#Scope of consumer studies

[pomegranatelifethis]

I won

The hum of Gotham’s streets was a lullaby you’d long grown used to, a gritty serenade that cradled your reckless spirit. At sixteen, you were the youngest of the Wayne family, a footnote in a sprawling saga of heroes and vigilantes. Damian, your older brother, was the closest in age, but even he seemed light-years away, his world consumed by the mantle of Robin and the weight of being the "true heir." You? You were just… there. A shadow in the Wayne Manor, flitting through its cavernous halls, unnoticed by the family that was too busy saving the world to remember you existed.

It wasn’t always this way. You vaguely recalled nights when Dick would ruffle your hair or Tim would help you with math homework, but those moments had faded into the fog of time. Now, the Batfamily was a machine, each cog turning with precision—Bruce with his mission, Dick with his charm, Jason with his rebellion, Tim with his genius, Cass with her silence, Steph with her fire, and Damian with his blade. You didn’t fit into their puzzle. So, you stopped trying.

High school was a blur of half-hearted attendance and naps in the back of class. Gotham Academy’s teachers had given up on contacting your family years ago; the Wayne name was a fortress, impenetrable and indifferent. You’d skip entire days, sneaking out to the edges of Gotham where the city’s pulse beat wilder. That’s where you found the races.

Illegal car races were Gotham’s worst-kept secret, a haven for thrill-seekers and outcasts like you. The roar of engines, the screech of tires, the electric buzz of danger—it was the only time you felt alive. You weren’t a driver, not yet, but you’d wormed your way into the scene, charming mechanics and betting on racers with the pocket money you swiped from Bruce’s study. You were good at it, too, with an easy laugh and a disarming smile that made people forget you were a Wayne.

Tonight, the air was thick with exhaust and adrenaline. You leaned against a chain-link fence, a cherry slushie in hand, your oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder. The race was about to start, and the crowd was a sea of restless energy—shouts, laughter, and the occasional clink of beer bottles. Your eyes scanned the lineup of cars, picking out your bet for the night: a sleek, modded Supra driven by a guy named Rico who’d never lost a race.

“Yo, kid, you in or what?” Rico called from his driver’s seat, grinning as he revved his engine.

You smirked, tossing your hair back. “Hundred on you, Rico. Don’t make me regret it.”

He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. “Never do, princess.”

The nickname made you roll your eyes, but you didn’t correct him. You liked the way the racers treated you—like you belonged, not like you were some fragile heiress. You sipped your slushie, the cold stinging your teeth, and turned to watch the flagger prep the start.

That’s when you felt it. A prickle on the back of your neck, like someone was watching you. Not the usual curious glances from strangers; this was heavier, sharper. You scanned the crowd, but no one stood out. Just hoodies, leather jackets, and the occasional drunk stumbling through. Shrugging it off, you turned back to the race, chalking it up to paranoia. Gotham had a way of making you feel like prey.

The flag dropped, and the cars screamed forward, a blur of neon and chrome. The crowd erupted, and you whooped, jumping onto a crate for a better view. Rico’s Supra was holding the lead, weaving through turns with a grace that made your heart race. You were so caught up in the moment, you didn’t notice the figure slipping through the shadows behind you.

☆☆☆☆

Jason Todd wasn’t supposed to be here. He’d told himself he was just scoping out the races for intel, tracking a lead on some smuggler who’d been funneling cash through Gotham’s underground. But that was a lie, and he knew it. The truth was messier, uglier. He’d heard rumors—whispers of a girl who sounded too much like *you*, throwing herself into the kind of trouble that got people killed. He hadn’t believed it at first. You were the baby of the family, the one they all assumed was tucked safely in bed, too soft and sweet for Gotham’s underbelly. But the more he heard, the more he couldn’t shake the gnawing dread in his chest.

Now, watching you from the edge of the lot, Jason felt his stomach twist. There you were, all reckless laughter and bright eyes, perched on a crate like you owned the damn place. You didn’t look neglected, not in the way he’d imagined—starved or broken. You looked *alive*, vibrant in a way that made his chest ache. But you were also sixteen, alone, and surrounded by people who’d sell you out for a quick buck. The thought made his blood boil.

He pulled his hood lower, blending into the crowd as he moved closer. You were cheering for some guy in a Supra, your voice cutting through the chaos like a bell. Jason’s jaw clenched. Did you even know these people? Did you have any idea what kind of danger you were in? He doubted it. You’d always been too trusting, too quick to see the good in people. It was why he’d kept his distance after he came back, why he hadn’t reached out. You were too pure for someone like him, stained as he was.

But this? This was different. You weren’t supposed to be here, in this world of speed and sin. And the fact that no one—not Bruce, not Dick, not even Damian—had noticed you slipping through the cracks? That lit a fire in him he couldn’t smother.

The race ended with Rico’s Supra crossing the line first, and you leapt off the crate, whooping like you’d won the lottery. Jason watched as you darted toward Rico’s car, tossing your empty slushie cup into a pile of trash. You were all smiles, high-fiving the driver and collecting your winnings with a grin that could’ve lit up the night. For a moment, Jason almost smiled, too. You looked… happy. Free.

Then he saw the guy next to Rico, some sleaze with a neck tattoo and a leer that made Jason’s fists itch. The guy was looking at you like you were something to be won, and you didn’t even notice, too caught up in the moment. Jason took a step forward, his instincts screaming to drag you out of there, to lock you in the manor where you’d be safe. But he stopped himself. Not yet. He needed to be sure.

You laughed at something Rico said, oblivious to the eyes on you—both Jason’s and the sleaze’s. The night was young, and Gotham’s streets were hungry. Jason melted back into the shadows, his mind racing. He’d keep watch for now, tail you until he knew you were safe. But this wasn’t the end. You were his sister, and he’d be damned if he let you slip away again.

☆☆☆☆

Back at the race, you pocketed your cash, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in the shadows. The night was perfect—loud, chaotic, yours. You didn’t need the Wayne name or the Batfamily’s approval. You had this, and for now, that was enough.

But as you turned to head back to your spot by the fence, that prickle returned, sharper this time. You paused, glancing over your shoulder. Nothing but darkness and the flicker of neon. You shook your head, laughing at yourself. Gotham was just messing with you, as always.

If only you knew how close the shadows were, and how tightly they were closing in.

☆☆☆

The neon haze of the race lingered in the air, a fading echo of engines and adrenaline. You stuffed the crumpled bills from your winnings into your hoodie pocket, your sneakers scuffing against the cracked asphalt as you made your way through the dispersing crowd. The night was still young, but the thrill of the race was ebbing, leaving you restless. You didn’t want to go back to the manor—not yet. That place was a mausoleum, all cold marble and colder silences. Instead, you decided to head to your favorite dive, a greasy 24-hour diner on the edge of Gotham’s Narrows. It was the kind of place where no one asked questions, and the coffee was bad but cheap.

You slipped into the night, unaware of the shadow trailing you. Jason Todd moved like a wraith, his boots silent against the pavement, his red hood a stark contrast to the gloom. He’d watched you all night, his chest a tangle of anger and something softer, something he didn’t want to name. You were so careless, so *fragile* in this world of predators, and yet you strutted through it like you were untouchable. It infuriated him. It terrified him. He’d lost too much to let you become another casualty, another name etched into Gotham’s endless gravestone.

He kept his distance, blending into the flicker of streetlights and the shuffle of late-night stragglers. You didn’t notice, too busy humming a tune under your breath, your hands shoved deep in your pockets. Jason’s jaw tightened as he watched you dodge a group of drunks stumbling out of a bar, your laughter bright and unburdened. Did you even realize how close you’d come to trouble? How many eyes lingered too long on you in that crowd?

You reached the diner, its flickering sign buzzing like a dying insect. The bell above the door jingled as you pushed inside, and Jason hesitated, slipping into an alley across the street. He could see you through the smudged glass, sliding into a booth with the ease of someone who’d done it a hundred times. You were a regular here, he realized, and that only deepened the ache in his chest. How much of your life had he missed? How much had they *all* missed?

Inside, you waved at the waitress, a tired woman with a smoker’s rasp named Bev. “Usual, kid?” she called, already pouring you a cup of sludge-like coffee.

“Yup,” you chirped, slumping back in the booth. You pulled out your phone, scrolling aimlessly, your other hand drumming on the table. The diner was a bubble of warmth, a stark contrast to the chill of Gotham outside. You liked it here—the chipped Formica tables, the hum of the jukebox, the way no one cared who you were. It was yours, a slice of freedom in a life that felt increasingly like a cage.

But freedom was an illusion in Gotham, and Jason knew it. He leaned against the alley wall, his eyes never leaving you. He was torn, caught between the urge to storm in, grab you by the arm, and drag you back to the manor, and the need to stay distant, to understand just how deep you’d fallen into this reckless world. He settled for watching, for now. But his patience was fraying, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back.

☆☆☆☆

Back in the diner, you sipped your coffee, wincing at the bitter taste. Bev slid a plate of fries in front of you, and you grinned, tossing her a mock salute. “You’re a saint, Bev.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, but there was a fondness in her eyes. “Don’t stay too late, kid. Streets ain’t safe.”

You shrugged, popping a fry into your mouth. “I can handle myself.”

Bev shook her head but didn’t argue. She’d seen you come and go for months, always alone, always with that same easy smile. She didn’t know you were a Wayne, and you liked it that way. The less people knew, the less they could use against you.

You were halfway through your fries when your phone buzzed with a text. It was Rico, the racer from earlier.

*Rico: Yo, princess, you up for another round tomorrow? Got a big one. Double or nothing.*

You smirked, thumbs flying over the screen. *Count me in. Better not choke, Rico.*

His reply was instant. *Never do. Bring cash, kid.*

You leaned back, satisfied, already imagining the roar of engines and the rush of the crowd. The races were your escape, a way to drown out the emptiness that clung to you like damp rot. You didn’t need the Batfamily. You didn’t need their rules or their pity. You had this.

But as you stared at the flickering jukebox, a flicker of unease crept in. That prickle from earlier, the sense of being watched—it was back, stronger now. You glanced at the window, but all you saw was your own reflection, pale and ghostly against the dark. You shook it off, blaming the late hour and the shitty coffee. Gotham was just like that, always whispering danger in your ear.

☆☆☆☆

Outside, Jason’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, a message from Tim lighting up the dark.

*Tim: Patrol’s quiet. You good?*

Jason’s thumb hovered over the reply. He could tell Tim he’d found you, that you were out here playing street rat while the rest of the family thought you were asleep in your room. He could blow the whole thing open, force Bruce to deal with the fact that his youngest was slipping through his fingers. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the way you’d looked tonight, so alive in a way he hadn’t seen in years. Maybe it was the guilt gnawing at him, the knowledge that he’d been part of the machine that left you behind.

He typed a quick reply. *Fine. Just checking a lead.*

Then he pocketed the phone and pushed off the wall, his eyes locked on the diner. He couldn’t keep this up forever, tailing you like some ghost. Sooner or later, he’d have to act. And when he did, he wasn’t sure if he’d be saving you—or breaking you.

Inside, you finished your fries and tossed a few bills on the table, waving to Bev as you headed for the door. The bell jingled again, and you stepped into the night, pulling your hoodie tight against the chill. You didn’t see the figure across the street, didn’t hear the soft creak of leather as he moved. But Jason was there, and he wasn’t alone in watching you.

High above, another shadow crouched on a rooftop, silent and still. Damian’s green eyes glinted in the dark, his katana sheathed but his mind sharp. He’d followed Jason, curious about his brother’s late-night wanderings, and now he saw you—his little sister, the one he’d dismissed as weak, unimportant. You weren’t supposed to be here, in this filthy corner of Gotham, surrounded by scum. His lip curled, a mix of disdain and something darker, something possessive.

Damian didn’t know why you were out here, but he didn’t like it. Not one bit. And as he watched you disappear down the street, he made a decision. You were a Wayne, his blood, and that meant you belonged under his protection—whether you wanted it or not.

The shadows of Gotham were closing in, and you, oblivious, walked right into their embrace.

[piroulinewafers]

hi hiii ^.^ I’ve been in a choso trance recently and my favourite thought is that he is truly insatiable. He just wants to love on you 24/7, he’s tried sm ways to get his intense love across from you (like flowers, written letters and short trips) but ultimately decides the best way is to worship your body. He’ll take things slow and kiss every inch of you, letting you run your hands through his hair as he works his way down. He gets impatient though so it won’t be long before his kisses kisses feel rushed and more desperate. By the end of the night, you’re covered in hickeys and he’s stroking your stomach asking for “one more?”.

sorry if this is bad.. I haven’t sent an ask before so idk what to put😵‍💫 LIVE LAUGH LOVE CHOSO

𝐚/𝐧: waaa you're so right... i think choso is definitely a show over tell sort of guy, and while he wants to love in the way he sees in movies, he's impatient and insatiable. he just loves so much... i lobe him ;; i fear i'm in a bit of a writing rut right now, i feel this was quite repetitive sorry 😭

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: choso x fem! reader 𝐜𝐰: smut, breeding kink. 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: open.

"you’re staring again.”

her voice wavered as she looked up from the couch, tucked beneath a blanket and and cradling a warm cup of coffee. her eyes darted between choso, who stood across the room with an unreadable expression darkening his already solemn features.

he didn’t move. just kept looking at her— deeply, intently, like he was trying to memorize every inch of her face.

“is there… something on my face?” she asked, brows drawing together. her hands hesitated by her cheek, brushing self-consciously at nothing. 

choso was staring at her with an intensity that made her squirm slightly in her seat. his dark purple eyes seemed to pierce through her, as if trying to consume every detail of her face. she couldn't help but feel a flicker of nervousness under his unblinking gaze.

finally, he blinked slowly, not comprehending the implication behind her question. “no," he replied gruffly, his voice a low rumble. “just lookin’ at ya.”

he couldn't quite put into words the overwhelming urge he felt to touch every inch of her skin, to map out every freckle and mole with his fingers and lips. the desire was almost too intense to bear, a physical ache that demanded to be sated.

choso had tried so many things, hadn't he? brought her wilted flowers picked haphazardly from the side of the road, the stems already brown and brittle. scribbled clumsy letters filled with crude drawings and stilted words, his limited vocabulary struggling to convey the sheer scope of his feelings. he'd even attempted to do the chores she normally took care of, though his efforts often ended up with more mess than before, his instincts too blunt and forceful.

but none of it felt like enough. none of it could truly express the all-encompassing, primal need he had to show her, to prove to her, just how much he loved her. no, the only way he knew how was to worship her body with every fiber of his being.

she was a bit confused at his answer but decided against prying, she doubt any answer he could give her would be very helpful in understanding whatever was going on in that mind of his. 

“you do that a lot,” she said, her voice soft, trying to be light. “stare.” 

choso tilted his head just slightly, like he was studying a rare animal, or maybe a ghost. then finally, slowly, he moved— crossing the space with the same unhurried gravity he always had, all solid steps and soft menace, until he was standing right in front of her. 

his response was a quiet grunt— not dismissive, just honest. he crouched down in front of her, hands sliding to her knees like magnets drawn to metal. there was something unshakable in the way he touched her. no hesitation. no apology. 

“i like lookin’ at you,” he muttered, low. “that’s it.”

she flushed. “ah, i see…”

but he was already leaning in, one he hand pressing against her thigh to pin her there, and the other creeping up to cradle her cheek with surprising gentleness. his thumb dragged along her jaw like he was memorizing the texture of her skin. his eyes— dark, heavy-lidded, hungry— didn’t leave her face once. 

he didn’t speak. he didn’t need to.

his hands said everything. the way he cupped the back of her neck like she’d vanish if he didn’t hold on. hovering, breathing hard like just being near her overwhelmed him. 

“choso,” she whispered, flustered before him and surprised by the suddenness of his actions. “you’re— “

he sighed, closing the distance between them with no care for personal space or the human sense of what was deemed appropriate. one hand caught her wrist before she could press it to his chest, the other coming to rest at the curve of her hip like it belonged there. he leaned in close, so close his breath warmed her cheek.

“don’t get it,” he muttered finally, voice low and gravelly against her skin. “humans. flowers. chores ‘nd stuff. dumb things that rot or get thrown out.”

her breath hitched. “choso— “

admittedly, choso didn’t understand the need for flowery gestures, stupid gifts or clumsy words when he could just show her exactly how he felt like this. 

“i love you," he said simply, as if the words were a statement of fact rather than a declaration. “i want to love you more." 

admittedly, choso didn’t understand the need for flowery gestures, stupid gifts or clumsy words when he could just show her exactly how he felt like this. 

with that, he kissed her— rougher than he’d meant to, all teeth and heat and need, s sloppy thing. one kiss, then another, and other, like he couldn’t stop, like each one would finally get his point across if he just pressed hard enough. his hands cradled her face now, thumbs stroking her cheeks like she was something sacred. 

and to him, she was.

she tried to speak, maybe ask him to slow down, maybe not— but he was already there again, stealing the words from her lips, brushing his mouth down the column of her throat. 

“so confusin’,” he muttered, almost to himself. his voice was quiet, low, but it rumbled from deep in his chest, steady and unfiltered. 

his thumb rubbed up, gently, just beneath her ribs. he simply grunted in response. “i’m not like that.” he let out, also more to himself than actually responding to anything she had said.

his lips pressed to her jaw, then dragged down to her to the corner of her mouth. another kiss, messier this time— off-entered and warm and far too wet, like he couldn’t get close enough. 

she made a soft sound, startled, and he stole that too, kissing her deeper, sloppier, tilting her head so he could claim her mouth like it was owed to him. 

choso didn’t stop. every kiss tasted like urgency— like obsession. his fingers threaded into her hair, cradling the back of her skill and he kissed her again, over and over, stealing her breath and giving none of his in return. his lips dragged down her throat once more, now nipping and biting hard, leaving purpling marks in his wake. 

she whimpered something faint, fingers tightening in his shirt. gasping into the kiss, her eyes widened as choso's hands roamed greedily over her body. she could feel the hard length of him pressing insistently against her thigh as he straddled her hips, pinning her down on the couch, his hand on her chest gently forcing her down onto the cushions. 

his forwardness always left her flustered and a bit breathless, struggling to keep up with his shameless displays of affection.

“ch-chhoso, wait..." she panted, breaking the kiss for a moment. her cheeks were flushed a deep pink, her lips swollen and glistening from his fervent attentions. “you’re being a bit too... much, right now."

but choso paid no heed to her half-hearted protest. to him, showing restraint would be showing a lack of sincerity. he wanted, no, he needed her to understand the sheer magnitude of his feelings. and if that meant groping her soft curves with a desperation bordering on violence, then so be it.

“’can't wait," he growled, nuzzling into the sensitive skin of her neck. he mouthed over her racing pulse, his tongue flicking out to taste her. “need ya to feel it. need ya to know."

his hands slid under her shirt, pushing the fabric up to expose more of her creamy skin. he palmed the soft mounds of her breasts, kneading the flesh as if trying to mold it to his will. choso's breath grew ragged, his hips rutting forward instinctively as he chased the friction he so desperately craved.

she whimpered once more, her back arching slightly off the couch as choso's touch sent sparks of pleasure shooting through her. the evidence of his arousal was unmistakable, the thick ridge of his cock tenting his pants and pressing insistently against her core. it was overwhelming, the sheer intensity of his desire, the raw, primal need radiating off him in waves.

“choso, please..." she gasped, her voice a needy little mewl. she wasn't sure if she was begging him to stop or to continue, her own body betraying her with every shuddering breath and wanton moan.

but choso was too far gone to heed her pleas. he captured her lips again, swallowing her cries as his hands continued their relentless exploration. he mapped out every dip and curve, committing the feel of her to memory.

with a low sigh, he ground his aching cock against her soft thigh, rutting against her, driven by a primal instinct he simply couldn’t control. 

choso’s hair fell forward, obscuring his face as he buried his face against the tender crook of her neck, breathing in her scent like a man starved for air. 

“(name)…” the words rumbled out of him on a groan, his voice a low, guttural thing. he couldn’t help the desperate, almost frantic way he moved against her, seeking more of that delicious friction. each clumsy rut sent jolts of pressure radiating through him, stroking the fire burning in his veins.

she couldn’t suppress the mewling cries spilling from her lips, fingers clutching at the fabric of choso’s shirt. she should push him away, should tell him to slow down, but her body refused to obey. her mind’s commands. instead, she found herself tilting her head to give him better access, gasping as his teeth grazed her racing pulse. 

“so needy, choso…” she let out, voice hitching with each grind of his hips. yet, even as she said it, her body arched up to meet him, craving more of the intense sensations only he could evoke in her.

choso seemed somewhat oblivious to her half-hearted complaints, too focused on his single minded pursuit of sating this all-consuming need. his hands slid down to grip her hips, squeezing the soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises. he needed to mark her, to claim her, to make it undeniably clear that she was his.

choso's hands fumbled with the button of her jeans, too impatient to bother with the zipper. the fabric tore with a sharp rending sound, the frayed edges of the denim scraping against her skin as he practically ripped the jeans off her body. she glared up at him, cheeks flushed with more than just arousal.

“choso, you can't just tear my clothes off every time you get excited," she protested, even as she lifted her hips to help him remove the ruined jeans. “do you have any idea how much those cost? huh?"

“not really…” 

admittedly, choso was already distracted, his gaze fixed on the expanse of creamy skin now bared to his hungry eyes. he bunched up her shirt, pushing the fabric out of the way to expose her stomach, the soft curve of her belly. his large, calloused hand splayed across her middle, the difference in their sizes stark and obvious.

her name fell past her lips almost wonderingly, as if seeing her like this, the potential of her, the promise of her, filled him with a strange mix of awe and possessiveness. his thumb brushed over her navel, tracing the little indent, before he pressed his entire hand more firmly against her stomach, as if trying to feel the softness of it, to mold it to the shape of his palm.

“i want..." he started, his voice a low, almost unconscious rumble, before he seemed to catch himself, his brows furrowing. he looked up at her, his purple eyes dark and intense, filled with a desperate, almost fevered light. 

“i wanna baby," he blurted out, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. “i wanna put a baby in ya.”

her eyes widened at the sudden, unexpected declaration. she sat up slightly, staring at him in surprise, a faint blush rising to her cheeks at the intimate turn the conversation had taken. 

“choso,” she finally said softly, almost hesitantly, "that's a serious thing you're talking about. having a baby... it's a big responsibility, a big commitment."

she bit her lip, studying his face, trying to gauge his sincerity, his readiness. choso was many things, but he was notoriously awful at expressing his feelings, at communicating in a way that made sense to the rest of the world, despite his best attempts. 

she sighed, shaking her head slightly as she looked up at choso. “maybe… maybe we should work on your communication skills,” she said honestly, watching him. “this isn’t the sort of thing you bring up out of nowhere, you know?”

her words were gentle, coaxing. 

despite her words, she couldn't help but feel a small flutter in her chest at the thought of carrying choso's child. the idea was both terrifying and strangely exhilarating, a testament to the intense connection they shared.

choso blinked, looking slightly taken aback by her response. he opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again, his brow furrowing as he struggled to find the right words. 

finally, he simply muttered, “sorry," the apology sounding more like a grunt than a true expression of remorse.

but she knew him too well to believe that he would actually change his ways. choso was a creature of instinct and action, not words and diplomacy. though he meant well, these sort of things were often not exactly the easiest things for him to grasp.

sighing again, she reached out and cupped choso's cheek, her thumb brushing over his skin. “i love you, choso, you know that right?”

choso leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment as he nuzzled into her palm, much like a pet would.  

then, with a sudden, almost desperate motion, he ducked his head and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the soft skin of her stomach, his lips moving feverishly over the expanse of it.

a gasp spilled past her lips, her back arching slightly as choso’s mouth worked over her sensitive flesh. his kisses were sloppy and enthusiastic, the scrape of his teeth and the rough swipes of his tongue sending jolts of sensation racing through her. she tangled her fingers in his hair, holding him to her as he worshipped her body with a single-minded fervor that was equal parts overwhelming and deeply arousing.

choso paused in his fervent kisses, glancing up at her with a look of almost shy uncertainty in his eyes. he sat back on his knees, his large frame looming over her smaller one, and with a clumsy, almost awkward motion, he reached down to unbutton his pants. he met her gaze as he slowly peeled off his jeans, a hint of a blush coloring his cheeks.

"'m tryin’, look?” he muttered, his voice a low, gruff rumble. “tryin’ not to just... rip things off."

there was a brief silence as she just stared at him. 

suddenly, she giggled softly, a sound of genuine amusement and affection. she playfully nudged him in the chest with her foot, her toes brushing against the firm muscle there. “you're so cute sometimes, cho,” she teased gently, shaking her head in fond exasperation.

choso's lips twitched, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. he ducked his head, trying to hide the way his cheeks darkened further at the compliment.

 for all his bravado and intensity, he was still a man of few words, and her praise always caught him off guard.

he finished removing his pants with slightly more care than before, tossing them aside before turning his attention back to her. his hands slid up her thighs, his calloused fingers leaving trails of goosebumps in their wake. he hooked his thumbs under the waistband of her panties, looking up at her questioningly.

“can I...?" he asked, his voice a low, almost hesitant rumble. it was endearing, that he was at least putting in the clumsy effort, meeting her eyes intensely as if to show her that he had listened to her earlier complaints about her jeans. 

at her nod, he slowly peeled her panties down her legs, his gaze never leaving her face. he was determined to show her, in his own clumsy way, that he was trying to be more thoughtful, more considerate of her feelings.

she lifted her hips to help him, a soft sigh escaping her lips as the cool air hit her bare skin. she couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation, of desire, as choso settled himself between her thighs. the evidence of his arousal was impossible to miss, the thick length of his cock resting heavily against her thigh, a brand of heat even through his boxers.

choso leaned in, nuzzling his face against the soft skin of her inner thigh. he breathed in her scent, his eyes fluttering shut as he savoured the intimate aroma. 

it was becoming evident that choso was growing increasingly impatient, his desperation to show her the depths of his love overriding any semblance of finesse or control. he huffed, a sound of pure, unadulterated need escaping his lips as he notched the thick head of his cock against her dripping slit. “fuck,” he growled, his voice rough with desire. “i just wanna show ya, wanna make ya feel it. want ya to know how much i fuckin’ love ya.”

he rocked his hips forward clumsily, the blunt tip of his cock catching on her entrance and slipping off, only to miss the mark again a moment later. the evidence of their arousal was making it difficult for him, and he only grew more impatient. 

choso was too hurried, too desperate, his need consuming him utterly. he grunted in frustration as he continued his clumsy, sloppy attempts, his thick shaft dragging of her sensitive folds and occasional catching on the wrong spot entirely.

at one particularly ill-timed thrust, the swollen head of his cock pressed insistently against the tight pucker of her asshole, iliciting a gasp from her. her eyes flew wide open as she felt the sudden shift in pressure. 

“w-wait— “ she forced out, almost out of breath and her voice tight with sudden anxiety. she quickly pushed herself up a bit more onto her elbows, moving awkwardly to grab his heavy cock with gentle hands, fingers barely able to encircle the girth flesh.

choso paused, his hips failing to move. he blinked down at her, a look of confusion and concern in his dark eyes. “what’s wrong?” he asked, his brow furrowed. “did i hurt ya?”

she shook her head, biting her lip as she guided his cock to where it needed to be. she notched the broad head against her slick entrance, feeling the heat of him with a shaky exhale. 

“ah, no…” she trailed off, cheeks flushed. then, with a soft whimper, she rolled her hips up, slowly urging choso to thrust forward, to finally sheath himself inside her welcome body.

choso needed no further encouragement. with a low, guttural groan, he surged forward, hips snapped as he buried himself as far as he could in one powerful thrust. she cried out, back arching off the couch as she was suddenly, utterly filled. 

choso's hips stilled as he felt the resistance of her body, his cock unable to bury itself as deep as he craved. a flicker of disappointment crossed his face, his brow furrowing as he tried once more to bottom out, to claim every inch of her. but her body had its limits, and despite his best efforts, choso could only sink so far before he hit an unyielding barrier.

a soft huff of frustration escaped his lips, and he paused, looking down at her with a mix of concern and self-reproach in his dark eyes, his bottom lip jutting out almost adorably. “i… i can't..." he muttered, his voice a low, gruff rumble. “yer just... too small."

he hated not being able to show her the full extent of his love, of his desire. he wanted to consume her, to fill her up so completely that she would never doubt the depth of his feelings for her.

but as he looked down at her face, he saw the way she was biting her lip, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.sShe was trying so hard to be brave, to stifle the sounds of discomfort that naturally accompanied such a deep, almost painful penetration. and while she didn't say a word of complaint, choso could feel the guilt washing over him like a tidal wave.

she didn't want to complain, didn't want to voice the discomfort that radiated through her core. choso loved her so deeply, so fiercely, that she knew his intentions were pure, even if his execution was a bit... enthusiastic.

he breathed out her name, brows furrowed, his voice rough with emotion. “’m sorry. i don’t wanna hurt ya, don’t cry.”

choso started to pull back, his hips lifting off the bed slightly, but she stopped him with a hand on his chest. she looked up at him, her teary eyes filled with a soft, almost tender look that made choso's heart clench in his chest.

“don't stop," she whispered, her voice barely audible. “please don't stop, choso."

that was all the confirmation he needed, heart clenching in his chest as he offered a firm nod. 

choso set about claiming her with a single-minded intensity, his hips driving forward with a rough, desperate urgency. he poured all of his pent-up passion and desire into each powerful thrust, the force of his lovemaking shaking the bed beneath them. his large, calloused hands roamed over her body, squeezing and kneading her soft curves as if trying to mold her to his touch.

choso was never one for flowery words or dirty talk. he believed in actions speaking louder than words, and right now, his body was screaming his love for her with every measured thrust, every gentle caress. he gripped her hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises, his blunt nails digging into her tender flesh as he rutted into her with near punishing force.

he was a man of action, not words, and he was determined to show her the depths of his love in the most primal way he knew how. his hips never slowed their relentless pace, his cock driving into her again and again, the wet squelch of their joining filling the room.

his desperation to show her his love overcame any lingering gentleness. he was a man possessed, driven mad with the need to claim her, to mark her, to make her his in every way possible. his thrusts grew harder, more insistent, each snap of his hips jostling her against the couch beneath them. 

“fuck,” he growled, his voice a low, rough rumble. “love ya so fuckin’ much. gonna... gonna make ya feel so good..."

he could feel the slick heat of her enveloping him, gripping him like a velvet vice. It was almost too much, too intense, but he couldn't stop. he couldn't slow down. he was lost in the sensation, in the primal need to stake his claim.

choso’s hands roamed over her body, squeezing and caressing every curve and swell. he palmed her breasts, rolling and kneading the soft flesh in his large hands. he dipped his head to capture a nipple in his mouth, suckling greedily, his tongue swirling around the stiff peak.

she gasped and writhed beneath him, her body bowing and arching to meet his relentless thrusts. each drive of his hips sent jolts of pleasure through her, the sheer size and girth of his cock stretching her inner walls deliciously. she could only cling to him, her nails raking down his back, as he took her with a desperate, impatient hunger.

sweat beaded his brow, his dark hair falling in damp tendrils around his face as he loomed over her as his breathing grew ragged and harsh, chest heaving against her with each laboured breath. yet, despite the intensity of his lovemaking, he remained stubbornly silent aside from the low grunts and groans that spilled past his lips. 

his hips were beginning to stutter, his thrusts growing more erratic as he chased his rapidly approaching release. through the taut skin of her stomach, he could see the unmistakable faint outline of his own thick cock, the shape of it clearly defined as it stretched and filled her so completely.

fascinated and almost confused, choso pressed down on her stomach, his large hand splaying over the slight dome of her belly. he could feel the shape of himself inside her, the hard length of his shaft throbbing in time with his racing heartbeat. 

she let out a sharp, breathy squeal at the sudden pressure, her back arching off the bed as she writhed beneath him.

“ah!” she gasped out, her voice high and tight with pleasure. “oh god…”

choso's brow furrowed, his eyes darkening with a mix of concentration and intense focus as he ground his hips down against hers, putting even more pressure on her stomach with a thick hand. he could feel his orgasm approaching like a runaway train, the heat and pressure building to an almost unbearable level.

with a guttural, almost animalistic growl, choso slammed his hips forward one last time, burying himself to the hilt inside her. at the same moment, she cried out his name, her inner muscles clenching down around him like a velvet vice as her own peak crashed over her. 

the feeling of her nails dragging against his skin, sure enough to leave angry red marks in their wake, was barely registering to him as he reached his peak.

wave after wave of ecstasy rolled through them both, choso’s hot seed spurting deep inside her spasming cunt as he emptied himself in pulsing jets. she could only cling to him, her body shaking and shuddering with the force of her climax, his name a mantra on her lips as she rode out the intense, overwhelming pleasure.

finally, collapsed against her, his large form covering her smaller one as he struggled to catch his breath. He could feel the way her body welcomed him, the way her inner muscles continued to ripple and flutter around his softening shaft.

the room was warm with the quiet hush of post-midnight stillness, shadows curling along the walls like a second skin. she lay sprawled across the couch, hair clinging to her temples, skin flushed and dewy in the dim light. her chest rose and fell in slow, steady breaths, a sigh leaving her lips as she let herself melt into the cushions, utterly spent.

as the aftershocks of their intense lovemaking subsided, she lay boneless and sated beneath choso’s substantial weight, her slender frame completely covered by his muscular one. she could feel the way his heart hammered against her own, could sense the sticky warmth of their combined release beginning to cool and dry on her skin. 

after a long moment, she stirred slightly, her voice a breathy, almost shy murmur as she commented, “choso? i think ya came a lot, didn't ya? more than usual, even..." her words trailed off uncertainly, a hint of gentle concern coloring her tone.

“it just felt good, i dunno.”

choso merely grunted in response, his voice a low, rumbly sound that vibrated through her chest. he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, his nose brushing against her racing pulse as he inhaled deeply, filling his lungs with her scent. the action was instinctual, almost unconscious, as if he were trying to mark her, to claim her in the most primal way possible.

reluctantly, choose lifted his head to gaze down at her, his expression a mix of sated satisfaction and stubborn reluctance. “’don't wanna pull out," he muttered, his voice a low, gruff rumble. “’feels too good inside ya.”

she bit her lip, a soft, indulgent smile playing at the corners of her mouth. as much as she loved this moment, loved the feeling of closeness and connection, she knew they couldn't remain in this intimate embrace forever. with a gentle, almost regretful sigh, she placed a delicate hand on choso's chest and gave a little push, urging him to sit up.

again, she pushed weakly at choso's broad chest, trying to get him to ease up on the weight he was putting on her. “choso... you're crushing me," she whined, her voice a gentle protest even as her hands slid over the firm muscles of his pectorals.

with a low, almost reluctant sound, choso heaved himself up, his thick arms bearing the weight of his upper body as he looked down at her. as he shifted, his softening cock slipped from her tender, puffy folds, a gush of their combined juices dripping down to stain the sheets below. the thick shaft rested heavily now on her thigh, still thick and imposing even in its semi-flaccid state.

a soft sigh left her. she knew they couldn't stay like this forever, as much as she might want to. life, as always, called them back to the real world.

for a long moment, choso simply stared down at her, his dark eyes roaming over her face, her neck, her heaving chest. his calloused fingers splayed possessively over the slight swell of her stomach. 

though she knew she couldn’t read his mind, she knew choso well enough to know exactly where his line of thinking was probably going. 

her breath hitched as she felt his hand press down on her stomach, his fingers splaying wide as if trying to feel the shape of himself inside her once more. with a soft, breathless sigh, she covered his hand with her own, her slender fingers curling around the back of his much larger palm.

“choso, i… we can't..." she began, her voice a gentle murmur, even as a flush of warmth crept up her neck at the intensity in his gaze. she knew he was insatiable, that his hunger for her seemed to know no bounds. but even so, she had responsibilities, commitments that demanded her attention. 

“i have to get ready for work soon," she reminded him softly, hating to break the spell of their intimate afterglow.

nothing left him at first, his jaw clenching as if in silent protest. then, with a low, almost disgruntled sound, he leaned back a bit, scratching his forehead, his muscles flexing and bunching beneath his skin. 

he looked like he wanted to speak — but didn’t quite know how. his brows furrowed. his lips parted.

then, after a beat, he simply raised one hand and held up a single finger. just one. his eyes were pleading, hopeful. puppy-like. almost pouty.

“…one more?” he mumbled, tilting his head the slightest bit. His voice was rough with leftover breathlessness, but soft — careful, like he knew she was fragile now, like he was trying very hard to be good.

she blinked at him, cheeks warming again despite herself. she didn’t answer right away, didn’t move— just looked at him: the way stray strands of dark hair brushed against his face, the way his knees were drawn up, the way his fingers twitched a little where they rested on her leg, aching to reach for more of her. he really did look like a dog who hadn’t been told no in a while— equal parts eager and confused why she wouldn’t let him continue.

and she knew he didn’t mean it to be selfish. he just… loved her that much. needed her that much. always had more to give, more to take, more of his heart to pour out in clumsy, overwhelming ways.

she reached out slowly and brushed a knuckle across his cheek, gentle. thoughtful. he leaned into it immediately.

the silence lingered, warm and unhurried.

“…maybe,” she murmured, lips tugging into something halfway between a smile and surrender. “if you’re gentle.”

choso’s eyes lit up like stars through stormclouds.

he didn’t move yet. but the look on his face— hopeful, hungry, impossibly tender— said enough.

[resident-idiot-simp]

Ok idea Avengers or at least some of them are sent to scope out sister Margarets and stumble across Wade, Logan and Laura

Ft: @orcadork4ever

Clint and or Nat going for a mission since they are familiar with the underground. They are wearing a camera so the others can see and an ear pice.

Walk in and see Wade and Logan at the bar or alternatively see them walk in.

They are sitting at the bar with one leg each intertwined and Wade's hand on Logan's thigh. Wade Is bitching to weasel about why the bar stools have to be so far apart. And Weasel's calling him a fucking idiot. "You're not the only ones that sit in those stools dumbass. Not everyone wants to be on top of each other. You can The obnoxiously in love in a booth if you have to. But I swear to Christ Wade if I catch you two doing anything in this bar I'm shooting you."

"Aww Weasel you're so nice to us."

"I mean it Wade."

Weasel give them a lineup of jobs and they pick out one for them and one for Laura. All the while the Avengers are just trying to figure out who these people are

Od:

Steve: Is… Is that James?!

Bucky: No fucking way, it’s not him. squinting Holy shit I think it is…!

Me:

Tony confused: What the hell are you talking about who the fuck is James?

Steve points on the holographic screen: Him .... maybe or could be his son or I guess grandson... We served in world war 2 with him

Bruce:.... Say it is him Why the hell is he a mercenary bar and who's the guy he's with?

Bucky:... I mean... To be fair he always did feel kind of like a mercenary so it's not that far-fetched..

Od:

Wade immediately clocking Natasha and Clint and pulling them into a booth with them.

Wade: Oh! Em! Gee! Long time no see you two~ What brings you down from the silver tower to slum it in this piss hole?

Clint: We know you?

Wade: Maaaaybe. At least professionally. Huge fan of you both be tee dubs.

Natasha blinking surprised because… this guy talks with his hands, yeah, but… he’s actually signing. For Clint.

Me:

Oohh or/and another fun idea I had is that Logan can also hear the voice is over the coms so he's really confused and intrigued what they're doing here of all places

The avengers over the coms being consumed with how much bot men are drinking. Unsure is they are just going to fall over and die due to alcohol poisoning

Od:

Wade: talking to them both

Logan: finally says something You know it’s rude to gossip when other people can’t hear you.

Tony: What the fuck?! Can he hear us?!?!

Logan: If you’d stop yelling, yeah, bub, I can hear you. But Wade can’t. So it’s rude.

(I still imagine that Peter knows Wade because of Team Red)

Wade: Wait, the other Avengers are there?! Omg Hiiiiii! Is my sweetie Pete-ie there?

Me:

Tony is about to have a breakdown. How the hell do these mercenaries know his kid and how the hell can one of them hear them all?

Logan pats Wade patronizingly: Calm

Wade: But Lolo

Logan growls

Clint and Natasha sharing a frightened we are in danger look

Od:

Wade: 😩 fiiiiiine. Buzzkill. See if I suck your dick later, dick.

Logan: You still will.

Wade: Yeah, I will~ 😘 Anyways, whatever you’re looking into, we’ve probably got more intel about it than you do. So have your people call our people and we’ll figure it out~ aka tell Petey Pie to text me and we’ll coordinate when and where to meet. And before he asks, we’ll see if Laura can come. Though she has exams this week. To be fair though, one of them is for Summers and she doesn’t need to study or anything. She’ll probably just kick him in the dick and call it a day. downs the rest of his bright blue and glittery drink, licking the umbrella stick clean before tucking it behind Logan’s ear like it’s a flower You ready, Peanut? I wanna get ice cream before we go home. And we promised Al we’d pick up her order.

Me:

Logan downing the rest of his whiskey: fucking sure what else am I going to do?

Wade: THAT'S THE SPIRIT!

Wade drags Logan out of the bar after yelling to weasel to put it on his tab

Tony:.... What was that who were they?

Clint:....I don't know but I feel like I really should

Natasha: ditto....

Bucky:.. that was definitely James right

Steve: There's no way it wasn't

Bruce: I'm sorry I'm still confused how they know Peter

Od:

Tony: FRIDAY, call Peter.

FRIDAY: Peter will be arriving momentarily. Should I still call him?

Tony: No. We’ll ask when he gets here. You two should head back, too. We’ll keep you on coms so you’re in the loop with what Underoos says. Speaking of.

Peter: Hi Mr. Stark! Hey guys. What’s up?

Tony: Parker. I need you to tell us how this man not only knows who you are but knows that you’re Spider-Man and that you text with him!

Bruce: Tony, breathe before you have an aneurysm.

Me:

Peter looking at the screen: OH Wade yeah.. oh shit is that Logan I haven't seen him before only heard stories.

Tony turning bright red: HOW DO YOU KNOW SOMEONE IN A MERCENARY BAR?!

Peter distractedly while getting out his phone to text Wade: Because we team up sometimes.

Peter: Wait go back the bar? Why was anyone in Sister Margaret's?

Bruce holding Tony back

Tony: HOW DO YOU KNOW THE BAR?!

Peter: Wade talks about it all the time. That's like his home base. Oh did he say If Laura was going to come?

Tony nearly in tears: Who is Laura exactly

Peter: Their daughter

Tony :

Od:

Bucky: rewinds the video so Peter can just get up to speed

Peter: watches what they’ve all seen. Snorting a laugh at the dick sucking comment and nodding at the explanation of Laura’s exam Yeah, she probably will. Awww, they’re so cute together! No wonder he’s over the moon for him. phone chimes with a loud audio tone of YEET How’s tomorrow work for everyone for a meet-up?

Tony:

Tony: Peter. I’m going to ask you again and I need a clear answer. Who are these people and how do you know them?

Peter: Well, Wade I know from Team Red.

Thor: Team Red?

Peter: Yeah, we’re the three vigilantes who wear red in New York. It’s me, Daredevil, and Wade. Deadpool.

Me:

Tony: DEADPOOL?!?!?

Peter: Yeah Wade's funny

Peter: Anyways if you want Wade can have Weasel open the bar for us early so we can talk there on somewhat nutual ground. Wade's suggestion though I'm not wholly unconvinced this isn't so Logan can drink

Bruce:.. can he just make that happen?

Peter: I mean yeah.. Weasel is one of his best friends. They also probably want to cash in whatever job they're going to do tonight.

Thor: I must say I wasn't expecting you to be a friend a mercenary.

Peter: I mean I don't like that he kills people but it's not like he's doing the world any harm. He only kills bad people

Od:

Tony: He still kills people!

Peter: but only like really bad people. Like, people even we’d want to kill if we had the chance to. They even do the jobs the X-Men don’t want their names attached to.

Tony: I’m sorry, back up, where the fuck do the X-Men come into this?!

Peter: Well, Logan’s The Wolverine. And Laura’s going to Xavier’s.

Tony:

Me:

Alternatively

Peter: What do you mean where do the X-Men come in?? Who do you think Logan is?

Avengers:.... We don't know

Peter face palms: I'll give you a hint he has claws

Avengers:.... No

Peter: Yes. Anyways Wade has been over the moon since they got together considering Logan was one of his childhood heroes. Anyways Laura also goes to school at Xaviers

The next day

Peter walking into the bar with the avengers in toe

Wade is sitting on the bar top and yammering about anything and everything.

Logan is sipping on whisky between Wade's legs. Laura is sitting on a stool a few seats away from the two looking amused and drinking a glass of her own.

Weasel is behind the bar rolling his eyes and checking over a gun.

Peter to Laura: Your not old enough to drink

Laura flipping him off: Papá doesn't care besides it's not like it will do anything to me. He wouldn't let me drink that much

Logan: course I wouldn't you won't end up like me if I can help it. Besides Wade does coke you can drink some damn alcohol

Od:

Wade: hooking his legs around Logan’s back and leaning back on his hands It helps me focus! And it stays in my system a fuck of a lot longer than Adderall or Ritalin do! taps Logan’s head Duck. leapfrogs over his head and back to the floor, coming over to give Peter a hug Hi Petey~ How did that book report presentation go?

Peter: Hi Wade. hugs him back It was good. The teacher really liked that analysis bit about patriarchy you nudged me to.

Wade: What can I say, it’s a bullshit reading of the story, but professors eat that shit up.

Me:

Avengers looking back and forth between then bewildered

Weasel: I could give less of a shit what you all do just don't fucking break anything

Logan: We won't dont worry

Laura: As long as these two idiots don't fight gestures between Wade and Logan it won't be an issue.

Logan indignantly: HEY!

Laura: Am I wrong?

Logan:.....

Laura: uh huh

Logan: where the hell did you get that attitude?

Laura: I'm looking at it

Logan:....your so lucky I love you

Laura: Whatever you say Papá

Wade: Ignore the bickering Wolvies take a seat get a drink if you want. Spin is your tale embellish if you must.

Natasha and Clint distinctly sit as far away as reasonable

Peter sits next to Laura and Tony with Bruce take a seat near to the bar. Thor takes one of the barstools.

Tony hesitantly: We are looking for a guy who is hunting down SHIELD agents

Wade: And that's a bad thing?

Peter: WADE

Wade: WHAT?! Most of them are bitches who want to screw with people's lives.

Od: Wade: Plus a good third of them are work for more than just SHIELD and that’s their cover. Do you know how shady you have to be for SHIELD to be your cover?!

Tony:... Wait what?

Wade: Yeah. Do you know the amount of people I've end up killing who had SHIELD badges and they were doing any kinds of horrific experimentation? Honestly it could be someone just hunting down the bed ones but I would need to check that.

Bruce: And how would you check that?

Wade: I know a lot of people. Also Dom could probably tell off of a look alone. Actually... Pulls out phone and clicks a few buttons DOM! my lovely fake enhanced person. Could I ask you a favor

Domino on speaker: sigh What the hell do you want Wade?

Wade: If I asked really nicely and bought you some drinks would you come down to Sister Margaret's right now and help me with something.

Dom:... This isn't a-

Wade: It's not that just a mystery that I think you could solve with your fake superpowers.

Domino: You're buying me whatever I want at the bar

Wade: Sure whatever backdoors open

Domino: Give me 10 minutes hangs up

Wade: sigh Well there's that anything else noteworthy or do you just want to wait till she gets here?

Steve: Who exactly is she?

Wade: Old Team member with fake superpowers

Logan: Will you stop saying it's freak? We all know it's not.

Wade: I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU SAY LUCK IS NOT A SUPERPOWER

Laura: I have not seen you beat her once at any game you've ever played

Wade: That's just chance It's not a power

Laura: Whatever you say Pop

Domino walks in 8 minutes later

Wade: YOU SAID 10

Domino: Well I got lucky

Wade:

Od: Laura:

Me:

Peter looking up at her with wide eyes: I haven't met you yet Ms. Domino. I'm Peter

Domino: Aawww your Peter? Wade how dare you have kept me away from this kid he's adorable!

Wade: Because I know you would steal him from me

Domino: And you're right he's mine now

Od:

Tony: No one is stealing anyone!

Wade: Calm down, Iron Daddy, we’ll figure out split custody.

Steve: Is that you, James?

Logan: Rogers. Barnes. Good to see you again. Even though I’m not the James you knew.

Bucky: How…?

Logan: Practically immortal. And I’m from another universe. It’s a whole Thing™️

Me:

Peter nodding along: I have heard the abridged version and can confirm it's a whole thing

Wade: Ok anyways before we go down that rabbit hole can you explain to Dom here the situation.

Bruce does just that

Domino: Get me some pictures and I'll get you answers.

Tony impressed: yes ma'am

Logan and Laura are muttering to eachother while Wade takes back his place on the bar and gets another drink from Weasel.

Laura: Are you two going to drink away your paycheck?

Logan: Fucking maybe depends on how this goes.

Wade: What peanut said

Laura: sigh Al will kill you two

Wade: No she won't I have enough cash stashed around to buy a small island

Everyone but Tony (who's pulling up pictures as requested) is staring at them still in shock at the relatively new development of who exactly they are.

Logan just leans back onto Wade and in return Wade brings his unoccupied hand to pet through his hair. Logan purrs contently and only purrs loudly when Wade wraps his legs around Logan's chest to pull him further back into him.

Laura fake gags but continues to sip on her drink.

Peter eyes the drink before making puppy eyes at Tony.

Peter: Mr Stark can I have a drink too?

Tony: Hell no your underage and I'm not aiding and abetting you in that.

Peter: You were drinking at my age.

Tony: Yeah and I shouldn't have been.

Peter: but I have similar regeneration to Laura

Laura snorts: No you don't Parker besides I'm older than you

Peter: By two years!!

Laura: Exactly besides I mean it when I say the alcohol doesn't affect me in the slightest. I'd have to drink like half a bottle in a matter of minutes for that

Logan: Trust me it ain't gonna do shit besides she deserves some reward for putting up with her finals. And who the hell am I to tell her no?

Wade: Ah yes my grumpy alcoholic

Logan: FUCK OFF you know damn well I've layed off

Wade: I know honey badger I know and I'm proud of you for it

Od:

Wade: stage whispers to Peter Don’t worry, I’ll bring the good shit next patrol~

Peter: grins and bounces

Tony: What stuff? You’re not giving him anything!

Wade: Calm your tits, it’s just edibles. Edibles that Beastie Boy engineered to actually work with a super metabolism. nods at the other super soldiers You two want any? If your PTSD is anything like Logie Bear’s, it’s the BEST after a bad nightmare. Nothing like getting stoned, watching Antiques Roadshow and eating ice cream.

Bucky: Honestly…Fuck it. Yeah, I’ll take some super weed.

Wade: Yes! That’s what I’m talking about! holds out a hand for a high five but doesn’t move from his spot wrapped around Logan. Grins wider when Peter leans over to high five Wade and then leans the other direction to high five Bucky Thank you, Petey Pie~

Me:

Tony:... Why are you corrupting my child

Wade: Because it's good for him. Got to prepare him for the real world

Domino: Anyways it seems to me all your dead guys were not innocent

Bruce: How do you know that by just looking?

Domino: the vibes

Clint: The vibes? We are deciding who's innocent and who's experimenting on people by vibes?

Domino: Yes

Wade: I promise you she's right. She always is She's also not allowed to vote in the Dead Pool because of this.

Weasel: Yeah because if we let her I go out of fucking business.

Domino: Anyways I want a margarita

Weasel: yeah sure whatever invite people to the bar I didn't agree to and then have me make them drinks.

Od:

Wade: You’re still getting paid. And you could’ve said no.

Weasel: scoffs No I can’t~ starts making her drink Anyone else want anything?

Me:

Domino: I could have brought Cable

Weasel groans: Small miracles

Weasel takes a few others and grumbles the whole time.

Wade: Would it make you feel better if I took the rest of the gold cards off your hands?

Weasel: You know what yes actually do that it'll save me the pain and letting the fucking idiots fight over them

Logan just groans

Logan: Fuck sakes Red what and you just agree too?

Wade: Money to cover Domino drinking me out of house and home.

Domino sips on her margarita pointedly

Natasha: back to the original point Who would be hunting down these SHIELD agents?

Laura: Do you want that alphabetized or order of how likely?

Tony:... You know you are so sassy

Laura: Gracias I get it genuine

Logan: fuck I'd do it for free. But it has to be someone who knows how to sniff out the fakers. Or it could be they all work under one organization.

Wade: That's unlikely the more people in one organization hiding in SHIELD the more likely they are to get caught.

Clint: So someone has to know. Could it be an inside job?

Wade: I mean that's definitely possible. But if you were sent to figure it out that means it's not common knowledge in the upper ranks. So this isn't some organized thing in the higher echelons to get rid of them. If it was me trying to kill them out I'd hire a lot of separate mercenaries or contract killers. Spread the evidence make it harder to trace. It was an inside job it could be from any level though the higher the more likely.

Avengers staring and disbelief as Wade goes over options

[fir-fireweed]

Hi Fir! :D

Thanks for giving advice, I really do appreciate it. Though, please don't feel pressured to answer anything I ask. Writing should be fun and with you writing Cantata and answering RO reaction asks, I don't want to add unnecessary stress by thinking of answers to my questions too! Apologies if that comes off as me being overly worried, I just legitimately don't want you to get worried over a question for advice when you have other things on your plate!😅

That said, here is question numero uno :)

How do you write when you don’t have people to bounce ideas off of? It’s just me, myself and I over here and, uh, that doesn’t seem like it’s going to change anytime soon lol. And I’m sure that other people also have that experience of writing alone for one reason or another. Not just for IFs but for their own original books and fanfictions too (not me looking at my pile of ongoing and abandoned WIPs, haha). Like many things, writing is something that is much easier when you have someone else there with you that's invested.

As you said, writing in a vacuum is really hard! Not impossible, but hard at times. Do you have any ideas as to what people can do when they don’t have that sort of support? Something to make things just a little easier.

Thanks again and I hope you’re doing well! <3

Hi Blue! Ooh, starting with the big questions. Okay, long post incoming!

My knee jerk reaction is to say “Are you sure there’s no one else?” But that doesn’t help you. I volunteer myself as tribute, but no pressure, and as you say, many people simply write alone. So here’s some tips that help me brainstorm ideas when my cohorts are unavailable.

People Watch

I have a small journal I always carry in my tote and I jot down little scenarios I see or conversations I overhear. Make up stories behind the people you see. Who are they? Why are they there? And be granular—why are they there on that particular day? I once wrote an entire short story around a snippet of conversation I overheard on the L on my way to college in Chicago.

Consume Media

Read, read, READ!! And watch movies, documentaries, broadway, listen to music, get lost in a rabbit hole on Wikipedia. But especially read. If you discover a book you like, read more from that author. Read everything you can.

Write What You Know

And by this I mean you personally. Write about something that happened to you or you witnessed. We tend to think our own lives are boring but even the small moments make good fodder for stories or character studies. One short story I wrote was about a time my parents accidentally locked themselves out of the house at night. They managed to wake my younger sister through her window and were trying to get her to wake me to open the door, but she was afraid to wake me up. Don’t know why, I was an angel. 😇 Ahem.

It’s a small instance but it makes for a great character study. You don’t have to write that exact moment truthfully, feel free to embellish—whatever helps generate ideas.

I am an awesome big sister, btw. Just ask me, I’ll tell you. 😉

Avoid Scope Creep

I’ve seen mixed opinions on tumblr when it comes to the scope of your writing. I’m on the side of keeping things small. I’ll preface this by saying I have a professional background of project management, creative briefs, and business proposals. I’ve been trained to keep my scope manageable, but I honestly do think it’s best. Set real expectations, small goals, and write short dabbles.

And if I may add, this is a skill that will help you professionally.

Don’t Force It

This is another I’ve seen mixed advice on. Many people will say push through the writers block and write what you can, even if it’s a few sentences. I say close that laptop, iPad, phone, whatever and go for a walk. Watch a movie. Play a video game. If you don’t write for 2 weeks or 2 months, that’s fine. If you’re not enjoying it, forcing it will only make it worse. You’ll start second guessing everything you’ve already written. Step away, go do some people watching at the park, then return when the inspiration strikes.

These are all tips that helped me, but of course everyone is different. My sister likes using writing prompts when she’s short on ideas, but I personally have never been a fan. They feel like homework, lol.

However, I do 100% recommend taking creative writing workshops at the local college if you can. It’s a great way to generate and share ideas; not to mention nothing helps you accept criticism better than having a dozen of your peers absolutely demolish your writing. 😭

I hope that helped, and I’m honored that you’re seeking advice from me! ❤️

[dutchdread]

“She is is envious of the bond Cloud has with Tifa”

Genuine question here because I see a lot of CloTi discourse talk about how Aerith is envious of Cloud and Tifa’s bond, but is this ever mentioned officially or explained? I can’t find one single inference or implication that she is, only that one could argue via subjective interpretation that she maybe wants to try to learn Cloud for who he is and not who he reminds her of.

Arguably, one could say that this interpretation is inherently describing an envy, but I’m looking at it from the perspective of Aerith wanting to learn who Cloud is in an effort to like him for him and not Zack.

(Full disclosure: I’m actually a huge CloTi, but I’ve been out of the fandom for a decade+, and I’ve been reading a lot of discussions on the LTD, and while my personal opinion is that CloTi is more or less canonical at this point, the nuance that they’ve developed with Aerith that just wasn’t there in OG is interesting/perplexing to me because I don’t have a full scope of info. And I like it when things are proven by the devs. It’s possible that there’s information I’m missing or have missed, but otherwise what I have consumed doesn’t seem to indicate she’s envious of Cloud/Tifa’s relationship specifically.)

The idea that Aerith is envious of Cloud and Tifas bond became a thing mostly after Rebirth. Before that it was also put forth at times when someone did a character study of Aerith and the evidence back then was mostly just that it fit and made sense. In essence it was an amateur diagnosis. We saw in Remake that Aerith had unresolved issues concerning her childhood during the Eligor scene, that combined with what we learned about her childhood in TotP made it so that a lot of her outgoing "life affirming" behavior made a lot of sense if she was, in essence, trying to catch up for lost time. She's enthusiastically, perhaps even desperately, trying to have the same experiences everyone else has, to have a normal life. This is also congruent with other parts of the story, like her seeing Zack in Cloud. If Cloud reminds her of Zack, and she had a bond with Zack, then watching Cloud and Tifa express that same young love that she once felt would naturally lead to her wishing she had that. After all, we've known for a long time that Aerith still isn't over Zack, so her being slightly envious of that is natural. And that doesn't have to be a bad thing. You can be happy someone has something and because of that have a positive longing to experience something similar. But where this was really made explicit is in Rebirth, where there are multiple scenes that hint or outright state that Aerith wishes she had something like what Cloud and Tifa have. The main two being the Kalm "date" and the watertower discussion. In Kalm Aerith takes Cloud on a date as a pretense to talk about the prior night, and almost the first thing she does is mention Cloud and Tifas friendship and mention that she'd have given anything to have a friend when she was growing up. As soon as she thinks of their bond her first thought is to link it to her own desires.

She continues by saying to not take Tifa for granted. Since this is something Aerith lacked she thinks it's important, and the idea of it being sullied or undermined instinctively bothers her. She wants them to value it as much as she would value such a thing. This is not her living vicariously through Cloud and Tifa or anything, but just a small nuance that paints the picture of a girl who yearns for these bonds herself enough that she is hyper aware of them with other people. All this is then stated explicitly on the water tower, where Aerith states: "Must be nice..."

She generally willfully daydreams about how nice Nibelheim is. It all paints the same picture, a girl without a childhood who never got to experience the things that Cloud and Tifa had and lost, but wishes that she did. This is a huge part of her character and establishes the background needed to understand stuff like "no promises to keep". Some people are upset that NPTK is not a love song from Aerith to Cloud, but a deeper look into Aerith shows why it would be weird for it to be one. Because Aeriths journey isn't about romance, it isn't even just about Cloud. It's about her experiencing and developing the bonds that she felt she was denied for so long. The song is "even about Tifa and Barret" because it's about all the precious bonds she made on her journey. It's one of the things that makes Clotis version of Aerith superior to the Clerith version, because we give her so many more layers.

[mononijikayu]

phase three ─ say so

The words, 'Suguru and I are dating,' echoed through Satoru's mind, each syllable carrying a profound weight that seemed to press down on him with increasing intensity. His best friend, who had harbored unrequited feelings since childhood — Satoru could remember their college days, how Suguru would harp about that girl who smiled at him so tenderly every day and how he loved her. The love that persisted through countless failed relationships—all because they couldn’t warm him as his childhood love did. The friend who had openly shared his pining for her, the girl he grew up with and longed to see again. The one he had always been in love with. It finally happened, and the realization hit Gojo Satoru with a force that left him grappling with the enormity of the situation.

Genre: No Curses AU, University Professors AU!

Warning/s: Fluff, Romance, Pinning, Co-Workers, One Sided Romance, Mild Angst Childhood Friends, Friends to Lovers, Co-Workers to Lovers, They're Figuring It Out, Folks!;

note: i kept changing the title and song for this one but i think it fits. also, shoko will appear in the next chapter. she's pre-occupied enjoying peace with her girlfriend right now <3333

masterlist

logic ≠ love masterlist

HE THINKS THAT HIS HEAD HURT WHEN HE LIFTED IT. But it was not uncommon for Suguru to feel this way in the mornings, peculiarly when other historians called him up for help on their own studies. It seemed that they often sought his input on the findings they had on the scope of his work.

This happens too often, he seems to think — even when he is busy with his own research work and his teaching job, he finds himself unable to turn away anyone that needed his help. He’d lost count of all the times his friends told him to learn how to not let himself drown in his own kindness. Yet it was hard to say no, it was easy to want the need to feel needed. And just as much, Suguru couldn’t help but admit to himself that he is in fact in need of distractions.

Stretching his arms as he yawned along with the sunrise, Geto Suguru couldn't help but notice the state of disarray around him. His long sleeved work shirt was wrinkled, and his long raven hair was entrenched in a mess. He looked down at his papers scattered across the desk, the words blending together from his long rest upon them. At the very least it was all that had ended up happening. If it had been Satoru sleeping on that, there would be endless drool and ripped papers. Satoru was, after all, the worst sleeper to be around. 

With a heavy sigh, Suguru glanced out the window pane, his gaze drifting up to the sky. It had been a while since he had spoken to her, a few days to be exact. Her – the woman he now called his girlfriend, the person he was currently dating. And yet, somehow, it still didn't feel real.

The label of "girlfriend" hung in the air, a weighty reminder of the unspoken understanding that existed between them. Despite the passage of time and the shared moments they had experienced together, Suguru couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered in his heart.

He longed to bridge the gap that had formed between them, to have an open and honest conversation about the nature of their relationship. But the fear of rejection and the uncertainty of her feelings held him back, leaving him in a state of limbo as he grappled with his own emotions.

As Suguru stared out into the expanse of the sky, a heavy weight settled on his shoulders, his mind consumed by thoughts of you and the undefined nature of your relationship. When you both agreed to start dating, the conversation ended there, leaving Suguru with a lingering sense of uncertainty.

In the days that followed, life seemed to spiral into a whirlwind of busy schedules and mounting responsibilities. You became increasingly occupied with planning your work for the semester and your teaching duties, while Suguru found himself buried under a growing pile of tasks and projects. Despite their shared commitment to each other, the distance between them seemed to widen with each passing day.

Suguru couldn't help but wonder if your busy schedule was intentional, a deliberate effort to avoid confronting the complexities of your relationship. Or perhaps it was simply a coincidence, a result of the demands of your respective lives pulling you in different directions.

As he pondered these questions, Suguru felt a knot tighten in his stomach, the uncertainty gnawing at him from within. Did you long for clarity and definition, or were you content with the unspoken understanding that existed between you? Or perhaps, like him, you found it easier to avoid addressing the issue altogether, choosing instead to bury yourselves in work and responsibilities.

As Suguru stood in his kitchen, the weight of unanswered questions pressing heavily upon him, he knew that dwelling on them any longer would only lead to further frustration and confusion. With a resigned sigh, he made a conscious effort to push aside his thoughts, recognizing that overthinking the situation would only drive him to the brink of insanity.

Turning his attention to the task at hand, Suguru mechanically began preparing breakfast for himself, his movements devoid of their usual fluidity as he robotically went through the motions. His gaze fell upon the empty storage of coffee, a stark reminder of the absence of his usual morning ritual. He sighed, it seems Nanami drank the last of the coffee when he and Satoru slept over. He ought to go to the grocery later too.

He turned to the other drawer, where he kept his tea. He takes a tall glass of water and poured it into his electric kettle, absentmindedly plugging it in and pressing the button. The familiar routine had always provided him with a sense of comfort and normalcy, but now, its absence only served to highlight the emptiness that lingered in his heart.

As he mechanically went about his morning routine, Suguru couldn't shake the feeling of unrest that gnawed at him from within. The unresolved tension between him and you hung heavily in the air, casting a shadow over everything he did. Despite his best efforts to push aside his doubts and uncertainties, they continued to haunt him, a constant reminder of the fragile state of what your relationship now meant. How can he stop being overwhelmed by this? How can he get you to open your heart to him? 

With a heavy heart and a troubled mind, Geto Suguru resigned himself to the fact that some questions may never have clear answers right now. He had to be patient. He had to wait. As he always has. Patience is the virtue he was most good at. For now, all he could do was focus on the present moment and hope that, in time, clarity would come and the uncertainty that plagued their relationship would be resolved.

He heard the kettle whistle and growl.

He took his favorite mug and added the tea.

The water eased itself into the ceramic floor.

He sighed and let the tea mingle into the water.

Geto Suguru thinks about her as he waits.

SHE WAS SURE SHE LOOKED AT HER PHONE ALL DAY. Biting her lips in frustration, she couldn't help but groan as she buried her face in her hands, grappling with the overwhelming weight of her emotions. It felt utterly foolish that she hadn't been able to muster the courage to reach out to Suguru, to simply type a message or give him a call to explain her feelings and the whirlwind of thoughts swirling in her mind.

For days, she had been locked in a battle with herself, torn between the desire to connect with Suguru and the fear of what that connection might entail. The mere thought of contacting him filled her with a dizzying array of emotions, each one more tumultuous than the last. After all, he was now her boyfriend – a title that still felt foreign and surreal when associated with her longtime best friend.

The sudden shift in their relationship had caught her off guard, leaving her heart racing with uncertainty and apprehension. She had never envisioned herself in a romantic relationship with Suguru, never even dared to entertain the idea in her wildest dreams. And yet, here they were, standing at the precipice of uncharted territory, unsure of where their newfound connection would lead them.

His confession had sent her heart into a frenzy, the warmth of his words lingering in her mind long after they had been spoken. He had always been a steadfast presence in her life, a pillar of support and friendship through every twist and turn. The idea of crossing the boundary from friendship to something more left her feeling simultaneously exhilarated and terrified, unsure of how to navigate the uncharted waters of their evolving relationship.

As she grappled with her conflicting emotions, she couldn't help but feel a pang of regret for not being more proactive in addressing the situation. The longer she hesitated, the more daunting the prospect of reaching out to Suguru became, leaving her feeling trapped in a whirlwind of indecision and uncertainty.

The days had passed in a haze of internal conflict, each moment fraught with indecision as she grappled with the reality of her newfound relationship status with Suguru. Despite the warmth of his confession and the undeniable connection between them, she couldn't shake the nagging fear that reaching out to him would irrevocably change the dynamic of their friendship, casting a shadow over everything they had built together.

Frightened and overwhelmed by the weight of her emotions, she found herself unable to articulate the turmoil raging within her. The thought of confronting Suguru with her innermost thoughts and feelings filled her with a paralyzing sense of dread, leaving her trapped in a suffocating cycle of guilt and uncertainty.

She knew deep down that Suguru didn't deserve to be met with silence and avoidance. He was too kind, too compassionate, too pure of heart to deserve anything less than her honesty and transparency. Yet despite this knowledge, she found herself unable to bridge the divide between them, her words caught in the grip of her own fear and insecurity.

Guilt gnawed at her relentlessly, a constant reminder of her failure to communicate with Suguru and the toll it was taking on their relationship. Each time she saw him in the hallways or felt the urge to reach out to him, she was consumed by a sense of helplessness and frustration about all of this. Her inadequacy was horrid. She wished she could do better than this. She had just gotten Suguru back and had gotten him in a way that she didn’t even deserve and now she knew she was causing him more pain in isolation.

Sitting alone in the outer corner of the teacher's lounge during a coffee break, she felt the weight of her emotions come crashing down upon her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she struggled to contain the overwhelming surge of frustration and self-doubt that threatened to engulf her.

In that moment of vulnerability, she longed for nothing more than the courage to break free from the confines of her own fears and insecurities, to open up to Suguru and lay bare the depths of her heart. But for now, all she could do was cry out in anguish, the silent sob echoing in the empty room as she grappled with all these newfound feelings—ones that she never thought she would ever face before.

Amidst her turmoil, the sight of Gojo Satoru's concerned gaze as her tears fell silently caught her off guard. His white lashes blinked tenderly as his eyes settled on her, and without hesitation, he swiftly took a seat beside her. With genuine concern etched on his face, he bombarded her with questions, each one probing deeper into the source of her distress.

Satoru's genuine concern persisted, evident in the furrow of his brows and the earnestness in his gaze. Despite her attempts to brush off his inquiries, he refused to relent, leaning in closer as he sought to uncover the truth behind her tears.

"It's nothing," she insisted, her voice trembling slightly as she wiped away her tears in a feeble attempt to mask her distress. But Satoru's penetrating gaze left her feeling exposed, his unwavering scrutiny betraying his disbelief in her words.

"I-I'm being serious, I'm not lying," she stammered, her voice faltering as she struggled to maintain her composure under Satoru's intense scrutiny.

Satoru's lips quivered in a mischievous grin as he observed her carefully. "Uhuh, and when I look at your nose, it wrinkles so much, you can tell that they're hiding lies."

Her cheeks flushed with warmth as his playful observation sank in, a blend of embarrassment and indignation bubbling within her. The rosy hue that spread across her cheeks betrayed the flurry of emotions swirling inside her, a delicate dance between feeling self-conscious and mildly irritated by his teasing remark. Despite her attempts to maintain composure, the subtle heat radiating from her skin betrayed the effect of his words, leaving her caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

"S-shut up! That's so rude!" she protested, swatting playfully at Satoru as she attempted to deflect his teasing remarks. 

Despite her efforts to maintain a facade of nonchalance, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Satoru saw right through her defenses, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable in his presence. Suguru did tell her that he was good at that, his best friend. She sighed, lowering her head and looking at Satoru, who leaned back into the chair.

“I don’t know what happened, but well, I hope you know it’s not a bad thing to tell people why you’re upset.” Satoru exclaimed in reply, his arms crossed in front of him. “But you don’t have to feel pressured to tell me anything right now. Just know that I’m your friend, and you can trust me, hm? I, the great Gojo Satoru, will be your friend and shoulder too! So chin up, girl. Don’t cry!”

She didn’t know what happened.

Perhaps she was overwhelmed.

Or she just didn’t know what to do.

But she started shaking her head.

She lifts her head and looks at him.

“Suguru and I are dating!” She cried, almost as though relieved that she doesn’t have to carry it alone. 

In the aftermath of her revelation, the atmosphere hung heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. Satoru's reaction was immediate and palpable; his eyes widened, jaw slackened, and the disbelief etched across his features was unmistakable. It was as if time itself had halted, freezing the moment into a suspended reality where the unexpected revelation reverberated in the air.

The words, 'Suguru and I are dating,' echoed through Satoru's mind, each syllable carrying a profound weight that seemed to press down on him with increasing intensity. His best friend, who had harbored unrequited feelings since childhood — Satoru could remember their college days, how Suguru would harp about that girl who smiled at him so tenderly every day and how he loved her.

The love that persisted through countless failed relationships—all because they couldn’t warm him as his childhood love did. The friend who had openly shared his pining for her, the girl he grew up with and longed to see again. The one he had always been in love with. It finally happened, and the realization hit Gojo Satoru with a force that left him grappling with the enormity of the situation.

For a moment, Gojo Satoru found himself suspended in a state of disbelief, unable to comprehend the magnitude of what she had just disclosed.Suguru finally achieved his dream. He got the girl. He finally did it. Satoru’s thoughts churned in a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty, and excitement. As reality seeped back in, Satoru stood there, at a loss for words. His mouth moved soundlessly, attempting to convey the myriad of emotions swirling within him. 

Satoru's exclamation reverberated through the room, his voice cracking with a mixture of astonishment and disbelief. The overwhelming flood of emotions threatened to consume him, leaving him teetering on the edge of a reality he had never anticipated. He could feel happiness flood him. His friend finally got the girl!

"YOU’RE DATING SUGURU?" he blurted out, unable to contain his shock.

“SHHHHH NOT SO LOUD!” she hissed in response, her cheeks flushing crimson with embarrassment. The intensity of Satoru's reaction took her by surprise, and she hastily gestured for him to lower his voice.

“HOW LONG?” Satoru pressed on, his curiosity getting the better of him as he leaned in closer, eager for answers.

As she snapped at him, her voice tinged with frustration and flustered embarrassment, she could feel the heat rising to her cheeks, the telltale sign of her own embarrassment. 

"SHUT UP!" she exclaimed, her words sharper than intended as she shot him a pleading look, hoping to convey the urgency of her request. Her hand covered his mouth again. The scarlet hue of her cheeks betrayed her discomfort as she struggled to gather her thoughts amidst the chaos of emotions swirling within her. “Just, calm down first!”

As their voices rose in a heated exchange, the tension between them reached a boiling point. She was worried someone might have heard them, that someone might have ended up coming in. Gojo Satoru was too loud for his own good. She felt a surge of frustration bubbling within her, her hands gesturing emphatically in an attempt to convey the urgency of her request. Yet, despite her efforts, the atmosphere remained charged with an undercurrent of unease.

“The hand has got to go, you can’t keep—” Satoru's voice carried a note of exasperation as he gestured towards her, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“Just calm down first and I’ll tell you!” She interjected, her tone tinged with urgency as she attempted to quell the rising tension.

“I am calm!” Satoru retorted, his voice tinged with frustration.

“Be calmer!” She shot back, her own agitation bubbling to the surface as she struggled to maintain her composure.

The air crackled with tension as they exchanged heated words, each struggling to maintain their composure amidst the escalating argument.

“Fine!” Satoru mumbled against her palm, his glare piercing as he met her defiant gaze. She returned the glare, her expression equally resolute as she held her ground.

"God, your hands are so sweaty," Satoru remarked, a hint of annoyance seeping into his tone as he pulled away from her touch.

"This is not the time!" she snapped, her frustration evident in the sharpness of her voice. Despite their efforts to diffuse the tension, the underlying strain between them lingered, casting a shadow over their interaction.

Satoru let out an exasperated sigh, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he tried to reign in his frustration. "I know, I know," he muttered, his tone softer now, tinged with a hint of remorse. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scream like that. It’s just….”

‘Suguru loved you for a long time.’ He thinks but he doesn’t want to say it. Only Suguru can say that. 

Her shoulders relaxed slightly at his apology, the tension in the air easing just a fraction as she took a deep breath to steady herself. "It's okay," she replied, her voice softer now, her anger dissipating as she met his gaze with a hint of understanding.

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their unspoken words hanging heavy in the air between them. Then sat down after a while, tension already gone. He sighed, looking at her. She must have been concerned about the relationship then, if she was crying. He thinks about what Suguru must have done to find his childhood love cry like this.

“You’re crying about Suguru, huh?”

“T-that’s….” She looked at him, the glint of guilt in her eyes. “I just….it’s been awkward, trying to adjust to all this. And I just, he’s my best friend. I don’t know how to…”

“Navigate it all?” He supplies, with a grin on his face. She looks at him, embarrassed. She still nods. “But isn’t that normal in relationships? Figuring it all out.”

“I know that.” She replies back to him, looking down on the floor. “But I just….this is all new and different. I think I made him sad already by not replying to him or reaching out to him.”

“Oh, definitely. He may even think you hate him.” He nods at her words, making her look at him in a snap. “But well, that only gets cleared up if you talk to him right. Your relationship isn’t just you. It’s both of you. So, go on. Talk to him. Just say so.”

She lets out a small nod. “Thank you, Satoru. I just….I needed that.”

“No problem!” He grins at her, leaning forward with a thumbs up. “Just make sure I get something to enjoy in your latest volume. I don’t think I can handle more of the tragic angst.”

“I don’t think I can promise anything, but I’ll try!” She smiles at him and gets up from her seat, before he could reply. 

She ran out before any other words could be exchanged. Gojo Satoru leaned back against his seat,  letting out a deep satisfied sigh, the weight of the recent events settling heavily on his shoulders. Playing Cupid is a hard task, he thinks. The science to a happy life is after all, being able to produce chemicals to happiness. 

“What did you do now?” A familiar voice interrupted his thoughts, and Satoru couldn't help but smile as he turned to see Nanami Kento standing before him, hands tucked neatly into his suit pockets.

“What didn’t I do?” Satoru replied with a playful grin, his tone laced with mischief.

Kento sighed wearily, taking a seat beside him. “You should have let them figure it out.”

“Oh, so now you reveal you heard everything,” Satoru quipped, raising an eyebrow in amusement.

“You scream too loudly,” Kento retorted, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

Satoru grinned mischievously, leaning closer to Kento's side. “How hard do you want me to scream?”

“Not here, you idiot!” Kento's cheeks flushed scarlet, embarrassment evident in his tone as he scolded his friend. Satoru couldn't help but chuckle at his friend's reaction.

“You’re too easy to tease,” Satoru teased, resting his head on Kento’s arm and snuggling against it. He glanced up at Kento with a playful twinkle in his eyes. “I thought you said not here.”

Kento averted his gaze, his reddened ears betraying his embarrassment. “...You haven’t slept much because of your work, right?” he asked softly, concern now lacing his words. “Just take a nap before your next class. It’s still two hours from now.”

Satoru felt his cheeks flush at Kento's caring gesture, his smile widening at the unexpected tenderness. Closing his eyes, he leaned into Kento's comforting presence.

“You're too cute,” he murmured softly.

Nanami Kento hesitated for a moment before replying, his voice equally soft. His cheeks flushed in scarlet.

“.........Yeah, yeah."

“You’re always so loving to me, Kento~”

“Just get some sleep before I get up and leave you.”

"Alright, alright~"

HE THINKS HE’S ABOUT TO HAVE A HEADACHE OF READING THROUGH PAPER AFTER PAPER. In the dimly lit cubicle office, Geto Suguru sat surrounded by a mountain of papers, each one representing a student's attempt at deciphering historical events. His brow furrowed in concentration as he meticulously graded each test paper, his pen moving in a steady rhythm across the pages. The scratching sound echoed through the quiet room, a stark contrast to the occasional sigh of frustration that escaped his lips.

It started out well, with Fushiguro Megumi's paper showing promise with its depth and insight. However, as Suguru worked his way through the stack, the quality of the submissions seemed to deteriorate. He couldn't help but shake his head at the chaotic mess that some of his students had produced.

Among the sea of mediocrity, one paper stood out to him—the six pages of storytelling by Itadori Yuji. While not entirely historically accurate, Suguru couldn't deny the creativity and entertainment value of Itadori's work. It was a refreshing change from the dry and uninspired essays he had been grading all day.

As he continued to work, Suguru found himself sinking deeper into the task at hand. The quiet solitude of the office provided him with a sense of focus and determination, allowing him to plow through the remaining papers with efficiency.

Despite the monotony of the task, Suguru found solace in the routine of grading papers. It was a familiar ritual that helped him clear his mind and focus on the task at hand. And as he neared the end of the stack, he couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment wash over him.

With the last paper graded, Suguru leaned back in his chair and let out a sigh of relief. The room was silent now, save for the sound of his own breathing. He glanced at the clock and realized that he had been working for hours.

But even as fatigue threatened to overwhelm him, Suguru couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that he would soon have completed his remaining task for today. He can have a good end with some gyoza and a beer. With a tired smile, he gathered up the papers and prepared to leave the office, eager to finally rest and recharge before the next day's challenges.

The sudden sound of the door swinging open broke the silence of the dimly lit office, causing Suguru to look up from his papers with a start. His eyes widened in surprise as she stumbled into the room, her breaths labored and her movements unsteady. Her disheveled appearance and heavy footsteps against the tiled floor immediately caught his attention, prompting him to rise from his chair in concern.

Without uttering a single word, she marched up to Suguru's desk with determination etched on her face. With a swift motion, she reached out and spun his office chair around to face her, the movement abrupt and unexpected. Suguru found himself facing her, his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity as he studied her tired eyes and tense posture.

The room fell silent as they stood facing each other, the weight of her unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. Suguru waited patiently, sensing that something was amiss and allowing her the space to speak her mind. He watched intently as she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with each labored exhale, before finally finding the strength to voice her thoughts.

With a voice trembling with emotion, she began, "Hey," meeting his gaze with a mixture of apprehension and vulnerability.

“Hey,” Suguru replied softly, his expression reflecting his concern as he watched her closely.

“I have so,” she paused, taking a moment to catch her breath and straighten her posture. “Oh my god, I need to exercise more,” she added with a self-deprecating laugh, attempting to lighten the mood despite the weight of the conversation.

Suguru's eyes softened with concern as he observed her, his worry evident in his gaze. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern.

She waved him off dismissively, forcing a small smile. “Yeah, yeah. I am…..don’t worry. Just need to catch my breath,” she assured him, attempting to reassure him despite the turmoil she was feeling inside.

Suguru nodded understandingly, giving her a moment to compose herself as she caught her breath. As she took a moment to collect her thoughts, he listened attentively, waiting for her to continue.

"I'm sorry... I haven't contacted you," she finally admitted, her voice tinged with regret as she voiced the apology that had been weighing heavily on her mind.

“I–”

Her determination shone through as she shook her head at him, her gaze unwavering and resolute. "No, I need to….I need to make this right," she insisted, her voice tinged with urgency. "I've caused you a lot of pain, and it's not fair to you. I wasn't being fair to you. But I want to. You poured your heart out to me, and I just….I didn’t make good on you. I was so confused about what this would mean. But I should have told you. And since we’re together, we can work it out, right?”

Suguru's heart ached at the sight of her distress, his eyes softening with compassion as he listened to her words. Gently, he reached out and took her hand in his, drawing her closer to him in a comforting embrace.

"It's okay," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and understanding. "I should be the one apologizing. I should have made it easier on you, too. Everything happened so suddenly, and I should have known it would have overwhelmed you too. I should have asked you and conversed more with you about this. To be fair to you too.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head, her grip on his hand tightening. "No, Suguru, you don't deserve this. And... and I don't deserve you."

His heart skipped a beat at her words, and he felt a surge of emotion welling up within him. Though he struggled to find the right words, the depth of his feelings for her was unmistakable in his gaze as he looked into her eyes, his heart overflowing with love and gratitude.

"I... I'm sorry," Suguru stammered, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I shouldn't have... I mean, I haven't even told you how I love you."

In the quiet aftermath of their tender exchange, as they stood enveloped in the soft ambiance of the office lights, a flicker of uncertainty danced across her features. Her brow furrowed in a subtle expression of puzzlement, her eyes searching for him with a hint of apprehension.

‘Wait, he’s never said he loved me, right?’

As Suguru met her gaze, a sudden realization dawned upon him like a bolt of lightning. 

‘Wait,' he thought, his mind racing to catch up with the tumultuous whirlwind of emotions swirling within him. 'I never told her I loved her.'

The weight of his unspoken confession hung heavy in the air, a poignant reminder of the words left unsaid between them. In the stillness of the moment, Suguru felt a surge of panic rise within him, his chest constricting with the weight of his own reticence.

'I never told her I loved her,' he repeated to himself, the words catching in his throat like a bitter pill. The truth of his feelings loomed large in his mind, a daunting revelation that left him grappling with a profound sense of regret.

The weight of his words hung in the air, a heavy silence enveloping them as they both grappled with the implications of his confession. Their eyes met in a moment of shared vulnerability, each trying to decipher the emotions reflected in the other's gaze.

Finally, she squeezed his hand gently, batting at him a shy smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I-It's okay," she whispered. "I'm happy….happy that you could tell me your feelings. To….to hear that you love me."

Relief surged through Suguru like a tidal wave, washing away the remnants of doubt and uncertainty that had clouded his mind. In that fleeting moment, as he absorbed her heartfelt words, a profound sense of gratitude enveloped him like a warm embrace.

With a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips, Suguru met her gaze, his eyes alight with a spark of newfound hope. In the depths of his soul, unspoken promises danced like flickering flames, casting a radiant glow upon their shared moment of connection.

"I'll try my best to make it up to you, to reciprocate your warmth too," she continued, her voice filled with determination. "I'll do everything I can to make you happy too, Sugu."

Suguru's heart swelled with emotion at her earnest pledge. He reached out, gently cupping her cheek in his hand as he searched her eyes with tender affection.

 "Thank you," he murmured, his voice soft yet filled with sincerity. "Knowing that you're willing to make this work means everything to me."

“Me too.” She smiles back at him, squeezing his hand. “Thank you for being willing to make this work too.”

For a moment, he felt like he could breathe again.

The touch of her hand on his own made him warm.

Now, he thinks that everything is right with the world.

Because he thinks that he can work with this now.

He can work with love being his only logic with her.

She just has to smile at him warmly and say so.

extra; going home together

As Geto Suguru and she exited the office together, they held hands as they walked off the past towards the future. All the tension from their earlier conversation began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of ease as they fell into a comfortable rhythm of a warm, tender conversation.

"So, what are you in the mood for dinner?" Suguru inquired, a gentle smile curving his lips as they walked side by side.

"Hmm, maybe some sushi?" she mused, her mind wandering to thoughts of their upcoming meal. The idea of enjoying fresh sushi sounded appealing after a long day of work, and she could almost taste the delicate flavors as she spoke. “Oh, oh! How about going to that okonomiyaki restaurant that you talked about?”

As they rounded the corner, Suguru and she stumbled upon an unexpected sight: Nanami Kento walking away from Gojo Satoru, who had a mischievous grin plastered on his face as he teased Nanami–san about something. The pair didn't seem to notice Suguru and her, engrossed in their own exchange, but she couldn't help but watch them for a moment.

Satoru's laughter rang out, echoing against the backdrop of the bustling Tokyo street. Despite the busy surroundings, there was an undeniable closeness between the two men, evident in the way they interacted with each other. She noticed how Nanami–san moved to the corner of the sidewalk, Satoru staying close beside him as they navigated the crowded street.

There was a sense of harmony in their movements, a silent understanding that spoke volumes about their relationship. She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy as she watched them, admiring the ease with which they seemed to complement each other.

"They seem very happy together," she murmured, tearing her gaze away from the pair to glance at Suguru beside her. 

He nodded. “Nanami most of all, look. He’s not stiff today. No one probably pissed him off.”

The curiosity bubbling inside her.

Curiosity is too strong to just ignore.

Turning to him, she voiced her thoughts.

"How close are they?" she whispered, her voice tinged with awe and admiration. “They seem so opposite of each other, so I thought they were not as close.”

“Huh?” Suguru looks at her as though she had grown a head on her side. “Are you serious?”

“What do you mean?”

Suguru glanced at her, and then snickers. Suddenly, there’s a playful twinkle in his eyes.  "Didn't you know? They're lovers."

She stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening in disbelief.

 "WHAT?" she exclaimed, her voice echoing through the corridor.

Suguru continued to walk off, laughing at the depths of his lungs.

The revelation caught her completely off guard, leaving her stunned and speechless.

“Hurry up and stop being frozen, I’m hungry!”

facts about the characters thus far:

satoru, suguru, shoko and nanami all met in high school. only suguru and satoru ended up going to the same university. nanami went to another nearby university and shoko went to study in a nearby medical university.

you've been a BL mangaka since senior year of high school. it started with slice of life stories, which you sold at conventions in freelance. you ended up becoming a pro after a few years after you gave up on finding a job in the mainstream writing industry. you still decided to get a teaching job because you don't know how long the pro-mangaka work will last for you.

you and suguru met at five years old in the playground, where your moms became good friends. he saw you struggling with the swing and helped you on it. you declared him your best friend that day. suguru really likes to think about this memory a lot.

satoru is a big fan of BL and it started because his ex from high school was a fan and really had good reads. he starts going to conventions and personally buying them. he doesn't mind that people stare at him when he buys their books. as he stated, he has bought your books in person too, before you were even a pro-mangaka.

suguru isn't a fan of BL but he likes getting into them when the stories are really really good. satoru has recommended stuff to him before and he's read them. he personally also buys them in print, which is his personal preference. his current favorite is currently 'doukyusei'.

satoru often causes a lot of commotion in the school because of his antics. a lot of people have expressed their annoyance, but over the years, he has become too important to fire. so people just got used to all of his antics and even started joining him.

nanami and satoru got together during satoru's high school graduation. nanami hated gojo in high school because his basketball club hogged the training grounds, where nanami's track club also needed to use. they ended up bonding because of their shared passion for pastries.

[persephinae]

U.S. Copyright Office Presses 'Pause' on DMCA Exemption for Video Games

By Lydia Leung, LLB | Last updated on November 08, 2024

When we think of a library, we picture never-ending shelves of books; the world's knowledge available to us at the touch of a finger. But nowadays, it's not just physical records that libraries collect. Many now lend video games to their members, providing their local communities with entertainment while helping preserve the software for future generations.

The recent decision by the U.S. Copyright Office (USCO) to reject an exemption to the DMCA for video games in libraries' collections has put that practice into question. The decision prevents video games from being accessed remotely by researchers. While some in the games industry view this ruling as a win for rights holders, others see it as a major setback for arts research, especially compared to researchers in other fields with "routine and regular access" to digital archives.

What Is The DMCA?

Passed in 1998, the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA) brought the U.S. in line with treaties of the World Intellectual Property Organization (WIPO), updating copyright law for the digital age. Section 1201 of the DMCA criminalizes the "circumvention of copyright protection systems" that prevent unauthorized access to copyrighted works, such as reading encrypted optical discs or removing copy restrictions from electronic documents.

Exemptions are made for some uses, including for nonprofit libraries, archives and educational institutions (section 1201(d)), as long as a "good faith" determination is made. Libraries are permitted to create digital copies of obsolete works for purpose of preservation, but those works must not be commercially available for a "reasonable price" and can only be accessed onsite.

The Petition

The Video Game History Foundation (VGHF) has been working with the Software Preservation Network (SPN) since 2021 on a petition to the U.S. Copyright Office, proposing that the DMCA digital copying exemption be expanded to allow access to games outside of the physical premises of an institution. A study published by the VGHF in July 2023 estimated that 87% of video games released in the US before 2010 are "critically endangered" and inaccessible, being out of print in either physical or digital form. Options to play classic games are limited as many require vintage hardware or are no longer available on a digital storefront, potentially pushing consumers and researchers towards piracy as the most convenient means of access.

The petition's main argument is framed from the perspective of fair use: works kept by archives and collections are exempt from copyright infringement laws if they are used for purposes such as research or teaching. To enable this, the SPN proposed a system of user vetting and copyright notices, allowing institutions to restrict access only to users who submit a research request detailing the scope of their project and providing notices to remind them that their access is subject to copyright law.

The requirement of having to request specific access ensures that games are being used for research purposes, with the SPN citing "academic literacy" as a way of filtering out users planning to access them for entertainment. The USCO already allows institutions to lend other forms of media remotely, and the SPN argued that the DMCA's stringent rules around distribution of software programs places impediments on video game scholarship that are not present in other disciplines.

Arguments Against

The Entertainment Software Association (ESA), a trade association representing the U.S. video game industry, opposed the SPN petition, stating that the exemption would leave rights owners insufficiently protected and that the market for classic video games would be damaged. The SPN's proposed method of fair use vetting was dismissed by the ESA as "illusory", arguing that this was not enough justification for the breadth of use they would enable. It would be too difficult for libraries to supervise multiple users remotely accessing games, thus enabling usage for entertainment purposes.

Furthermore, the ESA contended that the market for classic video games is "vibrant and growing", citing the number of titles currently available on digital storefronts such as the Xbox Game Pass, not to mention frequent re-releases of individual titles on modern systems. That a game is "out of print" does not mean it is lost forever, only that the copyright owner decided not to put it on the market. Allowing widespread remote access to classic games would present a serious risk to the market and prevent copyright owners from enforcing their copyrights.

The USCO Ruling

The USCO observed that, for a fair use exemption, access to the games would have to be guarded against recreational use by containing "appropriately tailored restrictions". The view taken by the ESA on the SPN's proposed restrictions was echoed by the USCO, which ruled that they were not specific enough to prevent market harm and that the SPN had not met the burden of showing that allowing simultaneous remote access by multiple users was likely to be fair.

Regarding the claims of market damage put forth by the ESA, the USCO acknowledged the evidence presented of a "substantial market" for classic video games, and the SPN's concession that the industry has made a greater effort in recent years to reissue older games. Considering these arguments, the Register ultimately rejected the petition, but recommended clarifying the wording used in the DMCA to reflect that a computer program may be accessed by as many individuals as the institution owns copies.

What Does This Mean?

As a newer form of digital media, U.S. law has yet to settle on a definitive classification of what copyrights arise from a video game. A common view is for games to be treated as computer software and for the source code to be considered a literary work. However, unlike "traditional" literary works such as books or newspapers, the interactive nature of a video game makes regulating access to it more complicated.

Games are often limited to their corresponding hardware, potentially leading to research costs going up as researchers may be forced to travel long distances or somehow purchase a retro console for themselves; not to mention potential consideration of extra-legal methods. Researchers are pushed into focusing on works that are easy to access rather than those they have a true interest in studying. Teaching is also affected: academics cannot assign their students games with historical or technological significance if they may not be able to access them (for example,  the original Metroid Prime (2002), noted for its female protagonist and being the first game in the series to use 3D graphics, is only available on the GameCube). This curtails the growth of video game studies, introducing obstacles to a field with deepening cultural impact and technological advancement.

In their submission to the USCO, the SPN compared the rise of video games to the film industry, highlighting the creation of the National Film Preservation Board in 1988 as a way of recognizing that films are a part of cultural heritage, worthy of academic preservation and study. Whether games will ever reach that status remains uncertain: they make up a large part of our cultural and entertainment landscape today and it's clear that they are here to stay, but only time will tell whether the USCO's attitudes change.

Man, come the fuck on....

i think CEO's should be rounded up and shot personally

[dailycharacteroption]

Class Feature Friday: Dimension of Time Anchor (Precog Anchor)

(art by ryky on DeviantArt)

We’re back with another precog anchor, and while last time we covered those that learned from beings that manipulate time and fate itself, now we’re looking at those that are empowered by time itself.

The Dimension of Time is an enigma. Very few beings even understand that it is a plane at all, and fewer still have ever come close to visiting. Non-natives that have actually visited, let alone actually use the power of the plane to affect the timestream at best number in the double digits, and that’s highballing it.

Heck, the Dimension of Time probably predates The Great Beyond, given that a time before the cosmology formed exists, making it a multiversal constant, like a law of physics that transcends even the borders between realities where fundamental laws may vary. Such planes may interpret time in different ways, but never do they fully get rid of it.

In any case, today, we are looking at precogs that draw their power directly from it. They might have had a chance encounter with a siktempora, hound of Tindalos or even a/the time dimensional, or due to some fated circumstance they might have been among the lucky few to even glimpse the dimension itself.

Either way, they were changed by the experience, able to see the threads of fate and possibility and tug them as other precogs do. However, these mystics are more capable of altering their personal flow of time as well as that of nearby objects than others, as we will see below.

Like all anchors, the Dimension of Time grants an additional way to use their power of paradox, in this case on perceiving incoming threats and dodging them, bolstering their reflexes.

With a touch, these mystics can arrest the temporal forces around small objects, putting them into stasis. Food does not spoil, metal does not rust, and so on, preventing the effects of time from being an issue for important items.

Finally, their power allows them to travel unfettered, briefly entering a state where they can move freely along perfect moments in time. Effectively, they become immune to difficult terrain, can move much further, and are incredibly resistant to effects which would hinder them. I imagine this visually looks like they are teleporting about as they accelerate themselves to their intended destinations.

While not exactly flashy, being able to preserve items is a bit niche but surprisingly useful in the right situation. Their later ability to boost their speed and avoid hinderance more than makes up for the narrow focus of their lesser ability, however, letting them control the shape of the battle with their mobility. I personally recommend building for battlefield control, able to maneuver around as they please in short bursts while foes are left struggling.

A lot of precogs have their origins in witnessing beautiful and terrible things, but few can match these individuals in scope. After all, they witnessed, either directly or through powerful beings as proxy, the entirety of all events ever. Such a thing can’t help but change a person. It’s up to you as the player to decide how.

A survivor of a world consumed by a black hole, Fijina the ferran has long studied time itself in some vain hope of being able to reverse the events that consumed her home. When her efforts caused her to be exposed to raw chronal energies, she looks much older, but acts as one half her age, her determination all the more implacable now that she has glimpsed the power of time itself.

Always something of an eccentric, the planetary governor has made an effort to popularize the rodent-like symbiotes known as zernivians as pets, to the point some wonder if it is interfering with his duties… that is until a year later, an entire ship of new colonists are suddenly attacked by the pets all at once, revealing them to all be infested by the mind-controlling parasitic dycepskian fungus. It was almost as if he knew this would happen all along.

Many test subjects died in the fateful Mobius Chamber Incident, but those who survived don’t talk much about it. However, they have all developed a keen magical awareness of time, as well as a shared vision of the “Empty Space” in the time stream’s future.

[tessadiscordia]

Human Nature

In a future where vampires have integrated into human society, two outcasts explore the darker potential of their already precarious relationship.

Concepts: MTF x MTF, blood kink, vampire x human, mind control, blood drinking, biting, praise kink, hypnosis, yuri

CW for: consensual non-consent, sadism, masochism, blood

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

Krista was not like the other humans. That is why Vespera had chosen her after all. They were alike in many ways, despite coming from two different species that were supposedly opposed on an ontological level.

Vespera was an undead, bloodsucking creature of the night. Krista was a mortal made in the image of the Divine, a being who had not fallen as far from the light of Heaven’s kingdom. At least not yet. Yet still, they came from similar backgrounds; both were discarded by their families at a young age, left to fend for themselves. That was how they found each other that fateful night. It seemed as though the stars themselves had brought them together.

For many centuries, vampires remained in the shadows, their existence only the subject of folktales and Hollywood sensation. The emergence of vampires into the public eye, and then civil society, had been the subject of a great amount of social tension for the first couple of years, but humanity as a whole soon acclimated to the new status quo. Vampires became citizens alongside their mortal counterparts. 

Since the signing of the treaty, it was not uncommon for humans and vampires to engage in unions such as that of Vespera and Krista, but there were unspoken expectations. The new laws stated that vampires and humans were made equal, and it was expected that vampires would never seek to undermine the autonomy of human beings. There was a strong stigma around vampires feeding directly from humans, whether it was consensual or not. Because of this,

vampires were expected to utilize blood banks and other alternative forms of satisfying their bloodlust. Countless product lines were invented to cater to this new market, leading to the rise of vampire-centered corporations. Blood-based carbonated drinks, blood-based smoothies, and other products popped up across the market overnight. Vampires were expected to consume blood the same way humans consumed water– packaged and labeled, rather than from the source.

If it became known that such acts were being performed by a vampire and their human partner, it was not uncommon for that sort of thing to be viewed through the lens of an unhealthy power dynamic. After all, the full scope of vampires’ influence over the human psyche was an ongoing field of study. The humans in question risked opening themselves up to all forms of emotional, psychological and even metaphysical corruption.

But Krista was not like other humans. 

When Vespera arrived home late one particular night, she found Krista standing topless in the dimly lit kitchen of their small, raggedy apartment in nothing but her sweatpants. Her dark hair done up in a messy bun and her bangs falling in front of and around her round face as usual. 

She greeted her girlfriend with a tired smile, “There you are. I was wondering when you’d get home. Long day at work?” Her voice dipped inquisitively. 

Vespera couldn’t help but crack a smile at the sight of Krista in such a state. It was common for Krista to put a considerable effort into her presentation, but she always bemoaned the obligation. She was pretty in a full mask of makeup with her face contoured and her eyebrows trimmed, and she was less likely to get weird stares in public, but Vespera preferred her like this. Her naked face and that little bit of acne, her hair wild and free; that sort of feral beauty she only ever got to see in the comfort of their home. She never understood why the world would seek to shun and lock away such a perfect angel.

Krista snorted, “Are you gonna answer my question, or are you gonna just stare at me all night? Take a picture, babe. It’ll last longer… hell, I’ll even wait for you to get your camera,” she teased.

“That is so unfair,” Vespera closed the distance between them and lifted Krista up by the waist. The human let out a squeak as her vampire lifted her onto the kitchen counter and they locked eyes. “You’re this effortlessly beautiful, and I’m expected to act normal about it. What sort of cruel joke is that?” Vespera teased right back, a smirk on her face.

“I think that’s perfectly fair,” Krista hummed. “I’m glad you’re in a good mood tonight~ Usually when you get back this late you immediately take to venting about your boss…”

“Oh, I could do that, believe me– but I have nothing to say that you haven’t already sat through.”

“Touché. Then it sounds to me like some stress relief is in order…”

“Oh, definitely.”

Krista pulled Vespera into a deep, passionate kiss. Their lips locked and between them, their tongues wrestled for dominion as their hands searched one another’s bodies for that perfect spot to hold onto. Krista moaned softly into Vespera’s mouth as she broke the kiss, leaving the thinnest thread of saliva between them.   

“I am so glad you’re in a good mood tonight,” Krista purred. There was a glimmer of excitement in her voice which intrigued Vespera. 

“You keep saying that. Something tells me that there’s a reason beyond, ‘I love my girlfriend very much and I wanted her to have a good day’...”

“Well, there’s something I wanted us to try tonight,” Krista started. “If you feel like experimenting, that is.”

“My dear Krista, always with her experiments…” Vespera shook her head, fighting back a smile. “Very well. I’m all ears.”

“It’s simple, really. I want you to…” Krista’s voice trailed off as her hand slowly rose above her shoulder, her fingers trailing across her own skin. Tilting her head to the side, she gently tapped the crook of her neck. 

“Oh…”

If Vespera’s heart still pumped blood, it would have started to beat a little faster. She felt a strange heat rising within her, and with it came a strong sense of apprehension. A growing dread in the pit of her stomach. 

She took a step back from Krista. “I… I’m not sure that I can do that. I’m not–”

“Hm? Why not? I didn’t do anything wrong, did I??” Krista started to panic.

“No– no, of course not! You didn’t do anything wrong, Krista. It’s just… we don’t know what could happen if I do that. I’m afraid of hurting you.”

Krista nodded slowly. “I understand. Trust me, I am very much aware of the risks. I also see the way that you eye me sometimes. Surely you must think about it, don’t you?”

“I do, but–”

“And I just know that Pepsi brand type-O barely even tastes like the real thing,” Krista laughed. “But me? I’m free range. Straight from the tap. When’s the last time you’ve had it fresh?”

Krista’s irreverent attitude towards this whole ordeal struck Vespera as slightly off-putting. Surely she knew not the full gravity of what she was requesting of her. How serious this could be, potentially. They stood before a bottomless pit of possibility, threatening to open a can of flesh-eating leeches that may be impossible to close after the fact. Perhaps more importantly, Krista was right. She had been eyeing her. She sometimes would fantasize about tasting her. The sweet flavor of her life essence on her tongue, crimson nectar running down her chin as she gorged herself. She banished those visions to the deepest recesses of her mind in an effort to maintain her civility. She believed such thoughts to be vile, beastly; confirming all of the worst suspicions held by humanity towards her kind. She had to be better than that.

“I could live another hundred years without it,” Vespera said. “I don’t miss it that much.”

That was a lie, and Krista knew it.

“You don’t have to, though. And besides, I’m not just doing this for you. Sometimes I wonder how it’d feel. Sometimes I crave the feeling of your teeth on my skin,” Krista admitted. “I want to bleed for you, Vespera. You say that you’re afraid to hurt me, but… that’s exactly what I need from you.”

Vespera could hardly believe what she was hearing. She must have been dreaming, no? She should pinch herself to make sure. She prayed that she would wake up so that she wouldn’t have to face this. Anything but this.

“I’m afraid, Krista. I’m afraid of– of hurting you.”

That was a lie, too. 

Krista saw through her. A look of surprise flashed across the human’s face, followed by a knowing smile. She had been right all along. They wanted the same thing.

“No, you’re not,” Krista hummed. “I think you want this just as much as I do, if not more. You’re just afraid of what that says about you.”

Those words were enough to stop Vespera dead in her tracks. The vampire was dumbstruck. 

“Don’t worry. It’s okay, Vespera. It’s really okay. This doesn’t change how I feel about you, and I wouldn’t look at you any differently. If anything– I want you to be true to just how much you want this. I want it just as much.”

“You… you don’t know what you’re saying, Krista…”

“I know exactly what I’m saying. I trust you, Ves. I’d trust you with my life.”

She beckoned Vespera closer. The vampire approached her quietly, closing the distance between them once more. Krista placed two fingers beneath Vespera’s chin and with them, she guided her towards the soft skin of her neck. Her other hand gripped the edge of the kitchen counter in excitement, her body shuddering as she felt her warm breath on her skin. 

“That’s it,” she whispered. “Take me, Ves. I’m all yours.”

Vespera’s mouth hung agape, her canines growing into more defined fangs better equipped for piercing skin. It had been ages since she had to use them like this, she couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t drank blood from a can or a plastic bottle. She did miss this, and deep down she was so very grateful to Krista for allowing her to do this. Allowing herself to do this was the real battle. Even this close to victory, she could not help but hesitate.

“Go on, love. You’ve got me,” Krista continued to encourage her. Her lips bent into a pout and gave way for the next words that came out as more of a whimper than anything else. 

“I’m not going anywhere… I couldn’t hope to escape or overpower you, Vespera.”

The way she talked messed with her head. She was enjoying how into it she was, but with that sense of enjoyment came the bitter aftertaste of shame. She must have been deeply broken to be enjoying the idea of Krista's suffering this much. Those humans, they certainly must have been right about her. What they were doing was indeed problematic. It was wrong and evil. No place existed in polite society for what they were doing.

…But the sound of Krista’s pulse tugged at her mind and conjured up all manner of sinful feelings within her. The rhythmic pumping of her blood was hypnotizing. Warm, fresh blood. Directly from the source. It was being given willingly.

“I want to bleed for you.”

That was what she had said earlier. Those words echoed in her mind as she leaned forward, her teeth finally making contact with Krista’s skin. A soft moan escaped the human, her body shaking ever so slightly as her survival instincts kicked in. Vespera could smell her fear in the air, the scent was intoxicating. With it she could no longer keep herself at bay, and her fangs sunk into the flesh of her willing victim.

Krista let out a soft whimper as her body quivered in Vespera’s grasp. Her primal instinct was telling her that she was in danger, and she started to fight against Vespera’s advances to no avail. Her strength was unmatched, keeping her steady and trapped as she drank from her. Taking what was hers. 

“Ves– Ves, let me go–”

Her voice was enough to snap Vespera out of it. She pulled away quickly, her eyes wide with horror. “Oh, god– Krista, I’m so sorry–”

Krista’s voice had been but a shrill, pleading noise. She had never heard anything quite like it. It horrified her that her first impulse was to disregard her cries for mercy. Revel in them, even.

…But Krista’s whining seemed to indicate something different. She looked at Vespera with a bewildered and slightly betrayed expression, somewhat resembling a puppy that had been shooed off by its owner. “Why’d you stop? I didn’t mean it, Ves…”

A wave of relief washed over Vespera as she breathed a long sigh. 

“Now, unless I start tapping, I don’t want you to stop. Is that clear?” Krista suddenly sounded rather assertive. It grabbed Vespera’s attention immediately.

“Right. Of– of course…”

“Really, Ves. There’s nothing wrong with you if you’re enjoying this. And if there is, then who cares?”

“I care,” Vespera protested.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t. Maybe you’re messed up, maybe I’m messed up, and maybe none of it matters as long as we’re happy together. You ever think about that?”

Vespera wanted to engage in this moral debate with her girlfriend, she really did, but she could not take her mind off of the sound of Krista’s pulse. It called out to her, beckoning her forward.

“And maybe, just maybe, as long as we don’t let what others think get between us and what we want for ourselves, we can– ah!”

Krista didn’t get to finish her thought, not that it mattered. It seemed she had done a great job convincing her. She threw her head back and exhaled sharply as the vampire’s fangs plunged into her tender flesh once more, blood trickling down the side of her neck. Her hand gripped tighter around the edge of the counter, while her other hand dug its nails into Vespera’s back. 

“Ves– Ves, please…”

This time she ignored Krista’s pleading. She allowed the taste of Krista’s essence on her tongue to override her protective urges, letting her bloodlust take the wheel. She would give Krista what she wanted– she would drain her until she could take no more. After all, deep down, it was what she wanted as well. What she craved. Her teeth sunk deeper, blood gushing from the wounds, as she threatened to strike bone. 

A high-pitched cry rang through the apartment as Krista’s body twitched in her grasp. The poor girl shuddered, her voice melting into a pained, brittle squeak. 

“Ves, you’re hurting me…”

But she wasn’t tapping. Vespera could hardly believe it– Krista wanted her to keep going. Despite her begging, despite her twitches and cries, she didn’t want it to end. Perhaps they were truly made for eachother. 

Vespera retracted her fangs and hissed in Krista’s ear. “Be quiet, will you? You asked for this, now shut up and take it.”

Krista shook like a leaf in the vampire’s tight hold. She nodded quickly and without a sound, tears streaming down her cheeks and hitting the floor beneath her. A deep red blush betrayed her true feelings, and the girl tried her darndest to fight back a smile. 

Vespera saw it but pretended not to. She continued on, finding another spot on Krista’s neck and diving into her flesh. Krista held back another pained squeak, her breath hitching and her body convulsing. She suffered in silence.

“Good girl,” Vespera ran her hand through Krista’s hair as she continued to feed from her. 

Those two words alone made Krista’s body fall limp in Vespera’s arms. She was unsure if it was how viscerally horny she was or if it was the blood loss settling in, but she found it hard to sit upright. She gave up on it entirely. Her vision was spinning. Perhaps now was a good time to make her stop, she thought. She didn’t want to, though. She decided to wait a bit longer.

Vespera was lost in Krista’s crimson ocean. The warm, crisp taste of freshly pumped blood was utterly enthralling. All she had to do was lose herself in it. Krista had given her permission, so why should she deny herself? This was her nature, after all. She had been taught to hate herself for it, but here was a human willing to be her prey. Perhaps even a plaything. Krista’s subtle ticks and soft breaths lit Vespera’s desire ablaze, and her tears fanned the flames. She would steal every second she was offered and revel in Krista’s suffering until the girl finally relented. 

Then it came. The tap. Krista was halfway between consciousness and a blood loss induced coma, dark circles dancing across her vision as she stared up at Vespera with a loopy smile. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, her smile never fading.

“Should I call an ambulance?” Vespera asked, her words laced with genuine concern.

“No, no– I’ll be fine. I’ll be upright in a few seconds, I think,” Krista shook her head. “I just need a minute… then we can take this to the bedroom.”

“I don’t think it’d be wise for me to feed again so soon,” Vespera warned.

“That’s not what I’m asking you to do, anyway. Look at my eyes,” Krista practically ordered. Vespera wondered how even on the brink of passing out she still managed to be so demanding. 

Still, she did as she was told.

“Good. Now give me a suggestion.”

“You’re asking me to use my charm on you?”

“What does it sound like I’m doing?”

“But Krista, that’s–”

“I know, Ves. I know. I want you to make me black out. Tomorrow morning, I shouldn’t have any recollection of whatever is about to happen tonight,” Krista purred. “I’ll need you to remind me what you did to me. Could you do that for me, love?”

“Krista…”

Krista stared up at her with the first genuine pleading gaze of the whole night. “Please, Ves. I need this. I need it bad. I need you to bend my mind to your will…”

How could she ever say no to that pouting face? She sighed, her eyes taking on an unnatural glow as she met Krista’s gaze. Within seconds the girl’s eyes glazed over and her expression lost all emotion.

“Krista, can you still hear me?” She asked.

“Yes, mistress,” she answered in a flat tone. 

Hearing Krista completely enthralled roused a certain perverse excitement within her. She was effectively at her mercy, unable to resist any command she gave her at this moment. She knew that was the point. Krista wanted her to have her way with her, she had been pretty clear about that. Vespera thought that she should’ve felt guilty despite Krista’s orders, but she could not find an ounce of remorse. She was going to enjoy this just as much as Krista was going to– or would have, if she was still aware of what was happening.

In the morning, Krista was going to wake up with the brightest sense of fulfillment knowing that she had been brainwashed and defiled by her vampire mistress, and Vespera would have to jog her memory of the night they had. Every single excruciating detail. 

She took Krista’s hand, helping her off the counter and guiding her to her feet. “Come, now. The night is still young,” Vespera hummed. “We’re going to make the most of it, you and I.”

“Yes, mistress...”

“And you want to give me what I want, don’t you?”

“Yes, mistress.”

“Such a good girl. You learn so fast.”

Krista stared off into space, her eyes vacant of any and all life. She wasn’t there, really. Just an empty vessel subject to Vespera’s will until the spell was broken. Vespera was the only one who could set her free. Until then, she would do whatever was asked of her. She hadn’t learned anything, she had merely been broken by simple eye contact with a vampire.

Vespera led her out of the kitchen, through their messy living room and into the bedroom. She pulled Krista to her, planting a deep kiss on her lips before throwing her onto the bed in front of them. Krista fell onto the bed like a stiff, lifeless doll. Vespera climbed on top of her, holding her hands above her head and staring into her dead eyes.

“If only you could know how beautiful you look right now, my dear,” she sighed.

“Thank you, mistress. You are too kind to me. How shall I ever repay you?” 

Krista’s voice devoid of any will kicked her lust into full swing. She was going to thoroughly enjoy this, almost as much as she enjoyed Krista’s begging a moment prior. 

“I think I have just the idea…”

[itsu-saragi]

Devlog #8 - Promises and First Impressions.

I didn't know what to put for the title. Anyway, good timezone!

I don't have much to report for November; I did some thinking, writing, and RenPy studying, but I got busy with some art commissions so overall there aren't any deliverables I can share.

So instead, I thought I'd share something different.

Sousou no Frieren, or Frieren: Beyond Journey's End, is one of my favorite stories and a big inspiration behind this VN. I followed the manga long before the anime was announced, and I thoroughly enjoyed the anime's release. I also like watching video essays breaking down Sousou no Frieren, and today I'd like to briefly talk about one specific video: Why the three episode rule exists, by pey talks anime.

In this video, Pey explains the importance of capturing the viewer's attention at the beginning of your story, and how Sousou no Frieren achieves this by introducing several "promises" during the first three episodes. These promises aren't between the characters, but between the story and the consumer; it's an unspoken agreement that what you expect will be what you get.

This reminded me of something else: in this video essay (which has nothing to do with VNs or Sousou no Frieren, but is still an excellent video tbh) by SovietWomble, he drops this incredible line:

"You never get a second first impression."

If you're a creator, what's presented at the beginning of your piece of media will be the promise you're making to the consumer, even if it wasn't intentional. Those expectations are inevitable, so you may as well make promises you can and want to fulfill.

With all that said, I've started to ask myself the following questions:

What are the promises I want to make to the player?

Are these promises evident within the beginning portion of this game?

Are these promises in line with the kind of story I'd like to tell?

Have these promises been fulfilled by the end of the story?

So far I've been able to answer about half of the questions, but I'm reluctant to share them as I keep thinking I'm going to make drastic changes to the story lol. I think... I need to shut up and keep writing. That's why:

December Goals

Just keep fucking writing lmao. I need to stop overthinking.

And continue working on programming a prototype build. The scope keeps changing, but I hope I can lock that in a bit more this month. Who knows, not me.

That's it from me! Feedback is always appreciated. Thank you for reading, and have a good timezone <3

[overwatchloresnstuff]

SYMMETRA lore

Satya Vaswani grew up in an extremely poor area of Hyderabad, India. Despite living in the infamous City of Pearls, in a city renowned for artistic expression and gemstones, Satya’s village was in a bad way. Starvation was rife, the water was murky, and the village was overcrowded. Satya danced to lower her anxiety, and visited temples for meals, peace, and beauty. They were the only refuge from the ugliness of everyday village life, as Hyderabadi temples are marvels of artistic work, painted in a thousand colors with large domes and statues raised to the sky.

After the Omnic Crisis, a singular corporation decided to take advantage. India, being densely populated and with millions displaced due to the crisis, was utterly overwhelmed by the scope of humanitarian work needed to put the country back together. Vishkar extended a hand. The corporation founded a new city, Utopaea, using their proprietary hard-light technology. Vishkar’s Architechs promised order. They promised peace, and full bellies with clean water in a beautiful city made of light…and all they asked for was simple obedience.

Vishkar was known for combing records, plucking children from their families. After all, once a revolutionary company considered a child gifted, there was massive pressure on the family to let the child become an Architech. It was a path out of poverty, and a child could have their stars changed with a simple sweep of Vishkar’s hand.

So it was for Satya. She was identified as being capable of becoming an Architech, by Vishkar’s inscrutable and very secretive standards. Her parents, reassured that Satya would want for nothing, were proud to hand their daughter over to the corporation.

There was one single caveat.

Satya could never return home.

She was owned by Vishkar now, and Vishkar would be all that she breathed. To become an Architech, one had to sleep, eat, work, and embody the corporation. As was traditional for Architechs, one of her arms was removed and she was given a company-provided prosthetic that could aid her in creating hard light. Lonely, isolated, and unable to even step foot in the temples she once loved, Satya buried herself in her studies. She entered the Architech Academy in Utopaea, and was assigned a live-in roommate by the name of Niran Pruksamanee. Satya found his relaxed, privileged demeanor irritating. She preferred strict schedules, clean living spaces, and for her roommates to rise and sleep on strict timelines. The other two roommates they were assigned were happy to fall into line. Niran bucked all those trends, but despite their differences Satya found herself fond of the charming Thai gentleman she lived with. The two became inseparable.

Niran, however, had a secret. He managed to create biolight, a living extension of the Vishkar hard-light. Biolight could heal, could grow just like the plants he loved…but he wouldn’t see it turned over to Vishkar. Ignoring Satya’s advice, he fled the Academy and left her alone once again. Having no friends, Satya let her studies consume her.

Satya quickly ascended to the top of her class, and was particularly gifted with bending hard light to her will. Unlike the other students, who approached their work with physics, geometry, and mathematics, Satya found a way to weave the light with the dances of her native Hyderabadi dances.

Satya caught Vishkar’s eye once again. She was taken from the Architech Academy after her graduation, and informed that she would be no mere Architech. She would be an agent of the company, sent on clandestine missions to enforce Vishkar’s will. She was given the codename Symmetra, and finally given access to Vishkar’s dark secrets. Unfortunately, having grown up with the company line, Symmetra could only see the good Vishkar was doing. Order and obedience had become her watchwords, and she willingly gave herself to the company to do their bidding once more.

Her first mission was in Rio de Janeiro, where the company was eyeing a contract to rebuild favelas in the wake of the Crisis. Symmetra was proud to further the mission; after all, how could people stand such disgusting conditions? No. Order would be established, people would be clean and well-mannered, and she would open that path. She argued with Rio’s mayor on behalf of Vishkar, and stormed out of the strained talks when the mayor showed reticence to give their favelas over to Vishkar.

Symmetra was wholly unprepared for how angry the residents of Rio would be, and stepped into the street in the midst of a riot. The tensions between Vishkar and Rio had boiled over with the help of Lucio, a local DJ and celebrity, and the favela was plunged into a full on revolution. Frightened by the sounds, smells and chaos, Symmetra lost her way. She found a young girl named Rosa, who guided her to safety, and from that day on she vowed that Vishkar would transform the favelas into a safe place for all of Rio’s residences.

Sanjay Korpal, Vishkar’s representative in Rio, was satisfied that Symmetra was so willing to…convince Rio’s mayor that the rebuild was necessary. He sent her to infiltrate their competition. After all, with no competing bids, the mayor would be forced to accept Vishkar’s hand. All they needed was a little blackmail.

Symmetra broke in, and after rifling through the Calado corporations files, found nothing. The company was running cleanly. Calado’s guards discovered her, and Symmetra was able to throw up shields to protect herself from the resulting gunfire. She rigged non-lethal traps to give herself enough time to escape, and report back to Sanjay. When Sanjay asked why she hadn’t just killed them, Symmetra responded that she only used lethal force if absolutely necessary. Killing and brutality were a waste of life.

Symmetra then broke the news to Sanjay; they had nothing on Calado, and would likely lose the contract. Vishkar’s response was simple, and immediate: so be it.

The building she had infiltrated exploded in a fiery hail, killing everyone inside and pouring down flames and broken concrete onto the favela below. The same favela that Vishkar was supposed to be renovating. Symmetra stared in shock at the display of cruelty, and leapt in to help. Her photonic barrier carved a path through the flames, and amidst the screaming of those caught by the destruction she found a trapped child. Symmetra used her hard light to pull the child free, and recognized Rosa, the same child who had guided her out of the riot. Rosa’s face had been burned beyond repair, disfiguring her for life.

Months later, Vishkar had indeed begun rebuilding Rio’s city center, damaged by the fire. As Symmetra and Sanjay looked over the brand new buildings, nestled amid the favelas, she questioned whether Vishkar had destroyed the Calado building and killed so many. Sanjay simply responded that it was the price of regrowth.

Doubt, quiet, persistent, began to grow in Symmetra’s mind. She tried to quiet it. Vishkar was surely making a better world. She had seen the proof of it…hadn’t she..?

Nevertheless, she moved on to her next mission. Burying herself in work had worked before, why not now? Sanjay and herself were sent to help a village in Roshani, called Suravasa, damaged by a recent earthquake. Vishkar’s PR representative Chandra assured them that if Vishkar didn’t start helping the village soon, they could kiss their development rights in the area goodbye. Sanjay told Symmetra to volunteer in the village. After all, she had come from humble means. Surely she could relate to these people. Symmetra was told to give the villagers anything they wanted; it would be a scant cost compared to losing development rights.

Looking over the hologram of the damaged village, Symmetra spotted something familiar. She asked Chandra what it was, and he identified the statue as that of Aurora, the first omnic to achieve sentience and the one responsible for the Awakening. The villagers would want more than hush money, Symmetra reasoned, and Sanjay tasked her with finding out what it was.

Symmetra arrived in Suravasa to open hostility. The local Governor, Ranesh Grewal, told Symmetra they wanted nothing to do with Vishkar’s evil. Architechs were not welcome. The gathering crowd of hostile villagers seemed to back him up, and Symmetra remembered the favela riots. She requested to visit a local temple, hoping to buy herself time. Hostile, the crowd seemed like they would deny her request.

Instead, a single omnic stepped forward. Zenyatta, a pilgrim to the temple, reminded them that the temples were open to all. He led Symmetra inside, and invited her to walk with him. The help Vishkar was offering would mean nothing if it came from poisoned fingers, he reminded her. She was welcome to stay, if she did him the courtesy of taking time to understand the people and the religion here. Symmetra responded that she was no pilgrim, she was an Architech here to solve a problem.

What was a pilgrim, Zenyatta responded, if not someone who journeyed to a holy place?

Taken aback by Zenyatta’s response, Symmetra reasoned that if Zenyatta’s philosophy had calmed the crowd, perhaps his way would work better than Vishkar flinging money at the villagers. She needed more information. So, she decided to keep an open mind. She walked with Zen, and he told her of Mondatta and the Shambali monks. He led her into the main temple chamber, where the shambles of Aurora’s statue stood.

Aurora had sacrificed everything to give the gift of life, true intelligence and meaning, to omnics. Omnics had awakened, as though from a dream, from their lives chained to servitude. Aurora had given them the knowledge of good and evil, the power to make their own decisions, and become true persons as precious as any human. Symmetra finally understood why the villagers had been so saddened by its damage, and was moved by Aurora’s story. Vishkar could fix it! It was only stone, she told Zen. She could build them a new temple, a new statue, anything they wanted!

Zenyatta responded that help could come in many forms. The history of the stones around them meant so much more than any new building. The statue of Aurora had been created by hands that loved her. No hard light substitute could mean as much…ever.

Symmetra had a lot to think about, and Zenyatta invited her to stay with him. He gave her a robe, and a meal. At first, Symmetra refused the offer. Vishkar paid for her meals, and she was no pilgrim! However…the colors were quite pretty. She relented, and for the first time in many years, she wore clothing not from Vishkar’s prim offices.

The next morning, she met with Zen again. She wanted to help, and what was she to do if not use Vishkar’s technology?!

Zenyatta responded by giving her a broom, and showing her where the villagers were cleaning the temple by hand. They were so ineffective! They moved stones by hand, swept with simple brooms. Yet, Symmetra found herself enjoying the work. Organizing, cleaning, sweating as humans had done for thousands of years. As they finished the work for the day, Zenyatta handed her a gift.

The monks here didn’t meditate, but rather used distinctive orbs to ponder. Orbs of Perception focused an omnic’s powers, and while rather useless to humans, were used for understanding. They could not make them hover like an omnic could, but they could feel. They could ponder. They could focus themselves around a single object and find peace. In this way, her mind could calm itself, and she could find the solution to what the villagers truly needed. This time, Satya didn’t protest. She meditated, and cradled the orb.

Over the next few days, Satya settled into life at the temple. She rose with them, ate with them, worked with them, and centered herself on the Orb of Perception. She went into the village with Zenyatta to serve food to the hungry, and while the villagers were still hostile to her, Zenyatta stood beside her. Grudgingly, the villagers began to accept Satya. She certainly wasn’t acting like a soulless Vishkar Architech.

Satya spent her evenings with Zen. They talked about her childhood, growing up within Vishkar, and the faith she had abandoned when Vishkar had taken her. Zen introduced her to the concept of Wabi-Sabi, the Japanese concept centering around focusing on the earthly impermanence of things. Appreciate all that is imperfect, for in imperfection is beauty. Scars tell stories of love and loss, missing eyes and limbs tell of resilience. Imperfection is what makes life worth living. Some might have seen the removal of her arm as imperfection…and yet it was beautiful.

On the next evening, Zen introduced her to Kintsugi, the art of repairing broken pottery with gold lacquer to make unique and beautiful pieces. Even though a bowl is shattered, it is that shattering that makes it beautiful.

Satya realized what she had to do.

Over the next few days, Satya reassembled the statue of Aurora. Instead of merely piecing it back together, she glued the pieces with hard light. The veins of Aurora’s shattering glowed with light, yellow, imperfect but beautiful in its imperfection. Satya presented the statue to the village not in her corporate attire, but in the robe Zenyatta had gifted her.

Governor Grewal, who had been so hostile to her, was in shock. The villagers were moved, and Zenyatta gifted Satya with the robe she wore and incense…she was always welcome at the temple. Sanjay was impressed with her work, but wondered why she had chosen yellow instead of the corporation’s signature blue. While blue was a beautiful color, Symmetra told him, she had chosen yellow for warmth. Love was warmth, and she had made this with love. She wanted others to feel it when they looked at the statue.

Symmetra told Sanjay that Vishkar could do more, and be more, if they acted more like this. Vishkar needed love, and empathy, and to find beauty in imperfections rather than demanding everything be brought to their rigorous standards. Sanjay admitted, grudgingly, that she was probably right.

Symmetra continues to maintain a relationship with Zenyatta to this day, and Zenyatta views her, affectionately, as one of his students.

Symmetra still seems to tow the company line with Vishkar. Her interactions with Ana, Ashe and others reflect that she will still parrot Vishkar’s tagline of improving an imperfect world. However, her interaction with Hanzo hints that she may be seeking a way out. She asks why he left his organization, and he replied that he hated the man they made him. When Symmetra asks how he knew he did the right thing, Hanzo says he didn’t. She also asks Sombra about Vishkar’s dealings with LumeriCo…but when Sombra jokes about her escaping her cage, Symmetra shuts down the conversation.

Symmetra despises chaos. She shows disgust in her interactions with Junkrat and Junker Queen, and remarks how shocked she is Torbjorn’s inventions actually function. Likewise, she shows admiration for snowflakes with Mei. Symmetra has close friendships with Niran, who teases her about his chaotic Academy habits, and Zenyatta, who encourages her growth.

Symmetra is a person still discovering herself. She was severed from her family, and largely from her culture, by a predatory corporation. While Vishkar has made her into a successful scientist and expanded her education beyond her wildest dreams…they also robbed her of much of her humanity. She is clawing it back through her friendships with Zenyatta and Lifeweaver, and slowly growing into a person separate from the corporate drone Vishkar wants her to be.

Symmetra is a soul aching for empathy and beauty, in a world where so much of it has been sanitized in the name of efficiency. She is a reminder to us all that imperfections aren’t to be eliminated…and technical advances may come at the cost of the artist if we are not careful.

(Taken from facebook group "Deadlock gang: women of Overwatch from a member there)

[enarei]

do you think it's harder to be a propagandist today than it was a century ago? do you think effective propaganda has become more costly to produce? it's probably true that information is both much easier to disseminate, and that you need a much larger volume of it permeating the entire spectrum of what people consume for it to be effective. it's difficult to balance the assumption people were just more credulous back then upon seeing historical examples of propaganda posters with the fact that it's very hard to measure how effective a poster, a speech, a broadcast or a pamphlet really was, in isolation, at disseminating an idea within a group of people, whether they already believed the thing being conveyed in the first place, and how much the material reinforced their belief to instigate an action. it can't be practical to run a large control group when you're trying to disseminate something as widely as possible, when propaganda is at its most useful and you have the least time to commission a study, although undoubtedly people have attempted to answer this back in the day, and thought of doing so earlier than I can imagine.

then has propaganda become more subtle about the fact it is political messaging over time, or did we just become worse at analysing contemporary propaganda as traditional ways of disseminating it fell out of favor, at the same time that media became more multifaceted? this is not universal, but particularly in anglophone countries, 'propaganda' has come to be viewed with a strongly negative connotation, with an emphasis on political and specifically duplicitous messaging (as opposed to the more neutral view that it's just messaging), a distinction which didn't exist until somewhat recently. this is much more noticeable when compared to languages where the word 'propaganda' is still basically synonymous with the term 'marketing', and the manipulative and political connotation is either not present or less overt, but the english definition can still exert influence in these languages to some degree.

did this shift impact the effectiveness of traditional mediums for propaganda, such as leaflets and posters, particularly in formats which aren't subtle about instructing the reader, because people in the anglosphere (and indirectly, the rest of the world) were more likely to associate those formats with this more explicitly negative interpretation of the concept, which they were skeptical of — or was the transition to new forms of media organic, because they were simply more effective to produce in scale, and leaflets and posters fell out of favor because they became less and less attractive financially?

they're not identical, but you could argue this category is almost entirely relegated to newspaper political charges now, which while admittedly much more limited in scope (they rarely appear in the front page, you have to seek them out), have been affected in a similar way. consumption of physical newspapers themselves is disappearing, they're increasingly digital only, and news websites, even ones with a very long history as physical media, increasingly don't carry any illustrations or rely only on stock photography to illustrate opinion pieces —they too, are falling out of favor.

[goodluckclove]

The Potential Destructive Ability Range in Songbird Elegies

That's a bad title. I don't really know how to explain this. @xarrixii sent me some like tier list of Power Levels and told me to rank my Songbird crew on it based on the most immediate scope of damage they could do if they tried their hardest. I did, and decided to throw in a few more like general categories for Lore Reasons. It looks like this.

Explanation under the read more, I guess?

10-C (Weakest): The Witch-Eater/Buddy

The Witch-Eater had to have names explained to it. It doesn't know it is called the Witch-Eater by most humans. It only really knows itself as Buddy, which is what Doctor Kaufner called it.

Buddy really can't do anything unless it can fully consume a human psyche. And that takes a while. It also learned that humans are weirdly resilient? Even when they feel their mind being slowly digested by an unfathomable cosmic entity, they'll just sort of keep doing shit? It's weird and very frustrating.

10-B/10-A (Human Range) - Most birthrights

It's probably a really common thing for people that know a birthright to see that witch use their power a lot and not even notice. Both because magic in this world is meant to be difficult to perceive, and because most birthright magic is - not really anything? A single birthright with their abilities in a healthy state can do one form of magic depending on their variant. It's something that can conceivably help with their disability, but is also enough of a hassle that it's not usually more appealing than the existing aids and accommodations. if you aggravate your variant to the point of what distillers call a "bulb break", the resulting magic is far more useful. but also it never stops, and it's incredibly painful to get to that point, so most avoid it. Birthrights are the boring witches. The biggest threat from them is if you end up in a conflict with a Reserve Guard, and even then they won't use magic. They'll just kick your ass.

9-A/8-C (Could take down a building) - Most Academics

Academic magic is far more powerful than any base birthright variant. It's also harder, more painful, and perpetually inconsistent. Incantations are done through Spell-Tongue, which for most Academics is like learning a language that is constantly trying to "un-learn" itself from your brain. You can be a practicing Academic Witch for decades and still occasionally fuck up an incantation. But when it works it could actually do a decent amount of damage.

8-A/7-C (Could fuck up a whole neighborhood) - "Split-Tongue" Academics

These are people who are born not already knowing Spell-Tongue, but with the innate ability to pick it up and retain it. It's either incredibly rare or fully made-up, depending on who you ask. Edgar Gallows is not a Spell-Tongue, and if you ask if they believe they exist they'll say they don't really care. Tenzin Onyilogwu is a Spell-Tongue, but if you call her that she will kindly request you shut the fuck up.

7-B/6-C (Superb Biological Terrorist Potential) - Head Distiller birthrights

Head Distillers are probably the only career in Witch Towns that require that "bulb break". There aren't many, because it is probably the worst variant to push to that higher level for anyone who still wants to live a fairly normal life. The average birthright with a variant that qualifies them to be a distiller can alter the components of plants, fungi, and some bacteria. Some studies in early birthright history came with strong evidence that Head Distillers can alter the components of living animals. It's not fully confirmed, but there was enough there for it to quickly become the norm for Head Distillers to wear gloves anytime they aren't actively working. Causing Vitamin K toxicity might take a while, but a Head Distiller is still absolutely knowledgeable enough to easily make a powerful and untraceable poison.

(Ollie is the Head Distiller of Bluerose and proudly responsible with her powers. Other than using them to grow amazing weed and occasionally make kickass fireworks that are technically explosives if you're a fucking narc)

3-C/3-A (Could Un-make the Universe) - Lover's Knot Bonds

Out of all the soul bonds that exist (that's a birthright circumstance of multiple entities being born out of the same "soul"), this one is the most dangerous. It's SO dangerous, that on some innate level the members of the bond seem to know that. And that's why they're compelled in somoe way to find teach other and form back into the same "soul". This usually results in a single consciousness split between two bodies. This consciousness still has the same level of immense power, but they're mostly content to be a semi-smug demigod just sort of fooling around.

(Also you wonder why a Lover's Knot is only two people? Do Lover's Knots not accommodate polyamory? That's so WEIRD. I wonder what's up with that.)

2-C/2-A (Legitimately only slightly more powerful than magic itself) - Affiliate Witches

Affiliate magic was the third branch of magic proposed by the Witch Doctors in the late-80's. It never took off, because the barrier to entry requires a level of intensive meditation most couldn't achieve. For those who did, many panicked as soon as they managed to reach the Other Place (which is the physical embodiement of magic, or the entity who knows itself on some level to be "Buddy"). The ones who stayed calm enough to request a partnership with the Other Place were able to become a direct conduit of the source of magic.

Their abilities are more unstable on a bigger scope. The magic they CAN refine is able to be done with zero pain or fatigue. They are the only magic users (other than, perhaps, a fully-formed Lover's Knot) who can do magic with zero physical or mental consequence. There are likely less than twenty Affiliate magic users in existence, and luckily they were all raised in birthright culture and feel weird enough about the amount of power they have that they usually pretend they don't have it. Most of the known Affiliate users are the founding members of the Witch Doctors (Most of which have since died), as well as Regina Mustard Kaufner and Tenzin Onyliogwu.

(Ah man Tenzin is pretty powerful for a woman with a lot of trauma and no therapy. But that's probably fine.)

0 - Also Buddy, somehow

It is both the most and least powerful thing. It is so vast in its abilities that it has been eroding slowly for an untraceable amount of time.

[violetjedisylveon]

Hi! So here's a slight backstory to LBD, if you dont mind.

Once before she grew evil, LBD had a naive view of the world and wanted to help sirens and humans get along.

However, she experienced a huge betrayal from a human using her to get what they wanted and left her to rot when they had it.

After the betrayal, her heart grew cold and dark. She eventually found the one who betrayed her and killed them in cold blood. She experimented on their corpse afterward and found she enjoyed doing things like that to others and manipulating them.

The only reason she had human members of her cult is because they could hunt sirens for her when her servants or pets got found out by other mers.

Her story is one of the cautionary tales as to why humans and sirens relationship couldn't work.

Wukong knows of her story, but is too in love with Macaque to think of the consequences.

Lucky for him, it turned out Macaque wasn't a human, so he could keep being with him.

Once long ago, there was a young siren who was insatiably curious about the world around her, and the world above the waves. The dangers of surface dwellers concerned her not, her curiosity needed to be satisfied. Ignoring the warnings of her elders, she went up and lived among the mortals and demons of the surface, learning their ways and coming to master them. She returned often to her pod, telling them tales of her discoveries, though they wouldn't do anything stop her travels, they turned down the offer to follow her to the surface. The young siren was upset, but understood, the scars from hunters left a lasting. Her curiosity drove her to constantly return to the surface, ignoring her pod's concerns. She formed a relationship with a fox demoness, the two of them grew close, so close that the young siren told her lover her true nature. Her love accepted her for what she was, and swore to keep it a secret from all others. The fox never betrayed her lover. The young siren continued to satiate her curiosity by learning of the surface's magic and sciences, her thirst for knowledge was endless, and those around her wondered if she would ever be satisfied. She learned the magic of the surface dwellers and combined them with her own siren magic. The knowledge of the surface began to run dry, and the curious siren began to search for something more. Her curiosity drew her to the secrets of the divine, the gods above in the heavens, and below in the Diyu. Her desire for knowledge, and the power that came with it, began to twist into something darker. It started with the small creatures her fox mate hunted for food. She requested her lover bring them back alive, the fox assumed nothing of it, the creatures still made their way to their table. The siren's curiosity drove her to conduct studies and experiments on the creatures she and her mate consumed. Soon, her scope became larger. The siren hunted these new targets herself, the fox was more suited to hunting smaller prey, her ambitions were bigger. More intelligent creatures found themselves in the siren's clutches, torn apart to see how they ticked, her curiosity twisting into cruelty. The remains were mixed into the food she fed her unaware lover and pups. One day, a siren from her pod ventured onto the surface to find what had happened to the curious young siren, as she had not returned to the pod for quite some time, and they had begun to fear the worst. The visiting siren was surprised to find the younger had a family with a surface dwelling demon, and challenged the long-term viability of this family, it was only a matter of time before someone found out about the siren's secret, her children could give her away if their disguise failed once. The visitor said that the curious siren and her children needed to return to the sea for their own safety, leaving the fox behind. When she refused, the visitor threatened to tell their pod of what she had done, the siren panicked, fearing the elders of her pod would be able to tell what she had been doing. They would take her from her studies and her lover, she would not allow that. She pleaded with her guest to not inform their pod of what she had done. The visitor refused and left. The siren followed to convince the visitor to change their mind. The next morning, she assured her mate that the siren would not speak of their family. The stench of rotting flesh was disguised by the fox's own musk. The curious siren continued down her twisted path, covering her tracks to keep her family in the dark. Despite her efforts to keep her experiments hidden, one day, the truth came out. Some say one of the pups, as curious as their siren mother, snuck into her study, others say the fox herself discovered it. Regardless of how, the end result is the same, the lovers fought, and the fox fled with their children.

.

The siren lashed out against her fleeing former lover, trapping her family by the sea and taking out her anger on the fox. She told her mate everything she did, all of the horrible things, was for them, their family, so no one would take it In her rage, she nearly killed her former lover, fortunately, a passing dragon saw and stopped, whisking the fox and their pups away into the ocean in an air bubble. The fox told her dragon savior all that she had learned of her mate, the experiments she was doing right under her nose, the siren she killed to keep their family hidden. The twisted siren returned to the seas in search of her mate, and tried to teach other sirens of her ways. However word of her crimes had spread through the seas, all under the ways loathed and avoided the corrupted, twisted siren. Hell bent on revenge against those who rejected her, the twisted siren began to dive deeper into her twisted, dark practices. She renamed herself the Lady Bone Demon, and from the sea dwelling creatures, earned the title of the Sea Witch. The Sea Witch ravaged the oceans with her violent offense, but she was defeated by a young siren, cursed to never touch the waters again. Because of the Sea Witch's actions above the sea, and below during her conquest, surface dwellers began to fear and loath all sirens, resulting in a boom of siren hunting, the refinement of the practice, and the discovery of just what could be done with a caught siren. The Sea Witch's story is a warning, endless curiosity can take one down the darkest of paths.

This is LBD's story. She always had the potential to become a twisted monster, betrayal or no, she always had this in her.

Demons still exist on the surface alongside mortals, Macaque is disguised as a monkey demon by his parents.

LBD's relationship is not the reason why surface dweller siren relationships don't work, her relationship worked, it's what LBD caused in how surface dwellers perceived sirens that is why they don't work. Cause the siren usually ends up dead for their flesh.

Wukong knew about it, but he'd had a relationship with a surface dweller in the past and that didn't go catastrophically wrong, he's not yet aware of Ling Li being the guy who he chomped the hand off a couple decades back. So he did it anyway.

Luckily Macaque turned out to also be a siren.

[evidence-based-activism]

Y’all are so weird. I meant videos of news stories on women who committed bestiality

This is in reference to this post.

I suspect you are also the one who sent the following ask:

the 2% was in reference to the 14/16% rate in female/ male, you’re wrong, I do not watch it but a majority of it is filmed in other countries where it is not illegal, the only thing that is illegal to posses in the US is cp

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You: Oh I meant news stories. And I totally don't watch it. But also it's not even illegal if I did watch it.

This is about as convincing as "uhh ... my friend wants to know [embarrassing question]" actually being about a friend.

---

As I said in the original post "we don't have a good representative study that will allow for the determination of a prevalence." I have no ideas how you came up with a 14/16% rate (these are substantially higher than the the highest suggested rate). Either way, it is not accurate or reliable.

---

"you’re wrong" -> you appear to fallen into the "invincible ignorance fallacy", otherwise known as sticking your fingers in your ears and shouting "Nuh-Uh!" when proven wrong.

---

Sexual abuse of animals is illegal per federal and almost every state law. Therefore, the production and distribution of sexually abusive content about animals is also illegal. Solely watching this content is more of a gray area (i.e., there are explicit laws about it in most places), but people can be charged with "possessing or sharing" content that depicts illegal acts. Whether or not anyone is ever actually charged is a different question, since the legal system was really not designed to deal with the issues presented by the internet.

---

And, as a final note, @drbased made an excellent comment on the original post, pointing out that videos depicting women sexually abusing animals are generally made for the porn industry. I have discussed the exploitive and abusive nature of the sex industry many times on this blog (see the tag #sex industry).

So, to reiterate her point: Why would assume the women in these videos are consenting? Given the significant connections between animal abuse and violence against women [1] how do you know these women aren't being forced or trafficked? What does it say about men (that the pornographic content is being made by and for) that these videos are being produced and consumed?

---

References below the cut:

Diemer, K., Gallant, D., Mosso Tupper, N., Hammond, K., Ramamurthy, A., & Humphreys, C. (2024). Exploring the Linkages between Animal Abuse, Domestic Abuse, and Sexual Offending: A Scoping Review. Health & Social Care in the Community, 2024(1), 1170505.

[sadpenguinnova]

Champion bio: Corina Veraza

From a young age, ▇▇▇▇▇ loved plants. Unfortunately, in the harsh environment of Zaun, plants would be killed by toxins concentrated in the soil before they even had a chance to take root, surviving only in costly greenhouses.

▇▇ heard rumors that the Chem-Baron who governed the area had built a massive underground greenhouse in their territory. Driven by curiosity and hope, she ventured near their domain. After passing layers of steel walls and terrifying weaponry, she found the high-load sewage and gas filtration systems operating non-stop. These energy-consuming machines ran day and night, likely plunging countless Zaunite civilians into misery—just to add a touch of green to the Baron’s residence. Realizing this filled the young girl with uncontrollable rage.

After the expedition, an obsession took root and sprouted in her heart: she would cover the land of Zaun with flowers—flowers that could grow freely without the need for greenhouses, to be shared with everyone.

Born into a humble Zaunite family, ▇▇ knew she might never afford the luxury of flowers and plants. She made a secret vow: first, she needed power, and power would bring her money. She had to take a path no one else would think of and defeat these factory-minded Barons at their own game. She donned her glasses and began studying relentlessly, working part-time jobs to save up for tuition. Eventually, she rose above her peers and was granted a rare exception: an admission to Piltover University.

She entered the best laboratory in the School of Biology, only to discover that it had suffered from budget cuts for years. Though Piltover, the City of Progress, praised innovation, it only funded research that could generate immediate value. Engineers and machinists thrived, while biologists were left in outdated labs with scarce materials. It was said that someone had once ventured into the mountains to capture rare living specimens themselves because the school refused to fund the expedition—and nearly died doing so.

But such difficulties did not deter her. She cherished the opportunity to study, devouring literature in the library and even studying history and the methods of political elites in her spare time. Most of her hours were spent in the lab, tirelessly operating creaking robotic arms and rusted microscopes, single-mindedly advancing her research.

Five years later, she finally succeeded. From a sample of Zaun's gray miasma, ▇▇ cultivated a mutant strain that could thrive on toxins. Not only could this strain convert chemical waste in the soil and air into nourishment, it also grew at astonishing speeds, allowing hybridization results to be observed in no time. Once fully developed, the mutant would bloom into purple-red flowers—exotically beautiful amidst the green haze. She was mesmerized, spending the entire night in the lab. She believed this was the prototype of her life's dream and proudly called it her Magnum Opus.

Just a few more generations of propagation and she could stabilize its traits, turning her dream into reality. But she was out of materials. She decided to publish some preliminary results—carefully omitting the full scope of her research—to attract more funding. Her work was groundbreaking and quickly became the talk of the academic world. Countless investors extended offers.

But the glory didn't last. Some people, sensing danger in both her paper and her identity as a Zaunite, raised alarms. The university released a statement accusing her of violating bioethics, locked down her lab, and confiscated all her work. The research would be safely continued by more trustworthy scholars. Her student status was also revoked.

She had planned to leave quietly after completing her research, but she hadn't anticipated the arrogance and cruelty of Piltover's elites. The next day, the charred body of ▇▇▇▇▇ was found inside the sealed lab. The entire space had burned down. All notes and specimens turned to ash. Only a warped, melted pair of glasses remained identifiable among the ruins.

Three years later, a new Chem-Baroness rose to power in Zaun—Corina Veraza. Her influence expanded rapidly. It was said she built labs and gardens aboveground, where mysterious flowers thrived in the toxic air and poisoned soil. These flowers absorbed poison and released venomous pollen. Their rapid growth allowed them to silently lay in ambush on a rival’s path, bringing death before anyone realized it.

Corina won battle after battle, claiming more and more territory. When not fighting, she stayed by her flowers in the lab, not speaking to anyone for days. The blooms in her garden grew ever more stunning—and ever more deadly. Though the garden was open to all, no one dared approach it. No one but her ever came out alive.

Whether it was power that changed her, or the toxic pollen that rewired her nervous system, no one could say. But Corina's ambition had long mutated into a pathological obsession with vengeance and crime. She began provoking other Chem-Barons just to cruelly kill them. Traces of pollen were found at multiple murder scenes in Piltover University. Once, on a whim, she vanished from her lab, leaving her bewildered thugs behind—only to infiltrate the Piltover police for years, just to lure Caitlyn into a carefully pre-set trap, watching with glee as the sheriff and her team were toyed with.

By the time her name topped Piltover's most-wanted list, Corina's left arm had completely rotted from long-term toxin exposure. Unbothered, she replaced it with a mechanical prosthetic on her own—and dove right back into hybridizing and modifying again. No one knows what deadly creation this criminal genius will unleash tomorrow.

Original Chinese version below

可瑞娜·瓦拉撒

▇▇·▇自小喜爱植物，可惜在祖安恶劣的环境中，植物会在生根发芽之前被土壤中富集的毒素杀死，因此只能在昂贵的温室中生长。

▇▇听闻管辖此地的炼金男爵在属地内搭建了巨大的地下温室，于是冒险接近男爵的领地，果真在被层层叠叠的钢墙和可怖的武器的保护后找到了高负荷运转的污水和气体处理装置。这样高消耗的机械日夜不停地运作，不知将多少祖安平民的生活置入了水深火热之中，而这只是为了给男爵的屋子增添一抹绿色——年纪轻轻的她想到这点，便陷入无法遏制的怒火。

冒险结束后，一个执念在她心底生根发芽：她要在祖安的土地上种满花朵，要让它们不依赖温室自由生长，同所有人共享。

▇▇来自一个普通的祖安家庭，或许一生与价格不菲的花草树木无缘。她暗自定下计划：首先她需要权力，权力则能带来金钱。她必须剑走偏锋，在没人能想到的领域打败这群满脑子只有工厂和争斗的男爵。她戴上眼镜，没日没夜地苦读，学习之余四处打工筹备学费。终于，她在祖安的学生中脱颖而出，被皮城大学破格录取。

她如愿进入生物学院最好的实验室，却得知他们已经经费紧缺了很多年。进步之城崇尚创新，却只重视能立刻创造价值的研究，机械、工程学研究员在此地如鱼得水，生物学家们却只能忍受老旧的实验室和短缺的材料，听说曾有人由于学院不批准经费，只得亲自出发抓捕罕见兽类的活体样本，险些葬身在山岭里。

这样的困难没有阻挡▇▇的脚步。她无比珍惜深造的机会，在图书馆读遍相关文献，还抽空学习了各个地区的历史，研究政坛名人的方法手段。剩余的时间，她几乎住在实验室，操作嘎吱作响的机械臂和早已生锈的老式显微镜，一心一意推进自己的研究。

五年后，▇▇终于在祖安灰瘴的样本中培养出了可以依赖毒气生长的变异体。变异体不仅能将土壤和空气中的化工废物化为己用，还具备生长速度极快的优良特性，能在很短的时间内迅速看到杂交结果。变异体发育完全后，便会开出紫红色花朵，在绿色的瘴气中无比妖艳美丽。▇▇几乎被这花朵摄去了心神，在实验室待了一整晚。她认定这便是她一生追求的目标的原型世代，满怀自豪地将其称为“旷世巨作（Magnum Opus）”。

旷世之花再进行数代繁衍便能稳定性状，将她的梦想变为现实，手头的材料却已经见底。她只能试着将早期的过程产物发表，试图在不披露研究全貌的同时赢得更多的资助。她的成果无疑是划时代的，很快成为了学界的焦点，无数投资人向她抛出橄榄枝。

可惜好景不长，有人敏锐地在她的论文中和她祖安人的身份上嗅到了“危险”的味道。学院立刻发布声明，她的研究有违生物伦理，将封锁她的实验室并没收所有成果，将其交由另一批值得信任的研究员继续推进，她的学籍也被吊销。

▇▇原本打算完成研究就自行离开学院，未曾想皮城人的高高在上与卑劣手段让自己提前在此失去了立足之地。第二天，心灰意冷的▇▇·▇的尸体在被封锁的实验室中被发现，全身重度烧伤，整个实验室的笔记与标本也一同化成了灰，现场唯一可以辨识的是在高温下熔化变形的眼镜残骸。

三年后，名为可瑞娜·瓦拉撒的炼金男爵在祖安崛起，权力版图迅速扩张。听说她在地上修建了实验室与花园，没人知道这些花朵是如何在有毒的空气与土壤中生存的。她的花朵汲取毒物，再生出剧毒的花粉，极快的生长速度让它们能悄无声息地提前埋伏在对手的必经之路，不知不觉间将他们置于死地。

可瑞娜屡战屡胜，不断扩大自己的领地。不战斗的时候，可瑞娜在实验室里与她的花朵寸步不离，数日不与人交流，花园中的花也一天比一天更加美艳且致命。她的花园对所有人开放，却没人胆敢接近，因为除她以外的所有人都无法活着从其中离开。

不知是权力改变了她，还是有毒的花粉也重塑了她的神经构造，她对权力的野心逐渐转变为对报复和犯罪的病态偏执。可瑞娜开始频繁地挑衅其他男爵，将其撩拨一番后残忍杀害；皮城学院的多起谋杀案现场都发现了花粉的痕迹；她还曾一时兴起，抛下实验室和摸不着头脑的手下们，在皮城警局潜伏数年，只为将凯特琳引入自己早已布置好的陷阱，欣赏警长与手下们被戏耍后的滑稽模样。

可瑞娜的大名登上皮城最高通缉令的时候，她的左臂也在长年累月的毒素作用下彻底腐烂。她不以为意，亲自将黑紫的手臂用机械义肢替换，接着再次投身于新一轮的杂交与改造。没有人知道，这位犯罪天才明天又会拿出怎样的致命创造。