight.

Serpentine Promise is a 16+ literate Horror / Slasher Warriors RP set on the coast of Belize in the heart of a meteor crater called the Cardinal. This RP takes heavy inspiration from the beautiful indigenous Mayan cultures of Belize for its worldbuilding.

You are part of three groups known as Arrows. You live in relative peace, guided by your Celestial Leaders in the skies above - the Jade Tiger, the Red Tiger, and the Gold Tiger. Centuries prior, these three leaders created the Arrows, but in doing so created something worse. The North Serpent wanted the crater for itself, and would only be satisfied when it ate the sun. The three tigers fought together against the serpent to the death.

In modern times, these Celestial Leaders are growing increasingly distraught, until they disappear one night and leave you with nothing but an omen … Cats around you begin to drop dead soon after. Your objective? Survive. Keep one eye open. Figure out which one of you is slaughtering cats by the dozen, or die trying.

𓆙 ━─┈

🌊THE EAST WAVES Living on the sandy coasts of the Cardinal, the cats of the East Waves are weathered, brave, regal, and know their way around the barrier reef, and the raging seas. 🌴THE SOUTH RAINS Nestled in the dense, lush rainforest of the crater, the cats of the South Rains are intelligent, agile, gifted and flighty. They know how to traverse the land without ever placing a paw on the dangerous jungle floor.

⛰️THE WEST PEAKS Settled in the mountains along the edge of the crater, living within caverns and along cliff faces, cats in the West Peaks are hardy, strong, tough and independent, battling the biggest threats of all — Harpy eagles, amongst other dangerous raptors. 𓆙 ━─┈ WHAT WE OFFER🐍

A safe, secure environment for all with safety nets in place for any incident that would otherwise occur in a large space.

A server open to writers of any experience.

An extremely large expanse of lore and world-building including a glossary of brand new terms, in-depth lore and history inspired by Mayan cultures, unique ranks and roles to each Arrow, and an entirely new herb and medicine system created entirely for the RP, amongst a dozen other additions!

A server run by BIPOC and LGBT+ moderators, including a Belizean admin and consultant.

High Ranks and Roles open for application for writers of any experience and skill level!

RP affiliation / partnership — advertise your RP server in ours!

EXPLORE THE WORLD & APPLY NOW! >> https://serpentinepromise.carrd.co/ << =

(please note that i, nanistar, am NOT the host of this RP. i am merely a moderator and the tumblr liaison. i can answer some basic questions, but for anything more in-depth else please contact BADMIRACLE on tumblr. he is an amazing rp host and has spent months bringing this together and developing this rp.)