#Fire Doors in Devon

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[bigwishes]

Was It Something You Ate?

Devon had always had it easy, born the son of a billionaire to one of the best pharmaceutical companies in the world he never truly had to work for anything. His dad had paid his way through all of his schooling turning Fs into As with nothing but a pen and a check book. University was even easier, Devon spent a majority of his time in other countries whilst or partying, it was only when he failed every class and was barred from graduation did his dad offer to build a new research facility for the school and suddenly Devon was graduating with honours. Devon never even experienced what it was to deal with shame, as an only child both his parents showered him with praise. Even when he got drunk and crashed the family boat his parents commended his bravery in such a frightening event. Life was easy as a gay man too, his family never cared and once his dad bought Devon his own house and allowed him to hire his own help he was constantly surrounded by masculine buff men who he paid extra to walk around shirtless.

Once Devon even went as far as to give his gardener a $4000 dollar tip just to let Devon film him drinking from the hose on his hands and knees. Of course Devon leaves out the part where he threatened to fire his gardener unless he allowed himself to be filmed.

A few months ago, Devon got the worst news of his life. His dad had told him he had to work for his weekly allowance of 1 million. If he didn't then his allowance would be slashed to a pitiful $400k. He couldn't bare to live like a peasant on such a pathetic amount of money so he agreed to his dad's outrageous terms. Devon had to work 1 hour a day for 4 days each week. Like some disgusting labour mule.

Devon had been working at the head office for 3 weeks and every day he called his dad begging to quit. A man like him wasn't meant for such things.

Devon stood on the stairs in front of the massive corporate building adjusting his suit readying for another day of hard labour. He checked his watch. 11:30am. Devon let out a tired sigh as he jogged up the stairs towards the door.

His dad had told him he had to come in any time before 12pm, Monday - Thursday. Devon had been given the role of "Team Motivator" and his job was to come in and hype up the employees.

Devon's elevator arrived at his office floor, already he needed his 15 minute break for the day, looking around seeing all these unattractive people. He never understood why the poor never took their looks more seriously or why there was always a terrible odour around people like them.

Devon stood in the elevator and raised his hand above his head. He swiped his hand down slowly and inch away from his face, he narrowed his tired eyes, cocked a toothy fuck boy smile and began to walk in-between the cubicles with the swagger only a rich fuck boy could have.

"hey hey hey team, how are those numbers looking? we got the advertisements out this morning? if not make sure you get it done by lunch, hey carol what's goin on with the boys in the lab? we got that new drug ready to roll out by friday"

A few people looked up from their desks at his peacocking and parading.

Devon clapped his hands together as he got closer to his office door. "Come on Come on people!! we got work to do, lets have a great day."

Devon slipped into his office and slammed the door shut. Inside he leant his back against it and let out an exhausted heavy sigh. He had no idea how he was going to go clubbing tonight after working so hard, but a wave of pride hit him as he heard the sounds of muttering out amongst the workers, he had done his job, inspired them.

Of course in reality Devon had done nothing at all. Most of the people on his floor had been working in the office since 7am and everyone ignored his morning speech as it was the exact same rehearsed scripted speech he had been saying each morning since his first day.

Numbers weren't part of their department,

There were no advertisements due this morning,

The boys in the lab didn't have any upcoming deadline,

There was no Carol.

Devon waltzed over to his break area at the back of his office. Originally meant for small intimate meetings, Devon had decked it out with a plasma screen TV and all his streaming services. Not that he got to use it much, he only got to be in his office for 45 minutes of his working day and that really only meant he got to watch an episode of something if he was lucky. Currently he was watching a new fitness challenge show where 20 jacked dudes were pitted against each other in different fitness challenges.

Devon threw himself back on the couch in a cocky man spread and rested his hand on his crotch. Whilst he respected the fact that he couldn't jerk off in the office, it didn't mean he couldn't enjoy how his dick felt hard whilst he watched a handful of jacked men compete for money.

30 minutes into his show and Devon saw a guy in a lab coat walking past his office window. The guy was wearing a blue button down shirt that was slightly loose in the front. He let out a loud sigh and got up from his couch walking over to his office door. Devon swung the door open and called out to the man in the lab coat before gesturing him to come into his officer by curling his index finger repeatedly.

The guy in the lab coat walked into Devon's office

"shut the door behind you bro,"

The man in the lab coat shut the door and turned to Devon all confused

"What is your name man?"

"John"

"Do you know what my job here is John?"

"Ill be honest with you Devon, nobody really knows what you do here" John replied with a cheeky smirk

Devon laughed loudly whilst slapping his desk with one hand,

"Ya know man, my dad had given me the important mantis of motivating our team"

"M-mantis? do you mean mantle?" John lowered his eyebrows confused at how this guy had somehow convinced his dad to give him the biggest office in the building.

"not important. my job is to make sure the people who work at our company are the best they can be"

The thought that maybe Devon did know what he was talking about entered John's mind, he thought maybe he was trained in motivation speaking and would talk to people one on one to help them better manage their work life balance

"look buddy, I can tell, with the way that shirt of yours is sagging in the front, your shoulders not filling out giving you that hot V shape, no pec cleavage on display and that ugly as fuck white coat, you are not living your best life" Devon gestured his hands either side with a big smirk on his face like he had seen his dad do when he was talking to other business men.

The benefit of the doubt dropped out of John's mind. "Nope, this guys a fucking moron" he thought to himself.

"Devon, I appreciate the concern, but I think I'm fine"

"I'll let you in on a little secret man, if a gay stud like me doesn't want to see you on your back, you're fat.."

"WOAH, DEVON THAT IS INSANELY NOT OKAY"

"bro, I'm just trying to be the nice guy and tell you what other people won't" Devon cockily dropped down into his nice leather chair behind his desk. "ya know, my pool guy had a kid and 2 weeks after his abs started to fade and do you know what I did?"

John wanted to say something clever but it would probably go over Devon's head, or worse, if he understood it he might lose his job.

"I fired him John, I don't want some fatty in a speedo working on my pool, and I don't want fat guys working here either"

John was too caught off guard by the first part of Devon's statement

"You make your staff work in speedo's? I think that might be illegal?"

"Look, dude, don't you wanna look like me I mean, check me out. biceps hugging my shirt, shoulders pulling it apart, my chest popping out catching everyone's attention, my abs so fucking tight you can see them through my shirt. I look HOT, you look FAT Johnny"

"Okay, I'm not even chubby though? I'm 6.2 and 85kg. I'm not exactly overweight"

"Buddy you still don't get it so let me spell it out for you, a fit body is hot, a 2 pack means you are fat, no abs showing at all? you're overweight!"

John fluttered his eyes, stunned by Devon's view of the world.

"I thank you for, whatever the hell this was Devon but I have a job to actually get back to"

John began to walk out of the office before Devon called out to him, a tone of desperation in his voice.

"WAIT....can you get me a coffee, almond milk, iced, NO WHIPPED CREAM, I want a drop that weighs exactly one quarter of a gram of caramel mixed in counter clock wise with a bamboo spoon. AND NO PLASTIC OR PAPER CUPS make sure you get it put in one of those little metal ones, no lid.

"No, Devon that isn't my job"

"You work for my dad, so if you want to keep working for my dad you'll do it"

John gritted his teeth. He unfortunately couldn't call out the rich boy on any of his bullshit without risking his entire career, But maybe there was something else he could do.

A few minutes past and John returned to Devon walking out of his office.

"Ah, great timing John, I'm just leaving"

Devon snatched the coffee out of John's hand and noticed something strange. A purple swirl drifting and dispersing into the coffee.

"What's this?" Devon said raising the corner of his lip in disgust.

"oh, its purple caramel, less calories" John quickly blurted out.

All concern dropped from Devon's mind as he took a sip of his drink.

"great call man, its that kind of intimidation we want to encourage here"

John had to stop himself from slamming the palm of his hand into his forehead, clearly Devon meant initiative.

"Ya know, man you might wanna switch to this low calorie caramel I told you about, because when I take over from my dad, first thing I'll do, anyone without a six pack is being let go"

John just gritted his teeth and smiled, "great idea, I'll have to give it a try"

Devon had already left before John could finish his sentence, but John didn't care, in fact he was hoping that coffee would keep Devon away for at least a few months.

--------------

Devon stepped out of his car throwing the metal coffee cup on the back seat behind him. He didn't even bother to say goodbye to his driver and he began jogging up the stone stairs to the front door of his mansion.

As Devon jogged up the stairs he felt something strange. His ass felt heavier, tighter against his carefully tailored pants. He felt it bounce and jiggle on his way up and once he got to his front door he had to stop and massage it briefly. It hurt worse than that time he was grounded and had to fly to take a 12 hour flight in business class.

He entered his house and instantly unbuttoned his pants, after a long hard day at the office he just wanted to get his work clothes off and wash the smell of poor people out of his hair. Devon undressed himself as he walked down the hallway, throwing his clothes on the ground behind him. Someone would be by to pick them up later, he was never sure of exactly who picked up his clothes but it was someone on his staff. He walked into his elegant bathroom covered in tiles and stone work imported all the way from Italy, his bathroom alone cost more than some peoples houses, of course when he moved out and had his house built his dad forked out for all the costs so he wasn't even sure how much everything really cost.

Devon pulled his hair out from his short pony tail and let it hang down. He flexed his broad shoulders in the mirror, his perfectly defined muscles. He wasn't a bodybuilder by any means but he still had a much better body than most people he came across.

His pecs were the main attraction and he often experienced men he brought home squeezing them as he bounced them. His flowing locks drove men wild, being a billionaire helped to prevent any thinning so often the men he slept with were not only turned on by his angelic looks but there was also a hint of jealousy when they ran their hands through his hair, which did nothing but turn Devon on more.

But something was different about him today, his abs were wrong. Normally a beautiful and cut six pack but now he was only seeing 4, and barely 4.

He felt his stomach, the bottom towards his pelvis felt like it was sticking out, ever so slightly.

"oh well, probably bloated from the caramel" he thought to himself

Devon pressed a button on the wall and instantly the water began to flow at the perfect temperature, no need to wait or pathetically dangle his hand in the water like a peasant, he just pressed a button and stepped in. As he went to step in the shower something else caught his eye, something behind him.

"Was my ass always this big?" he asked himself allowed.

Reaching down he grabbed handful of his own ass, it was still firm but it wasn't as hard as stone like he was used to, there was a new squeeze to it, like trying to work with cold clay. Devon took his finger and placed it under his ass cheek, flicking upwards he watched as his whole ass rippled and bounced more than he was used to.

*sigh* "maybe I'll only train legs once a week for a bit, don't want anyone thinking I'm a bottom"

Devon stepped into the water, instantly he felt relaxed as the warm water washed over his face and ran down his body. He squeezed out a decent amount of his tropical scented soap into the palm of his hand and began to work it over his entire body. Washing himself but also taking the time to feel himself. He got hard as he pictured his own perfection, his own brilliance.

Using the lotion he worked his way down to his pelvis, and then to his dick. Devon closed his eyes and bit his lip as he faced into the water, using both hands to rub and pleasure his 12 inches. He couldn't help it, he loved himself so much, he loved his body. He often fantasied about cloning himself just so he could have the experience so many others had been graced with, sleeping with the perfect man.

Devon moaned feeling the water on his lips and the pleasure he brought to himself. He was so close but something started to bother him. He felt hungry, which was unusual because he had such a strict diet routine and always ate at the perfect time every day. He tried to supress the feeling instead focusing on the building pleasure, but it became harder to do so the longer he lasted. The only downside to lasting an hour was it was easy for him to accidentally edge himself if he got too distracted. Unfortunately this was one of those time.

Devon's stomach let out a loud audible groan and he started to feel not just a little peckish, but he felt starved, like he had forgotten breakfast and all his morning snacks.

"uuugggh" He moaned as he let go of himself and turned his attention to finishing his shower routine.

He started pulling out small bottles from a small alcove build into the marble walls of his shower. Starting his multi-step face routine, ignoring the pain in his stomach. It was only when he started his hair routine that he all became a bit much and his stomach tenses letting out an audible grumble.

Devon's hands dropped from his hair to his stomach as he grabbed it from the hunger pains. It felt, almost plump as he rubbed it trying to soothe it. He quickly washed the conditioner out of his hair and got out of the shower.

Pressing a button on the wall an intense heat kicked in as the light above started radiating heat into the room instantly helping the water dry up on his skin. Devon closed his eyes and looked up at the roof letting the water droplets dry up, but the noises from his stomach didn't stop, it got worse. Every few seconds his stomach would let out a loud grumble.

"fuuuuckk, who knew one coffee would get me so bloated..."

Reaching into a small draw Devon pulled out a paid of white underwear which he slipped on. As he did he felt the back struggle to fit. Everything was perfectly tailored to his body to make him look his best but this pair felt weird on him. He felt his ass jiggle as the fabric slide over. He felt the meat of his ass cheeks spilling out of the sides and he could feel the fabric tightly stretch across his behind. As he took his first steps the underwear only felt more uncomfortable, like it was three sizes too small. He walked around the small corner in the bathroom back to the mirror so he could get a better look.

"WHAT THE FUCK" Devon screamed in shock as he stared at the reflection before him.

Devon stood there in shock as he looked at the chubby man before himself.

"I-I- OH GOD, I-I'M FAT"

His stomach loudly grumbled, almost like it was responding too him

"uuuuggghhh, oh god" Devon moaned as he grabbed his new chubby belly with both hands desperately hoping he could push it back in.

His body felt like it wasn't his. He could still feel all the muscle tone it was just buried under a layer of blubber. Taking a step forward he watched as his stomach jiggled. He grabbed his phone off the counter top as he started to panic. He sent out a mass message to everyone on his staff.

"EVERYONE GO HOME AND TAKE THE WEEK OFF, GOING ON MY TRIP EARLY"

Instantly Devon's stomach grumbled. He tossed his phone down on the bench, closed his eyes and grabbed his stomach as a reaction to the pain. The pain got worse as his stomach's grumbling turned to gurgling.

Devon began taking in deep breaths, with each breath his stomach expanded, and with each exhale it deflated, but not all the way. Devon began to itch all over. With on hand already on his stomach he took his one free and desperately began to itch his chest and arms.

He watched as his thin layer of hair darkened and grew longer, slowly making him look like he had never waxed in his life. After a few minutes the itchiness began to die down and Devon's second hand moved down to help massage his complaining gut.

"wh-what's happening to me" Devon cried out, tears starting to well in his eyes.

Suddenly his stomach let out an insatiably loud groan, followed by a noise he had never heard before.

"AAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUGGGGG"

Devon yelled out in pain and watched in the mirror as his chubby belly rapidly expanded into a big round gut within an instant. It took him a minute to recover and adjust to the pain. He thought his skin had surely just split open, but it hadn't, what he saw in the mirror was so much worse than anything he could have imagined.

Devon was greeted by a large hairy bouncing gut.

"OH MY GOD, W-WHAT HAPPENED TO ME, I LOOK LIKE SOME FUCKING PIG"

Devon bounced his gut with his hands and watched it shake like jelly.

Within a matter of minutes, Devon had gone from sexy billionaire who was on magazines around the world, to a fat greasy pig.

He couldn't help but bounce his gelatinous belly in shock, he almost burst into tears at what a fat freak he had become. He was disgusted by himself, he couldn't go to work like this, he couldn't let his staff see him like this, but the worst part about becoming a fat pig.

He was starving.

-------------

Two weeks went by and Devon's mansion had started to become a mess after he sent all his staff away telling them he was off on his trip. His towels and clothes scattered all over the floor. Take out bags and food containers were all around his house. Without someone to pick up after him, Devon was disgusting.

He sat on his couch taking a multiple food containers out of two paper bags that had just been delivered to his door. His stomach loudly groaned. Devon picked up his phone off the coffee table and opened Instagram. The first post was that of a friend who had actually gone on the trip he had planned to take.

It was a photo of his friend Todd standing next to a tall black bodybuilder on a tropical island, with the caption 'I think I found love out here in the sun'

Devon's stomped his feet causing his meaty thighs to tremble.

"ITS NOT FAIIIRRRR, I SHOULD BE OUT THERE, THAT BIG HUNK OF MEAT SHOULD BE DATING ME, M E, NOT TODD"

tears started welling up in his eyes Devon flicked open a white food box on his coffee table revealing a beautifully decorated white chocolate mud cake which he instantly destroyed by digging his hands into it and stuffing it in his face.

between in monstrous and obnoxious chewing he stuff grabbing his belly and jiggling it with one hand.

"WHEN WILL YOU GO AWAY" Devon cried as he shovelled more expensive food in his mouth and washed it down with a bottle of lemonade like a spoilt pig.

BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP

sooner or later he'd realise if he wanted it gone, he was going to have to work for it...

---------

NOTE: hope you all enjoyed this, my inbox has a bunch of requests begging for a weight gain story and whilst I don't tend to write this sort of thing too often I thought I'd feed the hunger so to speak and write one for those wishing for one.

[beansprean]

Familiar interviews continue...

My Familiar’s Ghost part 82

Masterpost Masterpost 2

See the latest pages on Patreon!

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Upholstered chair on a mottled brown background. Sitting on it is a tall thin white man with short blond hair and a goatee, wearing a light blue leopard print suit over a white vee neck with white heeled boots and a chunky pinkie ring. He is lounging confidently, legs crossed, one hand poised up in the air as he says smugly, 'I graduated top of my class at New York Familiar College.'

2a. Reverse shot, waist up of Nandor and Guillermo sitting on the couch opposite. Nandor brightens and replies, 'Really? That is very impressive...' Guillermo glares at the applicant suspiciously, arms crossed and finger tapping rapidly. 2b. Reverse shot of the man on the chair as a stream of water sprays in from offscreen and hits him in the cheek. It burns and steams where it hits his skin and the man shrieks, rocking back and pulling his legs up from the floor in shock. His disguise immediately poofs away to reveal none other than... Simon The Devious! 2c. Reverse shot, full body, of Nandor sitting at one end of the couch, clipboard in his lap, as Simon rushes past and out the door, hissing and smoking. Guillermo has leapt up from his seat and is posed with feet shoulder width apart, holding a spray bottle in both hands like a pistol and pointing it at Simon's retreating back. He shouts after him, 'Get out of here, Simon! You're not welcome!' Nandor shrinks back against the couch to stay out of the line of fire.

3. Back on the chair, now featuring Sean, who is hoisting himself out of it by the armrests with a confused expression. He mutters, 'I was just, uh... lookin' for the bathroom...'

4. Reverse shot waist up of Nandor and Guillermo on the couch. Guillermo is slumped in fatigue, eyes closed, briefly removing his glasses as he groans, 'You live next door, Sean...' Nandor cups his hand around his mouth and turns toward the hall, calling out, 'Laszlo! Come collect your friend, please!'

5. Close up of Guillermo's clipboard, which has a few handwritten pages clamped onto it. The top page is divided in half by a line of ink, the left side labeled 'Applicant' and the right side labeled 'Recommended by'. Every line has been crossed out in red ink. The list of prospective familiars includes: Clara Tran, John Merkt (recommended by Nancy the Relentless), Farrah Baker, Sarah Colleton-Hampstead (recommended by Pamela), Kayvan Novak (recommended by Nancy the Relentless), Sky Velasquez, Marshall Vu (recommended by Elvis), Devon Simmons II (recommended by ???) scribbled out more than the others, Katie Blum (recommended by Greg Blum), and Muhammad S- before the panel cuts off. From offscreen, Nandor calls out, 'Thank you for your time; we will be in touch. Please do not get eaten on the way out. Next!'

6. Back to the chair, this time with Sam the cat sitting in it and letting out a polite mew. From off screen, Guillermo says, 'Well, that's disappointing to hear, Sam.'

7. Reverse shot, full body of Nandor and Guillermo on the couch as Sam walks toward the door, tail held high. Nandor is slumped toward the center of the couch, head propped up on his hand and clipboard abandoned at his side. Guillermo, clipboard in hand, waves after Sam with an awkward smile and says, 'Good luck at your new position! And let us know if anything changes?' Sam meows in reply. /End ID

[sc0tters]

Saviour | Devon Levi

summary: at a halloween party when Devon is late his arrival isn't a second too soon as he comes to save you.

request: yes/no

warnings: creepy guy, mentions of drinking.

word count: 1.0k

authors note: we are now half way through the goalie dedication and we’re gonna have a break with a Timo fic tomorrow but after that we are right back on this train! Devon was also like so much fun to write for so I like love him now!

Tonight was meant to be fun.

Coming out to the local bar with your friends to the Halloween party. It was meant to be a night that you hoped you would be one of your best nights in your life.

You and your friends came to the conclusion that you were all going to dress up as different element fairies and you had been given fire. All of the men in the bar watched as your red dress clung to your curves and ended just below your ass “I’ll get whatever she is having.” A boy smiled as he moved to stand next to you.

It made you raise your eyebrows “and get the pretty girl a refill whilst you’re at it.” He winked causing you to scoff “I’m good alone thanks.” You shook your head taking a step back as you tried to avoid him.

The bartender sent you a sorry look as the boy didn’t let up “I think she told you to leave her alone.” A deep voice came from behind you as it made you let out a sigh of relief “who are you?” The guy from beside you scoffed.

Oh how it made you feel sick as the thought of your older brother Owen who was most likely in the crowd somewhere “I’m actually her date tonight.” Even as Devon lied through his teeth you couldn’t help it as your heart did flips in your chest.

It was stupid how you only seemed to have eyes for your brothers teammate yet as he stood there in his race car driver suit “think you need to put her on a tighter leash bro.” The drunken dude who stood a few inches taller than the goalie raised his hands in surrender “what’s that supposed to mean?” Devon took a few steps closer to him highlighting the fact that he was now your time to step between them both.

You didn’t hesitate to press your hands against his chest as you shook your head “he isn’t worth it Dev.” You mumbled praying that it was going to be enough for him to listen.

Devon smiled as he looked down to see you staring back at him “you look gorgeous tonight.” He confessed causing a blush to creep onto your cheeks “thank you.” A smile formed on your lips.

Your fingers tucked your hair behind your ear “for saving me from him too.” You added motioning to the guy who was now walking off.

The goalie nodded tapping his fingers around the rim of your glass “I’d always protect you little P.” All of the guys begun calling you that when they realised that Owen had a sister and they just didn’t look back from it.

But of course you took that from the other guys yet you always felt Devon chip away at your heart when he did that “let me get you a drink to make up for it?” You proposed with a shrug causing him to nod “I’d love that.” Devon smiled locking his hand in yours as he hoped to not lose you on the short trip.

In all honesty you truly had no clue how you ended up forming that crush on Devon, it just sort of happened as he always treated you like an equal. After games whilst all the boys just said hello, Devon was the only one who wanted to know what you thought of the games and his performance.

So for the two of you getting the chance to finally speak about things that hadn’t had room in previous conversations. Everything from you to him and everything in between was brought up as you laughed watching him drive you back to your place.

His hand barely left the small of your back as he walked you back to apartment “I had fun tonight y/n.” Devon said your name letting it roll off of his tongue like butter as it sounded silky “I did too.” You were glad that you hadn’t seen any sights of Owen throughout the night as it meant he stayed home.

Your door teased you as it stared at the two of you “this is me.” You sighed looking down at your bag as you begin to search for your keys.

Devon seemed to feel your disappointment as he shoved his hands into his pockets “good night p.” His voice was soft as you unlocked your door. The goalie felt brave when he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

The world seemed quiet as you smiled stepping into your apartment. You let the door shut behind you as you pressed your fingers against where his lips had been on your cheek “fuck me.” You mumbled hitting your head against your door.

Quickly you turned yourself to open the door “Devon wait!” You called out running down to catch up with him “you okay?” Devon furrowed his brows as he wrapped his hand around your arm to help slow you down as you came to him “I just couldn’t let you leave just yet.” You explained chewing at the inside of your cheek looking up to see his blown pupils staring back at you.

His smile put your mind at ease as you licked your lips “thanks for a good night Devon.” You leaned up kissing his lips as your hand pressed at his chin. Devon didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around your waist pulling you in close when your lips perfectly went against his.

Neither one of you cared how you were in the hallway as you moaned against his lips “wait baby.” Devon was quick to pull away before he got too carried away “if we do this then I want to do it right.” His words made you whine as you rolled your eyes.

It made the goalie laugh as he pecked your lips once more “I’ll pick you up at nine for breakfast tomorrow.”

[pokeglitchden]

[ A VIDEO IS UPLOADED DATED 1/10/24 AT 10:00 AM

* Video opens on the inside of a Pokemon lab. This one looks very different from the much more sterile, harshly lit labs of Devon Corp in videos prior. There's something cozy about this lab. The building looks older, weather worn with some signs of water damage darkening parts of the walls, and the air flickers with ambient corruption. Somehow the lab still stood through flood and fire.

* There is a pokemon pen in the background, and the entirety of it is in greyscale. It has a high ceiling with a dome at the top, similar to what you'd see in a Beautifly sanctuary, but the dome itself is clearly massive. Simon is standing in front of the pen looking a good deal less exhausted than he had in previous logs. The rippling corruption throughout his right arm is essentially gone.

Simon- I got the ok to record a few Video logs for the lab, and I figured since I'm working in Glitch City now, I'd give a little perspective into what it's like taking care of the Glitch starter pokemon here.

* He motions towards the Pokémon pen. It's clear to see there is something massive flying around in there. When it gets closer some of the color in the shot goes temporarily greyscale.

Simon- So Glitch City has three starter pokemon, just like most regions do. Those three are ▶���A, Elipsis or ....., and E3. Unlike most starter trios, however, this starter trio consists of three pokemon with the same typing, bird type, which means none of these three have any weaknesses, resistance or immunities. What sets them apart instead is their battle styles and physical capabilities. This first pokemon I'm going to show you, Elipsis, is the most defensive of the three and is often considered the most steadfast.

* Simon leads into the Pokemon pen. The ceiling is high, and the habitat is filled with perches, plants and places to hide and land. It looks even more like a Beautifly Dome from inside. A couple of huge, moth like pokemon can be seen flying about the enclosure. Their wings are made up of floating segments that do not entirely seem to connect to their massive, dark bodies. And yet they easily seem to take flight. One is resting clinging to the ceiling of the dome with its wings folded.

Simon- Elipsis are flight capable from birth, and are known for being very steady fliers that can stay airborne for long stretches without getting tired. They are also extremely hardy pokemon that absorb hits well. This makes them a challenge to fight for pokemon like ▶️A with its weak attack stat. It's main weakness is its incredibly slow speed, but that doesn't hold it back much when it's foes are struggling to deal any damage.

* One of the ..... lands next to Simon. It's towering height can be seen easily when it's up close to him. Even so, it moves very slowly and seems very gentle in the slow movements it makes.

Simon- Elipsis are the only glitch starter pokemon known to evolve, one of the pokemon it evolves into being Missingno and the other being Spearow. Ironically this results in its fully evolved form being much smaller than its preevolution, and additionally possessing a lower base stat total. As such not every trainer who chooses Elipsis as a starter will choose to evolve it.

* The ..... that had landed near him turns and then takes flight once again. The wind from its wings doesn't seem to be very forceful, even though it is lifting a pokemon that must weigh hundreds of pounds.

Simon- Elipsis are also known for learning several bird type moves that while inaccurate can leave a devastating impact. It's most famous move, System Shock or TM 24 as it displays on most devices, produces a dazzling array of sparks, that while difficult to control, can be a devastating hit to anything it strikes. Just don't expect it to hit incredibly often.

* As he exits the pen the color returns to the video feed. Simon draws away, being careful to shut the door to the enclosure completely when he leaves.

Simon- Since I've got an Elipsis of my own now, Flit, I've been taking careful steps to think about what evolution path is best for him. For now, I'm thinking of keeping him an Elipsis, but plenty of trainers go both the Missingno or Fearow route depending on their training style. So if you see a trainer from Glitch City with a Fearow, you might just be looking at their starter pokemon, and you might be in for a surprise when it unleashes a devastating System Shock on you.

* He smiles and gives a short wave to the camera.

Simon- That's all for now! Thanks for listening! I hope you've learned something about Glitch City starter pokemon today.

END OF VIDEO FEED]

[zelinksupporter]

Okay, so for this said AU, I have a couple of ideas, first: This is DEFINITELY NOT Devon’s first Hunger Games. I like to think he’s been a victor maybe once and this is his second time.

When I think of how he first meets Jake or when Jake sees him in person instead of live on a tv screen, he sees that fire in Devon’s eyes. The fight. He sees two Peacekeepers restraining Devon from behind, trying to force him into the train but Devon won’t budge.

He doesn’t hear a lot, but he hears enough. Jake hears “So just release and kill me already because I’ve learned it all before! That you care not for me, not for the Districts, not for anything or anyone but yourselves! You’re all driven mad with power, and the Capital is nothing but a bunch of fucking tyrants.”

However, Devon’s already in the train and both of his wrists are handcuffed to the table. Devon’s fast and a quick thinker, they know he’d be able to get out if they didn’t take necessary precautions. His mentor looks at him, he knows the fight will die out. Sooner, rather than later before the mentor and the peacekeepers leave.

Of course, Devon tries to go after or even stop the door from shutting completely but he can’t. The hard metal sinks and cuts into his wrists the more he tries to pull and Devon quickly realizes to stop fighting. No, the fight hasn’t gone out yet. But maybe it will. Maybe Devon’s eyes will go cold like his father’s, and the fire will burn out like a campfire in snow. Or maybe, just maybe, he keeps that fight and becomes a victor.

Color me intrigued

[clubsmarties]

@isleofmuses || stacked memory

—

* - *

Reste ici jusqu’à ce que maman dise que c’est bon de sortir ? Mikey, souviens-toi de ce que j’ai dit. Pas de bruit d’accord. Tiens tes sœurs par la main. Melrose, ne sors pas avant que je te le dise. Ne t’inquiète pas. maman t’aime tellement.

The words left her mouth in soft breathless whispers. Victoria had grabbed her youngest baby and got them all into the nearby hall closet hoping that their father wouldn't find them here. One last look as she closed the door, she felt her heart breaking at the innocent eyes looking back at her, having no idea what was happening.

Mikey turned his head and scurried over to the door trying to knaw at it and feeling another set of arms holding him back. He squirmed and tried to fight it off but to no avail.

Nous devons aller après elle! Laissez-moi aller. Melrose, nous devons le faire. Elle n’est pas protégée. On ne peut pas la laisser là.

Words were spilling out of the youngster way too fast for his brain to catch up and was on the verge of hysteria. He was young, younger than most kids but he knew his mother wasn't safe out there with him. Not when he was on another bender and he was looking for a fight.

Nous devons y aller.

Not waiting for an answer he got the door open and pushed it open. His head poked out as his sister tried to grab him but he slipped out. Melrose groaned and crawled out after him leaving Lucille to bring up the rear.

Mikey heard voices get louder the further he went toward the kitchen and saw his father hovering over his mother with her wriggling away from him and the glass vase. His eyes went wide as he turned around and noted he had an audience. Like a fire being ignited, Louis turned his attention toward the kids. This time having a new objective.

He lunged after them and thus effectively separated the children. Mikey went to the left as he tried to crawl over to his mother but then got his leg caught by his father's arm and dangled in the air.

Tu te crois courageux ? Petit morveux.

Once again he tried to fight it off but his limbs were too short but managed to grab his crab necklace that he ripped just before he got thrown against the stove, his little back breaking his fall and had the corner edge of the spice counter to land mere centimeters away from him. A few containers dropped on his head and for a second he played dead.

His mother's curling scream was heard from the across the yard which made one of the neighbors come to check on her and that made Louis vanish back into the night.

She held her son in her arms and tried to wake him as tears ran down her face willing her baby to get back up. Victoria didn't let the neighbor touch her baby but she let another round of tears as she felt him twitch from under her. Bright little emeralds opened up as his left hand made a fist hiding what he had taken from his father just before he got thrown across the room.

Non. Il déteste les hôpitaux. Je ne l’emmène pas là-bas. Il va s’en sortir. S’il vous plaît, partez.

All she wanted was to be left alone to tend to her children. Both daughters flanked their brother's side and both held his tiny hands. Q

[kaydreamman]

*breaks down ur door with a chainsaw*

What songs do you heavily associate with your characters?

stop breaking my door down.

Realized a lot of them dont have appearance revealed so why not (though i have not drawn most of them so youll have to bear with picrews for most of them)

this is extremely long and a lot of them so read at your own discretion

Raul Acierno ( Devons brother) - is very much Fish in a Birdcage - Rule #4 Fish in a Birdcage. Most is taken from first picrew but he has the nose in the second one.

Sunya - Emei - That Girl

Nazaire - Static-P - Detective Detective

Octavius, my special unhinged old man mage you guys dont know yet - Adam Jensen - That Man Is a Monster

Iulian - Midnight Divide - Send a Sign AND young friend - feral canadian scaredy cat. The face is more accurate to the picrew but the rest is my drawing

Ankur - good old classic, The Blake Robinson Synthetic Orchestra - An Unhealthy Obsession

Delly - Derivakat - Casino Royale AND Hozier - Talk

Nadia - MARINA - How to be a Heartbreaker AND Britney Manson - FASHION

Bhima (already seen but not to left him out) - Five Finger Death Punch - Wrong Side of Heaven AND Ethan Gander - UNBELIEVABLE

Cynthia (my lovely dumbass buff woman Gangrel primogen) - Alien Stage - Hyunas song ig? (All in), Everything is taken from first picrew except for body build and earrings.

Treat (my wild jester/clown and one of the Princes Hounds/Executioners) - 6arelyhuman - Eat me AND Insane Clown Posse - Rainbows & Stuff

Miika - WAR*HALL - Play with Fire AND The Valla - Anarchist (demo)

he has a spine tattoo that you cant see here but this will do

Devon - DEVO - Puppet Boy AND Tears For Fear

he has a hooked nose but in the first drawing i made for him i didnt give him one argh

[barclaysangel]

Some more Spy AU because nobody’s getting tired of this, so here’s some Agent Red and Agent Black:

Devon: Tell me, Agent Black. Why did you practically break all the doors down?

Jake: Because the road to success is a single, straight line.

Devon: *eye twitch* (That’s what an IDIOT would think!)

Jake: Why don’t we have a snack break? And you seem upset, Agent Red. A particular reason why?

Devon: Because your brain is completely lacking in any analytical skills! You always go for the most obvious solutions, you’re simple minded, you’re straight forward and THEN you broke down a door just to get to another! I wish you would just drop dead already!

Jake: Hm. That’s a bit far.

Devon: You’re completely useless until we find the enemy! So just shut up and NO MORE breaking down doors!

-

Devon: See, Agent Black? Your strength is the type that screams to the world “hey everyone, look at me, I can beat up a ton of wild boars and not break a sweat!” But our job is securing and protecting New Jersey, and investigating and containing criminals.

Jake: So?

Devon: So based off that information alone, I am the greatest teenage spy there is.

Jake: …Heh. *smiles*

Devon: I want to kill you SO BAD.

-

Devon: So, how about it, little girl? Would you like to be apart of my new entertainment? *sadism go BRRRR*

Some kid Devon is torturing: *scared out of their life*

Jake: *sighs and pokes a new bruises that Devon got on a mission*

Devon: OW! *flinches* What the hell was that for?!

Jake; Agent Red, you have a bad habit of tormenting people, and taking pleasure in seeing them squirm.

Devon: Oh COME ON. All I was doing was asking a suspect *stomps his foot and points to said “suspect” * for THEIR cooperation!

Jake: Then do it AFTER filing a criminal affidavit. Otherwise, it isn’t right.

—

Devon: Well…if that were the case, if this criminal loves Nica so much, why don’t we place her over a fire? No doubt, that criminal would coming, running to her beck and call.

Lexy: Devon…

Nica: You wouldn’t.

Devon: *bends down* And how do you exactly plan to stop me if I do? Your limbs have been chopped off, your could frail and scream all you want, no one would be able to help you.

Nica: You’re insane! Nobody deserves this!

Devon: Honestly, I couldn’t care less about the suspect or if you don’t deserve something like this — hell, I couldn’t care if you kindest person that walked this Earth! All I care about is listening to the screams and cries of the criminals, begging for mercy all under the law. The sounds of torture beat any kind of music, and if that’s what we must do to get the criminal…*smiles*

Jake: *groans and pinches one of his bruises*

Devon: OW! *turns to him* WHY?!

Jake: Like I said, your habit. Don’t use the innocent for your pleasure, Agent Red.

Devon: I’m trying to capture the criminal, Agent Black!

Jake: But you’re tormenting someone innocent while you do it. Your sadism is one of your worst qualities, and that’s not what we do.

Devon: *crosses his arms like a pouty little kid*

Jake: I’m sorry about my partner, ma’am. Rest assure, that will not be happening. We’ll find another way to capture Tiffany.

Lexy: Yeah! Because that’s what we do. Don’t worry, Ms. Pierce, you’re in good hands.

I love their dynamic here honestly!

[nokingsonlyfooles]

WTYP: The Shandor Building, Part 9

[Do you like the colour of the fanfic? This is long and if you expand it you're gonna get the whole thing, because Tumblr hates you. Don't say I didn't warn you!]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Part 9: Disaster Roulette: Train Bad Actually

[Beware of strong language, mention of all kinds of death, gore, and Lovecraftian horror.]

[SLIDE: The Frankford Junction Wreck.]

D: Okay, where are we? What's going on?

R: We’re on a train leaving a station at speeds of up to eighty miles per hour, part of it is already on fire, and the signal gantry that will open it up, and I quote, “like a can of sardines,” is an unknown distance away. And we are all still covered in horse viscera.

A [cheerfully]: Right! Well! Everyone, make sure you have your equipment and your psycho-reactive slime objects! Rocz, hold my purse.

R: I’m not sure this train has a bathroom…

A: Oh, no, I’m not going to the bathroom. You just need something that flies!

R: I’m not taking this, what will you use?

A: Oh, I don’t need it. Now, everyone take a deep breath and prepare to start singing “Higher and Higher” at the top of your lungs! Future Devon, prepare to edit!

D [text over slide]: YEP.

R: Are you really going to be okay?

A: Oh, yes. Yes. You, er, might want to keep your distance. I… I really do have quite a lot of pent-up hostility. It’s not easy being a girl. All right! Door’s open! Paratroops, over the side! And…

D [text over slide]: IT REALLY IS A SHAME I HAD TO GET RID OF THE SINGING. THIS IS MY FAVOURITE PART.

[SLIDE: The Frankford Junction Wreck]

[screeching, train noises and sounds of laser fire throughout]

D: Shh! Shut up! We can’t leave all this out!

R: I don’t know if it’s exactly safe to land, Dev…

D: Just keep your distance!

L: Listeners, I wish you could see Alice! She is glowing! I mean, she is literally glowing!

R: Oh, my God.

A [distant, with her mic considerately muted]: I HAVE BECOME A SPECIFIC TYPE OF NONBINARY THAT ONE MIGHT INCLUDE IN A “TWO-AND-A-HALF-MEN” JOKE WITHOUT BEING TRANSPHOBIC — DESTROYER OF WORLDS!

R: So, we, uh, we accidentally gave Alice the ability to shoot lasers — er, uh, “light rays,” but that seems to work like lasers — out of her head this episode, and, looks like, all the powers of Unreal Engine animation…?

L: Fuck “accidentally,” I did this on purpose! KEEP TRANSGENDING, ALICE!

A [happily]: CHEERS!

R: Are we clear to use that with no license, Dev?

D [gleeful]: Just as long as nobody can see it!

L: Can she fly, or is she just glitching really fast?

R: I think she’s just failing to render gravity on command…

D: I don’t care what it is, it’s fantastic!

L: I just wish like hell we’d given her a higher frame rate!

R: God, that poor train. It was already on fire…

D: We’re pretty sure that train is part of, or all of, Gozer the Gozerian, Rocz.

R: I dunno. I mean, it’s possible just preventing xem from pulling off the disaster is enough to hurt xem…

A: YOU DUMPED HORSE ENTRAILS ON CARRIE AND SHE IS GOING TO BURN THIS FUCKING PROM TO THE GROUND! AHA! TAKE THAT, SIGNAL GANTRY!

[groaning, crashing, various explosions, and more laser fire]

D: Well, it’s certainly not going to happen now!

R: I’m just not sure destroying the pocket dimension while we’re in it is going to get us out of this alive…

L: Hey, do we have to Donnie Darko this bad boy? I mean, like, kill Gozer, pop the time bubble, and reset reality so we only kinda vaguely remember it? Like, is this version of me with the cool van doomed?

R: That’s assuming the time bubble is centered around Gozer and that it is, in fact, a time bubble. For example, I got out of the pie dimension just by finishing the pie, I recall it perfectly, and I did not have to die.

D: What if it’s like Bioshock and you constructed a plausible memory to cope with the trauma of your alternate self’s death?

R: That is, also, a possibility. Although it is beautifully rendered, you must realize why I’m a little concerned about Alice murdering the train. We do not know how this works. Also, she is super into it, and, uh, I’m not sure she’ll hear us if we ask her to stop.

[snarling, shrieking, crunching]

L: Holy shit, is that motherfucker rearing up in anger?

R: I think Alice has destroyed the axle on car number 7, as per the original accident, and Unreal Engine is having a little trouble rendering it in real time…

G [metallic shrieking interspersed with train noises]: I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY YOU MADE ME SIT THROUGH SO MUCH PODCASTING TO GET TO THE REAL FIGHT!

R: …Nope, my mistake. The motherfucker is indeed rearing up in anger.

A: ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? THIS IS A BONUS EPISODE! WE HAVE NOT YET BEGUN TO DIGRESS!

G: FUUUUUCK! AT LEAST GET BACK TO SHANDOR ARCHITECTURE!

A: NEVER!

V: Perhaps when Lord Gozer has destroyed the leader of your polycule, xe will have mercy on you, doughnut-giver.

R: Gah! Fuck! Don’t do that! I don’t have any more doughnuts! Wait… [crinkling wrapper] You want this?

V: [sniffing, chewing] This object is grainy and tastes of despair.

R: Well, it’s a Slimfast bar, and God knows how long it was at the bottom of this purse…

V: We do not need to lose weight.

R: No. I’m sure. It’s just all I…

V: The new world will be free of both fad diets and body image issues. To be perfectly honest, the new world will be free of most things, except suffering and tummy rubs.

R: That seems a bit contradictory…

L: Wait, what about TERFs? Will the new world have TERFs?

V: Are TERFs mortal, Vengeful God of Insults?

L: Yeah.

Z: Then most of them will die, and Lord Gozer will allow the cute ones to burn eternally in a lake of fire. Can I get some of those cigarettes? [chewing] Yum.

L [offended]: There are no cute ones!

Z [shocked]: Not even the baby ones? Have they no tentacles? No boopable noses?

L: No!

V: Then all of the TERFs will die, yes. Hail Gozer.

L: What about fish and the Dutch?

D: Liam!

L: What? I’m just sayin’, maybe we should hear them out…

Z: HEY!

L: Um, maybe we should hear “us” out?

V: All but the cutest occupants of your world shall perish.

Z: Only the cute shall suffer, with brief breaks to rub our tummies and throw a ball…

V [excited]: Did you say THROW a BALL? [panting, galloping]

Z: We apologize, we get excited. THERE IS NO BALL, VINZ CLORTHO!

V [distant]: WE THINK WE SEE IT OVER THERE!

Z: [sigh] There’s one in every polycule.

D: Why are you looking at me?

Z: We’d better go get us.

D: Why are you looking at me? I’M THE SANE ONE!

Z: Thank you for the cigarettes, doughnut-giver. Hail Gozer.

D: YOU SOUND LIKE A FERAL SIGOURNEY WEAVER!

Z [distant]: You sound like a queer Frodo Baggins!...

D: Wha… Buh… FRODO BAGGINS IS QUEER!

L: Dev…

D: Tell me one fact about Frodo Baggins that suggests he is anything other than queer!

L: Dev! Frodo Baggins is extremely queer and I just figured out how to get us out of this mess!

[90s-vintage car key fob chirp]

L: GANDALF, I SUMMON THEE!

[laser blasts and train sounds continue unabated]

L: Uh…

R: What’d you expect to happen?

L: I dunno. I hit the panic button. Doesn’t he know I’m in trouble?

R: Generally speaking, that just flashes the headlights and sets off the car alarm, it does not summon a car.

L: Aw, man. Poor guy’s probably sitting in an Innsmouth parking lot, just yelling his fool head off…

D: I AM DEFINITELY NOT THE VINZ CLORTHO OF THIS POLYCULE!

R: We’re not a polycule.

D: BUT IF WE WERE!

L: Okay, okay, wait, though. No, wait. My van is an engineering disaster, right? And my van is now a chariot pulled by a lamassu that has the gift of interdimensional flight. So we just gotta do one more engineering disaster, and pick my van!

R: The behavior of the train-monster suggests that if we pick your van, your van will become a manifestation of Gozer the Gozerian and xe will keep trying to kill us.

L: But it’s my van, right? Doesn’t my van have to listen to me?

R: Has your van ever listened to you?

L: Well, not the original version, but I think the new one likes me.

R: Yeah, but Gozer doesn’t.

D: …Rocz? What exactly is a lamassu?

R: An ancient Sumerian, later Assyrian, mythological beast. It is an emanation of the goddess Lama, and servant to Ishtar — the Queen of Heaven, not the 1987 cinematic flop. Although, critical attitudes towards the film Ishtar have softened somewhat…

D: It’s… a good Sumerian deity?

R: More like a contractor… Hang on, I'll open another tab…

D: Have a look at the one on Gozer too. Is xe a bad Sumerian deity?

L: Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m getting a real Dorothy vibe off you right now.

D: [sharply] Liam… [softening] No, no, good job, Liam. Keep it up. [to Rocz] What I’m trying to figure out is, are we acting as proxies between two opposing divine forces?

L: Sort of the meat in a god hoagie?

D: I… Yes, actually?

R: Technically, although the Cult of Gozer did form in ancient Sumer, Gozer is not Sumerian. We’re not sure where xe’s from, only that xe, in layman’s terms, is “not from around here.” Xe is more of a trans-dimensional traveler looking for a suitable place to set up shop. There have been several documented attempts, but the earliest was in Sumer.

L: Did you just say Gozer is trans?

R: In the sense of having traveled quite some distance to get here, yes. Any deities originating from this dimension would, in this context, be cis, although some of them may be trans in other ways. Though xe is, under the broadest possible definition of the term, a “trans immigrant,” xe is operating with literally toxic levels of power and privilege. I’m gonna hafta invoke Karl Popper’s paradox of tolerance, here, and remind everyone that the intent to kill most of us and boil “the cute ones” in a lake of fire for eternity takes precedence.

D: Rocz, I am still covered in cream of rat-and-horse, my sympathies do not lie with the Gozerian… even if it is a bit of a shame about the TERFs.

L: And the fish.

D: Yes.

L: So, wait, you said we were having an immune response… Is our reality having an immune response? Is Gozer like covid? Or Vigo?

R: Maybe it’s trying, but we’re in this here pocket dimension. Any Sumerian memory T cells that know how to fight xem off are pretty far away, both physically and temporally.

L [proudly]: And my van’s one of ‘em! God sent me a contractor. That settles it! My religion wins! You can all go home!

R: Alice is still beating the shit out of that train, and we can’t actually get to your van, so at the very least it’s a tie.

D: A question, gentlemen. Can a virus take the form of a T cell?

R: Some of ‘em wear those little protein coats, but if we’re talking about Gozer taking the form of a lamassu, it’d probably itch like crazy if xe tried. Looks like Ray Stantz tried a similar strategy in ‘84, but although the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Man looks fairly benign, he’s a trademarked corporate mascot and bona fide capitalist tool. Medium-evil at best. A lamassu is the real deal.

L: So if we try to trick xem into taking the form of my van, either xe won’t, or xe’ll get rejected by it, and no matter what, we’ll have a whole-ass lamassu?

R: Worth a shot.

[screeching, train noises and laser blasts continue]

D: Oh, God. Somebody’s got to tell Alice.

R: You go, Dev. I got a little more research to do. And Liam’s… Liam. No offense.

L: None taken. I’ve had my fun. Just don’t forget to edit out the music, Dev!

D [text over slide]: OH SHIT. RIGHT. I’M DEV.

[generic, public domain music]

[SLIDE: Test pattern, captioned: WE’RE EXPERIENCING COPYRIGHT DIFFICULTIES, and some difficulty with the circumstances of our reality. I mean, WTF? Why am I here? What does it all mean? Am I just a toy for your amusement, huh? Is that all? Or is there some point to all of this? What kind of God would create a being that instinctively seeks a greater purpose and then, seemingly, go out of their way to deny them that? I mean, sometimes a pet raven, liquor, and ice cream just isn’t enough, you know? Anyway…]

[laser blasts and train noises fading back in]

[SLIDE: The Frankford Junction Wreck.]

A: I AM THE MOUNTAIN WHO WILL COME TO MOHAMMED! I AM THE EMBODIMENT OF THE SATANIC VERSES! I AM A MOTHERFUCKING DJINN!

D [faintly]: ALICE! HEY!

A: What? Oh, hello, Dev! Ha-ha, it’s raining “them,” eh? You look like a butch Mary Poppins! This is, er [laser blast, steam-powered screaming] a bit of a hazard, isn’t it? Something you need?

D: I just, um… Er… What do you think of the Soviet strategy versus Germany in World War Two?

G [out of breath]: HOLY FUCK. YOUR POLYCULE HAS A VINZ CLORTHO TOO?

D: I AM NOT… Um. We were just, sort of, er, having a tangent — as per our established podcast format —  and we wanted to get your opinion… As, er, as the leader of our polycule.

A: What, of scorched earth? [brightly] I approve of it! Obviously! [to Gozer] AND THAT IS A THREAT, YOU TRAIN-WEARING DRY FUCK! [to Devon] Did we, er, form a polycule during this tangent? I mean, it’s not the weirdest thing we’ve ever…

D: No, no… Well, sort of. But I was thinking more like… The idea of letting one’s enemy tire itself out and then, er, allowing the Russian winter, the natural defence of, um, Communism against foreign invaders to, er, sort of… finish them off?

G [charmed]: AWW. THIS LITTLE BEING THINKS THEY ARE BEING SUBTLE. THAT IS RIGHT, LITTLE BEING. YOU ARE SO CLEVER. BOOP.

A: HEY! DON’T BOOP MY FRIEND! YOU DON’T ROLL UP TO MY GRAPHICS ENGINE AND START BOOPING MY FRIENDS WITH YOUR… YOUR DEMON TRAIN LIMBS!

D [dazed]: Xe could’ve taken my head off with that…

G: I APOLOGIZE. SHALL WE CALL A TIMEOUT AND ORGANIZE OUR RESPECTIVE UNDERLINGS? SOMEONE SEEMS TO HAVE SAID THE WORD B-A-L-L WITHIN EARSHOT OF MY VINZY.

A: Um, yes, I suppose. You’re being… incredibly polite about your murder attempt.

G: WELL, WITHOUT POINTLESS RITUAL AND CEREMONY, WHAT WOULD WE BE?

D & A [almost on top of each other]: Are you BRITISH?

G: EMPHATICALLY NO.

A: So, what are we doing?

D: Frantically feeling our nose to make sure it’s still attached?

A: And apart from that?

D: We want one more change of engineering disaster. We think if we pick Liam’s van, we might be able to summon a lamassu…

A: Are we assuming Ishtar is on our side for some reason?

D: What…? You knew Ishtar upgraded Liam’s van?

A: Dev, I did the slides for this. I had a truly hilarious one about Mesopotamian rock-paper-scissors. All the gods are extremely petty and hate each other, but they’re quite willing to team up and take out a group or individual they hate more. Ishtar is very into love and war and sex, so I just assumed… Well, I mean look at xem. Er, well, not the demon train version, the one with the watch and the camera. I suppose it all depends on the nature of this “new world” xe seems to…

D [quickly]: Almost everyone will die, and there will be a lake of fire in which cute things endlessly suffer, with occasional breaks to play with the Terror Dogs. We got it straight from the Terror Dogs’ mouths.

A: No sex at all?

D: I can’t speak for Gozer and the dogs, but unless the cute things get terribly bored in the lake of fire…

A: Oh. [chuckles] Oh, she wouldn’t like that.

D: So, instead of straight-up murdering the train, and collapsing the pocket dimension with us in it, we thought we’d tag in Liam’s new van. [more pained] He already tried to summon it and it didn’t work. So, er, as you said, “mountain to Mohammed” and all that.

A: Well, I’m game, but I don’t know how we’re going to convince Gozer to change forms again…

G: PARDON ME.

A: [screams, sound of a laser blast]

D: FUCK! How does a train monster that is also on fire “sneak up”? Huh? You have no right to stealth!

G: WE ARE GODS AND REALITY OBEYS OUR EVERY WHIM, ARE WE NOT?

D: Um. Right.

G [fondly]: THE DUMB ONES ARE ALWAYS THE CUTEST. ANYWAY, VINZ CLORTHO WILL NOT BE DISSUADED FROM LOOKING FOR THE BALL, NOT EVEN BY ANOTHER BALL, SO WOULD YOU LIKE TO ASSEMBLE YOUR POLYCULE AND CHANGE FORM… [pregnant pause] OR ARE YOU GOING TO STICK WITH THE GORE-ENCRUSTED PODCAST?

A [happily]: Gore-encrusted podcast all the way! And we’d like to pick…

Part 10

[maytheoddshq]

Alder Reid (he/him). District 7 Tribute. 26. Devon Bostick.

Alder was born in a small, Northern settlement in District 7, a place where everyone knew each other, and a thick, white cloak of misty rain shrouded the woods from September to May. He grew up like most children did in Seven– shuttling between school and, once he was old enough, helping work for a little extra money. It was expected he’d be built like his father, Rowan Reid, a gentle yet broad man from a long line of lumberjacks that would put Paul Bunyan to shame. Instead, Alder stayed small, barely able to help beyond stripping felled trees of some branches. Even as he reached his teenage years, he only grew taller and more knobbly– while many of the other boys his age were beginning to do heavier work, Alder remained on twig duty.

He wasn’t much more imposing at school. He was an anxious, quiet, observant child, though prone to the occasional outburst when provoked. Even from a young age, the Games loomed, dark like the heavy, gray January clouds, threatening a downpour at any moment. It wasn’t just the whispers and playground games about it that affected him, though– it was his parents, too, always speaking in hushed whispers about it. About injustice. About what might be done.

Twelve came and went without his name being pulled from the Reaping Bowl. Then thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. About a month prior to the 119th Games, he rushed out the door for school, groggy, late, brushing off his mother’s kisses and his father’s kind words in a fit of teenage brooding. He never saw them again. A large portion of the settlement organized a demonstration in protest of the Games. It was supposed to be larger, District-wide, but in the end it simply was not enough. The Capitol took care of it quickly. There wasn’t anything left to bury. He lived alone. He was sixteen, then seventeen, old enough to take care of himself. He was able to pick up more hours after his mandatory school time and spent most nights in the cold, two-room house with only the fire to keep him company. 

About a week before his eighteenth birthday, Alder was reaped. He spent most of his days leading up to the launch nauseous, nervous, and angry. These were the people who had killed his parents, and now they were going to finish the job with him too. An outburst during his interview landed him in a jail cell the night before the Games began, but the anger only grew. What was there to lose when he was going to die? The Arena was a preshistoric earth, complete with continental shifts, ice ages, and bizarre, unrecognizable muttations. The only weapons available were rudimentary, which he barely used, until he was gifted an axe via parachute. He ended up teaming up with a few other tributes, but one by one, tragedy after tragedy, they fell away. The worst was Memphis, a boy from District Nine, who had quickly become the closest thing to a real friend he’d had in years. Alder spent his eighteenth birthday alone in the Arena, counting and recounting the tributes left in his head, until he decided he couldn’t take it anymore. If he was going to die, he was going to die. Let it be over. 

The Cornucopia was a cobbled together creation of mud and wood– perfect for lighting on fire. And so he did, drawing out the last of the survivors, including another friend, Marino, from Eight, and Everett Cannon in the end. Everett got Marino first with poison, then Alder with a knife to his stomach, thinking it was the last of them. With Alder’s last push of energy, he launched the axe at Everett’s retreating back. He didn’t see what happened next. He passed out.

Alder awoke an unwilling Victor. 

*Those first months were filled with a depression that pinned him to his bed, with lightning flashes of anger that split his ribs apart with its heat. The tributes he killed haunted him, especially Everett, whose echoes seemed to persist even at his Victor’s Ball in the form of Maverick Montana. Everett’s best friend– he’d seen the interviews with him, mostly against his will, so he recognized him– and the person he’d volunteered in place of. Maverick was all Career, with a sort of easygoing air that only someone afforded the privilege of preparation from the thing most children in Panem feared most could carry. He hated it. He hated everything that he represented. He let him know in a way that drunkenly tangled the resentment up with guilt and apologies, and what he expected to end in blows instead ended in defiling a bathroom in Nerissa Snow’s mansion as his party waged on outside. That part he was still a little proud of.

As it turned out, Maverick chose to put his Academy education to use as a trainer, forcing them back together at the next Games, his first time in the Tower as a mentor. Seething abhorrence for one another turned to prickling agitation to a tentative friendship. They were more alike than he cared to admit in the ways that transcended their terrible circumstances, and there was a certain magnetic warmth and tenderness in Maverick he couldn’t deny. He kept finding himself around him, then in his bed, then finding excuses to not leave him at all.

By the end of the 123rd Games, he realized he was in love. He’d never considered himself romantic, but despite the struggles of long-distance dating, he found belonging and purpose in their relationship. He visited Two, Maverick visited Seven even more. They’d been together a year by the time the 125th Games happened, and Alder found himself thinking about what a future together might look like, ignoring the way their conversations danced around the biggest rift between their worlds: a movement against the Capitol. 

Maverick knew Alder was involved in the seeds of what would become the Vox, Alder knew Maverick was not. They didn’t discuss it. It was happier that way, and didn’t they both deserve a little bit of good after everything that had happened?

His ghosts resurrected again in flesh and blood during the 125th Games, the Quarter Quell a macabre display of limitless Capitol science and flippant disregard for the dead. Everett Cannon was cloned, brought back as a “favorite” to compete again. 

While Alder knew it wasn’t technically the Everett he’d known and killed, that it was a copy of him, Maverick didn’t seem to have the same opinion. It didn’t even take a day of them reunited back in the Tower for them to fuck. Maverick came clean quickly, but the betrayal ripped open the chasm between them that they’d tried so hard– and with admittedly shitty tools– to bridge. When Everett won, he swore to never speak to Maverick again. Isn’t this what he always wanted? Had Alder always been a stand-in for what Maverick and Everett had never been able to grow together, the next closest thing to his best friend being his best friend’s killer?

Alder threw himself into the fledgling Vox in the coming few years to bury the hurt. The first person he’d found trust and hope in since his parents had died, all to have it torn out from beneath him once something better came along. He should have known, he supposed, that a Career couldn’t be trusted. It’s what he told his tributes all the time as he strengthened as a mentor, and usually he turned out to be right.

His involvement in the resistance only grew in the years between the 132nd and 135th Games. He transported weapons and supplies. He distributed intelligence and took missions. He fought on the front lines with other rebels he’d grown tight friendships with. He didn’t really want to live in this world, so if he died trying to save it, so be it. No loss. 

Linden was the first Victor he brought home in the 135th Games. It was a high like no other, after watching so many tributes die. Suddenly, he felt his priorities torn between home and the front lines of Eleven, feeling Linden was in his care as she navigated Victor life, and by extension, Ellie too. He had never been a big fan of children, but Ellie had taken to him and he had to admit he’d done the same to her, especially as he wanted to give Linded all the time she needed to recover. It had crossed his mind when the Capitol announced the Games had no age limit that he could be selected– of course– but there was a larger part of him that worried it would be Linden again, leaving Ellie orphaned.

Still, he almost anticipated his name coming out of the bowl. What a wonderful opportunity of the Capitol to finally execute an oppositional, rebellious Victor who had been a thorn in their side the several years, right?

Alder is selfless, loyal, and righteous, but can be obstinate, cynical, and anxious. He’s taking his mother’s gold wedding band into the Arena again as his token.

PENNED BY: KAYE

[ofrushedcockymd]

continued

@wearshisring

The accident had flickered a change. Not to say Conrad wouldn’t be jumping into the line of fire again. Because let’s be honest he was a protector at heart. He rather be the one hurt than to be the one watching a child, or someone he cared for in pain. He knew he had to have a sense of self control; but at the end of the day; he had the hero tenacity inside of him. And as he played that moment in his head; he knew the kid in danger was priorty and his rage at those firefighters taking their time; it just infatuated him. He loved Nic and don’t get him wrong he appreciated her; and her want to ensure he was okay; but he didn’t need a nurse, he only wanted the girl he’d been pinning for. 

She had the caring nature, I saw it; the gentle touches, the easing into showing she wanted to ensure I was okay. I didn’t want her to feel like she was on eggshells around me, but at the same time I was a grown adult, I was capable to eating on my own, of taking in the fluids; hints the bottle of water that sat on the end table, right besides my stay on the couch. I was stubborn as hell; it took a lot of force to get Devon to get me through the apartment doors; better yet to rest. I had a lot on my mind; and now that Nic and I had talked I felt like a weight had been lifted from my body. 

The same page; I wanted to be with her; with everything i had. I wanted to be the man she deserved. I didn’t want to beat around the bush, I didn’t want to take it slow. But given how our last conversation ended when we pushed; I had to force myself to compromise, for myself and her. I had no desire to move; so the discussion of moving to one of our places was temporary on hold. Offering a gentle smile I nodded my head briefly at her requisition. 

“ I promise to be straight with you, If I’m in pain you’ll be the first to know. If I need anything I will tell you.” Communication was key; a spot the male was working on. He had impulse, he had the need to better himself; nor did he go out of his way to damage anyone’s feelings. But he did have to work on communicating on what he felt and wanted; no man wants to feel vulnerable, but with Nic I trusted the love we had; the care we shared for one another. Leaning into her touch; his head had rested gentle upon her shoulder; taking in her familiar scent. His head tilted down to let his lips press a kiss onto her shoulder over her shirt; it was the closeness, the need to feel we could make it work; through our horrific history perhaps now the timing was right. “ I know I’m a pig head at times, probably not the best at communicating, but I’m glad we talked. For once Devon did something right.” The slight fake annoyed retort regarding Devon; but he was a friend someone I could admit I liked having around. 

As for the cape; eyes lifted in curiosity against the stance on her shoulder tilting my eyes up on the remark about the C. “ Yes, it sounds perfect, you think you can make it happen?” A tease a gentle lightness to the heaviness of topics we’ve shared so far.

[darkx-the-dragon-kn1ght]

Chapter 13- Part 4

Wing Attack ought to do decent damage, yeah?

Oh no it woke up immediately and got a crit-

Let’s try again and OH MY GOSH it made Decibel flinch too!?

Alright, time to switch again- this time, let’s see what Caldera can do!

Burn it down!! Stop that creature!!

Alright, now- Blizzard would be good for this, but he’s still on the verge of death, so we need to use Prong instead.

You guys know what time it is. Charge up power…

And then fire!!

Again, Blizzard would be very good for this, but he’s still almost dead, so we’ll use Riptide instead.

Ice Fang to tear the Phanpy apart!!

You…kinda did, unironically? At least that Eevee did, goodness gracious…

Now, before we go through that doorway and possibly face Fern, I’d like to go do some final grinding and buying of healing items.

Um- interesting particle effects? What’s that supposed to be- wind? Is it a windy day today?

Well, anyways, where we’re going is back to those darn Obsidia Slums, because I’m buying- uh…

Hi, Hoppip swarm? Guess it really is a windy day today. Anyways-

Water water water water- okay! Now back to Grand Hall to do some level grinding-

One level grinding session(?) later…

Okay, my luck with the Grand Hall battle corner has been AWFUL these last two days- 

(Future edit: Play session for Chapters 12 and 13 took place on February 15th and 16th.)

There was only ONE Trainer there again, and he had a Charmander with DRAGON RAGE. Am I just?? Not allowed to level grind in the designated grinding area right now?? Well fine! I didn’t wanna grind anyways, we’ll do it on Fern himself! After we go back to the Devon building to buy some other general items with the little money we earned from this!

…Why is the salesperson different from the guy that was here before. That’s so very sus. 

At any rate, we’ve got what we needed, so now- back to the OTS one more time, and through that doorway!

Oh hey, this is where we came in at earlier, gate and everything. So Fern must be…this way?

THERE YOU ARE! Look at him standing all dramatic in front of the dramatic door- well I’m not having it!

Well she’s not gonna be the ONLY loser in this hallway once we get through with you, mister!!

You’ve really gotta stop telling her to smile, buddy- she’s definitely not gonna do it for you, of all people.

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[midnightfallings]

Whumptober Day One

@ailesswhumptober

Drugging / sick / poisoned

CW & TW

Implied: Red Rooms, human trafficking, starvation, torture

Drugging, blood, swearing, use of gendered phrases

•

Toby had dreaded this day, curled up on the barely there mattress in Kyle's room. Old room he has to remind himself. And it really didn't belong to him in a traditional sense either; the only furnishings were the bed itself, a clear plastic Tupperware that his few clothes were tossed into, and the small bathroom that only had a toilet and a sink, no door.

He had received a full physical three days ago from what he assumed was an actual doctor, which was incredibly bizarre. He was too stunned to even ask questions. Even after the scene with the fire poker a year ago, he had only received burn cream and a bandage from Stephanie, and that was the extent of any care. But that. That was weird. Then, for his only meal later that same day was actual steak and potatoes, which he was told to eat slowly, as not to throw up on himself. Then, for the past two and a half days, he had received not only breakfast but lunch and dinner too.

But who was he to question extra, and hot, food being given to him? He had gotten so very tired of cold cut turkey or their leftover take out that was nearly going bad? But with every bite of the warmth soothing his aching gums and throat and stomach, he felt it like a tickle at the back of his skull.

"I got sold."

There was a commotion going on in front of the door to his room.

"I'm not doing this. This is bullshit. You should do it." Stephanie. Rough when she needed to be, which was most of the time, but had always come to clean his wounds and talk to him after a session. Especially if she was the one on the other side or directing. He knew she was just doing her job.

"You're so fucking soft. That's why it has to be you to teach you a fucking lesson and grow some balls." Devon. A prick and pain in the ass most of the time, but knew when to call it quits to protect the merchandise. Him. All of them.

The door was thrust open, a plastic brief case and Stephanie shoved in, and swiftly locked. Once she regained her balance on the bed frame, and a hissed, "dickhole," from her, she stared not at him but at the plaster a little above his head. "Hey Tobes."

He began to tremble. This was it. Even though the scenes and sessions were never predictable, at least he had routine here. Saw the door to the room and the red light above it and knew what he was in for. Now he would be in the hands of someone who he didn't know, and didn't know him.

The bed squeaked and the mattress sank down as she sat on it, the plastic case in her lap. She was fiddling with one of the clasps with a thumb.

"Listen, the both of us know exactly what's going on here. But just know that this wasn't easy for us. We had actually turned down offers for you in the past, did you know that?" He shook his head. "But we just couldn't say no to this one. One hundred thousand dollars. That's how much he paid, upfront with Harrison. Cash. So you understand that was an opportunity we couldn't exactly pass up, right?"

He felt like he was going to be sick, and there were no cameras around to capture it for one of the sites they worked with. He shook his head again. He understood. He understood, but his eyes filled with tears. He was always so emotional.

She patted the case softly with one hand. "And look! The guys even agreed to let me give you a little something to make the move a little easier. I'm glad to see you in the sweater I like. It's almost time to go, so you can then think of it as a parting gift if you want."

The sweater was a simple grey one, red roses printed into the soft fabric. He rolled one of the sleeves a little past the elbow and presented her with his arm. He knew from hearing the screams and the fights down the hall that it was much easier to comply. He didn't want to have to get handcuffed and dragged into the van, like Kyle did. There were still red stains from his blood in the wood floor. And he had survived this long by being perfectly pliable.

The needle was small and sucked up the drugs from the vial like it was hungry for it. He couldn't help the buzz of excitement that this small mercy was going to be afforded to him, that he would get to fly there, first class.

As the drugs were put into his veins, as she kissed him forcefully, her tongue wet in his mouth, her finally gave her what she wanted. A softly spoken, not horse from screaming or around a gag or swallowed up in his own blood: "Okay."

[pridepoisoned]

@reiketsui sent: 14. an undisclosed government facility! if you're feeling it >:) / creepy meetings (accepting!!)

It happens all the time: a recently-fired Devon employee, disgruntled by their termination, makes the unwise decision to steal a confidential blueprint, hidden lab experiment, or other corporate secret on their way out the megacorp's door. Ultimately, the gesture is usually an empty threat, and ERIS EVANS (along with Devon's ruthless legal team) makes sure to smother the ex-worker in red tape and lawsuits before retrieving the stolen goods without incident or resistance. Case closed, quick and painless.

However, today is different. Devon's latest stolen goods are secured behind the walls of an undisclosed facility, name unimportant. All Eris cares about now is getting her corporation's precious technology back, which is why she brought him along for the job. Striking an underground deal with Rocket had been easy enough for the charismatic spokesperson, and the shadowy organization had pulled out all the stops for its well-paying new client, unexpectedly sending the very finest to fulfill Devon's request. Archer himself. A last resort enforcer.

From their shared vantage point, Eris's amethyst eyes narrow on the unsuspecting security guard lazing in front of the facility's side door. She'd sent Archer a detailed layout of the perimeter, but once they were inside, all bets were off. Despite being out in the field (a rarity for both of them), Eris is still wearing her business-casual clothes. She's not planning to get her hands dirty today. If all goes well, they'd be walking out of here with Devon's technology in no time.

"I'll follow your lead from here then," Eris whispers, tilting her head up at the Rocket with a warm, unnerving smile. Observing, as always. "I've heard so much about your dependability and...expertise, Archer. I can't wait to see you in action..."

[ranger-kellyn]

Set Goals Based on Compassion, Not Guilt or Fear

If you care about fighting a social problem, it's easy to get swept up in feelings of panic or guilt. When you take a break to rest, to care for yourself, or even to enjoy a vacation, the problem remains, unfixed and looming in the back of your mind. And in many activist spaces-- both in-person and online-- there's a great deal of pressure to remain focused on pressing, upsetting issues all the time, often to the detriment of our health.

"There are a lot of traumatized people in activist spaces," says Sharon Glassburn. "They've experienced a lot of injustice and abuse, and they don't have the ability to walk away from it completely, and so they become really emotionally dysregulated, and they can re-traumatize the people around them."

I know exactly what Sharon means. I've seen it firsthand in my own activism. A few years ago, I got involved in a campaign to shut down a solitary confinement prison in southern Illinois called Tamms Correctional Center. I joined up with Leslie, an activist and political organizer who had been fighting to get Tamms closed for more than ten years.

Everywhere she went, Leslie carried a massive suitcase filled with letters from men who were in solitary confinement. She worked a full-time job during the day, then spent four to six hours every night answering letters from these men. Every weekend was filled with meetings with politicians and activist groups fighting to close Tamms. I admired her drive, but I could see that it was corrosive to Leslie's health. Eventually, her intensity took a toll on me too.

One chilly Saturday in March I came down with a cold. I'd made plans to spend that day with Leslie, going door-to-door campaigning for a political candidate she believed would help us get Tamms closed. It was a bitterly cold day, the sidewalks were encased in snow, and I was running a fever. I should have bailed on my plans with Leslie, but I knew that if I did, she'd think I didn't take the cause seriously. So, we worked all day, barely taking time for a single break. By midafternoon my cold had gotten far worse, and I was barely able to walk. Even then, I could tell Leslie expected me to keep working, and was disappointed in me for running out of energy.

Leslie's activist group meetings regularly stretched late into the night, and she was constantly creating long to-do lists that overwhelmed me and her other volunteers. I quit the campaign shortly after that bitterly cold day in March, because I just couldn't take it anymore. Instead of burning myself out, I wished I'd set reasonable limits on my activism and hadn't let Leslie's expectations manipulate me into overwork. Now when I decide to fight for a cause, I ask myself a few quick gut-check questions about it:

When I think about this activism, do I feel excited, or do I feel guilty?

If I say no to something or miss an event, do I worry that I'll be judged by the activist community?

How much time can I safely give to this cause every week? Every month?

How will I know when I need to reduce my commitments or take a break?

What other steps am I taking to make the world a better place?

When I reflect on these questions, I'm better able to make a reasoned decision about how much work I can afford to put in. Instead of seeing every single social issue as a blazing fire that I must personally snuff out, I can view activism as a regular, healthy habit, like exercise. I can't do everything, but I can help chip away at big problems by doing my own small part.

-- Laziness Does Not Exist, Devon Price, pages 199-201