#and IM usually the last one to extract

[bigmeandragonlady]

not me tabbing out of a mission at extract b/c my team was taking so long to get there, forgetting about the game for 15/20 min and tabbing back in to see they still havent extracted

[b4kuch1n]

yay! I drew these quite literally three years ago. dragonheart!milo and raihan! a knight on a doomed dragon hunt being lifted out of his station by a small village medicine man. together they become magic lawyers and overthrow the government

the main details in these do survive into the iterations I’ve drawn (instead of these actual designs I spent time to make el oh el): the “leaf” diamond quilt/gambeson and the plaited coattail for milo, the “atypical” weapons, long coat, and large number of scattered fake gold trims and accessories for raihan. I think I lost raihan the hat and added a cape for milo further down the line because like this their general silhouettes are too similar for my liking lol

[shotmrmiller]

Needs must

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

WC: 2.1K

TW: prostitution, explicit fingering, and smut-ish.

ive got 4 other ideas for this goddamn escort au and one of em is MY BOY JOHNNY. oof i cant wait. im mad it took me this long to do this. I wrote this listening to rich sex by nicki minaj.

You had needs. No matter how magical, a toy can only do so much for you. You wanted the praise of another human being—the warm touch of their hands around your waist, your neck. God, you needed to get laid. But after the disaster that was your last relationship, how nasty it ended, you couldn’t even ring your ex-girlfriend up for a booty call. 

Sucking your teeth, you look at your phone. Noon. Well, maybe one of your friends you’re about to meet up with for a weekly Saturday brunch knew someone who would be interested in a no-strings-attached situationship.

—

Flipping the card in your hands,  you chewed on your bottom lip in deliberation and looked down at the business card— the color of bone with raised black lettering. Ghost, it read, with his number on the back. How you ended up with this in your hand made you almost regret having reprobates for friends. An escort. That’s what they had shamelessly suggested. You had almost choked on your eggs benedict when one of them pulled out a contact card from their wallet and placed it by your mimosa. I mean, really. Preparing to argue about their lack of sense, they brought up a great point. It was either this, someone who was there for what you needed whenever you needed it, or your toys which were in a pathetic state from constant use. Your ex called it quits because you simply couldn't find the time to maintain a proper relationship— your demanding job took up most of it. You couldn’t believe you were about to do this.

Ghost. What a name. But you suppose it didn’t matter what his name was, only that he could do his job, and with the way your friend gushed over him— he’d leave you walking side to side. You needed this. You worked too hard for too many hours to not spend your money on some self-care. 

Fuck it. Maybe he will be just a one-time thing, you thought, and sent his number a text. 

—

Closing the door of your car, you briskly walk towards the small cafe Ghost had sent the address to; A cute little quaint coffee shop. Coming to a stop, you straighten your office skirt and run a hand through your hair before opening the door. Breathing in the coffee aroma, you look around for who you’re looking for, spotting him sitting in the back. The click of your heels echoes inside the cafe, catching the attention of your awaiting companion. He looks up and rises to stand, and it takes you aback. It was like witnessing a grizzly standing on its hind legs. Jesus.

He was tall, so tall, and broad. Wearing a black beanie and covering the lower half of his face with a mask, he extends his arm out to shake your hand, and you internally scream at how shapely his arm alone looks over his long-sleeved shirt. 

“I’m Ghost. It’s a pleasure, love.” 

Choking back a moan at his accent, you put your hand in his and say, “No, I’m sure it’ll be all mine.” You can see his dark eyes crinkle at your quip. 

“If we get through this smoothly, the next time we meet I’ll make sure of it.” 

As you let out a playful laugh, Ghost reaches for the back of your chair, pulling it out with a chivalrous gesture. “And a gentleman? You definitely know how to sell yourself.” 

“No, love. This is just a common courtesy. I don’t need t’tell you that I’m good,” and in one smooth motion, he extracts a sleek, forest green matte folder from the leather business bag lying at his feet.

“I need this filled out, just the usual— hard and soft limits. Safewords, nicknames, allergies, and so on.” You pick up the folder and open it, skimming over the contents of the front page. 

“This really is your job.” You flick your eyes from the folder to him and he’s already looking at you, watchful and steady. 

“O’ course it is. I take my clients, and future clients, seriously. I enjoy wha’ I do but it will never be at the cost of another. I will not make you uncomfortable in any way, nor risk your health. I aim to please you, not the other way around. And I cannot do tha’ if I don’t know tha’ you’re allergic to latex or completely against something I might do.” 

He gives a slight cough, and you divert your attention from the paper and meet his gaze. “What’s a pretty thing like you seeking out someone who offers these types of services?” and a lighthearted chuckle escapes you.

“The same reason the one who gave me your card did— just looking for a good time, no commitment.” 

He raises his eyebrows at that but makes no further comment. Smart man. Glancing at your wrist, you check the time. “Right,” and lean forward to get up when Ghost shoots up from his chair to pull out yours. “I’ll have your folder ready for you by the weekend,” and turn your head to face him.

“Is that when you’ll want this, then?” and you give a casual shrug. 

“If you happen to be available.” He reaches out and gently grabs your hand to pull you in for a tight embrace. Softly, he whispers in your ear, “I’ll be seeing you then, love.”

You leave with a silly little grin on your face.

—

The weekend comes and you’re a puddle of nerves. You can’t remember the last time someone made you this anxious. The knock on your door startles you out of your inner ramblings. It’s time. Taking in a deep, calming breath, you open it. 

Ghost calmly walks in, and starts taking off his mask, and then leather jacket.

“I’ve one absolute limit I forgot to mention,” he says in a firm tone. “I do not kiss. It is not a negotiation.” 

Well, you couldn’t give a damn if he didn’t. Nonchalantly, you shrug and say, ��And mine is that we always use a condom.” With a nod and a chuckle, he eagerly grabs the folder from your table and starts flipping through its pages.

“A’right, love. Go get on the bed f’me.” The smirk he gives you is positively wicked. “I saw tha’ you have like to be told wha’ to do.” He jerks his chin towards your room. “And take everything off.” With nervous excitement, you run off, haphazardly tossing your clothes on the floor.

—

Eyes covered with a blindfold, all you hear is your shaky breathing and his footsteps on your plush rug. Your nerves feel exposed, raw. As you lie on the bed, you suddenly feel a firm grip on the flesh of your thighs, causing your skin to break out in goosebumps. The room's cool air contrasts with the warm heat radiating from his touch, pulling a hiss from your lips as he pulls you toward the edge of the bed.

“Atta girl, love. Open your legs f’me, lemme see that pretty pussy.” The lack of eyesight helps you to focus on his touch alone, making you fearless, and your legs drop open without hesitation as you lie on your back.

“Look at tha’. Aren’t you just a dream? Hm?” he puts his hands on your knees, keeping your thighs open, wet cunt exposed. “And you waxed, too. Hope tha’ wasn’t f’me.” You feel a fingertip slide from your hood, down to your clit and hole, spreading your juices around the labia and back up. Your nerves are on fire, your pussy clenching around nothing, forcing juices to drip down to your arsehole.

“A’right, pretty. Touch yourself. Shove your tiny little fingers into your,” he pauses to suck the skin of your inner thigh, “cunt and show me how to make you feel good.” He then moves his mouth closer to where you need it most, and bites. Are you defying me? Did you suddenly become deaf as well, once I blindfolded you?” and you aggressively shake your head. 

“No! No, sir. I hear you, loud and clear.” With a tight squeeze to your thighs, he says, “Then do as I say.” Moaning, you slowly bring your hand down, starting from your chest. Your palms rub against your pebbled nipples, down to your soft stomach, until your fingertips meet your swollen nub, then move in soft, tight circles, mewling at the feeling. The groan that reaches your ears is so lewd, you could come from that alone. 

“Tha’s it, baby. You’re doing so well. Look at how wet you are, fuck, show me just how you like it.” And you do. A vulgar noise comes from your hole once you stuff yourself with one finger, slowly stretching, before adding another. It’s something, but not enough, not what you want. Not thick enough, long enough, and that thought makes you whimper in disappointment. 

“Aw, are your fingers not satisfying? I’ll help you, sweet, only because you look so delicious spread out f’me like this. So vulnerable, bare.” His breath fans over your cunt, over your clit, and it sends a jolt up your spine— but he doesn’t move, doesn’t touch. It feels like you’ve been waiting for hours until he finally, finally, pushes a thick finger into you, and curls it, rubbing against the right spot, over and over, and then pushes in a second, threatening to tip you over the peak. The feeling is intense —your walls clench around him firmly in your rising pleasure.

“Oh, g-god, Ghost pleasepleaseplease,” squealing as you fuck yourself on his hand, and when your hypersensitive nerves pick up on the sensation of his scorching mouth on your clit, with a pulsating suction, your muscles tighten and tremble, to the point of pain, until Ghost gives one hard suck, forcibly pushing you off the edge. The wail you let out is ear-splitting— as ecstasy slams into your body, like waves crashing at shore. Your thighs squeeze Ghost’s head irrationally tight, but he doesn’t care, just groaning into your core, lapping up your juices like a dehydrated man who’s found an oasis. Your body stings— prickles from the vicious high you’re riding—chest heaving with sobs from the sheer force of it, fingernails digging into Ghost’s scalp, yanking on his hair. As your soul melts back into your body, you absentmindedly thank all the bloody gods for having friends who really do look out for you. 

Whimpering pathetically, your limbs go limp, loose, heavy. Ghost easily picks your body up and moves you toward the center of the bed, vertically, the blindfold still robbing you of your vision. 

 With a grunt of effort, his hand firmly settles by your ribcage, sinking into the softness of the bed, and then he slips a folded pillow beneath your hipbones, expertly arching your spine into a delicious angle. His hand firmly connects with your rear, not just once but twice, feeling the exquisite sting of it. The room falls into silence, only to be interrupted by the clinking sound of his belt buckle. Your body tenses as you hear the unmistakable sound of plastic being torn open, and then you feel his thick and warm shaft teasing your entrance. A moan escapes your lips as he penetrates you, his movements slow and sensual, until his hipbones press against your backside. Taking his time, he slowly pulls back his length, dragging it against your slick walls, before pushing forward again, covering your body with his own. His right hand is flat on the bed by your right shoulder, while his left curls around your neck, gently forcing your head to tilt back onto him. The tip of his head grinds against the entrance of your womb. 

He moans softly into your ear, before quietly purring, “Let’s see how many more orgasms I can wring out of you, pet.” The tightening of his makeshift necklace around your throat is your first and last warning of what is to come.

—

He pulled four. Four gut-wrenching, shattering orgasms before finding his own release. He left you a drooling, sloppy, sweaty mess on your bed, completely languid and relaxed. Somewhere, you faintly hear your phone ping with a notification. Hissing as you get up, you limp to your living room, and see it on the sofa. Unlocking it, you see that it’s Ghost, sending you his Cash App information. Holding in a chickle, you send him his money and wait for his confirmation. 

It was a real pleasure, doll. Let me know when you need me again.

Cackling to yourself, you place your phone back on the table. 

Bastard. 

He knows you’ll definitely be seeing him again.

[lovely-keii]

being their sibling

characters: tsukishima kei, oikawa tooru, suna rintarou

a/n: i write a fic every time i rewatch hq LOL sorry ik i said im abandoning this blog buuuut…happy bday to this blog!! (repost from 1/5 because tags broke :(( )

part 1

TSUKISHIMA KEI

looks out for you, but he can’t help that hes so emotionally constipated :’( he tries to give you advice because he genuinely is concerned for you but just is unable to word anything properly. see: “you need to stop talking to that person, you’re being a pushover,” but he just wants you to realize you’re letting people walk all over you.

god forbid he has to comfort you because hes the wrong brother for that - you’re definitely in better hands with akiteru. he might walk in on you crying and contemplate if he’ll even say anything or just ignore it flat out, or he’ll say something like “don’t cry, you look stupid.” if you cry more, he’ll end up swallowing his pride and sitting next to you. he’ll groan and reluctantly, “fine, spill it.”

other than that, he’s going to be a sneaky little prick. definitely the type to take revenge on you if you annoy him. you eat the last piece of chocolate he was saving and suddenly you find your charger hidden deep under your bed. also loves to take things without your permission. “why? i’m just using it, it’s not like you need it now.”

if someone picks a fight with you, he’ll be quick to extract you from the situation before saying something ruder and harsher than usual to the person. and if you tell him you like someone from his team, he’s going to look at you like you’re crazy. “are you insane?!” he’s honestly more bewildered than upset. doesn’t let you anywhere near the gym. he can make an exception for yamaguchi though. “at least it’s not hinata…or worse, kageyama.”

OIKAWA TOORU

your life is never boring with this guy as your brother. you’re literally being dragged everywhere, practices, shopping, team events… you’re like “i’m not even part of the team.” he goes “we can fix that!” and the next day you find out that you’re the manager for the boys’ volleyball team. huh, wonder how that happened.

oh my god, he MILKS you being his manager. “hold my drink, my fans are calling.” “y/n get my towel please.” you’re absolutely seething at the power trip that this guy is on. eventually, you start doing all that for his other team members and not for him, and he gets so whiney. “y/n you’ll get big ugly iwaizumi a towel but not your own sweet brother?!” that earns him a spike to the head from iwaizumi.

he tells you all the gossip about the school, because believe me, he knows A LOT of things. he’ll do his skin care while he forces you to listen to his gossip, cue him getting mad if you try to leave. everyone realizes why you two are siblings when you two walk down the halls and pull the exact same faces at the people he’s told you about in his gossip.

he makes you his little scapegoat for his fangirls. “oh, you want my number? you’ll have to ask y/n for that, they keep my phone with them during practice!” (you dont) “now, why don’t you girls hand all these gifts to my lovely sibling for me?” (you almost immediately chuck them at his face when you see him) but you know the best way to get back at him? when he sees you even slightly conversing with ushijima or kageyama, all hell breaks loose.

SUNA RINTAROU

the devil if the devil was your brother. he takes the ugliest pictures of you, when you’re asleep, when you’re yelling, when you’re crying over a movie. he also loves to send you pictures of animals and send a “look at you in this picture, so cute”. he also takes your things without asking and never returns it, you’ll just find it in his bag one day.

he also is one to order you around, and it drives you mad. “pass me the remote, y/n.” “but it’s nearer to you.” “i’ll tell mom that you-” // “y/n get me a drink from the vending machine.” “why would i do that” “remember when you snuck out and i-” // “get my bag too when you get yours.” “no.” “what i post that one picture of you when you’re about to sneeze-”

but he’s always looking out for you. when creeps try to approach you, he’s quick to react by shooting them a nasty glare. he’s a silent kind of care. standing behind you on elevators, walking on the outer side of the sidewalk, staying up late til you come home and just telling you he just couldnt sleep. little do you know, it’s something he’s always done even as a kid. putting more food on your lunch box, holding the corner of tables when you pick something up so you don’t hit your head, returning your things that are sprawled around the house to your room so you don’t lose them.

and if he ever finds you crying over some guy, he sighs and sits down next to you. “why’re you crying over an idiot?” he then makes snappy insults at the expense of the guy, making you laugh. “see? you look better like that. now stop crying and let me get some sleep.” he closes the light and shuts the door on his way out.

[piccionethepigeon]

Helping hand part 1

Part 2

Summary: you give a wounded Ghost a helping hand, then he needs to help himself

Warnings: I don’t know jack shiii about Cod I’m just horny for beefy masked men so he could be out of character and other things inaccurate, sexual content, injury and blood, pining, clueless reader, also probably bad writing and grammar as this is not even my first lenguage , size kink, obsessive! Ghost

Your legs were twitching nervously under the table while working, fingertips raw from biting your nails and stomach flipped upside down; they should have been there hours ago but still no trace, no message of delays in the return, no nothing…. with worry itching under the skin it was impossible to focus on other task, even while checking the stock of medical supplies you dropped several items breaking some in the process. But doing nothing was doing no good either, they are soldiers for fucks sake they can handle a simple rescue mission without incident they had been on plenty missions way more dangerous than this one and everything went according to plan usually. They were some of the best around after all.

But this time felt different your gut was telling your so, and each tick of the clock on the white wall made the itch worse. Tick, tock, tick, tock, tick, tock… it was making you feel insane and all you wanted to do was get up take the fucking clock and smash it on the floor, stop it and then maybe burn the pieces… you were definitely going insane, for what a bit of delay? You tought you were more rational than that.

Then the doors flew open with a push so rough that the hinges made a sharp sound that made you fear for the integrity of said doors, the doors became the last of your worries when you saw who was the culprit.

Soap was blodied, winded, and still in full gear supporting with one shoulder a man in a mask that seemed far more bloodied and limping. Ghost.

Without question you ran to support Ghosts other side even if struggling a bit since the man was massive. Soap spoke between rough breaths. “He got shot in the thigh, doesn’t seem to have hit an artery but he lost a lot of blood” you were quick to reply “place him on that chair and then go get checked by another medic, I’ll have this handled” with a tud and a groan your patient was settled in the chair and Soap was rushing out holding a gauze to his temple, thanking you before going to find another medic.

Y/n kneeled in front of him to have access to the wound not caring about being on the floor and began examining, the pants were ripped and started sticking to the skin with the blood making it hard to see the wound “Ghost im going to cut your pants for access, clean the wound, take out the bullet and suture. It’s gonna hurt but I know you can handle it” he gave a nod of acknowledgment and you began to cut the fabric carefully.

Then all the blood and dirt had to be cleaned otherwise there could be an infection, hands gentle and quick with a disinfectant and a gauze stroking the naked and raw skin you sometimes gazed at him to check and smile reassuringly, his eyes were looking in your direction but they looked distant.

No matter how gentle you were,tough he was trying to hide it but he was trembling and that could not have been a good thing. Once everything was clean the bullet had to be extracted, y/n grabbed the tweezers and sank them in the flesh using the spare hand to hold the skin around it “this is the worst part put it’s also quick since the bullet is intact, we’re almost finished” who knew if you were tried to reassure more him or yourself, keeping a steady hand was difficult.

The bullet came out and you put it away, almost done, only sutures were left. “Done, now I’ll see you up then send you to rest, hold on for a little longer please” y/n said before sinking the needle in the skin, Ghost choked a groan, and you stroke the thigh to soothe him while working, once the wound was closed you smiled up at him again while bandaging the leg. “We’re all finished, all you alright?” Y/ns eyes met Ghosts and the gaze looked weird on him, his usually almost cold eyes were scorching. Several moments passed and he didn’t reply so you tapped the his knee lightly “Simon are you alright?” His pupils shrank and then dilated again till his eyes were almost black, then finally replied “Yeah, thank you doc” he choked out.

Then he got up and before you could say anything else he disappeared limping out the door.

Was he in such a rush? Huh.

Ghost slammed the door of his barrack, then threw himself on the mattress hissing when the moment pulled his stiches. His blood was hot. No it was boiling under his skin. Closing his eyes all he could see was You, the girl that filled his thoughts more than he would ever admit kneeling in front of his crotch, ripping his pants off him… eh should not fantasize on y/n for that, it was your job after all but he could not help himself, he reached his hand on his clothed groin to palm himself and let his mind roam.

He was shaking before when y/n had cleaned the dirt off him and he began shaking but not because it hurt, the adrenaline made him numb to the pain, but somehow the soft hands on his skin made every nerve ablaze. Oh fuck then your pretty eyes looked up at him, he could see your breasts down the the collar of your shirt, and you smiled and he felt whatever blood he had left rushing, your beautiful mouth would look even better stuffed full of his cock milking him dry while he grabbed a fistful of your hair. He unzipped his pants and pulled down his boxers.

You would surely caress his thigh like you did before, and he would praise you for being such a good girl for him. Lifting his mask he spat on his hand to pretend it was your wet warm mouth.

Even while the needle was closing him up he could only feel your hands on his skin and could not look away from your lips pouting a bit in concentration.

An then while bandaging him up you asked him if he was alright, too caught up in fantasies he didn’t answer… and then you called him Simon. He groaned and shuddering he began working his thick hard length. Before that he was getting hard but after that he was stiffer than a rock and pretty sure all his blood had gone in his loins, also grateful for either the pants hiding it or you being too concentrated on his health to notice it.

Ghost cringed at the memory of himself rushing out without saying much, but he could just not help himself any longer… laughable, a man with so much self control was crumbling under the gaze of a woman half his size.

And there he was stroking his cock like a mad man, he teased himself with slow languid movements like he imagined y/n would, you looked like a saint but he was sure you were a teasing one, a naughty girl who just wants to be spanked… and he would have liked to spank you a little too much then caress and squeeze the reddened flesh, then he would finger your pussy till it dripped down your legs and then fuck you till you were cockdrunk and overstimulated, y/ns pussy would have squeezed him so good he knew it. Ghost wanted also to mark you, suck hickeys on all visible places to let all know you were his, then cum so deep in you it would drip out for days to remind you who you belonged to. He would die for you, he would kill for you.

He would claim you because you were his and his alone.

Ghost moaned and his muscles clenched while he cummed painting his hand and abdomen in white. Bloody hell.

When his mind was clear and his breathing had calmed down he realized something.

Simon Riley was fucked, he was fucked big time as he did not only desire you, he loved you

That was the only way to explain the warmth in his chest and the raw possessiveness he felt in that moment, of course he always tought you were attractive with a beautiful face to match, competent in your job, intelligent, funny, and he cared for you but he had never realized it was more than a crush, he was beyond fucked.

What was he a teenager getting hard and jerking off for a few cresses on his thigh?! He grabbed a towel to clean his mess and went to sleep with a still rock hard cock.

[hyperfixat]

could i request the obey me brothers with an mc who is a chemist (slightly mad-scientist-esque)? like an mc who always has Some experiment going on and they get Very Intense about it?

(if you want any extra inspiration, please go watch NileRed on youtube!!!! specifically one of his bromine related videos and/or the making grape soda out of rubber gloves video! hes been a favorite creator of mine for a long time and im a little (a lot) bit enamored with your writing style so im really excited to see how you'd write this!)

– the guy who asked about plant obsessed mc last time

omg,, repeat anon,,, woah, thank you for your support,,, i saw rhis the night you sent it in and i literally had a smile on my face when i was going to bed, thank you so so much..

In all honesty I haven’t been keeping up with the Obey Me + NB lore because I can’t autoskip the gameplay levels, but there are potions and stuff in that universe, right?  Now, I checked NileRed, and played some of their videos in the background; for those unfamiliar an example video title is “Extracting DNA from strawberries and eating it”, so yeah crazy science stuff.  You also requested the brothers, but I did have Solomon introduce the general concept because I feel it would be most lore accurate.

Now we can have a chemist MC, who in the human world worked in a lab or whatever, but then they go to the Devildom and all of a sudden there’s so much more to learn! So much more stuff to make and test!  And, wait wait wait, Solomon did you say potions?

Screw chemistry you’re a full on alchemist at this point.  Where’s the nearest lab safety equipment?

Realistically Lucifer wouldn’t let you have any lab extracurriculars or let them be on your schedule.  You only need to do what you came here for, besides how can he know of your intentions?  For all he can know you’re cooking up some demon-killing madness.

Once you get him to crack or Solomon vouches for you, walkie talkie voice; we’re in.

It’ll start with just the classes and some silent longing on your end, dramatically sighing about how you miss your work back in the human world.  Patience is a virtue because once you worm your way into the demon brother’s hearts, they’ll literally remodel a whole room in the HoL as an ideal lab for you.  Anything you want; beakers, materials, fancy machines, you name it.  

For the brothers, spoiling you in such a way was both a blessing and a curse. Seeing you happy was great, but you spend so much time holed away doing your little experiments… they miss you after a while.

oh my, brainwormmm… imagine needing something from them to make your thing, a gift or otherwise… needed like a feather or some keratin from their horns.  I cannot for the life of me think of something cool or unique to make, but hear me out Love Potions. 

but more ethical, because the whole thing behind them are kinda,, dubious.  SO pre established consent for the part below: it’s only luci because he’s my favorite. 

There’s a soft knock on the door before it cracks open, but you pay it no mind, continuing your intent focus on the bubbling pink liquid on the bunsen burner.  

Lucifer cringes back at the smell as he walks in, sickly sweet and filling the air.  His long strides lead him to your side and he huffs a sigh, “what do you want to try with this batch?”

“A feather,” you say after a moment of deliberation.  “Preferably down.”

With a hum of agreement and a soft woosh one of his large wings spreads for you to take your pick of any of the feathers there.  

“Do you have high hopes this time around?”

“I never have high hopes when it comes to making stuff for you,” you say lightly, filtering your fingers through the soft inner feathers.  He’s immune to almost everything.  “But, higher than usual.”

“I eagerly await your arrival to my chambers, and now I will leave you to it.”

ahh my husband..

and mmmh. Satan could help you find recipes, and if you’re in the mood he’ll commission you for some Anti Lucifer League stuff.

this is definitely not exactly what you wanted, rip hope you like it anyway, also posted from my computer sorry for any odd formating.

[lemissingmask]

[ID: Sketch of Redemption-era Eliot Spencer lying on the floor on his back with his back arched and neck muscles tensed, grimacing as a collar around his neck lights up, giving him an electric shock. End ID]

-

Day 8: alt. Electrocution

Eliot being tortured with a shock collar as a cheeky little bonus for Day 8

Ficlet below the cut

“Move and we shoot.”

The voice was nearly as cold as the barrel of the gun pressed against Harry’s head.

Eliot froze.

He was several metres away, where he had guided the fight to keep Harry out of it.

And now he was too far away to get to him, to do his thing and make this guy with a gun go away.

“Frank,” Eliot didn’t growl, but his voice was hard and even more threatening than this Frank guy with a gun’s was, “Let ‘im go.”

“You don’t get to make demands here, Spencer,” Frank replied, “Now stay still.  You know I won’t hesitate.”

Eliot glared, but he obeyed, staying perfectly motionless with his eyes on Harry.

Of the four other goons who had attacked them, two were unconscious, and one had blood pouring liberally from his nose. The remaining one, apparently following some signal from this Frank guy, moved closer to Eliot, smirking when his adversary did nothing but glare.

"Right ear," Frank said, "Comm unit. Take it out and smash it."

The gun shoved against Harry's head.

"You too, Wilson."

Harry slowly raised his hand, extracted the earbud and held it out. Frank took it, dropped it, and stamped, presumably crushing the comm as thoroughly as the other hitter had crushed Eliot's a short distance away.

"Phone," Frank demanded, and as he accepted Harry's phone, instructed his colleague, "Check him for phone and weapons. Spencer usually has a knife or two stashed somewhere."

And Eliot did.

As Harry watched, still held in place by the gun to his head, the other hitter retrieved a pocket knife, a multitool and too throwing knives from Eliot, as well as his phone. He tossed all this away, shot the phone with a loud crack that made Harry jump and Frank laugh.

By now, one of the others had woken up and the nosebleed of the other guy had been stemmed enough for him to get involved, which he did with evident relish.

"Get the collar on him," Frank ordered, the hand not holding the gun coming to grip Harry's arm, twisting it up behind him, "Watch closely, Wilson. This is the fun bit."

As if Harry had a choice but to watch.

Eliot remained fixed in place, his attention on Frank and Harry, as two of the other men roughly fixed a rigid collar around his neck, yanking his hair out the way and making a point of briefly choking him as they pulled the contraption on. And, it was a contraption. Not just a collar. There was a box on one side of it with a little red light.

Smacking Eliot unnecessarily on the back of the head as they finished, the other hitters stepped back, one pulled out his phone, and then, suddenly, Eliot tensed, teeth gritting, and dropped to his knees, as the collar light turned blue.

Harry instinctively made a move like he might run forward, try to help, but the grip on his arm grew tighter and more painful and the gun knocked against his head.

"Shock collar," Frank said with a smile as the light turned red and Eliot was left breathing heavily on the floor, "Made special just for Spencer."

The light went on again, longer, bringing Eliot all the way to the floor.

"Do exactly as your told, or we'll see how long it takes for that thing to kill him."

With those words, the gun was removed, but almost immediately, there was darkness. A rough, imperfect, darkness. A bag thrown over his head, and two strong forms on either side were half-dragging Harry away.

Out of the building, into a vehicle, the same guys who had been dragging him pressed close on either side.

They didn't drive for very long - not more than an hour, but long enough and with enough turns that it wouldn't be easy for the others to track them from their last location. And they had to be on the way by now. Hardison and Breanna would have used the earbud GPS before they were destroyed, or maybe be tracking their phones.

There would be a Brick and Basil truck en route to where they had just been, and hopefully soon after to wherever they were going now.

When they finally stopped, Harry was manhandled once more, bringing him across a hard floor, into another building, an elevator, and then, at last, into a wooden chair.

The bag was whipped off, and across from him, behind a large, fake mahogany desk, was a man he knew perfectly well.

"Austin," Harry greeted, adopting the false pleasantry he always did with clients, "I'd love to say it was a pleasure, but..."

He nodded to the goons stood either side, taking that motion as a chance to look for Eliot.

Not in this room. A small office with two doors, the desk, some chairs, a mini fridge, and a large conference TV screen.

A bit of a downgrade from this former client's upmarket business address with its tropical fish tank and wet bar.

"Harry Wilson," the man smiled coldly, "You're a hard man to find."

Harry shrugged noncommittally, "What do you want, Austin?"

"I need you to do a job for me. I have a certain legal matter that needs taking care of, and the lawyer I had hired is, quite frankly, not worth the air he breaths. I need you to make an airtight case for me and present it in court," he pushed a pile of documents across the desk, "Everything you need is here. You have three days. This office..."

"No," Harry cut him off. He had worked for this guy before. He had helped him cover his tracks after he destroyed the lives of several of his workers and interns, leading to the suicide of one. This man was one of the long list of regrets burdening Harry's mind. He was two bullet points on the redemption list.

Harry would not work for him again.

"I expected you may say that," Austin stood, walked around the desk towards the screen. The goons rotated Harry's chair, forcing him to turn to watch.

"That's why I have invested in this incentive."

He used a small remote to turn the screen on, and after a second of blackness, a video feed was displayed, showing Eliot with his hands handcuffed to a metal loop fixed to the floor. It looked like a basement, but it was difficult to tell.

Austin pulled out his phone, and a few seconds later, that collar glowed blue again, electrocuting Eliot as he knelt chained to the floor.

And not just a short warning. It didn't stop. Austin wasn't going to stop unless-

"Okay!" Harry yelled, and the collar turned red, leaving Eliot unmoving on the floor, "Okay. I'll do it."

Austin smiled, "Good man. Now, as I was saying, those are the files. There's paper, pens and so on in the desk drawers. Water and food in the fridge. Bathroom through that door. You have three days."

He moved towards the door, the goons following.

"Oh, and if you fail to deliver..."

On the screen, Eliot was subjected to another shock, his body tensing, but nothing more. Harry wasn't even sure he was conscious.

"These gentlemen," Austin nodded to the goons, "Will wait outside. Their colleagues will be with Spencer."

He left, the door was locked, and the screen was left turned on, Eliot still not moving.

Harry spent about an hour searching the office and bathroom for anything that could be useful to escape. Weapons, air vent...anything.

But, predictably, there was nothing. And, even if there had been something, if Harry made an attempt, there were still those other hitters with Eliot, and no way Harry could get there in time to save him.

Harry was just going to have to play along for now. Get to work, start building a case...as a last resort, he would do what Austin asked. He would pull out all the past evil lawyer tricks, hopefully then get Eliot and himself back to safety, and Leverage could deal with the aftermath.

But that was a worst case.

Hardison, Breanna, Parker and Sophie would definitely find them before that. They had three days, and a collective set of skills beyond anything Harry had known or imagined before meeting them.

Three days was more than enough time for Leverage to track people down.

Harry kept this in mind as he spent the first day, working at the case, trying to ignore the itching of his conscience.

There was one moment, towards the end of that day, that robbed Harry of all his forced focus.

He hadn’t expected to see Eliot being treated well, but without cause - Harry had been doing as he had been told - two of the hitters from before had entered the room to amuse themselves.

Harry had no way to contact anyone. He couldn’t get to Austin to convince him to make them stop, refusing to work unless they did. But he didn’t really have the leverage. They were hurting Eliot, but not killing him, and it was within Austin’s power to let them do so.

Harry watched until the hitters disappeared from view and Eliot was left unconscious on the floor, blood pooling beneath his head from the repeated blows they’d delivered to his face.

And, facing the screen so he could see when Eliot woke up, Harry turned on the desk lamp and resumed the arduous task of figuring out how to help the rich and powerful crush those they had wronged.

He had no awareness of falling asleep. At some point, near midnight, he lay his head on his arms, just to try and let his eyes rest…just a bit.

He woke to a hand on his shoulder, a whispered voice in his ear.

“Harry.”

It was Eliot, crouched beside his chair, watching him with evident concern.

The collar was still on, and in places it was shining with blood that seemed to come from Eliot's lip and cheek. The handcuffs were on, but the chain between them broken, links draping on Harry’s shoulder.

"Harry," he repeated as Harry was still registering the situation and deciding whether or not it was a dream, "You alright?"

The hand on his arm was very real. Strong and familiar. And Harry probably couldn't accurately dream the fine details of the collar that he could see now up close.

Harry broke into a smile, "Better now. You're a good person to be kidnapped with."

That drew a small laugh from the hitter, his teeth showing bloody, "Ain't my first rodeo. You good to go?”

Harry nodded and quickly began gathering up all the documents on the case - it could come in handy later.

“What’s that?” Eliot nodded to the folder.

“The reason we’re here,” Harry replied, “And better off in our hands than his.”

“Former client?”

Harry wasn’t sure how Eliot knew, but they didn’t really have time to get into that, so he just nodded and followed Eliot towards the door.

"We have an exit?"

"We're gonna make one."

"What about..."

The collar.

Eliot had stood and moved to the door already, was looking out into the corridor.

"Looks like only some of the guards can set it off," Eliot replied quietly, "Took out the four who grabbed us. Hopefully we don' run into any others, but if we do..."

He paused, looking back at Harry.

"If we do an' I'm incapacitated, you gotta run."

"I can't just leave..."

"Yeah you can," Eliot tapped his arm and moved towards the door, not allowing any further arguments.

Harry followed closely, trusting Eliot to know when to freeze and when to move, and they managed to get into a stairwell without meeting any guards. Their luck ended there, but only for a moment or two. Only for as long as it took for Eliot to disarm and knock out the three guards they met as they moved down ten flights of stairs, and out into a carport.

No one there. Cameras, but no people, and no cars.

"What now?" Harry whispered, "You know where we are?"

"No. We gotta get somewhere crowded. Somewhere with people," Eliot replied, "We can lift a phone an' call the others."

"I don't think we need to," Harry smiled as he saw a familiar set of headlights approaching from the other direction. Eliot turned and broke into his own smile, bloody toothed, but just as relieved as Harry's.

As if summoned by willpower alone, a Brick and Basil truck stopped just outside the building. Harry wouldn’t be surprised if there had been some sort of planned dramatic entrance that culminated in such a welcome and timely appearance.

But they didn’t exit immediately in a dramatic, heroic manner. They were still inside the truck, probably planning their entrance, hadn't seen Harry and Eliot, based on the various screams, gasps, and almost punch that were thrown their way when Eliot opened the back doors.

"And here we busted our asses trying to get here quick as hell," Hardison complained teasingly, grabbing Eliot into a hug as they entered, "Coulda stayed in bed."

"Everyone okay?" Sophie asked, looking them both over, "Breanna? Can we get whatever that is off Eliot?"

"On it..." she immediately began inspecting the collar, while Parker picked the handcuffs, muttering something about more lock picking practice, and keeping hold of Eliot's hand for longer than necessary.

Harry was grateful for the cup of coffee Sophie produced and shoved into his hands, ushering him into the front with her so Hardison could set off driving, getting them the hell out of there.

"Who took you?" she asked.

"Former client," Harry said, drinking the coffee down more quickly than he should, "Wanted me to do a case for him, and used Eliot as leverage."

"Someone we need to take out?" Hardison asked.

Harry considered.

The court case would probably lead to twenty five years in jail if Austin lost...the man was practically already taken out as it was. Provided he lost the case. Harry knew who the prosecution team were, he knew the case, he had more than enough information in the folder alone…

Harry smiled, "I think I will take him out myself."

And he would make sure the team, especially Eliot, were at the trial. After all, they needed The Gloat.

-

[zoloftsexdeath]

Thinking about the origin songs of all the surviving covey members. I can’t speak to color theory, and I haven’t read the books, but I do know some folk songs and recognized some names. Now I don’t stick to Childes ballads strictly when listening to these songs, but I will be listing the number for reference on all the names that have a childe’s ballad corresponding, just for ease of research.

Lucy Grey Baird

Lucy Grey is her own creature and her song is plain in the books. I think the difference between the book ballad of Lucy Gray and the one in the movie (the song she herself wrote about Billy Taupe) is fascinating, as the first one is more of a story-song traditional like, and the Ballad per the movie is so. Im shoving it in my mouth and eating it. Smarter people with more context than me can write better about it though so I’ll leave it at this. I personally think Rachael Ziegler killed it though, and her voice is high and clear, would love to hear her live so I could lay in the grass and kick my feet as I listen.

Barbara Azure Baird

Barb Azure canonically came from Barbara Allen/Barb’ry Allen [CB # ]traditionally a round sung about a woman whose lover dies of wanting her, and she dies of sorrow, and their graves lie entertwined with plants of rose and briar on each respective grave to form a true lover’s knot. My favorite version comes from Joan Baez. This is the only of the covey songs I’ve ever heard before doing this research, and I love it dearly.

Tam Amber [last name unknown]

Tam Amber from Tam Lin! Also known as Tamlaine, Tamlin, or Tam Lyne [Child Ballad #39]. An epic Scottish ballad, and a lovely round. As the story went he was a mortal kidnapped by faeries and has become their unwilling servant, protecting a forest in which he finds a beautiful young woman (usually named Janet or Margaret) whom he confronts for plucking roses. They doink about it, she gets pregnant, her father asks who got her with child, and she rushes back to Tam Lin and begs him to either get rid of the child he begot or marry hee, which in his current state he cannot do. He then devises a plan for Janet/Margaret to performs several tasks that will allow him to return to the land of the mortals, angering the faery queen but assuaging her enough that she makes good on her promise and reluctantly frees Tam Lin to marry his now beloved Janet and legitimize their child. Perhaps not the most traditional version, the one by Anaïs Mitchell and Jefferson Hamer makes me think yes, I can see Tam Amber’s parents falling in love to this song, singing it to him and the other covey children to put them to sleep.

Clerk Carmine Clade

From the ballad Clerk Colven [Child Ballad #42] about a real piece of work who tries to run off on his wife and sleep with a mermaid. The mermaid knows this though, and curses him to suffer a horrific headache until I think his head actually explodes. I don’t think it necessarily has any bearing on Clerk Carmine’s actual personality, but the combination of this song with the color carmine (a brilliant red extracted from the cochinil bug) leads me to believe he was either conceived, born, or his parents married while traveling in district 5. I can see this one being a favorite in district, where they know the danger of baiting the sea and possibly the danger of being a jackass to your wife as well. The location of D5 down in the southwest also leads me to believe it was one of the few places the Covey could have encountered the color as well, as often red 40 or other synthetics are used in mass production of vibrant reds and the use of cochinil based carmine would likely be a very “district” thing, used by native residents for painting or decoration of small items. It’s a strong name, and dangerous when it comes to taking a stand against what the capital represents. I’m surprised he was able to keep it. I reccomend this cover, dunno the singer really but the accent is heavy and his voice is true. I would listen with lyrics alongside though.

Maude Ivory Baird

The book tells us that Maude comes from the poem “Maude Clare” by Christina Rosetti, and Ivory from piano keys. I also like to think that she was partially named after Maud Karpeles, a British folk song collector who helped write down a lot of folk music.

Billy Taupe Clade

Likely from Billy Boy, ironic and fitting for its being about a man after a wife who can feed and care for him despite her being “too young to leave her mother” something Lucy Gray says about him wanting in the books (and seemingly not wanting much more). I don’t care much for this song (sorry), but this is an alright cover.

[strwbywrites]

little moments (steve harrington)

hiii :3, im getting back into the passion of writing. and honestly posting to a little moth in the corner of the internet is worth it if i can reignite a passion. here is a little piece i cooked up

summary: a collection of moments throughout the day that make steve appreciate the little moments, (doesn't really follow any form of timeline, it's just assumed that the upside down probably happened, s2-s3 era steve) (fem reader)

wc: 1,150

The sheer curtain couldn’t completely hide the light from the sun shining into the room. Two bodies stir under the soft duvet of a queen-sized bed. Steve is the one to wake first, staring down at the head of his girlfriend. A head that’s tucked into his chest, nuzzled against his warmth. His gaze was full of nothing but love and admiration. Steve placed a soft kiss on her head, his hand playing with hers that was left resting on his chest. Steve admired times like these. Soft, quiet moments that seem small in meaning but are incredibly valued. Within a short span of a few minutes, his lover awoke. Looking up at the brown-haired boy and chuckling softly. Whispering a soft “good morning lovely”.

“Mornin’ sweetness.” He whispered in return. “Sleep well?” Steve asked her, brushing a stray strand of hair out of her face.

“Always the best with you,” (Y/n) smiled, sitting up to give a peck to the corner of his mouth. “Lazy day today?”

“What day is it?” He countered, just to make sure.

“Uhm, Saturday.” She squinted at the small calendar across his room. “No work, unknown status on the goobers though.” She joked.

“Indeed. Well let’s just enjoy at least our morning together.” He smiled at her, returning the previous peck to her nose.

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

The couple were still in their pajamas as they traversed the kitchen. Picking up leftovers from breakfast and placing dishes in the sink to be washed. As Steve placed the leftovers in the fridge, (y/n) started the task of wiping down the countertops and the table where they ate. “You always make the best pancakes ever baby.” Steve called out to her.

“It’s just a little extra cinnamon and vanilla extract. I keep telling you, yet you insist on me making them.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes and went to the kitchen sink to ring out the old rag she used. Then starting the chore of washing the dishes.

“But they aren’t the same.” He sighed, going up behind her to wrap his arms around her waist. “Yours are always special when you make them.” Steve placed a kiss on her cheek, staying in his position of being wrapped around his girlfriend.

“If you say so Stevie.” She giggled, finishing up the last dish of the minor mess they made. The other cleaned dishes on a drying rack next to the sink.

There usually weren’t many dishes to be done throughout the day. Considering Steve’s parents were typically away on some business venture, Steve has been the only one around. Keeping (Y/n) and the kids around for company. But with them, it usually wasn’t so bad.

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

“Boo, it’s raining.” (Y/n)’s voice reverberated throughout the living room. Her eyes were glued to the window that faced the street; curtains drawn to bring in whatever natural light it could. “I wanted to have a picnic.”

“We could still have a picnic, just indoors.” Steve suggested, standing next to her, looking at the downpour.

“It’s more fun when it’s outside.” She raised her brows towards her lover.

“Baby we can’t go outside, you’ll get sick.” He gave her a stern ‘are you serious?’ look.

“That’s such a myth. I go outside in the rain all the time and I’ve ended up perfectly fine.” She turned to face him. “Especially after I take a nice warm bath, it basically reverses the cold.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” He rolled his eyes. Glancing between the girl and the torrential downpour outside.

“That is so how it works.” (Y/n) giggled at him as she toyed with the sleeves of the sweater she was wearing. It was his very own bright yellow sweater. Steve always thought the sweater looked better on her. But every time he voiced his opinion, (Y/n) fired back that yellow was definitely not her color. Regardless of how often she stole the sweater to sleep or just hang out in.

Steve knew she would get her way. They would end up going outside without the appropriate clothes for the September rain. The yellow sweater was discarded on a recliner in the living room as (Y/n) ran to the French doors leading out to the backyard in her tank and jeans. She looked Steve dead in the eye as she took a step out of the doors and onto the patio. Immediately getting drenched with the rain. Steve saw her bright smile as she spun underneath the dark sky. He decided he had no choice but to join her, stepping outside with his blue T-shirt and denim.

“You know I love you right?” He says to her over the sound of rain echoing around them.

“I am forever grateful that you do. And I love you too.” (Y/n) pulled him close, standing on her tip toes and giving him a kiss on the nose.

Steve started to sway to an imaginary song, bringing (Y/n) in to dance with him. Enjoying the feel of the rain as they danced. A sway, a spin, a lean, and finally he pulled her in closer, finally landing a normal kiss on her lips. His hands moved to her cheeks as her arms went around his neck. The rain continued around them, but it felt as if they froze in time. Out of breath, foreheads touching as they took in the moment. It was peaceful, serene, but also cold and wet.

“We should probably go inside.” She suggested, feeling a chill go down her spine.

“I told you so.” He captured her lips in a quick kiss once more. “I’ll go run us a bath. Bubbles included.”

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

After the bath and a new set of clean clothes, the two returned to the living room once again. The rain continued outside while they just laid on the couch, enjoying each other’s company and touch. It was moments like this that were truly cherished. No need for elaborate dates or crazy activities when all they needed was each other.

“I think I could stay like this forever Stevie.” (Y/n) sighed happily, nuzzling into his chest.

“Me too, sweetness.” Steve returned the sentiment. Playing with her hair as she laid her head on him. “I love you. So much more than you can imagine.” He said softly.

“I love you even more.” She smiled, gently closing her eyes to let sleep take over her for an afternoon nap.

He watched her lull to sleep, still holding onto her. Steve never felt stability like he did before (Y/n). It was a welcome feeling. One he would hold onto forever. It truly was moments like these where he was able to sit back and appreciate the cards that life dealt him. His thoughts slowly calmed down, finally succumbing to the same fate and falling asleep on the couch in the living room. Nothing to disturb the peace of the couple.

[ziggysgender]

Me searching sam beckett autism in AO3 and Tumblr pulls a frightening zero amount of content talk to me here

its genuinely upsetting Yes............. ik one of my mutuals is working on a sam autism fic im not too sure when thats dropping. BUT. in the meantime,, lets discuss

long post beware 👇👇👇

extracted from the DSM-5 autistic criteria.

> Persistent deficits in social communication and social interaction across multiple contexts, as manifested by the following, currently or by history

1. Deficits in social-emotional reciprocity, ranging, for example, from abnormal social approach and failure of normal back-and-forth conversation; to reduced sharing of interests, emotions, or affect; to failure to initiate or respond to social interactions. 

2. Deficits in nonverbal communicative behaviors used for social interaction, ranging, for example, from poorly integrated verbal and nonverbal communication; to abnormalities in eye contact and body language or deficits in understanding and use of gestures; to a total lack of facial expressions and nonverbal communication.

3. Deficits in developing, maintaining, and understand relationships, ranging, for example, from difficulties adjusting behavior to suit various social contexts; to difficulties in sharing imaginative play or in making friends; to absence of interest in peers.

sam does indeed struggle with social cues and communication. he does blend in, but not entirely well. his constant attempting to adapt to different people and personalities, both in his leaping, and also in his canon backstory, is noticeably lacking. that being said, he is VERY empathetic. people are very drawn to him. more often than not either in a "what the fuck is wrong with you" way. or a "hey lets have sex" (he does not want to have sex) way. he is also frequently fixated on learning languages outside of english. not that he plans to communicate in these languages, he simply wants a base connection to other people and this is how he does it. learning is his love language.

> Restricted, repetitive patterns of behavior, interests, or activities, as manifested by at least two of the following, currently or by history.

1. Stereotyped or repetitive motor movements, use of objects, or speech (e.g., simple motor stereotypes, lining up toys or flipping objects, echolalia, idiosyncratic phrases).

2. Insistence on sameness, inflexible adherence to routines, or ritualized patterns of verbal or nonverbal behavior (e.g., extreme distress at small changes, difficulties with transitions, rigid thinking patterns, greeting rituals, need to take same route or eat same food every day).

3. Highly restricted, fixated interests that are abnormal in intensity or focus (e.g., strong attachment to or preoccupation with unusual objects, excessively circumscribed or perseverative interests).

4. Hyper- or hyporeactivity to sensory input or unusual interest in sensory aspects of the environment (e.g. apparent indifference to pain/temperature, adverse response to specific sounds or textures, excessive smelling or touching of objects, visual fascination with lights or movement).

i mean. any episode can show you easily sam stims OFTEN. usually due to negative input, he will make certain gestures with his hands or entire body. you've got al frequently reminding sam to calm down. sam's reaction to being overwhelmed is usually either to become angry and lash out (emotionally or physically) or to shut down completely. he has had entire meltdowns such as going quiet and running away to cry. this didnt make al bat an eye, then knew exactly how to correct it. if you wanna talk about fixated interests, man has 7phd's...

ALSO. JIMMY.

jimmy is the one leapee sam has encountered the MOST. he leaped into him twice (not encludinb shock theater), met his older brother three times. he connected the MOST deeply to him. he even made an appearance in the last episode. and every time he has encountered jimmy, he instantly became ecstatic; running to wordlessly hug anyone he knew he could trust with his disabilities.

in the actual episode "jimmy" sam has a meltdown over how he is treated. he cries to al about how different he's acting in this body. to which al responds he is actually acting exactly the same as normal. sam doesnt understand completely, but the conversation progresses to al's sister.

sam is also embodying jimmy in "shock theater", yknow, when his mind is slipping away and his most important past leaps take over. yeah that one.

jump to "runaway". sam has a longwinded conversation with his leap's mother about how he feels like a "non-person". how he doesnt feel real or connected to anyone.

now jumping to the NOVELS. theres several examples here but specifically Prelude. where we get this insane page of text:

um. anyways. sam beckett is autistic ;P

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 3/21/2023

i didn't want to sit down and write this bc i was having too much fun playing viddy gaem

listening

IT'S QUICKER AND EASIER TO EAT YOUR YOUNG!!!

"i'm starving...darling,,," is very sexy but the way the lyrics slowly slide into something more and more horrifying until the chorus hits??? mwah. lovely.

my one critique is that this song is...breathy, for lack of a better word? does not showcase the man's magnificent pipes. oh well! there are other songs.

how'd i find this: im gay, also he is one of the most popular indie artists in the World. his first album went platinum six fucking times.

-

reading

i read all of frank miller's sin city bc im on a noir kick and i didn't have a good time. the closest i got to fun was (deadly little, always described as "deadly little") Miho, a mute japanese??? generic asian??? assassin who is tits out not in these panels but in almost all others, rollerblading around mowing down guys with her katana. that was a painful sentence to write.

i read a lot of genre fiction. i read a lot of older genre fiction. they are not written with me, a bisexual "woman", in mind. and that’s ok bc not everything has to be written with me in mind. rarely have i read something that is more For The Boys Only!!! than frank miller’s sin city. felt kind of gross and a little put off the whole time i read these and they made me a little bit upset and afraid of men in a way i have not felt since high school. now it does feel odd to go “i didn’t think this noir was very pleasant >:(“ but miller’s work feels unpleasant and distinct from, say, chandler or hammett in a way i am still having trouble articulating. it is possible that the misogyny in chandler is a flavor i already know and barely register the taste of anymore. it may be that i got tired of looking at miller's women with twelve-inch waists and nipples as full and perky as their mouths.

mostly i think the labor market in sin city is super fucked up. women in sin city exist to have their value extracted from them in a way that is different and worse than normal capitalism. like, i can see how someone would read these comics and go full SWERF. women are literal trophies, both arm candy and in a very upsetting trophy hunting way. especially in the final volume, women are machines of potential profit. aside from one landlady and one cop and one child who grows up to be a prostitute, all the women in this whole city seem to be prostitutes or prostitutes who have married up and out. like there aren’t really even any women on the street just walking or in diners. it’s all dudes.

this is probably a comics vs novels thing, but miller is often sadistic in a way that chandler is not. a guy dies on a page to make cool art. they fuckin mow through dozens of goons a volume. if a guy dies in chandler it’s usually bc chandler's philip marlowe has stumbled across a dead body accident and it becomes a tremendous pain in order to tip off the cops that a body needs retrieving without getting framed for the kill. marlowe (and by extension chandler) is a people person-- he is a detective bc he likes figuring out what makes people tick. he is alert and it's hard to get one over on him but his resting state is congenial. despite his job, he still does believe in the concept of justice.

sin city (more of a comment than a question) says "if people piss you off you should kill them." this is not to make light of the very real Situations that protagonists in sin city find themselves, but there are very few problem solving skills on display other than "apply dick" or "apply gun". VERY RARELY, "apply pussy". that last one almost never works out tho.

aside from All That, it does contain some of the best straight up art (not just comics art) ive ever seen. the command of light and shadow is incredible. the command of negative space is incredible. panels aren’t busy unless they’re showing the chaos of a scene. he doesn't draw every single brick bc that's not important to the scene. it’s really quite stunning.

also the MOVEMENT in this fringe is incredible. do u see what i mean about the nipples tho

-

watching

i gotta lotta fuckin bones to pick with the manda/lorian but they're all spoilery. this shit fucking sucks man. it's twenty fucking twenty three we have had well over a century to master storytelling through the art of the moving image.

all three eps so far have felt very weirdly edited-- like a lot of changes happened after filming and there wasn't enough time for pickups?? this is a gajillion dollar show just reshoot some shit on your little fake stage i am Begging you. at least bo-katan looked hot. god she's awful i love her

again again i say to ye, what if star wars was good? i am slightly terrified that andor may have ruined me for any s/tar wars that follows but by any metric these first three s3 mando eps are simply not good television.

-

playing

ty @pasta-pardner for gifting me Weird West some weeks ago bc it is the new thing i am obsessed with. this first trailer gives a better sense of the Vibes than the launch trailers imo

i find it is scratching a lot of the rpg itches that new vegas does: you wander around beautiful western settings running into weird shit, followed around by a hot butch you've recruited to your cause. unlike new vegas, it is a little less forgiving and you have to really scrap and loot everything that isn't nailed down.

this is a top-down action rpg with a weird little aiming system that is sort of a 3D twinstick? it takes some getting used to, and shooting is not the part of any game i am particularly good at. here's xbox wire's screenshot, which gives a good idea of how isometric it is and what enemy detection looks like. i do wish i could expand the minimap, bc some of the locations like mines or bigger towns can really sprawl.

i have one big annoyance bc it is a thing that made me take a break and sulk for a bit: as you're traveling across the map (not open world, location-based), you can run into Travel Encounters. you can decline to engage with some of them. you cannot save within or between the encounters unless you stop and make camp. if you're on a long journey to a different corner of the map, you might run into three Travel Encounters. if you die on the third, you are catapulted back to your starting point. this is tremendously annoying in the early game, so either take short trips or get good at about-facing and exiting areas quickly.

a writer i admire likes games that let him tell stories about what happened in the game to other people-- this is a game that very much facilitates that. i was ambushed during a Travel Encounter by the some outlaws, bc i accidentally let one escape while i was trying to collect a bounty on his boss, and that specific named grunt came back with a Vendetta. but! i met a dying outlaw from the band who kidnapped my character's husband in a different second encounter, swapped some bandages for a treasure map, and he is now a Friend for Life. so he showed back up to help me during that ambush AGAINST FELLOW OUTLAWS WHO SEEM TO HAVE SOME SORT OF MEMORANDUM OF UNDERSTANDING??? mWAH. DELICIOUS. LOVE SYSTEMS INTEROPERATING.

ive put like six hours into this, and it has five chapters with five different characters. i have not progressed past the first chapter bc i am having so much fun poking around. i am so so so grateful that the first character is a wife seeking revenge and not the other way around. ppl are throwing big baby tantrums in the steam forums about this but you know what? some husbands should be macguffins sometimes. widens their perspective.

i am fascinated by the drips and drabs of lore this game is feeding me. there's an order of witches with huge underground temples that (crucially!) they did not build, but have adopted for their own uses without really understanding who built them and why. i want to know so much more about their whole shit. there are werewolves but idk what their deal is bc i haven't met any yet.

i am a simple woman! i only demand perfect cowboy western-flavored rpgs and so far this is holding up. i will have more thoughts as i go along but goddamn is it fun to play. we truly do love a competent little rpg with interesting lore and good stealth mechanics that lets you loot everything in sight.

-

making

mostly fallow week, wrists hurty

made this tuna-chickpea salad for lunch. it is quite rich for a lunch. there are a lot of components that may be challenging to digest all together for a milennial with tummy troubles.

this would have definitely been improved by solid instead of cheap chunk tuna (or salmon. this would be great with canned salmon) and if i actually chopped the baby spinach instead of going "it's fine" and flinging it all in. or maybe wilting the spinach, but that's a lot of extra work and this would be a very warm, wet salad :/ the point is the chickpeas really want to sink to the bottom. i like that there is no cooking involved, only assembling, but realistically i have only half of these ingredients in my house at any given time. screengrabs from the site bc i paid a dollar but there's no reason you have to

[lo-fi-charming]

right, so. i've been having a lot of feelings about daisy lately (big surprise), but specifically, i've been thinking that it's really interesting how she interacts with jon in season 4 given... everything that's happened, and what can possibly be inferred about her character.

like, okay, im trying to break my thoughts down to be more succinct. it's my impression that daisy's biggest fear is being a helpless victim (prey), and right after that, being betrayed by someone she previously trusted (The Pack, part n parcel to being part of the hunt). there's also a theme of guilt prevalent in all this, which is important in how it influences her feelings (fear and aggression) towards jon.

daisy's response to feeling cornered/unsafe/victimized - before the buried - is to fight. she evolves into a hunter to take out perceived threats. and she takes to it, she's good at it, she likes doing it. but as she tells jon in the buried, isolated from the influence of the hunt, it's then and there that she feels the most like herself in years. and so what might that imply about daisy's character? who is daisy when she feels like 'herself'?

imo, it means that daisy is someone who feels stuck: crushed by fear and guilt, and afraid of herself - of what she's capable of doing, but also, what might happen to her if she doesn't fight back

all of this to say, i think the fact that jon is the one who she develops a bond with in season 4 is especially interesting considering their history. and usually this is from the angle of daisy's treatment of jon - intimidating him, physically harming him, kidnapping/threatening to kill him. but lately ive been thinking about what it must have been like for her, too, because you really wouldn't think daisy would feel comfortable being around jon even after he saves her from the buried.

because jon sort of represents... a lot of what she fears! the entire reason daisy becomes so fixated on jon in season 3 is because she sees him as a monster, something that needs to be taken care of. he compelled her (on accident) the first time they met, pulling out a statement of a moment that truly frightened her. he extracted a memory that made daisy feel scared and helpless. and then jon saves daisy, yes, but this also him seeing her at her most scared and most vulnerable - so helpless she literally begs him to save her if he can.

not only that, but daisy feels guilt for what she's done to jon, too - and not just him, but many of the people she's hurt. she repeatedly emphasizes the fact that she has done harm and took advantage of her position specifically to cause harm and get away with it. she even admits to jon in the buried that she planned on killing him after the unknowing.

so like... here is jon. someone who knows daisy, which is scary to her. because to know daisy is to know the things she's done, the bad, horrible things - but also to know that she is scared, and to see her vulnerability. this is daisy's greatest fear: to be vulnerable and helpless, to be at the mercy of a monster. you'd think jon would be the last person she'd want to be around. that she'd be afraid of him, or embarrassed, or simply too guilty.

but s4 is about daisy choosing to be vulnerable and helpless if the alternative is falling back into old, bad habits. so i guess it just, like... reflects that, maybe.. how she confronts the reality of her situation through interacting with jon? even if it's not initially her idea (more necessity, since she can't handle being alone and basira/melanie can't always be around to keep an eye on her)

it's sort of like a reflection of jon, and what daisy does for him in s4, standing as a warning of what jon could become if he embraces his powers. and then both of them commiserating about what happens when you actively choose not to feed the powers keeping you alive...

[ecoamerica]

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

The American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 broadcast recording is now available on ecoAmerica's YouTube channel for viewers to be inspired by active climate leaders. Watch to find out which finalist received the $50,000 grand prize! Hosted by Vanessa Hauc and featuring Bill McKibben and Katharine Hayhoe!

[azumasoroshi]

part 1 and part 2 (this is part 3 bc i have no self restraint)

ok so after the celty talk earthworm starts talking about how izaya's been having celty talk to both heaven's slave and gather information on amphisbaena lately

and by the time we see him he's actually stopped responding to everything - earthworm even says "looks like your kid sisters are here" izaya doesnt move, nor does he react when she threatens to set him on fire, or even when heaven's slave storms the building

it's just interesting idk. maybe it's showing how things are starting to go how he's predicted, maybe he's just tired of the whole nervous act, maybe he got bored of all the water getting poured on him and fell asleep lmfaoskghkfd

and then we get THIS guy coming in a voice filter and automatically you're like wait maybe THAT's izaya?? it must be izaya right??

and the voice starts talking like hey. what do the leaders of heaven's slave (mr. kumoi) and amphisbaena (lizard) have in common. they both have moles under their eyes teehee! and now for the man under the bag -

AND THIS IS SUCH A GOOD PSYCHE OUT CUZ IT'S LIKE BROOOOOO IF YOU JUST TIED UP YOUR LEADER YOU'RE FUCKED SIX WAYS FROM SUNDAY

earthworm seems to think so too

and so does this guy (i have no clue what his name is sorry)

and finally when the HS guy says "i'm gonna cut the knot" does izaya react (there can't be a switchblade scene without izaya in it. he needs to have the spotlight)

and we hear his voice finally!! and it IS izaya (hiroshi kamiya i could sense you from a mile away)

and yeah what WERE you about to do man?? that was NOT the rope you were aiming for

and the tension here is inSANE like this is so theatrical and dramatic that im convinced izaya was kicking his legs in his bed like a schoolgirl thinking about how funny it was going to be

god he's so hot i mean what no

he rehearsed this in the bathroom mirror for sure he's such a fucking loser

and he's so casual about it too while the other two were having a breakdown :sob: he KNOWS what he was doing

he has no right to look so cute in this shot

and the voice filtered phone guy was this dude?? it's like aoba's older brother izumii right or something i dont remember lmAO

and after effectively scaring the ever-loving shit out of them he's like. didnt i do it for u :3

god he's hilarious i legitimately might watch through all of durarara again just to watch him fuck around and everyone else find out

oh here he fucking goes again he's so cringe

look at his fucking face. he's enjoying himself so much right now this is literally his playground

oh no way he got saika in on this what the hell

izaya: i'm not your enemy!! i'm just here to observe!!

also izaya: it's hammer time izumii

asking a literal love parasite to interrogate someone for you is like the most "do you have any sense of self preservation" thing ever except izaya actually has such a strong sense of self preservation that he's practically untouchable

case in point:

now see he wasn't surprised by this one at all even though he was still in the middle of talking lmfao

i mean haruna is just naturally offputting so i think anyone would always need to have their guard up around her

the clang of the knives is always so satisfying ugh ive watched this like five times

smug ass

tfw a crazy girl just tries to stab you in the eye and this is your response

and we're back with shiki at last!! im sure the information extracted from earthworm was really important or the amphisbaena-heaven's slave connection will be important in future episodes but like

this episode felt like a really self-contained "day in the life of orihara izaya" and i love it actually

izaya, saying this, having just manipulated like three different gangs into doing his bidding:

motherfucker stop being so attractive

i hate his cat smile bro

is this what shizuo feels like

bottom behavior /j

shiki looking at him like. um. what. okay??

his expressions here feel a lot more subdued and less smirky than usual though which would seem to indicate a bit of truth to that?? which is strange but i guess he likes being in cahoots with the mafia because it gives him constant contact with the darkest sides of humanity

this was a very izaya-centric episode i dont know if there's any more like this but i will absolutely watch the shit out of them if there are so please tell me of them

and of course we have to end off with shizaya because yes

holy shit look at the length of izaya's leg though what the hell thats some code geass ass legs

is there any ending where shizuo and izaya arent fighting actually?? i feel like there is but i desperately want there not to be lmfaosdgjsjghsdk

ty for reading my live react to durarara x2 ten episode 8 i guess??? i wasnt planning on doing this but izaya gave me no choice in the matter

[masshiromarshmallow]

should probably make a post actually showing that i write instead of just dropping a fic out of nowhere huh

hi im masshi. im a girl and like writing about girls kissing.

some fics ive written about that that im proud of are:

Three's a Crowd (hsr, starch): in which dan heng catches stelle and march in the middle of being affectionate

Cat Cafe LycoReco (lycoreco, chisataki): in which takina takes in a stray cat and it follows her to work without her realizing

Metronome (lycoreco, chisataki): in which chisato and takina shoot the breeze while waiting for extraction from a mission nearly gone wrong

Unlawfully Wedded Wives (lycoreco, chisataki): in which an older chisato and takina live together, and takina finds a mysterious box while sorting through chisato's mess

Sick Day (lycoreco, chisataki): in which chisato does a very bad job nursing a sick takina to health

A Hug (lycoreco, chisataki, this is the last lycoreco I promise): it is what it says

The Two Girlfriends Who Really Really Really Really Really Love Each Other (100gf, hakakara): in which one of hakari and karane's usual bickering sessions becomes sexually charged out of nowhere

Shouldering the Responsibility (llss, chikadia): in which chika offers to give a massage to a very stressed dia

Kasukasu Kissu (nijigaku, kasuyu): in which kasumi does everything in her power to annoy her busy songwriter/senpai/girlfriend

[kachikirby]

Im here with an "all about Fetty" ask!

For the roleplay interview! -> 8, 3, and 5 for Fettuccine!

For ready set novel! -> 6, 9, 20 and 21 for Mirror Fetty!

Thanks for the ask! this will probably be a bit long so I'm putting it under a cut!

Roleplay Interview

3. Umm... I would say my childhood is mostly uneventful or not that interesting. I was just a normal Limet girl with Limet parents who loved me a lot. Thankfully, I was raised in a place that wasn't Anti-Limet or at least barely had anyone who was, so I didn't have to deal with a lot of the hate my species gets. Oh, but there was one thing that made me different. I was a child genius, so I was able to skip maybeeee... two grades and graduate early? Probably helped that the Organization seeked me out, so I had a job when I was out of high school.

5. I think my biggest role model would be my big bro, Risotto. You think it's because he's big and strong... well, he is, but I admire him because he's also nice and gentle. I'd also have to say my big sis Pandoro is also an inspiration as well because she's really nice despite having a tough life. Oh, maybe Kurabe is one for me as well. She's really cool and elegant, at least on the surface if you know what I mean. Not that she's hiding anything bad, of course. She's good at getting people to slip up and give information, which is like... super inspirational for an interrogator like me. It makes me want to improve myself to be able to extract information from her some day myself!

8. Oh, I have a few things I like to do for fun. I love to sew plushies, do a bit of shopping in my free time, and sometimes I like dressing up. Oh, and I do love teasing Meta of course! He's really cute when he's embarrassed!

Ready Set Novel

Uhhh gonna drop a warning here for implied or mentioned torture, not gonna go into detail with it tho.

6. "My first kiss is not much, actually. It was actually shortly after I appeared in the Mirror World and was able to find Dark. I just walked up to him, picked him up, and kissed him. He was squirming and hitting me while shouting to let go, but honestly, that just turned me on more~"

9. Shadow Kirby didn't know what he was expecting to see when he finally managed to fix the elevator, but he was simotaniously both suprised and not when he did see what was inside. Standing there was Dark Fettuccine, looking as if nothing happened, while on the floor, seemingly crushed up into a sports ball was Shadow Dedede.

"Oh, it's about time! I was getting tired of playing with this guy after he pissed me off! Thank you, Shaddy!" She giggled as she skipped off, likely to go see her boyfriend as usual.

The puff gave a sigh as he began to drag the darkened penguin out so he can return to his normal form.

"You really need to stop saying things to make her mad."

"Shut up."

20. [These song lyrics have been deleted due to content not safe for tumblr]

21. The unique thing about Mirror Fettuccine is that she doesn't really do anything too bad because she's mostly the same as her counterpart with some exceptions (i.e. being a sadomasochist and slightly taking on one of the other infamous traits about rabbits). But her worse thing would probably just be simply torturing Shadow Dedede until he shattered into glass and then keeping the last fragment of his glass needed to reconstruct him hidden in her hair until Shadow Kirby literally had to beg her to give it back, and even then, she broke it in half again and threw it out the window, making him spend several weeks looking for it.

She really does not like Shadow Dedede.

[transarsonist]

The Wishglass this species lives in the photosphere feeding off the waste gasses of its host sun, usually needs a relatively low pressure and Unbeleivably hot environment to survive but, if transported from space to a planetary surface with sufficient speed they can, occasionally, survive the process. in their native environment they are roughly the size of a blue whale and consist of a mass of entangled plasma and come in a variety of colors, but usually appear identical to the sunspots of their host stars as a form of natural camoflouge against their natural predators: wishmakers see when you take one out of its native environment you must put it in a vessel and condense and cool it carefully so that all of the particles remain entangled until they can crystalize into a small glass figurine once they have solidified they become stable and capable of movement, however because they feed on starstuff they are full of wishes, and many sentient creatures hunt, trap, and enslave them for the purpose of extracting every wish until dead. this is seen by more ethical species as Especially cruel even considering the inherent risk in removing them from the star because its not nessissary, when a wishglass is on its last wish, and it will know when it is, it can be safely tossed into the nearest sun with a 100% survival rate, wishglasses that have been tossed this way have been quoted as saying "it was like getting in the hot tub after a long year" and "healing from that whole ordeal made me stronger but im never letting that happen again, if anyone catches me im just exploding"

there has been in the past some records indicating that its possible for a wishglass to voluntarily leave their host star, and that the more wishes they have accumulated the greater their chance of surviving the lost heat energy, and wishglasses have communicated that "yes we can do that but we're not telling anyone how its done, thats how we spread from one star to the other, if you cold freaks found out youd probably find a way to use it to enslave the rest of us" there is only one known record of a wishglass voluntarily leaving their star to become a vessel for wishes, the planet this creature went to reveres them as a sort of god, and allows and aids them in returning to the photosphere when low on wishes, but it is thought that this kind of symbiotic relationship was more common before the invention of star travel and faster than light engines. records on this planet indicate this specific wishglass has survived for hundreds of thousands of years, and upon each return is capable of holding more wishes than before. the average captured wishglass holds a mere 3 wishes. the Terran wishglass was, at last landfall, claimed to hold enough for each person on the planets surface to have one wish all wishglass interviews were conducted by another gasseous space species approaching a known host star with a photophone, no wishglasses were captured or harmed for this information