#So the intimidation factor is entirely gone

[probablyaseamonster]

hey so I'm back on my bodyswap bullshit again! (What can i say, its one of my favourite fanfic concepts!)

Alright so hear me out on this one.

feel the crack.

Alastor is character A in the swap...

But character B is someone he's never interacted with

He probably doesn't even know she exists

Shes from a different show entirely

But they have one thing. ONE THING in common.

......

......

......

......

......

......

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Its the cherub Vivzie herself voiced in that one episode.

The one literally named "Deerie".

So basically a cute "innocent" lowest-of-all angel gets bodyswapped with one of the most feared overlords in hell.

And the most important thing is that NEITHER of them are happy about it.

[ghostaholics]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒

➸ PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader (established relationship) ➸ WARNING(S): [ 18+ ] body shots; oral (receiving); ruined orgasm; basically PWP with slight BDSM (disciplinary action) ➸ SUMMARY: Simon teaches you a very important lesson about holding still – extended version of this. ➸ A/N: Thank you to @mvtthewmurdvck who lets me bitch about anything and everything including this and offered kind words when I certainly lost faith in the whole thing. ➸ WORD COUNT: 2.2k

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐍, 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄. Pilfered from his not-so-secret stash and running low with about a quarter left; the contents slosh around in their bottle-shaped confinement as he stalks into the room with a heavy hand swallowing around the widest circumference of the glass.

Good memories, usually. Like the first time he’d brandished his titanium pocket flask for you to take a sip. You’d scrunched your nose, feigning disapproval of the drink. And he'd said – cheeky as always – with a low-timbered response:

"Don't worry. The taste of your cunt's still my favourite."

But now, there’s no trace of that Simon anywhere to be seen. His face is entirely devoid of the amusement he already so rarely expressed. Stone-rigid. Unimpressed. Disappointed – seems like – and certainly not in the mood for any games.

❝ 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇? ❞

It's a red-hot brand searing the edges of your memory (charred, ash-coated, lined by the cinders of a poor attempt on your part that had gone up into flickering embers).

See, the brain remembers it well.

Your cunt, too: the walls hugging his cock, full of his cum – excessively so, nearly bursting with it after he'd buried himself to the hilt and stayed inside just to plug your snug little hole, ensuring that none of it would dribble out after he’d fucked you senseless. He’d given you plenty, more than enough. And it’d been generous of Simon. A gift, really, considering the enormity of the initial request.

Make me yours?

He’d only had one thing to say, just a simple favour in return for doing this, for indulging you. His voice had been hoarse, sandpaper-rough from overuse – your fault entirely – eroded away after being subjected to a whole night's worth of groaning against the shell of your ear and telling you just how fucking good you felt before you'd milked him for everything he was worth with your greedy, pulsing self.

Keep it all in then.

You’d done your best not to clench, but stretched taut around the girth of his cock like that, you'd just wanted to readjust. Not a lot. But the position you'd been in wasn't the most conducive one for this. And you’d shifted – barely, practically inconsequential (or so you’d thought) – to where you wouldn’t have even thought it’d matter except—

It had.

Pushed some of it out, that is. A stream of cum trickling down onto an area of the duvet, staining it – the unfortunate aftermath of your decision to move.

Thas’ a shame. Thought you wanted it. Guess I was wrong.

Simon comes to a stop at the foot of the bed where you're sitting; he towers over you – an intimidating, subduing presence without even having to try. "Had to wash the sheets because you couldn't keep it all in.”

You blink in surprise as your mouth parts slightly in what you're sure must be a dumbfounded expression. Of course, this is nothing new. You were there. Responsible for the incident, apparently. And though it wasn't necessarily your fault, you still feel the need to explain that it was due to factors beyond your control. “There was so much—” (As if it'll help your case.)

But he's never cared much for excuses.

“How ‘m I supposed to finish inside you knowing that you’re just going to waste it?” he asks. It's a rhetorical question, not one that actually requires an answer.

Your chin tips down in a silent apology. There's something heavy sitting in your chest; remorse, you think.

He grips your jaw in his hand, forces you to look at him. “Yeah, love. We’ll fix that. Gonna teach you how to be grateful, how to understand the value in the things I give to you."

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒.

He makes you tell him your colors.

You do.

He asks if you know what you’re supposed to get out of this.

You answer that he’s probably going to have to wash the sheets again before you can learn whatever lesson he’s trying to impose on you.

Yeah, that earns you a sharp pinch to the hip.

That massive body of his sinks to the floor, one leg bending down before the other joins it, rough carpet cutting into his knees, undoubtedly. Then, his fingers curl around your legs, blunt digits sinking in – ten identical divots pressed into the flesh. He leaves light indentations with his palms spanning along the sides of your thighs to spread you open while his elbows anchor into the mattress.

Heat blooms across your skin, every surface that he touches and even in the places that he doesn't – white-hot, intentional (and he never does anything without purpose); it sparks a fever that fans out, unfurls. There's no part of you left unaffected. You're growing warmer by a few degrees. Doesn't sound like much, but it's enough to make a noticeable difference if the beads of sweat gathering at the back of your neck are any indication.

And Simon lets out a soft scoff. Cocky. Like he knew what was waiting for him—

You're soaked, absolutely drenched. Cotton panties, sticky –saturated beyond belief. If you looked there yourself, you wouldn't be surprised to find a damp patch on the fabric steadily growing in size.

He's such a sight, too: the contour of his muscles shifting and rippling, all brawn and power – his presence speaking volumes about just who holds the cards right now, undeniably the one in control here; the visual of his stature and build emphasize that. And authority bleeding from the width of his shoulders if not spelled out by his words alone.

"Haven't even touched you, and you're already dripping," he murmurs. "Why?"

Your mouth trips and stutters over your own words the same way your heart trips and stutters over his. "Because you—y-you're..."

His thumbs hook into your panties, slowly peels them away – not an easy feat, damn things are clinging to your cunt – before dragging them down your legs. "Say it, sweetheart. What do you think I'm gonna do to you?"

And your mind is racing, jumping too many steps ahead. "You're going to eat me out?"

Simon stuffs his panties in his back pocket for safekeeping. A souvenir, since there won't be much use for them now. "I'm gonna eat you out," he affirms.

"Mhm, yeah. Want your mouth on me."

"Whether or not you come depends entirely on if I feel like letting you."

"Oh—"

"Spill a single drop, and you don't come tonight," he says, never one to draw out the details. His instructions are concise, uncomplicated. Then, further inquiry. "We clear?"

"Yeah..." you say with a shaky breath before trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Yes."

"Good girl," he purrs low, almost a growl – though you're not quite certain that you deserve the praise yet.

He’s answering to a shrine, beckoned forward by the invitation of a wet cunt and the promise of a taste of your slick. He pauses, takes a brief moment to admire it in his own way, almost reverent as he takes in how your arousal’s smeared everywhere from your folds to your inner thighs (all for him, because of him – isn’t that right?).

But make no mistake, there’s absolutely nothing respectful about the act that comes next. Simon leans, forces his shoulders to hold you open, before he bows his head and he licks; it’s a hungry tongue lapping at the slit, everything terribly hot and wet – the sensation makes you jolt upon first contact because it's too much. So, so much.

And at the same time, not enough.

The feeling spikes along the circuit running from your head to your toes – empty thoughts save for the white static that buzzes in the hollow of your skull, a tingling, prickling paresthesia-sort-of-thing that usually accompanies the high of an orgasm. Except, the irony’s not lost on you in this instance; he’s hardly even begun to wreak havoc on your cunt yet.

Currents zip down your spine, down, further down, everything else collateral damage. No part of you is spared by the overwhelming fervor responsible for it – the initial onslaught of his mouth laying waste at the spread of your entrance.

Every single nerve-ending is on-edge, trigger-sensitive as he sucks, and kisses, and fuck are his groans heavy, bone-deep, the rumble of a thunderstorm gathering in his chest. They radiate from the point of origin where your core’s suffering, reverberating tremors that diffuse out to the rest of you. It makes your skin thrum like a live wire. There’s no hope of staying in a fixed position if he keeps this up. How could you? The odds are zero to none. It isn’t feasible.

You forget your place, can't help but squirm within his iron grip.

Then, Simon; a severe reprimand— "Watch it," he rasps. It’s a lull amidst the incursion, an unplanned interlude. Temporary reprieve (barely) so he can scold you for your inability to follow his instructions.

A low whimper leaves your throat. That's completely out of the question, beyond what you're currently capable of. Easier said than done. "I'm trying—"

"Then try harder."

Despite how weighed down your eyelids feel, you manage to guide your laden gaze south, let it roam over your stomach. The dark, amber liquid in your navel sways; it rocks, sloshes with the tide, a consequence born from the pull and heave of your jarring movements. Exercise caution. This is delicate work – a balancing act. Those thoughts are cloudy.

Your mind is fuzzy, thick, a drunken haze. Buzzed, lightheaded. And everything's off-kilter. But you haven't had a single drop of alcohol. None at all. Couldn’t, because everything's still sitting in your navel right there like it’s supposed to.

Simon dips his head back between your legs, continues to seal his mouth over you, flattening his tongue to lick thick stripes from your entrance to your clit. He doesn't let up, only bringing his face closer, following that same path again and again and again – agonizing – until you're trembling. The noises he’s making, something debauched and bottomless – one wet groan after the other. This isn't for you. It's for him, that much is clear.

You plead anyways, hoping he'll grant you an amnesty that you haven't earned in the least bit, "Need you inside. Anything, just—"

"Sure you can handle it?"

Breathless when you say, "Ah, yeah..."

"We'll see about that," Simon murmurs.

He doesn't believe you.

To be fair, you’re not so sure you do either.

But he's courteous, slips one finger in and lets you clamp around him. And your cunt flutters, welcomes the feeling.

You release a soft moan. “Want more, Si. Feels good."

His face turns to the side, wet nose and chin grazing along your thigh to spread the slick in more places that haven't been drenched yet. Then he bites. Gentle. An admonishment. Nothing serious about it though: scraping, the light pressure of teeth sinking into the skin as he pulls with his mouth.

You jerk suddenly before catching yourself.

"Don't be fuckin' greedy. You'll take what I give you, and you'll thank me for it." He's curt, perfunctory. No delay as he offers up his two fingers to your mouth. The expectation is clear. “Suck.” And he's waiting.

You wrap your lips around them, swallowing him down, not one to squander an opportunity sitting in front of you, right? You understand that now.

“So tell me how good you taste.”

"I-um, taste good—"

"Yeah, you fuckin' do."

"Thank you."

“Mhm.”

You can't see it, but you can hear it: the low clinking of a belt being unbuckled, the sound of a zipper being undone. Clinking metal and rustling denim being tampered with somewhere below your line of sight as he reaches down, almost like he— is he… oh.

Most of his body's obscured by the edge of the bed, but everything from the chest up is still visible. Simon's shoulder is bobbing slightly, arm pumping back and forth in a rhythmic motion and fuck, he's getting himself off to this.

That sends another spark of arousal to your core, makes you gush. It adds to the mess coating his jaw, his chin, his lips. You whimper out something – broken syllables – his name, maybe. You’re not entirely sure.

God, you’re almost there. So close. Wound up tight, hips rolling against his mouth, chasing his tongue—

Until he stops entirely. No contact. Simon pulls away in such a rush that you gasp, startled.

"Look at that." Accusatory.

It's a trail of liquor dribbling over the curve of your stomach, down your side in small rivulets. There are streaks pooling onto the sheets underneath you. Tragic.

(Couldn't help yourself, huh?)

Guilty as charged.

Shit.

"What'd I say �� told you to hold still, yeah?"

And even though you had a feeling it would happen, you still have the nerve to act surprised at the result. "Fuck," you whine pathetically. "Was so close—"

"We're starting over. Don't care if it takes us all night, we're gonna keep at this 'til you get it right or you use up the rest of the whiskey," he says, readying himself to deposit another pour of alcohol into your navel. Simon lifts his shoulder in a light shrug like he can't be bothered about the final outcome. "Better pray that it works out before the bottle’s empty. Won't let you finish otherwise, sweetheart. Understand?"

[backjustforberena]

okay darling, here I am again, sitting and listening, at your behest. I always love hearing your thoughts. Yap away!

Oh, boy, you asked for it. I don't know if I have any specific thoughts but I will ramble about it because Rhaenys has such a clear sartorial journey and one of the most dramatic aesthetic changes without a clear motivator. And, what I mean by a clear motivator, is a distinct societal change in her status or perception.

So, we have similar dramatic changes with other characters - most notably with Alicent and Rhaenyra, but also, arguably, some subtler changes, especially with the change from one costume designer to another. But Alicent and Rhaenyra have multiple factors that feed into their clothing journeys that Rhaenys just doesn't have which makes the dramatic change all the more interesting.

Rhaenys doesn't undergo a re-cast, or go from a young woman to a more mature one: she's constant in that regard. She also doesn't get married - there's no change to her marital status at all. And she has no change to her rank either. There's not even a journey in how she perceives the war in S2 (which can lead into Alicent's colour changes and Rhaenyra's changing silhouette). These are, to me, the big factors that inform Alicent and Rhaenyra's journey. Both women grow up, get married, become Queens, and go to war, within the span of the two series.

These are, of course, entirely separate from emotional and internal factors that inform how she dresses, as well as more practical ones. Those things do feed into Rhaenys's clothing.

We have a clear direction and an intentional direction with her clothes in S1. We can, or at least I do, infer a very practical mentality towards her clothes. I think each does the job or sends a message and is suitable for the context within which she wears it. For me, I like to think that Rhaenys's physical appearance is very important to her and she's aware of the power of clothes and the way she comes across. I think that's a very important thing to have control of when you're in her position, which is, for the majority of the time, largely silent and largely ambiguous. It's a way to show her power, wealth, allegiance, and status.

When she's at the Great Council, she looks like she's a Targaryen Queen in waiting. When she's at court, she's in these really vibrant Velaryon colours, absolutely embroidered and in fairly exotic (contextually) fabrics that we can assume come from her husband's trading. She's bedecked in gold for her son's wedding, matching with her whole family, which is a power move.

Then, moving forward, we keep those rich textures in blue, with lots of velvet alongside embroidery, and then we get her black riding outfit which is versatile for being received at court, on her dragon, and under armour. Just in terms of colours, there's a really easy trajectory of going from pale blue, to dark blue, to black as she not only faces more losses but more political independence and a division from her husband.

With such a clear direction, I was intrigued and interested to see what she'd be doing in S2 because, not only do we have a new costume designer, but we have a lot of change in terms of Rhaenys's role. So the two pictures on my post are really good indicators of just what I mean by that.

She goes from this almost ornamental Velaryon woman at court: on the sidelines, bored, frustrated, role-less, to a Targaryen warrior: a dragon rider, a politician, an advisor, a soldier.

The majority of elements of what she's wearing have been changed: fabric, neckline, hemline, sleeve shape, jewellery, hair, and accessories. I mean, she isn't even in a dress. She's gone totally practical, and totally intimidating. She's firmly ensconced back in her Targaryen colours but also her Targaryen aesthetic, being more in line with her relations than her marital house. But, even then, there's a clear distinction between what she wears vs what Rhaenyra and Baela wear as more practical (aka riding or faux riding) outfits. They're even more embellished, more impractical, which could either suggest rank or inexperience - Rhaenyra is Queen and not expected to fight, and Baela is just very green and also non-combative for the moment. Rhaenys is neither of these things.

Her main outfits (two out of three, as the third is a funeral dress we don't get a good look at) are to be appropriate and enhance all of these duties that she has and all the hats she wears, and she's got a lot on her plate, so she's got an outfit style that becomes a uniform. It fits every scene that she's in. Even if we do still have the nods towards luxury in the fabrics, in the small notes of embroidery because she is rich and powerful ofc.

It's boots, trousers, shirt, coat, belt, gloves... and armour. It's inside and outside, at war or at home, on patrol or at the council. It means she can jump off of Meleys and get to the Painted Table to advise Rhaenyra. It means she can be good in the rain at the docks and then act as a mentor to her granddaughter. It's a changed silhouette but she's always ready. The important and relevant details of her life are presented: she's a Targaryen Princess, a dragon-rider. She also fits in with the men around her and the settings around her. There's no sense of fuss or her being uncomfortable in her clothing or in her situation. It's a very serious outfit.

But going back to the original idea, I think whilst Rhaenys doesn't have any major changes, her emotions and her heart and her role change, and that's reflected in her clothing. Even just within the narrative, and is therefore represented visually on screen. Even though she doesn't get as much screen time as the two female protagonists, and certainly not much that investigates her mind-set or perspective alone, she goes through her own journey - especially when it concerns the central idea of female inheritance and female empowerment.

She's gone from being denied her throne on account of her sex to fighting for another woman's right. She's gone from being a discarded court lady to being an integral piece in a war effort. She's grown, loved, lost, grieved. She's gone from feeling unable to press her Targaryen colours and aesthetic, to wearing them 24/7 and relying on them. Her Targaryen-ness is crucial to her positioning in S2, even just looking at Meleys being that central figure and connection for her, as opposed to Corlys. It's what gets her a seat at the table.

One has to wonder what it feels like, to do that. Is this a glimpse of the monarch that never got to be? Is this how she would have acted, as Queen? Is this what she feels more at home in, like she's cast off some disguise? Or is it just another layer - protective, for the duration of the war, as she carries a heavy load? Is it not even a thought? Can she just switch aesthetics and be just as comfortable in this as her Velaryon blue dresses? So long as she understands and wields the practicalities of the choice.

There's another thought that I have that's all wrapped up in this and it caused a bit of discourse in the final episode. It's to do with the moniker of "The Queen Who Never Was". Some people were displeased that Corlys goes with a name that Rhaenys had previously expressed displeasure for. I want it on the record that I have no problem with it. I love it.

And I'll tell you why. It's because, just as I think Rhaenys goes through a change in herself and has this physical transformation... I think the name goes through a journey as well.

You can apply "The Queen Who Never Was" to both of those pictures and whilst the first one is said as an insult: a painful wound, forever about what she lacks and the choice the men of the realm made, I don't think that's what it ends up as. But by the time we get to her death, and to the way she'll be remembered, she's a figure of strength. It's like the emphasis isn't on never but on Queen. It's a symbol of her virtues and aptitude, rather than her rejection, especially when you put that within the context of fighting for the rights of a ruling Queen. Especially when you have it said by Baela. When you use that name at the two different points in Rhaenys's life, it means something different.

And when we look at the figurehead that Corlys has had carved of his wife, the one that is "The Queen Who Never Was", she isn't portrayed as a forlorn, dejected woman in finery. It's an impression of a proud, strong woman dressed in armour (a warrior), protectively clasping a crown she never got to wear.

[goldyluna]

Tear for the OC ask game 10, 14, 24 <333

I introduced my OCs a little here if you are interested to know some more about them

Tear uses he/him pronouns and is a dark empath! For some reason, some people think that means he devours emotions and leaves other people as shells... well, whatever

10. What's an AU that would be interesting to explore with your OC?

Hmmm, some would be so interesting to experiment with! Tear is cursed with feeling only what others feel, so if that stayed in another au, that would be really interesting to see him in different situations

The first thing I thought about was Squid Game, but any death game would be interesting to see! So Squid Game, Your Turn To Die or Alice in Borderland for example would be amazing to explore not only with Tear but with all of my OCs (so I might indulge a little in the future and do a crossover with my characters x yttd, bc I think that would be so fun!)

The other part of me wants to see him as a magical girl

14. How does your OC want to be seen by other characters?

He doesn't really care that much about the emotional aspect of this. He doesn't feel (his own) emotions, that's his whole thing. But even if his emotions are technically not there, he still has his own opinions, needs and expectations

Looking strong and intimidating is important, intimidating enough so people don't want to go in his way but not too strong to bring trouble on himself. Being nice is something that his sister and mom said was important to be seen as

His family is really important to him, as they were the only ones that showed him positive emotions and loved him. So being seen as a good son and big brother is something he would want and it would translate to his later relationships with other characters

24. What is an alternative life path your OC might have gone down? How different would their life be if they'd made those decisions?

There is so much that could be different if some things went other way! It is quite interesting how things could go

Our main timeline is, of course, canon. Tear is raised in a hateful village that thinks he is a monster and is ostracized by most. He is shown again and again that he is a freak for not having his own feelings. He is misunderstood. His condition being a curse, he isn't exactly a Dark Empath and things work differently, but people will believe what they want to believe in

Our main timeline is happening because death connected the right people at the right time. So our main factor is death. Without it, the story would go entirely different than it should. For better or worse

If Tear wouldn't die, he wouldn't meet people that care for him and help him with his lack of feelings. He would be stuck in a village crowded with only wrong people, having just two people to go back to as a safe place. The story could go in so many ways that even I am not sure what would happen. Maybe fate would be real and connect him with his found family? Maybe he would lose all the motivation, maybe the main factor would find him at the worst time, maybe he would go dark

Which leads me to my AU! My Corrupted AU is one of the timelines where my main characters are as dark as they were destined to be. So Tear hearing so much how bad he is and that he would never be anything more than a Dark Empath, he just... decides to prove them all right. The corruption starts and Tear becomes what others feared the most :D

[darudedogestorm]

under the cut: undersiders as what plant i think they would main/be in pvz garden warfare 1 (+ dressup)

disclaimer i've literally never touched gw2 so if there's a better fit in that game i wouldn't know it.. just gw1 for now..

Decisions are made based more on gameplay than on physical appearance but I tried to take both into account.. however as a sunflower main maybe I'm biased on some account so fellow garden warfare heads feel free to suggest better fits for them

Reading over all these I'm now realizing I kept mixing up what I think they would main vs what plant they would specifically be, which is a little confusing...

TAYLOR

A Peashooter variant feels a very obvious choice for her, since she's pretty much always on the frontlines. Its hyper ability would allow her to jump to higher up places to retain the "watching from afar with bugs" thing

I chose Law Pea more for the justice bit in its stickerbook description (where there is injustice you will find it etc etc) and less for the law bit (though she does have a code of law it's incomprehensible to anyone but herself). It felt more fitting for her because well she does try to work for what she feels is the greater good.

For dressup we're pretty limited here, both because there's not many bug themed accessories and also because I just don't have that many accessories :( I gave her the "heart and arrow + Mom" tattoo, and the visors. Fuuuck now i'm realizing i could have given her actual glasses... Wait no nevermind I'm not sure I have plain glasses. Well anyway those are her glasses.

LISA

She mains boss mode which I feel doesn't require very much explanation

For those unfamiliar: In boss mode you play as Crazy Dave (or Dr. Zomboss), generally out of the heat of the battle but still able to participate with your various abilities. It's mostly a support role, but you can still attack (cherry bomb drops), heal and revive (sunflower + revive drops), and help your team track the locations of the enemy (coconut spotting machine). You aren't invulnerable as the opposing team can shoot down your ship.

For dressup purposes she's the Shadow Flower because of the mask :3 I gave her a razor grin and some purple crystals. Adding a hat felt like too much but maybe I would have gone with the chaffeur hat.

I'm now realizing Shadow Flower would just be a good plant choice for her in general.

Sunflower life bonds are normally reserved for other sunflowers but she can have one with Taylor I think. Well ok not a true life bond because that requires the ability for mutual healing but it's more accurate this way because honestly chasing down someone across the entire map who will easily die if you aren't constantly healing them is just kind of the sunflower experience

BRIAN

Again, peashooter feels like a given, though unfortunately there's no equivalent ability for his darkness emission...

Plasma Pea because the colors are closest to black out of the peashooters. The Plasma Pea can charge up shots to increase their damage and radius of impact.

I didn't have any skull-based accessories so I just went with what felt cool and what he might use in an actual game of GW1... so basically just the intimidation factor

While we're here though if I was doing zombies he'd 100% be some sort of Foot Soldier. The Zombie Stink Cloud is 1:1 for his darkness ability. I guess since Peashooter and Foot Soldier are kind of parallels in terms of game play this works out well. (Seriously though every Peashooter main I know also mains Foot Soldier. Please I know you are good at video games just stop sniping me from across the map for 10 seconds 😭)

RACHEL

A chomper is a kind of dogy to be honest <---my logic when I was 10

Went back and forth between normal Chomper, Count Chompula, and Fire Chomper. Settled on fire chomper because I was thinking of that scene where she talks about her power burning away heartworm in her dogs, and also because orange. However I think normal Chomper would fit her just as well.

For dressup I was going more for what I envisioned her dogs looking like while reading worm. Additional chompers are there to represent her many doggies. Tentacle is there to be scary and monster esque. Metal brace jaw is there because honestly I think it looks really cool, plus I already had it equipped anyway

AISHA

Originally I was going to go with Chomper because ourple, and I still think it would fit her. However Future Cactus is also ourple. And also I think Future Cactus is so cool

My reasoning was that her stealth would translate well into cacti gameplay since with cacti you mostly need to just find a really good vantage point where no one else can see you, allowing you to snipe people well. But I'm now realizing the Future Cactus is like... a lot more visible bc of its chargeup. Oh well

Aw wait I just realized she matches with her brother cause they both have chargeups.. thats adorable i think

Dressup gives her silly googly eyes ("zombie disguise) and purple markings (they're hard to see but they're there

ALEC

I'm now realizing that in terms of gameplay probably one of the peashooters would have fit him better because well he does play shooter games. And peashooters are The main plant for guys who are so good at shooter games. But we have too many peashooters on this team so Sunflower it is

Originally was going with the Alien Flower because I thought its ornateness might fit him. But I don't have Alien Flower and it's more Aisha styled anyway (ourple and silly) so he gets the Power Flower.

Hey wait I used to main this thing too. Yay <---switched to Fire Flower though. But yeah as a sunflower I don't generally go out into the thick of things unless I have like 3 other guys with me, I mostly just stay behind at the garden and heal whoever needs it (garden ops or gardens and graveyards)

Honestly now I'm thinking I mostly chose this one for the appearance rather than gameplay. Actually wait the electricity theme fits with his tazer. Nevermind!!

The panda face tattoo is there because I thought it looked like his mask. Hat and masquerade mask are there because they're fancy.

Sunflower life bond with Aisha future cactus btw.

Anyway that's my list. If and when in the near future I get better accessories I will do more dressup and also maybe deduce what zombies they main

[tobiasdrake]

The Gaslighting of Kyon No-Real-Name-Who-Gives-A-Shit!

FUCK YOU THE ONE AND ONLY CHARACTER WHO'S ACTUALLY DIED IS HERE

I got chills when I realized who just walked into the room. Not only is she alive but she has Haruhi's desk, for that added twisting of the screws.

Kyon's slow. He's so, so bad at following along with the plot. In his defense, he hasn't read the title of the film so it's forgivable that he takes time to make sense of what's happening. But the inexplicable resurrection of Ryoko Asakura puts it into terms that are impossible for even him to ignore.

Probably not, no.

The big Christmas Party prologue seems really important for the simple reason that it conveys how satisfied Haruhi is with her life. This sort of feels like being on the other end of what it would be like if the world-cramping had gone through. Minus Kyon being here and assuming the world didn't end up deleted, of course.

Haruhi not only no longer being physically present, but actively retconning reality such that she never existed at all. The only person who could do this is Haruhi herself, if she was no longer satisfied with this world and decided to make a new one.

But we just saw how satisfied with this world she is. So that can't be it. She wouldn't bail on her Christmas plans like this.

So I like that they took that time to erase Haruhi herself from the suspect list, which ramps up the WTF factor since... who else could it be?

GEE I WONDER WHY

I love how Ryoko is doubly menacing here despite literally just going about her business. First, because she's in Haruhi's seat so it just feels wrong. But also this girl tried to stab Kyon to death with knives. So positioning her directly behind him is very intimidating.

I don't think she's the culprit. She feels more like a symptom than a cause. An obvious red herring, like Bebe in PMMM: Rebellion Story.

It's weird that she's here, though. Like. I'm fully expecting Mikuru, Itsuki, and Yuki to not even be here. They were all sent by their respective factions to monitor Haruhi. If Haruhi doesn't exist, they wouldn't be here.

So why is Ryoko, Yuki's backup space-android, here?

Okay so apparently I'm mistaken. Both Ryoko and Mikuru are still here, even without Haruhi.

So. Follow-up question. Are they still an alien and a time traveler respectively? Or are we about to get confirmation that Haruhi did rewrite normal people into supernatural beings?

...that's not necessarily a no. She can't exactly talk about it in front of Tsuruya. Who I loathe. So it's entirely possible that she is still a time traveler but is freaked out by this random guy running up to her and trying to talk to her about it in public.

But it's equally possible that this is Ordinary Human Mikuru from before Haruhi reshaped the cosmos. Hmm.

I feel like that can't actually be true. Like. The supernatural stuff still has to be here. Because if it isn't, then where can the story even go from here? If Haruhi's gone, and Haruhi's vanishing means that none of the supernatural stuff exists anymore, then... that's game, right? No Haruhi and no Haruhi Stuff means we're done here. There is nothing more we can do.

There's no way the next two hours and ten minutes are just Kyon eating bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwiches until Haruhi suddenly Haruhis herself into existence again. Though that would be funny. Just spawns into existence, grabs Kyon by the arm like, "WHOOPS forgot my luggage. We're going on vacation in the lobster dimension until Christmas Day!"

OH NEVER MIND The next two hours and ten minutes will be spent burying Kyon in a shallow grave.

What the actual fuck did you think was going to happen, dude?

Honestly, that one shot of Mikuru punching Kyon in his fucking face is cathartic as hell. I want to frame it and put it on my wall.

RED ALERT RED ALERT YUKI HAS EMOTIONAL RANGE

THIS IS NOT A ROBOT

REPEAT, THIS IS NOT A ROBOT

Oh boy, we are fucked. Okay. So. "Haruhi superimposed a sci-fi framework upon existing people when she remade the universe" confirmed then.

...y'know, that really sucks for Ryoko.

[ro-botany]

Delighted to suddenly remember that Líf fire emblem is disabled. The guy's entire jaw is *gone*, so he kind of has to be.

And since that kind of injury would make it pretty impossible to speak orally, and yet he speaks, I can only assume his spooky mask is not just for the intimidation factor; it may also aid him with talking. It's an assistive device!

And it's sort of unclear if he's alive or undead—his skin tone looks pretty alive to me, and with the fancy Robin skins we know glowy see through torso doesn't necessarily mean someone is undead, but I don't remember if they ever explicitly mentioned his aliveness status—HOWEVER if he IS alive you can bet he has assistive tech to help with eating and drinking, too.

[voxofthevoid]

Hi! I've been a long time reader of your works and we have like 3 fandoms in common (jjk, yuri on ice, mcu) which is the Dream for an average fic reader like me. Thank you for putting all these out to see. I love the way you write, it really pulls me in no matter the genre. Your mind is amazing.

On to the questions:

1.I kind of want to start writing myself, do you any advice for a beginner?

2.On average, for how long are you into fandoms? How much time does it take for the brainrot to take root in your mind?

3.What kind of media do you usually enjoy?

I hope I didn't bother you. Please stay healthy and safe!

That's delightful on my end too! Love seeing cross-fandom readers. And thanks so much ❤️

1. The advice I have is mostly social and technical. In terms of the writing itself, all the reading you do is likely to give you an idea of what you want to write and how to go about it, and practice will refine the process.

Given the fandoms you've listed, you're likely already familiar with how rancid fandom spaces can get. This depends on your disposition, but being braced to deal with shitheads is important, whether that comes in the form of puriteens or entitled assholes without a brain-to-fingers filter. This is mostly a case of "do as I say, not as I do" because *gestures* you know what my online presence is like, but I'd recommend the following:

(a) Make an account just for writing that's entirely divorced from any and all IRL information or even previous fandom shenanigans. It reduces chances of people digging through your history and other such demented things.

(b) Block liberally and, failing that, be enough of a dick that people will think twice about picking a fight—the more accommodating you are, the more these fuckers will act like sharks scenting blood. There's a reason I stopped accepting tag requests, slapped CNTW on everything, and generally adopted a "my way or the highway" stance toward everything I post. The alternative isn't worth it. YMMV, of course.

(c) Write whatever you want however you want, and don't show an ounce of shame or guilt. Even if you feel it, don't show it. Fake it till you make it. Like above, it's safer than the alternative.

The technical advice is to get a copy of the Chicago Manual of Style; there's an online version, a paper version, and also good old pirating. It may look intimidating, but it's got a beautifully indexed list of damn near every grammar and punctuation element (and a lot of other stuff). I started using it for work, and while I'm way more lax with my own writing than I am with editing, the CMOS still did wonders for my general understanding of the technical side of creative writing.

2. It varies based on a bunch of factors, but my usual pattern is to spend several months just reading while the obsession grows stronger and stronger, to the point I start getting ideas. And we know what happens when I get ideas 🤣. I generally don't stay in a fandom for more than a year. But there are exceptions! I was in the MCU for some three years. I started writing for JJK less than a month after watching it (though this is mostly because I couldn't find much to read—not because fics were low in number but because I was and am extremely picky), and I'm rapidly approaching my 1.5-year mark.

3. A mix of things, but so far, fantasy is the most common theme across various media. I enjoy most subgenres of it too.

And absolutely no bother! I had fun answering, though I may have gone overboard with #1. I feel a little protective of new writers these days because I keep seeing so much vile shit happening online.

[palettepainter]

Talking about more serious things outside of art or outside of any profession you might be in can always be a bit weird, especially with the sensitivity that comes with the topic of mental health. And at times I know it can sound like a stuck record when a creator says they're taking a break for mental health reasons but, the reality is that stuff really does just sneak up and grab you when you least expect it to

More stuff is going on outside of art and that's been leading me to feeling very unmotivated when it comes to my bigger projects, it's one of the main factors for why I haven't been able to post a lot about Hired Sparky and why I've been posting more about ROTTMNT. Hired Sparky is one of my biggest personal projects that I've started working on and compared to ROTTMNT, which has it's own fanbase and story established in the show, it feels far less intimidating to post for. And also because I honestly haven't had the time to really work on it the way I could when I first started this project:

My actual job has been getting increasingly busy with December rolling around, I've had to do more shifts up at my parents warehouse thanks to big holiday orders that have come through, I'm still working on commissions from last month in my free time, the entire though of Christmas itself and the holiday season overall is becoming more daunting the closer it gets, trying to sort doctor appointments before November ends

It's all been very busy and tiring outside of art, and the real reason I've never really gone into full detail of things relating to health now is largely because I don't feel emotionally safe at home to talk about this stuff. More then once when mental health has been brought up in conversation my parents have reacted very negatively, often with anger and yelling, or by laughing. This has lead to a one sided strained relationship on my end when it comes to talking about that sort of stuff, so everything I now do that involves my health be it mental or physical I tend to keep to myself.

I'm still in the ongoing fight of trying to get an autism assessment and still trying to figure out if depression really could be a factor in my behaviours, and any female on the spectrum will vouch that it is a near CONSTANT uphill battle to get a diagnosis

Many people express how being online is a safe space for them, because it's a place where they can find community better then they can in their actual life, and the buffer of a screen gives them an out if they burn through their social battery, and in many ways I do see my socials as a safe space. I have found community on here and have made friends with incredible people, but that doesn't take away the fact that outside of that safe space, I'm constantly in an area (home) where I no longer feel emotionally safe to talk about things that I'm struggling with. And it's exhausting being stuck in that environment

With my youngest sibling now in his early teen years and my sister being 18, it feels like the topic of moving out or my parents verbalising how they're not going to support three kids forever has been brought up a lot more, and as the oldest, it feels like naturally I am the main target of those comments.

Even if the house market wasn't as bad as it is, I know am not in a financial or mental position to be living on my own. There is no safety net in place, I don't drive, and know next to nothing when it comes to owning a property

This does technically count as a vent post, but it's also just an explanation for why I've been so quite with Hired Sparky and other Muppet stuff, why asks haven't been answered why messages have gone unanswered, and in truth it's just that I've been too burnt out from everything that I've had to put projects and art on the backburner.

I don't want to have to put art and Hired Sparky on the backburner, but for Hired Sparky especially I want it to be an enjoyable story, and I really just haven't been in the best of motivational moods to work on it. My progress on making Merch with the Zoot Cousins and other Muppet characters has been frozen for months at this point, all because the idea of it is terrifying, I've tried to do merch in the past and it didn't go well. And naturally with this type of mindset and being tired and stressed all the time, as well as feeling unmotivated it's left me feeling disdain towards my other, smaller drawing ideas and stories

I'm grateful for the engagement I get on my posts and even if I don't reply to ever comment or like every reblog with tags, I do go through my notifications and I do see them all, sometimes going back to a certain post to re-read them. As someone who has been drawing virtually all of her life art and creating have played such big roles in my life, and every artist will tell you that you're your own worst critic, especially when you're already in a down mood

The only art I've been working on is commission work, and even then with the money I've had to properly shut off other distractions to keep myself focused

I don't have a neat way to finish this off, today in particular the exhaustion got to me and I wanted to talk about it, and this is my way of doing it. I plan to post my October commissions once they're all done, but as for general muppet/Oc related art I don't know when that will next be posted, holidays and birthdays have been getting harder to cope with the older I get, and with December being the BIG holiday everybody hypes up about I already have a feeling the next few months are going to be even more tiring then they already are

Sorry for the delayed in art updates, asks and message replies, I'm just at a confusing messy part in my life at the moment

[therealvinelle]

I just finished Nebuchadnezzar's Dream and I have to say: Holy shit! The werewolf fight, Carlisle getting investigated by the FBI, Aro's funny hat idea as a diplomatic tool, the Ziggy Stardisciples feat. bad face paint, Renata ❤️, the bickering twins, Jane (yes, she gets her own point, she deserves it), Carlisle's gift induced despair and then the fall of Volterra, the horror and grief of the group and the very loud broadcasted-live-to-the-usurpers revenge sex (I hope Edward combusted into a pile of ashes right then and there, lol). It was an amazing rollercoaster to read. And just so you know, I'm very interested in that potential sequel 👀

(Also, if Aro had decided to follow Caius' advice and attack the Cullens first, how would he have done it? Kill them all but spare Carlisle? Kill only Bella and leave it at that knowing that they don't pose a threat anymore even if they do decide to take revenge? Or something entirely different?)

I'm so glad you enjoyed it, thank you!

To answer your question:

If Aro was to take out the Cullens, there are about a million ways he could have gone about killing the Cullens but the simplest one in my mind would have been if he used Nahuel and his sisters to hide from Alice, and then went and killed them outright. No fuzz, no convoluted schemes, even with Bella's gift the Cullens would be easily overwhelmed.

A more thought out plan, at least if Aro wants to be sure Alice doesn't catch on to him, would be sending Chelsea and Marcus around to weaken the bonds of friendship the Cullens have with their various allies, and strengthen their faith in the Volturi. And if some remain adamant, they die. Leave the Denali alive, however, and then make his move.

The factor that allowed the Cullens to gather as many allies as they did in Breaking Dawn was time. The Volturi deliberated two weeks, when a direct flight from Italy to Washington would take less than a day. Should Aro in my scenario then decide "Alright, we're doing this," the Cullens will have very little time and be at a complete disadvantage.

Their only option would be to run for it and not split up, so Bella can shield them all, but even so they'll be leaving scent trails, which means they would have to go by human transportation means. This in turn puts a constraint on their movements.

The Cullens would likely end up on a boat or an island, where nobody can track them, where they would be unable to step outside of Bella's immediate vicinity, meaning Jacob and Renesmee are both obscuring Alice.

This is where the Denali come in, because without them the Volturi would have no way of guessing where the Cullens might go. With five friendly vampires a short distance away, however, the Cullens have an obvious destination.

Where, of course, Jacob and Renesmee's constant presence means that Alice won't know the Volturi are waiting for them there.

Even if the Cullens figure out that the Denali are compromised, they have no allies and Bella needs only let down her guard for a moment for Demetri to know where they are, and given the pressure she's under she inevitably will. They won't have an easy time hunting, either, the stress of the situation will be constantly grating on them, they won't hold out for long.

As for what the Volturi do when they have them at their mercy, Aro would be sad about it but they all have to go. Regardless of the strategy he used, he wants to reinforce that the Volturi are a force you don't stand up to, you don't resist, and you don't embarrass them.

By all accounts, Aro's distinguishing feature is that there is nobody he isn't willing to kill.

People would be crying injustice for a while, but I imagine those voices would be silenced in death or through intimidation, and with vampires having such a high turnover rate it would only be a few centuries before they were forgotten by all but those who keep their mouths shut about it.

[tinydreamlatex]

The Final Latex Gowns for Empowerment

Latex clothing exists to boldly declare one's self-expression of fanciful confidence. Insofar as all the applicable wears in latex fashion go, the latex dresses embody sophistication and charm. Latex dresses begin with sleek, fitted designs and those standout projections of shine-casting stunning reflections off of body lines. Any latex attire will serve your goals of styling, class, and the confidence needed to save face amidst those stout celebrations that shoot sparks from above, reflective and ostentatious.

Why a Latex Dress?

Latex dresses aren’t just about attracting attention when suborned into an assortment of clothes; they signal a period-defying look fit for the future. The way latex embraces the body, teasing every curve, shows why most women want it to show off their confidence. This unorthodox fabric, smooth and curiously shiny, catches the light and practically hypnotizes the crowd to the right into a perfect chic reflection.

In recent times, however, latex has gone out of the outfit lab and into mainstream fashion. From Hollywood stars and influencers to style icons, latex pieces are getting sported everywhere, which proves that they can be versatile, sexy, and classy. Whether hitting up a themed event or glamorous party will not be overlooked as miscasting is merely an option for everyday styling: a latex dress is just some amalgam of their inner strength.

How To Style: Your Latex Dress

One of the great advantages of a latex dress lies in its versatility. While latex may have a reputation for being daring and edgy, a dress can be styled such that it is suitable for several occasions. Pair a latex dress with high heels and statement accessories, for that night out power look.

For a laid-back approach, couple a latex mini-dress with a simple jacket and ankle boots, dimming the sparkle and unleashing the daring playful spirit. Black latex is simply a classic, one that never loses style. But the bolder fashionistas might consider eye-catching reds, deep blues, and even metallic tones e.g. golden or silver, just to stand out in a crowd. All boils down to what works for you and compliments your entire persona.

You Should Be Confident

It's not all about looking good when it comes to wearing a latex dress-it's about feeling powerful really. Latex has this funky way of transforming the wearer so that confidence shines from within. The body-hugging nature of latex can enhance those lovely curves, cordoning off the mystery factor with an unusual property.

Wearing latex can be intimidating for many, especially if they have never worn it. However, once you give way to it, put it on, and WOW! Latex dress makes you feel on top of the world. It's all about owning your look. Stand tall, be proud, and allow the dress to do the talking.

Looking After Your Latex Dress

Make sure you also bear in mind how the latex garments are to be handled. Latex is rather fragile and an item to clothe one with or keep away attention to preserve that gloss and elasticity. It would suit you to wash your latex dresses with latex-friendly cleaner after every wearing and store them away from sunlight to avoid all discoloration. A little latex shine before donning the dress will enhance its glossy gleam; you will be beautiful every time you step out.

Final Thoughts

Latex clothing broadcasts power and confidence. Whether you're new to latex or a seasoned patron, there's no mistaking the boost a fittingly good latex dress gives to your style. Be bold, step into your confidence, and let your latex dress do the talking.

[2bpoliticallycurious]

3. “The whole MAGA cult is just very frightening to every sane person.”

“As a European watching this and other elections, it continues to blow my mind how fragile your system seems to be. There is a lot that's wrong in politics where I'm from, but I fully trust our democratic process, at least, and have never once thought about anything other than my own choice when voting. The whole Electoral College thing making geography the deciding factor over which vote is important? The gerrymandering, the costs of campaigns, the different rules in different states, the voter registration, the differing circumstances under which you cast your ballots, and how they are ultimately counted. 

People are being intimidated on their way to the booth, it's sometimes difficult to keep your vote secret or to avoid being influenced in the voting place, partisan people might count votes and confirm the results... Seems like the system invites malfeasance.”

—Hana, Germany

4. “It’s scary that Trump has been able to brainwash half a nation using fear and division… and can still be taken seriously in this day and age, especially in one of the world's largest economies.”

Sony Pictures Entertainment/Zombieland / Via youtube.com

—dantruemanmail, England

5. “I have so much anxiety over this election.”

“I know what it will mean for our world if Trump gets in, and it’s terrifying. I’m also pretty horrified that he has so many supporters. How can they not see he’s another Hitler?”

—nostalgicmug67, Australia

10. “We’re laughing, but also crying.”

“I’m very nervous about what could happen on a global scale. The man has constant temper tantrums and nuclear codes — great combo. That and a dictator's ambition. I’m very worried for the world. And I’m laughing at Trump supporters. People that stupid shouldn’t be allowed to vote."

—Eileen Bouman, Netherlands

12. “As a non-American who moved here last year —from the UK— I'm constantly disappointed and surprised at the extent to which people —on both sides (but more so on the Trump one)— simply do not listen to each other or care about facts.”

“People will happily repeat things they've heard that have either been proven false, or are literally impossible — and state it as if it's a legitimate reason to have their opinion.  

I find it terrifying that the impact of statements is entirely down to the statement, and not whether it's actually true. People seem to have deliberately, willingly switched off their capacity to weigh evidence and make decisions based on it. Instead, they form an opinion and choose which 'evidence' supports it, happy to pick things that are made up, or simply wild conspiracy. It feels like everyone's reverting to a time before things were actually checkable. The one glimmer of hope is that most people —even those who claim to hold abhorrent, bigoted views based on lies— seem not to act on those views when it comes to one-on-one interaction. So I guess...everyone hates everyone, but not in person?”

—Jamey, United Kingdom (via Los Angeles)

23. “I think America has gone completely insane.”

Drazen Zigic / Getty Images

“As a woman, it hurts even more to know that over 70 million Americans voted for a man who brags about his sexual assaults on women. It is genuinely baffling to watch from abroad. I wish Americans could understand that the entire world is affected by the U.S. president. We are all going to suffer from the climate crisis, and the people of Palestine and Ukraine are completely f-cked. This will also affect funding for women's health in developing nations. It's a disaster all around. I'm angry…and honestly completely f-cking furious with everyone who voted for this dangerous liar. If America wants to flush itself down the toilet, that's up to them, but you'll take us all with you.”

—Hannah, Scotland

24. “I dunno what's going on in Americans’ heads.”

“At this point, I just think Americans like him. They like that he's a felon; that he gets away with basically everything; that he's a rapist; vulgar; crude; a liar; that he screws over people who worked for him; that he's going senile. They have all the info they need on him. We all do. And they like him. He reflects American values. I didn't believe that after he won the first time. People hated Hillary and didn't really know him. But now? I just think he reflects that vast majority of Americans.”

—Anonymous, Canada

25. And finally, “Your elections are insane.”

Dougberry / Getty Images

“The electoral system is nuts. Donald Trump ‘won’ the 2016 election by getting fewer votes than his opponent. Stephen Colbert, who I think is a generally smart and self-aware guy, referred to America being ‘the greatest democracy in the world’ whilst discussing an election where the candidate who got fewer votes won. That is not a hallmark of a great democracy. Also, if you want foreigners not to have opinions on your elections, you need to stop referring to POTUS as ‘the leader of the free world.’ As a resident of the free world (UK), I have some thoughts.

I'd also like to add that I don't think our electoral system is any better. Our current government got a huge majority by getting just over a third of the vote. That's silly. But I don't claim it's the best country in the world either."

—EdwardJeff, United Kingdom

Contrary to the propaganda spewed on the right, Trump is NOT considered a strong, respected leader around the world. Rather, he is considered a corrupt, mercurial, unhinged, regressive, far-right politician whose impact on the U.S. and the world will be destructive.

Most of the world thinks LESS of America because Trump was voted into office.

Still, I wish the world (and Trump) realized the 2024 vote did NOT reflect all or even most Americans preferences. According to US News & World Report, That's because about 89 million or 36% of the 245 million Americans who were "eligible to vote" DIDN'T vote in 2024.

Today (11/17/24) with 152.4 million (98.1%) of the votes counted, 76.4 million (or 50.1%) voted for Trump--only 2.7 million more than the 73.7 million who voted for Harris.

Leaving the roughly 2.6 million votes that haven't been counted yet out of the equation, that would mean that roughly 31.5 % of eligible voters voted for Trump in 2024.

So basically less than a third of eligible American voters elected Trump. That is hardly a "mandate," and hardly representative of the American people.

But because more than a third of Americans sat out this election, a minority of right-wing Republicans and low-information "Independents" have sold our country down the drain to neofascism--mostly because the price of eggs was too high--leaving most of the world shaking their heads in disbelief.

Foreigners are better informed about US politics than half of Americans.

[peace-coast-island]

Diary of a Junebug

Nothing like sweet treats and snowy lotus wine to treat a weary mind

The Snow Pearl Blossom Inn and Teahouse is such a tranquil place up in the mountains that’s perfect for a retreat when you want to get away from it all for a bit. There’s something about the cool, crisp mountain air that really wakes up your senses. It’s kinda jarring at first, but after getting over the initial shock, it’s kinda exhilarating, like an adrenaline rush.

Isabelle managed to made a reservation for us, and coincidentally, we ran into some friends there. Turns out that Shen is an acquaintance of the owner’s grandparents, so he managed to get a good deal, which he extended to us. He invited Tao, Pai, Nahla, Sadiki, and Nabil on the retreat as they all just came from missions assigned by Connie.

Guess Connie’s still doing overtime, though the others say they don’t mind too much, especially when it basically turns into a paid vacation when things go smoothly and quickly.

The main reason for this retreat is because Shen and Sadiki are concerned about Nahla. She’s been under a lot of stress lately because of work, and a particular incident resulted in her getting suspended for acting out of line.She says it’s been a struggle to turn off her work mode, but she’s doing her best.

It’s not easy having to be on top of everything, so pretty much having an entire fucking country on your shoulders (simple overexaggeration), is a pretty fucking stressful position. Then add on to the pressure of not making the same mistakes as your predecessors who you worked hard to overthrow.

I’d say it takes someone with special qualities, like being levelheaded and rational no matter what, to be able to handle all that, which is why Nahla took on that role. But even she, someone who’s lived a long life and has a different perspective compared us mortal humans that allows her to see things from a different angle, is still prone to emotions over taking logic and having her judgement clouded by outside factors.

Basically, she says it’s one of those situations where the little things pile up, and then suddenly a big thing blows up and you’re just like, “Fuck this, I’m out.” Most of it has to do with work, some outside of it, mainly to do with Katsumi causing trouble with his attitude, which often rubs others the wrong way. Nabil has gotten into so many disagreements with him over such trivial things that he’s gone out of his way to avoid him whenever possible, which thankfully isn’t too difficult. Sadiki, on the other hand, has a higher chance of running into him because they’re both at Dharma most of the time.

At least Sadiki and his colleagues can easily threaten Katsumi whenever he causes trouble by threatening to report him directly to Nahla, which usually shuts him up. Apparently, according to Nabil, there was this one time when Katsumi got involved in something that he shouldn’t have been poking his nose into, and Nahla - rightfully so - went off on him in front of some colleagues, revealing a terrifying side to her.

While Nahla agrees with Nabil that Katsumi needs a good shaking from time to time, she believes the lectures should be done in private. Being a public figure, I imagine it’s easy for something like that to easily blow up and be easily taken out of context. Pai doesn’t seem to get along with him at all and said whatever reason Nahla yelled at him for, he probably had it coming.

I’ve heard that some are intimidated just by her presence, but once you get to know her, she’s very approachable and friendly. Some have made the mistake of assuming she’s helpless and naive because of young and small she looks, and they couldn’t have been more wrong. She’s a master tactician who isn’t afraid to play dirty if necessary, and sometimes you have to stoop low and make questionable decisions in order to get shit done. In other words, she’s very much a do whatever it takes, and make necessary sacrifices if need be while taking full responsibility type.

She’s a tough boss, but as long as you do your job and not cause conflict, all should be good. If not, she won’t hesitate to put you in your place.

The incident that sort of pushed her over involved the negligence of a former faculty member and the death of another. Nahla, Sadiki, Connie, and Pai were doing an investigation with some researchers in some desert ruins when a lot of things went wrong due to several oversights by the head researcher, the one who got fired.

As a result of the head researcher’s incompetence, as Sadiki puts it, a mechanical device that was supposed to be deactivated went out of control and collided with another ruin device that was operated by Nahla, Sadiki, and Rana, a graduate student researcher. No one had time to react as it happened so suddenly, and the vehicle flipped. Sadiki was thrown a short distance away and had to use pieces of the debris pry open the door to get to Nahla and Rana.

It would be a while before Connie and Pai were able to get to them, not that it made much of a difference for Rana. Nahla said she wished that Rana died immediately from her injuries, especially after she and Sadiki had to watch her suffer for what felt longer than a mere few minutes. What happened was that her head hit the steering wheel in a way that fractured her neck and skull, something that would usually kill someone instantly. Instead, she somehow survived and suffered greatly for a couple minutes by having almost continuous seizures. All Nahla and Sadiki could do was watch helplessly as there was nothing they could’ve done. Sounds horrifying.

Afterwards, an investigation was conducted and concluded that the head researcher was negligent in his duties. Basically, he ignored a lot of safety protocols, which was part of the reason why Nahla and Sadiki were keeping a close eye on him. Along with Rana’s death, there was a bunch of other things that he was guilty of. Safe to say that this guy’s career in academia is over.

It would’ve been over and done once the investigation wrapped up, but Rana’s death still hung over everyone. Rana’s family is planning to take legal action against Dharma, which Nahla said is justified. In fact, she was actually the one who suggested that they do that. While she is doing whatever she can to help them, she understands why they consider it futile as it won’t bring her back. Still, they’ve been cooperative throughout the whole thing, far more than she imagined, so at least there’s that.

The head researcher, however, had been difficult to deal with. He was actually part of the reason why Nahla told Rana’s family to take legal action. Sadiki said he used every excuse under the sun to avoid responsibility, blaming everyone and everything while claiming he didn’t do anything wrong. He even tried to tamper and conceal evidence, which got him into even more trouble. Talk about digging a grave for yourself.

Eventually, Nahla got fed up and that resulted in a confrontation. She tried one last time to reason with him, and when that failed, she beat him up. As in, she knocked him to the ground and kicked him a couple times before having to be restrained. We agree that while it was justified, she went too far, and she knows that. Especially for someone in her position, that kind of reaction was unprofessional, not to mention it can be considered an abuse of power.

While Nahla doesn’t regret her words, she wished that she handled it more tactfully. I mean, I don’t blame her for losing her temper like that, but that doesn’t make it right, even if he deserved to get his ass kicked.

So that’s why she’s taking time off and trying to rebalance herself. After being a homebody for a couple weeks, which did help a bit, she was starting to get a bit stir crazy, so Connie dispatched her to some missions. Because their powers and combat skills synergize well, Connie usually puts Nahla and Sadiki together.

Those two, along with Shinobu and Yelan, make a team that’s unofficially dubbed “Thunderbolt Tree”, where Nahla is the tree because her powers are plant/earth based, Shinobu and Sadiki being thunderbolt as they both can control lightning, and Yelan tying everything together as the rain with her ability to control water.

Shen and Nahla actually go way back, and they occasionally get teamed up together for missions. Like with Nahla and Sadiki, Shen and Tao often get paired together because they work together well. However, Pai remarks that having all four work together in a team is a bit unusual. It’s not that they don’t get along, it’s more of the fact that their combat abilities are kinda “mismatched” was the word she used. Basically, it was one of those very niche situations where a team like that could actually work if they can coordinate their moved well. By this point, they’ve been with Connie and Pai long enough that they’re able to think on their feet and work with whoever they’re teamed up with.

The missions they were assigned went smoothly, though the last one ended up being canceled. Since they don’t have anything after, they were planning to hang around anyway. They were looking for places to stay when Shen found out that the Snow Pearl Blossom was not too far from there and booked a reservation.

Along with its tea and wine, Shen says the mountains are home to various medicinal herbs. Part of the reason why he decided to hang out here is to collect some herbs for Nahla, one of them called the sunshine stalk. According to him, it helps deal with the physical and mental affects of stress. Just take a bunch of dried stalks and make a tea out of them. They’re common around these parts, so we got as much as we can as they store easily.

The second herb that Shen recommends for dealing with stress is called a cotton pebble, a flower that can also be used in tea or as a flavoring in desserts. It can also help with hair loss, which can be a side effect of stress. Nahla didn’t really notice it much until she was fixing a hairpin and found quite a few loose strands on it. To make matters worse, she was at a meeting, and a lot of people saw it, including Sadiki and Haitham, mainly because she apparently zoned out after seeing the hairpin. Sadiki said it was a rare occasion to see Haitham somewhat surprised.

Though, in all seriousness, that must have been scary. I’ve had issues with shedding a lot myself, so I get kinda nervous when I see a lot of loose strands. Turns out in my case, I just shed a lot, which apparently is a thing for some people. I guess it wouldn’t be such a problem if it wasn’t for the fact that my hair wasn’t already on the thinner side to begin with.

I’ve had good luck with a hair treatment that noticeably reduced my shedding to a somewhat reasonable amount, so hopefully the cotton pebble might help somewhat too. Nabil the plant expert is able to verify Shen’s claims about the flower and he’s been hoping to bring some back home to study. It can’t hurt to try out.

The snowy lotus wine is a local specialty made from a rare lotus that only grows in icy waters. Because it’s a protected plant, we aren’t allowed to pick it. However, Shen managed to get Nabil a permit to take a couple samples to analyze back home. Apparently, the owner’s friends with a botanist who happens to be a fan of Nabil’s work and they spent quite a bit of time nerding out over medicinal herbs. I always enjoy seeing people’s eyes light up whenever they do a deep dive into something they’re passionate about.

I would describe snowy lotus wine as sweet and icy, kinda like ice wine, but more herbal-y to balance out the flavors. Even though it feels cold, it actually warms up the body, which is why it’s popular in these parts. They even have a non-alcoholic version that’s a bit more sweet, but just as effective to warm up the body on these cold winter nights.

And to pair with the wine, we have red bean pastries and black tea rice cakes. The sweetness of the snowy lotus perfectly compliments the richness of the red bean paste and the strong black tea flavors of the rice cakes, making it perfect to enjoy in front of a crackling fire. Along with its sweet treats, the teahouse is known for its various noodle soups, using unusual combinations of herbs to make their signature broths. I’ve never had anything like it and I’ll miss it when I leave.

I think being out here did us a lot of good. Like I said, the harsh chill really wakes you up! Nahla and Shen are having a good time catching up with each other and enjoying the scenery. Pai described Shen as sort of like a grandpa who takes in all kinds of people under his wing and spends a lot of time telling stories of the olden days. Her description of him really is accurate. And I enjoy listening to him talk about various topics - he somehow can make the mundane quite interesting!

Pai also suspects that Connie put Shen and Nahla together for more reasons than “They’re best suited for these missions,” and I agree. Shen’s concerned about Nahla’s wellbeing, obviously, and while he knows that she’s more than capable of taking care of herself, he can’t help but worry from time to time, like an older person looking out for the younger. It’s clear that they have a lot of respect for each other. Plus, Nahla always speaks formally with him, although he’s trying to get her out of that habit as he insists that they’re equals. She’s trying, but they say old habits die hard.

He says thanks to Connie and Pai, they have more excuses to meet up with each other unlike in the past, so it’s about time they finally become good friends rather than just casual acquaintances. I’ve heard from many who lived long lives that one of their biggest regrets is not spending enough time with those they care about. Or, on a similar note, not taking enough time to get to know someone until it’s too late. Immortal doesn’t always mean invincible, and many have learned that lesson the hard way.

Seeing Shen and Nahla, I think my biggest takeaway of this retreat is to live in the present. Life is fleeting and always moving forward. Hard times will pass and it’s never too late to turn things around. Use the good stuff, step out of your comfort zone, and let others know how you feel. And most importantly, live for yourself. We will all fade away eventually until there’s no trace of our memories left in the world, so why not make the most out of the time we have now?

Read on AO3

[asamiontop]

“Bea.”

“Hm?” Beatrice grumbles, too close to sleep to keep from sounding grumpy.

“I’m cold.”

Ava sounds sheepish, unsure of herself in a way that Beatrice immediately aches to soothe. She turns to regard her bedmate.

(The singular bed in their Switzerland apartment had starred in many of their disagreements during their first week. Both of them refused to relegate the other to the narrow futon across the room—Beatrice because self-sacrifice was hammered into her cellular makeup and Ava because she couldn’t abide the idea of a too-tall Beatrice unable to fully lay flat on the lumpy cushion. In the end, stubbornness won and they agreed to share the bed, leaving a tenuous twenty centimeters of empty mattress between them. Twenty centimeters of which Beatrice was constantly and acutely aware.)

“I’m sorry to wake you,” Ava continues after a brief silence, “I know we have training early, I just… I can’t sleep. It’s too cold.”

The nervousness in Ava’s voice is unacceptable. Self-doubt in the Warrior Nun is unacceptable, Beatrice corrects. One of those truths urges her into alertness.

“It’s alright, Ava,” she offers with a yawn, “I understand.”

Working from memory, Beatrice calls up an image of their budget. She projects their next paychecks and expenses, factors in the potential for extra tips during the holiday weekend influx, and concludes they can afford to purchase an extra blanket at the flea market tomorrow. She had watched Ava steal the last available one—the scratchy wool thing thrown over the back of the couch—earlier this evening before bed.

“If we’re careful for the next week, tomorrow we can—”

“Canwemaybecuddle,” Ava blurts, interrupting Beatrice’s half-formed explanation. It’s supposed to be a question, Beatrice thinks, but the words sputter into the quiet midnight air like some sort of manic exclamation.

Sister Beatrice blinks. She breathes through the uncomfortably pleasant fluttering in her chest until she can consider the request rationally. Ava isn’t patient enough to await the deliberation.

“It’s just,” she begins, sounding increasingly panicked, “we don’t have any more blankets and my warm clothes are in the laundry and you’re always so hot—I mean, shit. I mean, that’s a survival tactic right? Huddling together for warmth? I saw it on a penguin documentary once.”

Ava’s logic is sound but Beatrice is too busy stifling a fond smile to say much of anything. Her silence drags on long enough that her bedmate whips her head over, wide-eyed and apologetic. Ava opens her mouth to backtrack, but in the diffuse lamplight her eyes catch on Beatrice’s lips wrapped tight around a swell of affection.

The worry slips away and a knowing grin transforms Ava’s expression. Ava doesn’t smother her fondness the way Beatrice does. No; it shines plain as day in her eyes as she mutters, “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Letting me talk in circles?”

Beatrice’s mouth pulls to one side and she allows a small chuckle to slip through her control. “Just a bit. You have quite a talent for it.”

Ava snorts and nudges Bea with her elbow. “Well sometimes I can’t help it. You’re silent brooding can be pretty intimidating, you know.”

“Brooding?” Beatrice frowns, affronted. “I wouldn’t call it—”

Ava’s laugh tinkles in the room and Beatrice’s mouth snaps shut.

“Don’t worry, Bea. It’s cute brooding.”

Beatrice’s cheeks heat and she’s grateful for the dim lighting as her eyes seek neutral territory on the ceiling.

Maybe I only run hot around you.

The thought catches Beatrice entirely by surprise and she’s wrestling madly with it when Ava’s hand brushes hers, a small but meaningful breach of the no-man’s-land between them. It’s immediately comforting.

“Hey, don’t worry about it if it makes you uncomfortable,” Ava entreats, all teasing gone from her voice. “We don’t need to—uh, touch or anything. I’ll be okay.”

“No,” Beatrice latches into Ava’s fingers before she can pull away. Her brain catches up to her and she clears her throat, loosens her unexpectedly urgent grip on Ava’s hand. “I mean. You’re right. Increased proximity is an effective tactic to maintain body temperature.”

Stupidly, she adds, “And yes, Emperor Penguins do it.”

She can practically hear Ava’s smirk. “Oh my god, Bea.” The smirk grows into a laugh and Beatrice lets the small blasphemy slide.

“Did you just tell me that I’m right?” Ava’s delight practically glows as Beatrice rolls her eyes. Maybe the Halo is enjoying this too. “I can’t believe it. Wow, that’s like—”

“Shut up and turn over so I can spoon you.”

Ava goes absolutely still at the interruption.

“Uh—wh—” Ava chokes a bit, clears her throat of it eventually. “What?” She finally manages, barely above a whisper.

Calmly, which is an effort all on its own, Beatrice explains.

“The most efficient way to exchange body heat between two people is to maximize physical contact.” Her face burns at the words, which Beatrice will dismiss as productive, all things considered. “Therefore, spooning is the optimal, ahem, position.”

Beatrice makes no mention of the other ways to enhance the exchange of body heat that decide to flash across her pure, untainted mind.

“Oh, okay. Yeah.” Ava agrees and quickly does as she’s told, turning away from Bea and onto her side.

Beatrice follows, muttering a thoughtless “good, just like that” before it occurs to her not to. Ava makes a muffled squeak that Beatrice furiously ignores.

Faced with the planes of Ava’s shoulders, a commonplace sight made extraordinary by the offer hanging between them, Beatrice pauses to take a breath.

There’s no denying the acute eagerness with which her body prepares to scoot closer. The pull towards Ava is magnetic and steady—stronger the closer Beatrice gets. But it’s also honest and peaceful—right in a way that threatens to drag Beatrice’s entire value system into the blinding harshness of questioning light.

Beatrice struggles against the ease with which she slides forward. She finds her soul and her faith with no foes to fight. It’s jarring to spend a lifetime steeling oneself for resistance only to encounter nothing to oppose. Nothing but love, pure and unassuming, seeping through every crevice in the weakening constructs of Beatrice’s life.

(Love is the twist that Sister Beatrice never expected, undeniably holy and propelling her towards Ava, centimeter by broken centimeter.)

Her hand hovers above Ava’s waist, hesitant to initiate a contact that seems liable to shatter everything. She sucks in a fortifying breath and begins to count backwards from ten.

“Bea?” Ava’s gentle concern slices through her at seven and something settles in her chest.

“I’m here,” Beatrice murmurs and drops her palm over the dip of Ava’s side with a decisive exhale. Ava breathes along with her and somehow that small synchronicity is what erases all remaining doubt. “I’m going to move closer now. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ava confirms.

Beatrice smiles and shuffles forward, aligning her front to Ava’s back before settling into the mattress behind her. She stops breathing completely as Ava shifts to accommodate their closeness. Not because of friction or anything so untoward, but because the perfection with which Ava’s body slots against hers has the power to break her.

There’s a debilitating effortlessness in the way Ava fits, backside nestled benignly in the cradle of Beatrice’s hips and shoulder blades pressed evenly to the expanse of her chest. Beatrice’s legs jerk forward and settle completely against the length of Ava’s.

Ava sinks languidly into the curve of Beatrice’s body. Her smaller frame makes it so Beatrice is wrapped around her in every way but one.

Beatrice’s hand still hovers, debating whether it can go where it wants and maintain plausible deniability. Ava decides for her, reaching swiftly for Beatrice’s wrist and bringing it to her chest before either of them can question it.

Her arm falls around Ava’s middle, snaking up through the Halo Bearer’s and into a tangle of their hands. In the spaces between her fingers, Beatrice feels the faint thump of Ava’s heart.

Ava twitches once and tucks her frigid toes between Beatrice’s feet with a huff. The sting of cold draws Beatrice’s attention to the gooseflesh prickling the skin of Ava’s arms.

“You are cold,” she breathes, unsure why she’s surprised. It’s absolutely involuntary how her hold on Ava tightens at the observation.

“Mm,” Ava answers. She wriggles, making herself small, and settles deeper in Beatrice’s arms. “Better now, though.”

Beatrice finds herself beaming, haloed in a warmth that’s a different kind of divine than the ring burning in Ava’s back. She takes stock of the moment, each sound and each breath, and discovers nothing at all out of place. She reaches for every point of contact between them, extending her awareness into her body, and finds it balanced, utterly relaxed.

Here with Ava, there is peace. Peace for every unsettled part of her. And that… that is something new indeed.

Beatrice lets herself tip forward, rests her forehead against the crown of Ava’s head.

“Glad I could help,” she whispers, tugging Ava closer as her heart lurches with the piercing truth of that statement.

“You always help, Bea,” Ava mumbles sleepily. “You’re the best. ‘S why I love you.”

Beatrice inhales sharply, inadvertently fills her lungs with the simple cleanliness of Ava’s shampoo. It calms her unsettlingly fast.

Her shaky exhale ruffles the ends of Ava’s hair.

“Goodnight Ava,” Beatrice says in place of the emotion that’s taking hold of her windpipe.

“Night,” comes the barely intelligible response.

In one more breath, Ava’s asleep.

Slowly, Beatrice lifts her chin. Carefully, carefully, her lips make contact with the softness of Ava’s hair. Beatrice sighs, pressing the slightest of kisses where she rests.

“I love you, too,” she mouths inaudibly in the safety of her hiding place. “More than you know.”

Ava shifts, sighs, and sinks into Beatrice once more.

[madefate]

Loona's ears are moving at lightning speed, constantly adjusting to try to pick up on any sound amongst the chaos that erupts all of a sudden - trying to pick up on the noises she knows best: the specific way Moxxie reloads his gun, the speed that Millie brings her axe down, Blitz's habit of calling his shots for the others' sake. But all she gets are footsteps, vague shouting, her own heartbeat in her ears, Stolas working at the ropes.

Then, of course, it's like the entire freakin' world explodes.

Y'know, thank fuck she's seen this before - and thank fuck the losers on their tail are human and totally without magic, or she'd think they were done for. As it is, when the lights suddenly go out and glass rains down in the moment before her night vision adjusts, a panicked whine jams in the back of her throat and Loona brings herself up short, dropping the fabric of Stolas' jacket just as said prince turns into a whole mess of shadows.

No, wait, a whole mess of shadows that then form a giant ass demon lord bird. In this open space, so much larger than the cramped office they'd been locking in last time, Stolas looks huge - and once she realizes what's happening, Loona's eyes light up. Oh, this is fuckin' sick.

❝ Oh, hell yeah, ❞ she says, wondering if she's heard anything cooler than Stolas' whole echoes of the damned voice or whatever. Great, time to get to work capitalizing on the intimidation factor. Normally, they have some pretty sick weapons to work with, but the way the humans start to cower under the mass of shadows and blood red light and wicked looking wings, this is definitely more efficient.

Well, all of them except for two. Loona vaguely recognizes them - she's fairly certain she used one of them as a battering ram all those months ago. They're still sporting a lot of steel, but they must have wised up at least a little, because most of them are at least carrying a pistol. When no one says anything, Loona looks at the rest of the assembled humans - and takes her chance, leaping at the one that's furthest from the rest, getting her teeth around his neck and dragging him off, alive, dangling from her fangs as a hostage.

The two familiar agents glance at each other; Loona wonders vaguely if they're in charge of this shitshow operation. They've got their guns up, both of them trained on Stolas' massive form ( should she be freaked? can he get shot when he's fully demon-ed out? ) and the woman speaks for them.

❝ Long gone, Demon, ❞ she says, spitting the word out like poison. Loona growls, her teeth bearing down on the guy's neck until he makes an involuntary noise of pain and fear. The woman doesn't look fazed. ❝ So if you want to see them again, you'll cooperate. ❞

Fuck, why the hell are humans so obsessed with demons ? These guys are relentless - why couldn't they have just forgotten about them? Wasn't the slaughter last time enough to deter them?

Loona glances over at Stolas, wondering how to signal to him that they in no way need to listen to these freaks. Hoping that he'll glance her way, she taps her nose frantically with the tip of a claw, eyes desperate. If they can get rid of these fucks, or at least get away from them, Loona will do everything in her power to literally sniff the team out.

Even though he knows that Loona is immensely capable, there is no way that Stolas is going to let her get hurt, not if he can do something to prevent it, even if that means putting himself in harm's way. She might kill people for a living, as she reminded him, but she wasn't that much older than his own daughter, who would also not forgive him if he let her friend get hurt.

Thankfully, Via's back in the office, book in hand, like Loona said, and not here with the rest of them. He knew she'd wanted to come, but she was still getting a handle on her magic. Now, he's very thankful that both he and Blitz had insisted on having her stay back with the book, as a precaution, so she can practice with the grimoire.

It takes some doing, but Loona managed to get through the ropes on his wrists, which helped ease up the pressure on his own magic, allowing him to access at least a fraction of it. At the very least, it made it so he didn't feel dizzy, like one of his senses had simply stopped working.

Before he can do anything about the ropes on his ankles, though, they both hear the sound coming from the other end of the warehouse. Loona grabbed him by his jacket and started off, which probably saved him from getting hit by whatever projectile was headed their way.

Even as she's running, he's concentrating, reaching for his powers, which takes a lot more effort at the moment, conjuring a knife that seemed to be made of stardust and moonlight, the edge of its blade shining with demonic fire. Sparks and smoke danced up from where the blade connected with the blessed rope, the two powers clashing, warring, as was their nature. But in the end…, it was Stolas who won out, and the rope fell away, inert and useless, the so-called holy light dimmed and overtaken by darkness.

Now that he was free from the ropes, the warehouse itself seemed to darken, the lights flickering and quavering before flashing so bright that they burst, one after the other, glass raining down around them. Stolas' form elongated and grew, glowing and seeming to drip blood and darkness. The shadows themselves seemed to detach from the walls, to twist and curl around their pursuers, these humans that thought they could capture a demon. Disembodied voices whisper, punctuated by a scream or cry, sounding for all the world like the souls of the damned.

His wings spread, until he was looming above the humans, only two of whom had seen him before.

"Where are the others?" his normally pleasant, lilting voice is low, dark, filled with horrors that most humans could never conceive of, not even in their worst nightmares.

[yup-thats-me]

Please, Professor - professor!Oscar Isaac x student!fem!reader

pairing: professor!Oscar Isaac x fem!student!reader

warning: smut, student/professor, hair pulling, name calling, kinda public sex (?), Oral (m recieving) , fingering, a bit rough maybe(?), Spanking, unprotected sex (take precautions irl)

summary: when your history professor sees you're falling behind in classes he has a way to punish you

a/n: not me wanting to be fucked on a desk by Oscar Isaac but also being on my period. Anyways, I'm not that good at writing smut So, if it's bad, forgive me.

masterlist

You watched as your history professor handed out the test results. The way his ass would jiggle in his tight, dress pants, the glasses over his eyes making him look aged but dominant, the grey patches on his beard and hair, all the factors fuelled your indecent fantasy about the man.

He complimented everyone on their work. Although, he was quite when he came to you. "I expected better form you, Ms. L/n," he sighed handing you the paper. You had failed. And the reason was your super hot history professor whom you wanted to fuck you senseless. You smiled at yourself at your inappropriate desires.

The class went on pretty well. Mr. Isaac would ask you more questions than the rest and when you wouldn't be able to answer a frustrated sigh woul fall from his lips along with a tsk. When the bell rang for the recess you began to get up as well with your classmates.

"Ms. L/n. I'd like for you to stay", Mr. Isaac said from his chair, not looking up from the papers in front of him.

You gulped nervously as you slowly nodded your head in obidiently. You stayed sat in your seat, waiting for everyone to leave so you can talk to the man privately.

It took a couple of minutes before everyone was gone. Mr. Isaac was still in his chair. When he noticed all his students had left, but you, he got up from his seat. He went to the door and locked it. The action making you frown at your teacher confused.

"So Ms. L/n. I see you're falling behind in classes," he said circling around you like a predator.

You looked down immediately, being ashamed of yourself. "I'm sorry professor", you apologized.

Isaac knelt down before you and grasped your chin in his big palm. "Now now, sweet girl," he continued, "There's no need to be sorry."

He made you look at him. "I understand the way you look at me. Seems like I've been a distraction for you," he whispered in your ears, playing with your ear lobe with his tongue. The feeling of his wet muscle on your heated skin made you shudder in your seat.

"I think you need a lesson to keep focused. Don't you, you little girl," his voice low and husked.

You nodded meekly. "Yes sir."

"I've been thinking of several ways to punish you. This one seems just the right one. You want to know what is it?" He asked again seductively. It was so hard for you to keep your composure. With his low intimidating voice, his dominance, it was as if your body took control and nodded to whatever your professor had in mind. "Well then, get on your knees."

His command took you off gaurd and for the first time today, you looked at him in the eyes. His black orbs were wide with lust. "You can of course leave if you want to." He said with concern. He knew you may not be down for this "punishment", but when you didn't do anything, he took that he has your consent.

"No sir, I'll accept my punishment", you admited, getting on your knees. His crotch was before your eyes. He smirked at you, placing his hand on your head to pet your head. "Such a good girl. You'd do anything to make your professor happy, wouldn't you?" He began to unbuckle his leather belt. "Yes sir", you replied your own eyes blown wide with lust and greed for the man standing in front of you.

When he pulled down his dress pants, you quite literally drooled at the sight. His cock stood tall before you. He was thick, long and had an enormous girth. "Go on then, make your professor happy, Y/n."

You parted your lips just slightly before Isaac thruster his entire length in your mouth. You felt wonderful around his cock. His tip was resting in the back of your tongue, the feeling making you gag. Your warm, wet mouth struggled for a while to be accustomed to him. When you finally relaxed, he began moving. You bobbed your head, trying to take him all in. Your mouth made sloppy, wet noises. He made a makeshift ponytail of your hair, moving the hair out of the way to look at your precious face. He wasn't in even for a minute and you were already chocking on his cock. "Yeah, choke on my big cock, you dirty slut", he groaned as he picked up his pace. Moving his hips faster than before, you bobbed your head to meet his forceful thrusts. He sped up again, now moving at an impossibly fast pace. You grabbed on his thighs for support as you continuously gagged on his cock.

Isaac was near. You could tell as his cock was pulsuating inside your mouth. "Oh god Y/n! I'm gonna come," he half moaned half groaned. You removed your mouth from his cock and held it in both your palms. "Come on my face, professor", you requested, stroking his thick cock in your hands. Your fingers couldn't even touch eachother because of the girth, but somehow, you managed to please your professor. Moving your hand up and down his length, faster and tighter in order to satisfy his needs.

It took mere seconds before you felt thick, hot white ropes of cum on your face. Isaac moaned your name as he came down from his high. Happy that he compiled to your request, you kissed the tip of his cock.

When Isaac composed himself again, he grabbed you and bent you down over his wooden desk, your ass in the air, your reddened face flushed agaist the table. Isaac pulled down your jeans along with your black panties quickly, smacking the plump flesh hard. You whined at the sensation of his rough palm on your skin. He ran a finger along your slit which was dripping with need. "You dirty girl. You're wet just by me fucking your face?" He teased his finger in your entrance.

Seeing you not answering, he landed another hard smack on your ass. This time you cried out in pain. "I asked you a question you whore. Answer me," his voice was stern, giving you no room for negotiation. "Yes, sir. I'm wet only for you," you moaned.

Smirking at you, he pushed two of his fingers in your slopping wet pussy. Before you could moan, he put his hand over your mouth to quite you. He pulled out his fingers from inside you and undid his tie wrapped around his shirt collar. Bringing the cloth to your face, he opened your mouth, putting the cloth in, making all the sounds coming from your needy throat, muffled.

"Better," he comented before pushing in two fingers again in your pussy. He curled them inside and watched as your face confronted with pleasure. Thursting his fingers in your pussy, he pulled on your hair making you arch back. "This pussy is mine. You understood?" He growled I'm your ear. You nodded vigorously, not being able to answer him through the cloth.

He sicissored his fingers inside you, feeling your warm velvety wall encase his digits. The room filled with the sound of your wet pussy and your ragged breathing. Pushing his digits further in, he found the spot inside you that made you shake with pleasure. He kept on thrusting his fingers on the spot, making you come undone around his calloused digits.

Isaac wants done with you yet, he had other plans. Turning you on your back, he pulled up your bluse, the mounds trapped in the fabric of the black bra. Quickly, he reached behind your back and unhooked the pin. Your breasts fell out in front of him, his cock hardening again. "Do you want this? We can stop if you want to," he stated again asking for consent. You smiled up at him from your laying position, "yes professor. I want this," you pulled him down for a kiss. This was the first time his lips met yours. His lips were chapped but still soft, and smelt like cigerettes and coffee. You moaned in the kiss while Isaac spread your pussy lips apart with his other hand, preparing your for the final round. He teased your entrance with his rock-hard cock, sling up and down your wet slit. You parted from the kiss breathless, "please, professor", you addressed him seductively. He groaned as he pushed himself in you.

You both moaned at the feeling of the other. He came down to your nack and placed wet kisses below your ear lobe. He gave you time to adjust. When you were comfortable, you nodded at him to move. He moved slowly, dragging his length along your walls. When you moaned his name again, it fuelled him and he began to move faster. He wrapped his hands around your neck squeezing just enough to have panting for air. With his hard thrusts and the hand on your neck, your eyes rolled back. He kept his hand around your neck, setting a fast pace of his thrusts. He hit the same spot that he did with his fingers, making you moan loudly. " Shhhh, silly girl. Somebody will hear you,"he removed his hand from your neck and clasped it on your mouth.

You felt the tight feeling in your stomach as he kept on hitting the spot. "Professor, I-I'm close–" you moaned as he lifted his hand from your mouth to kiss you.

"I'm close too baby, hold on", he thrusted his hips faster and harder. The sound on skin claping against skin filled the room. By now, you both didn't cared if anyone heard you or not. It was not possible though seeing Isaac's room was on the very end of the campus floor.

With a loud moan, you came for the second time that day. Isaac still continued to fuck you through your climax, chasing for his own. He came a few thrusts after.

You both stayed like that for a while, both gasping for air. Isaac came out from you and handed you your clothes that was left on the floor long ago. He dressed up and helped you get dressed as well. After making sure the other looked presentable enough, you both stepped out the room.

"If you keep working hard Ms. L/n I'm sure you'll be better at your tests", he winked at you mischeviously.

You blushed hard and speed walked down the stairs. One thing was for certain, this wouldn't be the last time you'd be punished by your history professor. Mr. Oscar Isaac.