#and this sketchy thing is the result

[b4nanko]

It's been a year

[cocoabubbelle-newblog]

My personal opinion

Spoilers

Marvel Writers: Hank McCoy/Beast is irredeemable. He is a despicable villain. The version you will see in the upcoming comics is a clone of himself with only up to his mid-1980s memories/portrayal. If original Beast does come back, it will still be as a villain and he can never come back to the original team as a hero. He has no one to blame but himself.

[thelibrarian1895]

What to do when you leave the League of Assassins?

You go to Red Robin.

So let's say that Ra's lost a significant portion of his organization not just because Tim blew up his bases, but also because quite a few of those survivors decided to defect and follow Tim instead.

Tim is initially unsure about what to do with several hundred escapees from a cult but eventually figures things out.

His first step? He sends his ninja to be recruited by Jason.

Does Jason know that a significant portion of his goons are defects from the LOA? No, not for sure. He's absolutely suspicious but he cannot confirm.

Does Jason know that Tim sent the ninja? Not at all. He suspects they're from Talia and the ninja do nothing to disabuse him of that belief. Their loyalty is towards Tim after all.

Does Jason send them away? No, he's not about to let a bunch of sketchy ninja run loose in Gotham. Plus, the more skilled help he has, the more of a pain in the side he can be towards the Black Mask and the more territory he can hold.

Is Tim going to tell Jason? No, no he is not.

Tim, in the meantime, is busy making them new IDs since all of them are undocumented, ensuring they have regular paychecks on top of what Jason pays them, PTO, and health insurance. The PTO earns Tim their undying loyalty. He also recommends that they look into more sedate hobbies when they have the time and continue or begin their schooling. A significant number of them take up knitting and crocheting.

As a result, Tim knows what's going on in Jason's organization at any given time. The ninja are getting appropriate exercise and being acclimated to a relatively normal life. And when they're ready for something slower than Jason's reinvention of the mafia/mob, Tim is ready to help them on their next stage in reclaiming their life.

[underwhelmingalchemist]

So apparently the version of the "Isn't It Bromantic" interview that gets passed around isn't the full thing

So after seeing a tumblr post I can't find, about two and half hours of intensive internet digging, and one purchase from a sketchy second-hand site later (full story under the cut, I promise it's interesting, but also long), I got the physical magazine and scanned it

So here you go: the full "Isn't It Bromantic?" TV guide interview with Robert Sean Leonard and Hugh Laurie

Feel free to repost wherever you want- I want people to be able to find the full thing

SO, as for how I found it:

I saw this tumblr post forever ago that I can't find anymore because tumblr is just Like That with a cropped screenshot of an interview with Hugh Laurie and Robert Sean Leonard. In the interview, they're asked about the "bromance" between their two characters. Leonard makes an annoyed comment about how "everyone [is] obsessed with homosexuality", followed by the interview apologizing and Laurie immediately jumping in with, "No, no, let's talk about it. Wilson and House have an unusual relationship so you have to explore…" and the screenshot cuts off there. Cue funny comment from the OP about the interaction, roll credits.

Except, as these things tend to do, it ended up becoming a bit of a brain worm, and I wanted to find it again. But I couldn't find the tumblr post. I looked absolutely everywhere, and in the process of looking everywhere, I found what I thought was the original interview- a blog post with the full quote from the actor. I didn't think too much about it, I figured it was just a short quote given to a popular blog in 2008. There's a magazine cover above it, but I don't think too much about it, because I'm focusing on the quotes in the article instead of the rest of it.

So I send screenshots to a couple friends to make jokes, and it probably should have died there.

However, late at night I end up thinking about that interview again, because of course I did. I start to think about how it's weirdly formatted for, what I assumed at first reading, was just an entertainment news blog reaching out for comment and getting a response. So I pull up the screenshots of the article (because weirdly enough, the old-ass blog only loads on mobile) and look at it again.

This is when I realize that this isn't an original piece from a blog interviewing these two after reaching out for comment. This is a blog post quoting and commenting on a full interview from a magazine, which I had originally thought had just been the inspiration for the piece.

So naturally, I go looking for the magazine.

Luckily, the name of the magazine is displayed on the cover, and so is the title of its main piece. This should be easy to find, right?

Wrong.

This is an interview in a physical magazine. From 2008. October 13th, 2008, to be exact.

I know this exact date because searching the article title and magazine name leads me to an archive on the TV Guide website.

Of covers.

And nothing but covers.

I spend like forty-five minutes searching everywhere I can think of on the web. Internet Archive, the TV Guide website, any search result that comes up when I search any combination of the words "House" "Interview" "Bromantic" "Bromance" "TV Guide" "Archive" etc. Over and over, all that's coming up are that original blog post and the cover from the official gallery.

The only things I could find online were:

The cover and date of the issue on the TV Guide website

The original blog post that was screenshotted in the original tumblr post

Another blog post that had a much shorter version of the quote, references something Leonard says from later in the article, and makes a comment on the nature of his reaction to the term "bromance"

An entry on Leonard's IMDB page's "interview" list mentioning it in title only

And:

5. A single listing for the issue on what seemed to be a second-hand site that looked like it hadn't had its UI updated since the mid 2000's, with a listing with no date or additional information besides what issue it is.

This is the only listing anywhere. I checked every other second-hand site I could think of, and then some that only came up through google searches. There's not a single listing for that issue on any of them. There were plenty of listings of TV guide magazines, including one that seemed promising because it included issues from that year, but it was missing all of October.

It seemed like the only listing for this issue on the entire internet was this one copy on this one obscure website. For all I know, this was listed in 2008 and abandoned, and just never got marked inactive. It could also be a complete scam.

A few quick google searches show that that website seemed to be legit, albeit a bit loose on quality control (which makes sense, this website seemed like the kind of thing you'd have to use the Way Back Machine to access). It also had an option to pay via PayPal, which meant I could file a chargeback if need be.

It was $11.50 when you include shipping.

So at about half past midnight, I bought the listing.

Naturally, about an hour later, I manage to actually find a scan of the interview. I had to follow a link in the comments of a post on FanPop, taking me to an old wordpress blog, and I'm sitting in front of the damn interview at last.

But something doesn't make sense. Why would their cover story only be two pages of text that aren't even full pages, and why would it cut off so strangely? There was no concluding sentence or paragraph, even though it started with a fairly long lead-in. It also led right up to the edge of the page, which felt like there should be more to it. There were more images in the interview than text, and the fact that there are so many of them and they clearly did a whole photoshoot indicated that they had them on hand for a while. The silly string one, for instance, I imagine probably had to require a couple takes, which means cleaning off Wilson's hair and face, adjusting makeup, etc. for it. Meanwhile, the conversation itself seems like it could have taken ten minutes total. I could have been totally wrong and that was where the article ended, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there might be more.

So I hold tight. A couple days pass with no update, and then the PayPal purchase gets updated with a tracking number. Promising, but it could still be a scam. Whether or not I get the actual magazine becomes a source of anxiety for the next week.

Until today, when I get told it was delivered. And when I opened the envelope it was sent in: there it was.

When I tell you I was happy stimming in my bedroom just holding the damn issue in my own hands... And then opening it and finding out that I was right, there was a missing page... I was elated. I still am, just typing this.

So I spent half an hour getting my scanner to work, and I give you the above issues.

Like I said above, feel free to repost however and wherever you want. I want all this to mean something.

In the meantime, I have two more House-themed TV Guide magazines coming to try and get articles from.

[potofsoup]

i love your fourth of july comics every year but this years feels extremely optimistic about biden’s abilities in the face of him letting roe get overturned and funding a gen*cide at worst or letting it happen at best by taking the bare minimum of regulatory action… i mean can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands? and how do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?

Hihi! Thank you for reading and enjoying my July 4th comics every year! I am in a non-US airport en route to a month-long trip in a place with sketchy internet, so sorry in advance for sloppiness in my response (and potentially going radio silent).

But:

I don't think he "let" Roe get overturned, since that was the Supreme Court's overwhelming conservative majority, which really started with Mitch McConnell refusing to approve Obama's appointee and forcing it into a 2016 election issue. The fact that Trump got to appoint 3 Supreme Court Justices is what got us here.

Re: Biden and the Israel/Hamas war ... on the one hand, there's definitely more that he could have done, but on the other hand, they are a whole other country over there. It's Hamas that initiated the Oct 7 attacks and took the hostages. It's Netanyahu and his right-wing government who decided to retaliate to such extreme extent. Biden can talk about how he would really like Netanyahu to stop fighting and step down, but at the end of the day that's not his call, any more than he can stop the Sudan fighting that is near-genocidal either.

So, to come to your question #1: "Can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands"?

For me, it's a resounding YES. Guyz, he has passed so much good domestic policies. My spouse works in green energy and the passing of the Inflation Reduction Act halved his anxiety and gave him legitimate hope. The tumblr post I linked to in my comic has links to many of the other great things that Biden has done. Tbh I voted for him in 2020 because "a moldy onion is still better than Trump", and I've been pleasantly surprised. Like how he tried to cancel student loans, the Supreme Court overturned it, and then he came back 6 months later with a different way to do it that didn't lead to a court challenge.

Is he perfect? Hell no. There's tons of stuff that I wish he did more about, or he went further on, but also he's just one guy heading one branch of government who is heading into an election year. (Just like FDR promising not joining WWII, while behind the scenes doing all the Lend-Lease Act stuff). And "the people" have lots of demands, many of them conflicting.

I'd also like to push at the unspoken part of your question... "Can he really be trusted to do the right thing..." compared to whom? Because right now the answer is "compared to Trump." And compared to Trump... I don't even trust Trump to respect the results of a legitimate election. Heck, he might just take his favorite state secrets, sell them to the highest bidder (or just show them off to someone for funzies), and then claim Presidential immunity. A decent Democrat who got stuff done vs someone who probably wants to pardon himself and all his friends and do Project 2025 stuff is not even on the same level. (Do I wish that there was a viable Democratic alternative to Biden? Sure! But who?) Heck, at this point -- imagine if it's Kamala Harris vs. Trump. Who would you vote for?

As for your question #2: "How do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?"

We don't. But also what can we do besides showing up to vote?

Actually, I need bullet points for this:

The 2022 midterm elections brought in fewer-than-expected election-deniers into crucial electoral offices at the state level, which means that hopefully most state electoral boards will continue to have integrity

Yes, voting is harder but at least we can still vote. So it's about getting out there and getting your vote counted. For some states, it involves waiting in 8 hour lines. For some states, it involves bringing 2 forms of ID. Document. Track. Make sure it's dropped off in a real ballot box and not a fake one. Don't believe messaging that the voting is happening on a different day or location, etc.

A 50.1% majority is easily challenged. A 55% majority, less so. Which means getting people out to vote.

The more people know about and think about the reality of a second Trump term (versus being disappointed by a Biden term), the more they will be motivated to vote against Trump.

Finally, let's be real here: I'm braced for a 2nd Trump term. That said:

I'm still going to go and vote for Biden, because the only way to prevent a 2nd Trump term is to vote.

A Trump term where either the House or Senate is controlled by the Democrats will be *very* different from a clean Republican sweep.

Even with a clean Republican sweep on the federal level, States have so much more power now, and voting the state level stuff will help shore up Democratic goals for the future. States get to draw voting districts however they want. States get to decide on abortion policies. If you live in a deep Red state, there still might be things to vote for that make it easier to live in now, and turn it purple a few elections down the line.

So at the end of the day, it's "Vote AND". Vote and keep living your best life. Vote and tell others about Project 2025. Vote and have hope. Even if Trump wins, at least you'll have voted against him. Vote and stay to build up a progressive wave for the next election.

[vilsoo]

𝑫𝑬𝑨𝑻𝑯𝑮𝑨𝑺𝑴.𝑪𝑶𝑴 ⌇GHOST, KÖNIG

ghost x fem!reader x könig || WC: 3,852

𖤐 SYNOPSIS. the dark web was a place every sane person stayed away from. too many horror stories and dark content that barely a few dared to venture in. but you’d rather not be anywhere else than in the hands of two masked strangers…

𖤐 WARNINGS. dubcon, kidnapping, drugging, sadism, voyeurism, bondage (blindfolding, ropes, torture), sex toys, livestream sex, manhandling, exhibitionism, forced creampie, mind break, double penetration, mask kink, impact play.

HORRORLAND/KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

[HAUNTED HOUSE ANNOUNCER] You are now entering the Deathgasm live venue. This haunted house attraction depicts scenes of violence, intense loud audio, special effects, and content warnings posted. For a fun and safe experience, please follow our code of conduct: no touching live performers and decorations, no flash photography, and no eating. Do not block passageways, or this will result in expulsion. Smoking and drinking are permitted for our haunted houses only. We hope you enjoy.

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The last time you ever saw broad daylight was ripped apart before your eyes.

It was just a relaxing morning stroll. You were always, always aware of your surroundings, especially during the night. But you shouldn’t have underestimated what happens in the day. Things became unsettling when you noticed a white van lurking in your peripheral vision, feeling your skin crawl and your body tense up with paranoia when the doors opened.

At first, you thought you were overthinking about it. Stop being so fucking paranoid, you scolded to yourself. Maybe they’re just contractors or something. Nothing sketchy at all.

You just kept walking that day continuing to embrace the warmth of the sun, sometimes looking over your shoulders just to be sure. But that unsettling, turmoil gut-feeling just couldn’t go away. As if you really were being followed. As if that van parked all the way out here for you.

“Quickly.”

It wasn’t until in just half a heartbeat, a brawny, masked man clung his arm around you, rendering you motionless as he presses a cloth over your nose and your mouth. With all your strength you tried to fight back and escape his grasp but your struggle was to no avail. Your screams were muffled and your vision grew hazy, causing your eyes to flutter as your numb body was pulled backwards, backwards, and backwards... And that was when your world was swallowed away by darkness.

“Shh, shh… We got you now. We’ll be taking care of you now...”

“…Told you she’d be easy, Ghost. We’ll have her all to ourselves…”

On that sinister day, you were the one with the shiny price tag. A beautiful woman walking all alone near a remote area, suddenly kidnapped by two masked men in a white van who had special, ominous plans for you. You could hear their conversations reverberating in your head, trying to register what the hell even happened. With your body temporarily limp and weakened, you could still feel the sensation of their caresses all over you.

Usually kidnappers would be so aggressive handling their female victims. At least, in the movies you’ve seen. The men would rush and scamper out of impatience and impulse as they tie their victims up, desperate to get down to business like it was their last meal on Earth. And even though your brain was foggy, you could register that you were being downed by a drug and abducted. Yet, it all felt… oddly tantalizing.

There was no rush. No sign of impulse nor rough treatment from these mysterious masked men. Instead of this predator-prey dynamic, instead of fear and terror seizing every fiber of your being, the men handled your motionless body like having a cupped hand of water, that not a drop would enter gravity's pull. In the back of a van, you laid on a blanket as gloved hands roamed about your skin, your waist, your face, your thighs… The men cut off your clothes with scissors, ever so gently trying not to hurt you. With your hazy eyes drifting side to side, you caught glimpse of one of them holding rope and the other holding your arms above your head.

“Look at her. So fucking cute when she’s all spaced out like that…”

“She’s so obedient for us already. You’re gonna be a perfect little pornstar for us, aren’t ya’?”

…Pornstar?

Before you knew it, your heavy eyes started to sulk. You were slowing down while the world around blurred, completely losing your coherence as the masked men moved you around like a lifeless doll. You couldn’t stop sighing, babbling nonsense, and whimpering when their large hands just couldn’t keep off of you, hanging your wrists on some metal hook attached to the van’s ceiling so they could caress your body. Your numb legs were then spread open, revealing the soaked fabric of your panties that you heard one of them coo in your ears. You whined when one of them slid their hand down to toy with your slit, aching and so swollen, out of your own fear and arousal. It was futile to even try and close your legs from this violation, yet the heat pooling in between was saying otherwise…

“Fuck, she’s already so wet just by being tied up. Makes me wanna take her here right now.”

“…We have to go now, König. Just keep playing with her clit until she falls asleep…”

The anticipation from such a forbidden desire worsened the ache in your cunt. At this fleeting moment you didn’t know what exactly you wanted anymore; how to choose what was good or what was bad for you. Your foggy brain couldn’t even articulate anything except this writhing sensation, this urge to submit yourself and melt onto the man’s chest just to let him use you. Encircling his fingers on your throbbing clit that you were bashfully moaning and whining, knowing that they were getting off to a pathetic, brainless, helpless woman who’s good for nothing but a fuck…

It was too bad that before you could even build up your orgasm, you were already passed out…

“… And we’re live. Wake her up.”

You had no idea how long you’ve been out. At least your coherence was starting to gauge, but your body was still weakened and frail from the drug. You struggled to open your debilitated eyes, vision hazy and blurry as if you hit your head. And when you tried to move, your wrists were still bound above your head.

Your breathing grew rapid, eyes darting every corner as you were scanning the new environment. Tied in a darkened room with red lighting, followed by a camera on a tripod right in front of you. Your mind immediately thought of this setup as a sex dungeon, hence the chains on the walls and a bed neatly made behind you. Recalling what had happened earlier, you tried to look for the men in masks, creating noises by dangling the metal hook above you and whimpering to let them know you’re awake. But as far as you could tell, you couldn’t make out any other presence lingering in the room…

Your heart was a pounding loud drum in your chest. Panic scorches in your brain, but your touch-starved body betrays your inhibitions… You were completely naked, exposing yourself in front of the camera. In your mouth, a red ball gag pooling with drool that dripped down to your stomach and on the floor. Your legs were free from the rope, however, you were on your tippie toes— the rope holding your wrists were too high that it was a struggle to relax them or you’d injure yourself. Dangling on rope, gagging and drooling on a ball, naked in front of a camera that you assumed to be recording already… how much more lewd could this be?

A gloved hand emerging from the shadows makes you flinch as it caresses you from behind. Your skin tingled when you felt the man’s body heat transmit onto your back, hearing him breathe deeply. You were able to study him up close— an alluring, mysterious man wearing a balaclava with a skull design, recalling him being called “Ghost.” Another pair of gloved hands greet you by massaging your breasts, your body immediately succumbing to this white-hot wave of sensation, desperate to be handled like this that more heat pooled between your legs. You turn your head and meet his gaze; piercing, forest green eyes and a draped mask, the other man with the German accent known as “König.”

“You’re not gonna struggle and try to resist us, are you?” Ghost teased, his voice so intoxicating than any alcohol you’ve ever consumed. He had this husky, sultry British accent; something you’ve never expected coming from a stranger like him. It only turned you on more.

You shake your head at him meekly, replying with a faint moan when he suddenly grips your ass. Ghost immediately catches the doe-eyes you gave him, the right kind of heat and lust pooling in your eyes. This was all so, so wrong… to be abducted and chained in the dark, to be turned on by strangers in tactical gear who drugged you and had sinister plans for you… But yet, you couldn’t fight this brain-fazing sensation from the anticipation quivering inside, wondering what was going to happen to you as you were in the hands of these men. And your aching cunt couldn’t stop furtively pounding and throbbing, having to hold back a whimper from how needy and slutty you really were...

“Good girl,” Ghost praised as he held your face with one hand. “Tonight, everything we do to you is gonna be livestreamed. You’re not here just to please us— you’ll have to please our audience, too. You like being shown off, pretty girl?”

“Mhm.” You nodded like you were already made for this, allowing what your body was secretly ravenous for. A little enthusiasm, but also bashfulness— the epitome of submission. Perhaps deep down, you adored being showed off; basking in the limelight of being a free use in front of thousands of strangers…

König’s hand slithers down your back and onto your ass, yelping when he spanked it so abruptly that it left a throbbing sting. Your back involuntarily arched and when his fingers just fit right in between your thighs, chafing your swollen, wet cunt that it was hard holding back your pathetic whines and moans.

“Getting off to this already?” he coaxed, now increasing the speed of his fingers teasing your folds that you threw your head back on his shoulder. Immediately writhing on his fingers playing with your swollen clit, unable to respond properly when Ghost wrapped his hand around your throat.

“They wanna hear you scream,” Ghost muttered into your ears, slightly smirking under his mask. “You can’t be enjoying all this without a little bit of pain.”

As much as you wanted to resist, you couldn’t. The panic and anticipation spiraled into shameless arousal. Without warning, König eased two of his fingers knuckles deep inside your wet cunt so easily, thrusting insanely fast that your eyes fell half-lidded, convulsing around his fingers hitting that spot that made you squirm. Shamelessly spreading your legs as Ghost kept playing with your tits, squeezing both of your nipples so tight that your loud squeal reverberated off the walls of the room.

That mix of pleasure and pain; you’d be lying to yourself if you truly enjoyed it… It was torturous, it was too brutal to endure, but your skin was flashing hotter than ever, your clit throbbing erratically with a heartbeat of its own. König felt his cock stirring in his suit, getting off to your helpless state that he thrusted his fingers so hard, curling them to abuse your g-spot. Denying your own orgasm was painfully inevitable. The two men could see it pooling in your eyes like it was unobtainable, watching your body constantly squirming under their touches.

“You think she deserves to come?” taunted Ghost.

“We’ll make her come as many times as she can. Even if she can’t handle it.” You could feel König’s other hand slithering down to your inner thigh as if he was about to grab it, leaning in to whisper in your ear, “And we’re not gonna fucking stop no matter how many times you beg. You’re our little fucktoy now and you’re gonna be treated just like one.”

Lust speared through you from their words. The men were unpredictable in their own sinister ways; it caught you off guard from the way König abruptly lifted your left leg and held it in the air as Ghost takes a vibrator onto your clit. Fingers still fucking into your cunt and your sensitive clit getting overstimulated had you yanking the rope, your body writhing and squirming that they tell you to “shut the fuck up and take it,” and forced you in place. Electric sensations skyrocket through you before you could even register it all, your glossy eyes welling with tears and your face all ravished and wanton beyond comprehension.

Never have you been so turned on you couldn’t see straight. It was a fleeting second after you realize your orgasm had already washed over you, your hips stuttering like a riptide from this delirious torment. Knowing that there were thousands of strangers getting off to this, getting off to a helpless slut tied up and tortured by masked men that can’t do anything except enjoy it, you basked in it. Forced multiple orgasms, stinging pain, lewd noises, and loud screams… this was all related to the dark web you’ve been hearing recently.

After collecting yourself, a wave of clarity hit you so suddenly that things were starting to make sense. There were recent kidnappings of women who were found later on a livestream website called Deathgasm.com, where numerous videos of gangbangs with these women and masked men in tactical gear are recorded live. They take place in either the back of a van or in a dark room, which viewers assume as a sex dungeon.

You couldn’t hold back anymore. As sick and twisted this was, your body couldn’t help but succumb to this indescribable feeling of pleasure and torture. There were even times out of curiosity you’d search the site and realize how attractive the men in masks and tactical gear are. Toying and playing with a tied up woman who also secretly succumb to this, their quivering fear and terror surrendering into arousal and tantalization. Having no choice but to orgasm over and over even though it’s too much, looking into the men’s faces with lingering dark anonymity and their brawny, large bodies looming over them just to fulfil their filthy, dark plans. And you would not trade this for anything in the world.

Perhaps you adored being showed off. Basking in the limelight of being used like a fucktoy and watched by strangers online that are fucked up in the head, like an exhibitionist. Or maybe you’ve been brainwashed to even think this way— maybe you just have little, fucked up fantasies of your own... It didn’t even matter anymore; your thoughts became mush when Ghost and König suspended you up in the air this time, your wrists and ankles bound behind you with your legs also tied apart. The gag was finally off but a blindfold had covered your eyes, not being able to tell who’s who and what the men plan to do to you now.

You were already a mess; strings of saliva and drool hanging off your chin that dripped onto König’s cock, slowly easing it in your widened mouth. It was Ghost’s turn to play with your pussy and ass, moaning and yelping when he spanked your cheeks so harshly. Nothing could compare to this amount of excitement pounding in your pussy, practically whining on Konig’s fat cock in your mouth as Ghost kept teasing you.

To describe the comments in the live chat as obscene is an understatement— the men were greedy, ravenous, filthy. Shamelessly admitting their own raunchy, fucked up scenarios with you tied up like that. Degrading you like a worthless whore, admiring your body and pussy that’s good for fucking, or sending money to get Ghost and König to fulfill their requests:

[ $20 ] both of you fuck her pussy and ass at the same time. stretch out that tight asshole

[ $25 ] carve the word “slut” on her thigh i want that bitch bloody and screaming in pain

[ $22 ] make her squirt i wanna see that pussy juice all over the camera lens

And though you couldn’t read the comments or see the camera, you just indulged into this and presented yourself as a horny, free-use slut that’s made for fucking. You can feel Ghost’s cockhead brushing the folds of your cunt, coating it with your juices. König thrusted his cock straight inside your throat that it was too much for you to handle, gagging and moaning pathetically as Ghost kept teasing you it felt like utter torture. But that blissful feeling blossoming in your stomach was saying otherwise…

You were so desperate for more friction; Ghost took sick pleasure in seeing you like this, writhing and bucking your hips for him to slide inside your cunt already. When he finally eased his cock so deep, you were given no warning as he pounded so hard and rough into you. The sensation of your cunt getting stretched out from his size, grabbing your hips and pulling you back and forth on his cock... You were a wrecked mess already; your face streaked with tears, your chin dripping with drool, and your skin all slick and sweaty. The thought of being reduced to a free use fuck-slut that thrives off from only cock and orgasms as you were suspended mid-air… you could no longer think for yourself anymore.

“Look at you. Getting all dumb and brainless over our cocks,” Ghost cooed, harshly spanking your ass. “You like being our little pornstar? Knowing that a bunch of strangers online jerk off to you being used like this?”

Your eyes roll into the back of your skull as the men kept pounding and thrusting, hearing König pant heavily and Ghost grunt when you kept squeezing ever so tightly around him. In just a minute, another orgasm. But that didn’t stop Ghost mercilessly pounding into you like an animal gone wild and König fucking your throat so relentlessly. Your screams and moans form into gags urging out, drips of precum and drool seeping on your chin that König smeared all over your glossy face. The more they sensed that you were taking pleasure from all this, the more brutal they were with you.

It felt like you were in the air for hours as the men switched around and took turns. Your cunt was becoming overly slick with the copious amounts of cum that was being pumped into it, some left on your ass and some dripping onto the floor. Even when they weren’t inside you, the continual pounding and the oozing cum throbbed in your walls. You still couldn’t see anything and you were still bound. It wasn’t until your eyes started feeling heavy again and your body fell numb; the men didn’t like that.

“We didn’t say you could fucking sleep,” König chided as he harshly grabbed your face and slipped off the blindfold.

“That drug is still hitting you, huh?” teased Ghost as he messing around with the ropes that held you in the air. “For that, we’ll make her do the work this time. Untie her and get her on top of me on the bed so she’ll ride me. Leave her arms tied only.”

You couldn’t protest, for your words started to slur and your mouth was only used for moaning pathetically. Once König brought you down from the air, he shoved you onto the bed, holding your legs in the air as Ghost laid underneath you. There was another camera facing the bed that you noticed, the light burning into your retinas as you stare into it. Although you were half awake, a weak smile stretches on your lips, wanting to the viewers know how prideful you were of this and how good Ghost and König make you feel.

When Ghost slowly settled inside your ass, you’ve felt a stirring sensation in your stomach. Never have you thought about losing your anal virginity so soon, but it had you throwing your head back and whining. He had the ball gag from before in his hands and wrapped it back around your opened mouth, telling you to keep staring into the camera and ride him like the dirty, messy slut that you are. With your feet on the bed and your legs spread, you slowly settle down on his cock, eyebrows furrowed and your body contorting from how intense it all felt.

You knew that you didn’t wanna go painfully slow; you wanted Ghost to feel good as well. To the point where he’d finally hold your hips in the air and fuck his cock into your ass and König can finally slide himself in your pussy, overstimulating you so greatly. It was hard to keep balance with your hands bound behind your back and your staggering strength. But you kept telling yourself that this was all that you wanted, grinding your hips and bouncing your ass up and down, emitting juddering grunts from Ghost.

“Keep your legs spread open for me,” König ordered. “Show to the camera how good you take two cocks inside of you.”

Before you knew it, you were sandwiched between the two masked men, filling your holes and stuffing you harshly. Sitting on Ghost’s cock as your legs were wide open, letting them both pound into you… You lost the feeling of stability in your entire body, your inhibition being taken over by the desperate sensation of cock. It broke your mind, but that was what you craved for. It was pure euphoria, rapturing you in a burning enticement that you were bound in. Nearly knocked out of air, your vision becomes hazy as Ghost and König fucks you through your third orgasm, past the point where you're crying two octaves higher than you're used to.

such a hot fucking slut taking both dicks

i wish i could fuck her cunt and put that dumb bitch in her place

how many times did she come already 😂

You enjoyed it. You enjoyed it all. The mind-wrecking, the overstimulation, the humiliation, the pain, the thought of being watched and masturbated to by perverts… It felt as if your life had been reformed. You were now a slutty whore that was good for nothing but a fuck. A depository for cum, just holes for fucking and a toy to torture. Your cunt was now battered and bruised, ass stinging and throbbing from being slapped multiple times, and both of your holes stretched and aching from how deep and rough they fucked you out. All those sensitive, velvet tissues that should never see the light of day, for they were property of Ghost and König only. Your poor cunt couldn’t stop flexing over nothing, yearning for that feeling of fullness again.

The next few hours after you were done being used, you were tied up in a strappado position with a vibrating dildo tied to your cunt. Left alone in the dark with the camera still on and recording, still blindfolded and gagged. Forced orgasms over and over, stranded like this throughout the rest of your days and nights until they felt like using you again. From what Ghost told you, the viewers seemed to favor you. They wanted to see more of you on Deathgasm, never to return to your old life and remain a free-use.

“Next time, I’ll make it hurt real good for you,” he forewarned before. “They can watch and cum as many times as they please, but you… You only cum for me now.”

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © 2023. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. art by duskidraws ♥︎

𖤐 TAGS. @kyumimii @aft0nsimp @crysugu @atinystaypixie @rinshoe @cran-berry-vodka @apwing @daddyzzlittlewhore @kimekioo @mqfuyuu @strawberrymilk4k @strvwberrymilk @maidenssymphony @shycoffeetaco @zippertwat @killzenin @titantears @migueloharacumslut @hayati17 @palefuckinghost @maddietries @nanananamiiii @bookmark-anon @blackhoodlea @bru1sedclavicle @dollicries @hehehehesthings @oneofthesevensins

[delphi-shield]

BEST IN THE BIZ — !!

— Lycaon x Reader x Rina

— ~3.6k

— mating press (briefly), overstimulation, dacryphilia, edging, dollification (if you squint), knotting, creampie, stone top Rina, service top Lycaon, fem!reader, reader is called 'mistress', pwp

ardently avoids eye contact. i was possessed idk. this started out as just porn and then i wrote plot but it got out of hand so i snipped most of the plot and this is what's left. i hope it's coherent idk. manifesting a lycaon pull by posting this tbh. dividers from @/adornedwithlight.

You knew you were fucked the moment you caught yourself typing ‘thiren dildo knot’ into your phone at four in the morning.

Your crime illuminates the dark of your room, search results reflected in your glassy eyes. The depravity is lost on you. You're so horny you can't sleep, much less feel guilty about drilling your (regular, average, lacking in girth and curve and length, not dripping for you the way he would) dildo into yourself, staring at sex toys and imagining him instead.

It only hits you after you cum. Right next to the usual disdain, the nagging realization that you have to clean yourself up, guilt nestles in. It does two neat little circles and sinks like a stone in your stomach. You find yourself with your phone in your hand, sketchy website leering at you. A countdown scrolling across the top advises you that your cart will be held for another four minutes and 12 seconds. Buy now, or your custom order (wolf thiren mold, large, medium firmness, cumtube included, custom colors) will be released for another horny idiot to pick up.

You delete the dildo from the cart, wonder briefly if you should ditch the email attached to the account, and pay for the eight pack of lube you'd added. Guilty, but not that guilty.

It's not supposed to be like this. You're not supposed to want his knot this badly. Lycaon had said so himself the first time you'd asked for it. It isn't a small thing – wipe that smirk off your face. It isn't something to be taken lightly, that's all he meant.

The entire situation had gotten out of hand; you'd hired Victoria Housekeeping a handful of times to assist with the clean up of your recently acquired property. It was a small place, and you had been in no rush to get the job done. They had divided the project over the span of a few weeks, assigning only Lycaon and Rina for the task.

Each visit had grown less and less professional. By the end of the project, you were scrambling to find something else for them to do, unwilling to let them walk out of your life just because the contract demanded so.

All three of you knew it wasn't professional to keep taking your calls. In fact, their conduct in your home violated several clauses within their contract – but by the time you had messaged Lycaon to ask if he could help you tote a new bed frame up the stairs, he had already stopped insisting on a contract. A friendship had grown, an ease that started between you and Rina and gradually thawed Lycaon's affections.

It wasn't uncommon to arrive at your home and find Rina already waiting. He'd been suspicious, had seen the starry look in your eyes, your swollen lips and the boneless, fumbling way you moved. He couldn't pinpoint when you and Rina had started becoming physical, but he could smell the stench of sex in the air the moment the door opened. He knew what he'd find if he let himself sink to his knees before you, sniffing and licking at your cunt like he wanted.

For months, though, he refused to act. He suppressed his baser urges, whittling them into compliments instead.

Your hair looks beautiful. Rina did it? Why isn't he surprised. And that dress? Yes, also Rina's choice. Of course.

It's not jealousy. It's something else that shares the same form, feels the same way. Lycaon agonizes over how to fit himself into your life, how to be needed, oblivious to the fact that you wanted him as things were.

Rina had been forced to meddle, casually stringing the both of you along until the conversation had occurred ‘naturally’. Even with your shared feelings out in the open, Lycaon remained restrained. His touches were subdued, moments together stolen and short.

The first time he’d fucked you had been a ‘matter of impropriety, ill-befitting an attendant’, as Lycaon had so stuffily put it.

In short, he’d gotten cold feet after he'd made you cum on his fingers, after Rina had gently nudged him aside to lap up the mess left on your thighs.

“We aren't here on business,” Rina reminded him, challenge in her tone all but calling him a pussy.

She twisted you up in her arms quickly, her hands pressed to the backs of your knees to spread you wide. You leaned back against her, almost entirely unaware of the moral crisis Lycaon put himself through. You're barely there after you cum, take time to get back into your own head - but the way you move so eagerly for Rina makes his cock jerk in his pants.

Rina’s hand had slid down the back of your thigh, her nipples hard for the way you tried to keep your leg where she had held you. Her fingers teased your dripping slit. She dragged them through your folds, prodding at your hole, showing Lycaon how eagerly you sucked them in. She made a show of spreading them, showing off the way you clung to her fingers, the way you dripped for them.

His resolve was iron-clad, but you'd melted through with your little whimpers, desperate voice whining "please, Lycaon.”

He was still a man, at the end of the day. You were bound up for him, snared like prey. He had wanted to treat you gently, to be slow and reverent - but he had pounded into your cunt instead, deep and slow. Any faster and he knows he would have popped his knot into you, had you locked together with your legs thrown over his shoulders, body bent nearly in half.

He'd pulled out, breathlessly asking where you wanted him to cum, stroking himself hard and fast, a hand wrapped tight around his knot. Rina had shuffled you up quickly, stretching your arms above your head, wrists gathered by one of her hands. She beckoned to your tits, the same wave he had seen her use countless times to invite clients to their tea.

Lycaon found the time to treat you gently later. He took his time, gentle and reverent as he wanted - still no knot.

You'd taken the rejection to heart, decided that if he said no once, then that was all there was to it. It was his dick and he could do what he wanted with it. You were too afraid of being pushy, or objectifying – or any number of things that might make him uncomfortable. Fantasies were fine.

Fantasies, and maybe a custom dildo. You were still thinking about it, the page still bookmarked on your phone. Next paycheck, you would tell yourself.

It came out the way all of your fantasies do – by Rina pulling it from you. Three fingers deep, pumping into you steadily, so torturously consistent, so committed to the slow build of your pleasure until the truth came gushing out.

She had this game she loved to play – making you narrate your fantasies. No detail spared or she'll stop stroking your needy little clit – and you would hate that, wouldn't you?

This time it had all come to light – how badly you wanted Lycaon's knot, how you were saving up just for a taste of a fake one.

Rina giggles in the aftermath. She dresses you quickly in your sleepwear, gesturing for you to raise your arms so she can roll your shirt down.

"Of course, you know that can be arranged,” Rina says, as casually as if you'd asked her for a cup of tea.

You feel like you've been shocked. Your arms are still sticking straight up in the air when you protest.

“No– it's just a stupid fantasy.”

Rina guides your arms back down, lets you rest and pose yourself without her guidance. She slips her hand into yours.

“I don't think it's stupid at all, Mistress.”

“Don't call me that,” you whine, swatting the air where she had been a moment ago. “It makes me feel gross.”

“Sir Lycaon likes it,” Rina teases.

Your face warms. You mumble a retort, lame and forgotten.

“I'll speak with him,” she assures you.

“No, don't. Don't tell him.”

“Leave everything to me.”

The subject of your objectification knocks on your door at 10 AM the next week. A standing appointment for coffee, Lycaon would call it – otherwise known as your weekly coffee date. Rina wiggles her fingers in greeting, drifting inside casually, the scent of vanilla trailing after her.

For a moment, you wonder if she had mentioned anything at all to Lycaon. He appears overwhelmingly normal about all of this. Clarity strikes you, lightning to your nerves when Rina doubles back to press her hand to the small of your back.

“You aren't just going to stand there, are you?” She asks.

Both of you jolt. You shuffle to the side, nearly tripping over your own feet to get out of the way. Lycaon shuts the door behind him. You speak over each other, both stammering apologies and excuses.

“Rina mentioned –”

“Was the trip here –”

You stall out, trying to give room for the other to speak.

“Sorry, I–”

“My apologies, I didn't mean to –”

Rina finally has mercy on the two of you, taking hold of the conversation before you can fizzle out a third time. She makes things clear upfront: your desire has been communicated to Lycaon. He has agreed. Don't look so serious, you two – this is a good thing.

The rest falls into place naturally. Or, as naturally as it can with Rina pulling the strings.

“We have the entire afternoon,” she informs you, turning to head to your bedroom. You're expected to follow, and you do - of course you do. Lycaon trails behind you, fingers ghosting against your wrist.

“You make it sound so formal,” you drone, plopping unceremoniously onto the edge of your bed.

“Oh, it's not formal,” Rina tuts. She drifts behind you, hands working at the tension in your shoulder. She leans forward, breasts pressing against your back, her cheek against yours, eyes locked on Lycaon. “It's just us.”

Time quickly became a suggestion. Minutes bled together, strung loosely between each touch, held secret in the clutch of Lycaon's pocket watch - the same watch that lays discarded in a heap with the rest of his clothes.

Your chest is pressed to the mattress, head cradled in Rina’s lap. Her hands rove across your hair, fixing it again and again as Lycaon drives into you. His arm is wrapped tightly around your waist, keeping your hips up and pinned flush wish his. His breath is hot at the back of your neck, teeth aching to nip at your nape, to mark your delicate skin. He drags his broad tongue across the places he wants to bite.

You've lost count of the ways they've bent you, the positions Rina had asked of you.

First, it was missionary, your own choice - but the angle had been all wrong, too difficult to squeeze his knot in that way. Rina had taken over from there, posing you as she thought best. By the time she had stopped mid-mating press, you realized this wasn't about trying to find the best position to take Lycaon’s knot. Rina had been playing her own game.

Rina's hand lights on Lycaon's shoulder, a barely-there brush of her fingers. He growls as if she's stuck her hand in his dinner bowl, the noise rumbling from his chest and through your back. He buries his cock in deeper, resisting the idea of stopping *again*, and his tapered tip wedges against a spot so deep inside you that you spasm in his arms. You cum so hard you swear you blackout for a few moments, your body a throb of pleasure, hips squirming, pussy trying to suck him in all the way.

You feel it - the first slip of his knot, the first stretch. The burn sears into pleasure. Your breath catches in your throat, a strangled moan escaping, pressed into Rina’s thigh.

“Please, please, please,” you sob.

Rina pushes harder against Lycaon’s shoulder. His lip curls, but he pulls back. His cock drags all the way out of you, leaves you empty, clenching around nothing. Your hands fist the fabric of Rina's skirt.

She doesn’t give you more than a moment to recover. Your pussy is still clenching when Rina's hands ghost across your ribcage. Sparks shower across your skin, nipples peaking painfully. She urges you with insistent, well-placed touches, tutting softly at the way you whimper. Her hands smooth sweat-slick hair from your face, fixing the strands reverently. She tucks two fingers under your chin and you raise your sight to her. It takes a moment for your hazy eyes to focus.

A touch on the side of your leg. You swing obediently into her lap. Rina's cold fingers pressing gently against the side of your neck, coaxing you against her chest. Your cheek cushions on her breast

Her fingers smooth sweat slick hair from your face, touch chilled and just on the side of clammy.

“Another, Mistress?” Rina asks sweetly, petting your hair. She pointedly ignores Lycaon's huff.

You peer up at her, tears brimming your eyes, catching the light and sparkling so prettily. You don't have the words. Could you even cum again? You want to plead, to whine – it had been right there. You had been so close to what you'd wanted.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she coos. The backs of her fingers press to your heated cheeks. “Cry if you must. It's all right.”

Rina's smile grows as your tears spill. She makes no move to wipe them from your cheeks. This is how she likes you, how she finds you most beautiful - worn down, fucked out, a mess in her arms for her to clean up and toy with.

Lycaon can't stand to see you cry, though. The bed creaks as he sits up, fishing a handkerchief from his discarded waistcoat. He dabs at your cheeks, tucking a knuckle under your chin to hold you in place.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs against your hair. "It was too much. I should never -”

"No." Your voice wobbles. "No, I just– I want your knot so bad.”

His cock jerks. Pre-cum dribbles from his tip, pools in his fur. Lycaon bites the rumble in his chest into a whine, locked tight behind sharp teeth.

“All right,” he breathes, heart hammering in his chest. “All right. Yes, of course. You'll have it. No more tears, please.”

Rina urges you from her chest. She knows where she's needed, knows not to linger. She presses her hand to Lycaon's shoulder, directing him to lay back against the bed. He's not quite as pliable as you are, never has been - especially not when he's wiping tears from your cheeks, kissing your forehead. His touch lingers when he follows her directive, hand stroking down the back of your arm, across your elbow, along your forearm.

She lets you toddle over to Lycaon on your knees, lets his be the hands that steady you when you swing your leg over him. You're still crying, sweet thing, tears wetting the fur of his stomach.

You wiggle into place awkwardly. His drippy tip glides through you pussy, nudging at your puffy, sensitive clit. You suck a breath through your teeth, lifting off him. The sensation is sharp, teetering on the edge of pain. Your knees pinch in and nudge Lycaon's sides, thighs jiggling. His eye tracks the movement immediately, hand stroking from your ass to your thigh, back and forth.

Rina slots in behind you. She keeps her touch on your hips light, urging you back down. Lycaon’s chest stills, his breath caught as she works you into a simple, back and forth path, dragging his cock along your slit. Once you settle into her rhythm, she reaches below you, gripping the base of Lycaon's cock, holding him steady.

He slides home easily, your pussy still molded to the shape of him. You keen, still sensitive. This new angle has him pressing against spots that dot your vision with stars. You sink deep, trembling and relieved all at once.

You get a few breaths together. Lycaon's head rests atop yours. He swallows audibly. His warm hands flex at your hips, restraint evident, strength held at bay by resolve alone. He's strong, so much stronger than you – he could press you down onto his cock easily, force you to take him to the hilt. The thought makes you clench around him, pussy fluttering.

Lycaon's teeth click next to your ear. His claws prick your skin for the fraction of a second, and then he's keeping his fingers off you, holding you by the palms. His cock throbs, twitches, aching to plug you with his knot.

Before you can grow too comfortable sitting on his cock, milking him dry with the squeeze of your pussy in response to every shallow thrust, every aching press of his knot to your hole, Rina begins her adjustments. At your hips first, the little suggestion of movement in her fingertips. You don't respond immediately, pussy so full you can't think straight. She pinches the fat of your hips, spurring your obedience.

She gets your hips rocking first, guiding you until you settle into the movement on your own. It's gentler than before, but each press of your hips sucks him deeper. This is the one - it has to be.

Rina doesn't let you stay hunched over. Her hands touch to your back, adjusting your posturing until your sitting so pretty on his cock. She adjusts your arms, lets you wind them around Lycaon’s neck instead of curling up behind him to claw at him shoulders.

You're almost there, can feel him slipping in, the stretch making your eyes roll back. Rina makes one final adjustment to your posture. She pries your face from the safety of Lycaon’s shoulders. All your pretty little sounds, your focused expressions, are clear for both of them to see.

“I'm– I'm close–” Lycaon huffs, keeping his face pressed to your shoulder. His body is coiled tight, nearly shaking with the restraint it takes not to thrust into you, to lock your bodies together and flood your pussy with his cum.

You whine, a hand fisting in his fur. Your stomach burns with the idea that after all of this, after being the perfect little toy, you might not get your prize – that he might slip out of you, cum spilling on your stomachs instead of where it belongs.

Lycaon thrusts into you hard just as your hips cycle down. His knot locks in. You gasp, the sensation foreign. You don't have time to savor it. He pounds into you, locked in place by his knot, your walls squeezing him as you cum again.

“Like you're made for me,” he babbles. Lycaon stops himself just before he bites onto your shoulder, his maw held open, sharp teeth threatening to puncture your skin. His moans are loud, pitching into a whine. His cock kicks inside of you, cum flooding your pussy, trapped in place by his knot.

You slump against him, the last few ropes of his cum spurting, his hips still shifting to drive it deeper. Your body is heavy, weighed down with the flood of pleasure still tinging your blood. Gradually, Lycaon's grip on you softens. His jaw closes, tongue flicking out to lap at your shoulder - short, slow strokes, almost apologetic.

Rina sits back and smooths the wrinkles from her dress. She admires the scene before her with a gentle smile, tilting her head to capture it from every angle. You're fully seated on his cock no matter which way she looks at it, escaped cum dribbling to the sheets in rivulets.

“Is it everything you dreamed?” Hands clasped, head tipped to the side - she looks at the pair of you adoringly, as if the sight of you breathless and locked together is the cutest thing she's ever seen.

“Rina,” Lycaon says, muzzle pressed into the crook of your neck. “Some water for our mistress, please.”

There's something hidden in his tone. You're too tired to piece it together, but Rina hones it on it immediately. She strokes along your spine as she stands, bending at the waist to kiss the crown of your head. She drifts out of the room without argument.

The door latches shut. You sag against Lycaon, his arms tightening around your middle. His tongue laps at your shoulder, collecting the salt taste of your sweat. He edges closer to your neck, lapping at it in broad strokes.

"Are you comfortable?" He murmurs against your skin.

"Mmhm," you hum, eyes shut, trusting your weight to his hold. “Feels good.”

Lycaon's tail dusts against the sheets. He presses his nose to the joint of your shoulder and neck, breathing your scent deep. For a moment, he thinks you might fall asleep, your cheek pressed against the soft fur of his chest.

“Let's order takeout,” you mumble.

Lycaon huffs. The closest thing he can muster to a laugh in his exhaustion. His arm tightens around your waist. He shifts you carefully so that you're both lying down, trying his best to ignore the way you squeeze around him, the way his cock gives a tired, painful jerk. He drags a blanket over your bodies.

“Worked up an appetite, did you?”

You nuzzle closer to his chest, letting out a satisfied sigh. “I just don't want Rina to cook for us.”

Ah. There was that, too.

[babe-a-yaga]

What was done to Isseya is one of my personal biggest upsets with this game. I loved her in Last Flight. She's a genuinely interesting, complex character, and given the themes of mistakes and regret present through Veilguard, it makes TOTAL sense for her to make an appearance! What makes no sense at all is for her to be reduced to a two dimensional villain with no clear motivation who's just...doing exactly the thing she fucked up in life? Except worse? I'm gonna summarize the events of last flight for the folks who haven't read it;

The first griffin Isseya put through the joining was already blighted in battle, and dying from it. Quickly. Griffins are extra sensitive to the Blight and any attempts made to join them resulted in the animals going berserk and tearing themselves, and anyone else in range, to pieces to get away from what was now in their veins.

In a well meaning, but misguided effort to save one of the animals she loved, she used blood magic to alter the griffon's mind, to convince it the Blight in it's system was just a regular cold, and it didn't need to fight it, then put it through the joining.

It worked, but it changed the griffon. Made it stronger, fight harder. More difficult to handle. The griffon ultimately went out in a spectacular blaze of glory, and people didn't know what she did, just that she did SOMETHING, and that griffon did ten griffons worth of damage on it's way out.

The fourth blight was far worse, far longer than any of the blights we have witnessed first hand. I think it lasted like 15 years? And it was going badly for Thedas. They ordered Isseya to do what she had done to the first griffon again as a last ditch to stand a chance at I *think* Starkhaven (it's been a little bit since I read last flight, so I'm sketchy on dates and what battles were fought specifically when). She hated doing this, but it was orders, and it was exploit this handful of griffons or watch the world die. She's a warden, she signed up to stop the blight at any cost. In war, victory. In death, sacrifice.

By the time her brother Garahel slays Andoral, she's had to blight a number of griffons, and the constant blood magic use has massively accelerated the blight in her own body. Her brother garahel is this golden haired pretty boy beloved by everyone who looks upon him, and Isseya looks so much like a ghoul at this point people are uncomfortable being in the same room as her. Even though this is completely due to her service to the wardens.

Then, the remaining joined griffons start going mad. And then it starts to spread to the other, non-joined griffons. In using blood magic to convince the griffons the blight was just a disease, she had caused it to become one. A contagious one.

It's one of the most interesting examples of how dangerous blood magic actually is we ever see. We're just told over and over "blood magic bad, slippery slope to killing people. Bad. Even if you use your own." And we never really see explicitly why it's an inherently dangerous form of magic until this.

Back to Isseya though. Garahel's lover's Griffon had a clutch of eggs sired by Garahel's Crookytail. Isseya, knowing there was no stopping what was now in motion with the griffons, set out to do her one last act of penance. She took, and purified those eggs, hid them in a ward that kept them in stasis, so that they might only hatch once the griffons were gone, and this disease had died with them, so they might have a chance. And then she hid the clues to their location, and begged that whoever find them not let them be used by the wardens again.

And then she went on her calling.

These are not the actions of a villain. Isseya EMBODIES the warden principal of sacrifice. But it isn't glorious battle rewarded by a quick death alongside an archdemon for her. It's death by inches, by blight, knowingly and willingly accelerated in her own body to stop it from consuming the world. Sacrificing her ideals, the animals she loves, her brother, Garahel. Isseya gives it all for the wardens, to end the blight, and is not thanked for it or remembered kindly.

And she did everything she could to seed the slightest bit of hope, that both in spite of her and because of her, griffons might return to the world, as free creatures.

Her Veilguard arc feels like really egregious character assassination, and I wish she had been given an ounce of the sympathy that other characters had been given. It made sense for her to be here, thematically, mistakes and regret, and good intentions still leading to bad ends, but she deserved the same opportunity for forgiveness and/or redemption that Solas, Mythal, Cyrian, even Illario got.

Isseya was done dirty by Veilguard.

[awrkive]

angst + 14 + with jk make it HURT miss dee i trust you with my life 🙏🏻

14.  "If you walk way from me, I don't want you coming back."

note: im genuinely so annoyed i cant keep my words bcs this drabble is 2.5k words but i promise the next ones are gonna be under 1k 😭

Two lines. 

The first one is clear as day, and you’ve tried so hard to blind yourself from the other one that’s just barely there – barely because it’s faint but you’re not stupid and you know it is there. That it exists. That it’s crystal clear there are two. Fucking. Lines on the damned test.

Two lines. 

It’s funny how a single plastic stick can ruin your life in a matter of minutes. 

Your mother didn’t lie at all when she said that you’d know these things. That you will feel it when it’s there. A month ago you didn’t get your period and while you could have an irregular cycle sometimes, you had a bad feeling about this particular one; the fatigue didn’t feel usual, your hips and breasts are growing and it didn’t make sense. You hated key lime pie for most of your life but recently you feel like you could eat it for the rest of your days. 

That was not fucking normal. 

And when you vomited again this morning after waking up, you decided to take a test.

It was past 7pm when you got home from the drugstore, and thirty minutes had passed since then when you found out the result. There are three sticks in the strewn paper bag all over the sink – all of which shows you the same thing. 

Two damn lines. 

You’re pregnant and you don’t know what to feel about it. 

But who are you lying to? You know exactly what you feel about it. You feel like utter shit. Absolute fucking shit and there’s a lodge in your throat that breaks into a sob when it finally dawns on you that holy fuck you’re fucking pregnant. There’s a baby growing in your womb and you can barely feed yourself waiting tables at a shitty restaurant downtown. 

You cry.

Your shoulders shake as you sob silently in the lavatory of your tiny bathroom, the chipped edge of the mirror and the broken faucet reminding you once again that you are not ready for this. You’re only 23. You’re barely making ends meet. The gap year you took off school that was only supposed to be one year stretched into two because of financial issues and now… this? A kid? What would you do with a child? You aren’t ready. You just aren’t ready. 

This was not supposed to happen. 

You think that over again. This was not supposed to happen. It repeats in your head over and over again like a broken record until you break into yet again another sob.

You dig your fingers in the porcelain sink, let your body fall low as you cry until your throat hurt. Tears flowed until you felt numb inside. You wept until your body trembled, weak and unsteady, struggling to throw the sticks into the trash, wrapped as carefully as you could manage in your fragile state, afraid Jungkook might find them. 

He comes home in two hours. 

And for those two hours, you lie on the couch with tear-stained cheeks, thinking about what he would say; how he would react. 

You wish you live in the timeline where this news could be good rather than bad. Wish this could’ve brought you to tears of joy instead of… this hollow ache in your chest trapping your airflow you could barely breathe. 

But that timeline is non-existent. You’re living in the now. You’re a twenty-three-year-old woman living with your twenty-five-year-old boyfriend – and while both of you have jobs to sustain yourself in a rundown, shitty, sketchy apartment, having a kid is not ideal. It’s not in the picture. It never fit in the picture – not at all. You’ve never discussed this and you were mostly certain Jungkook would not receive this news with open arms and a wide grin. 

The thought brought you to tears again until you fell asleep. 

——— 

“Babe?”

Jungkook feels like a kid on Christmas day. He feels a bout of energy, and he wants nothing but to unleash it on you – and there are fun ways he can unleash it on you, alright – things that you both will enjoy on this cold January night. 

He can’t help it. His grin only grows wider when he steps into the threshold of your house and the waft of home fills his nostrils. This part of town is shitty but you’ve done your best to make your apartment smell good. It’s that citrus… lavender… whatever the fuck candle you buy, Jungkook thinks.

Hah. He should’ve bought you one or two, huh? You fucking love those scented candles. You hoard the hell out of them even though they could be expensive. It’s worth it though… and with the bonus he’s holding in his wallet, why not? 

The thought only makes him smile even more. 

You’d love the news. You’d light up in that usual way you do when Jungkook does something remotely good. Anything that means he’s straying away from the destructive life he’s always led before he took your relationship seriously – you love it. And Jungkook admits he loves it, too. Loves doing good for you. Loves when he makes you happy. 

He doesn’t believe in changing for other people because fuck that, this is his own life and he does whatever he wants with it – but you’re a part of it now, a great part, and Jungkook will be damned if he loses you. He certainly did before – and for all the dumb decisions he’s made in his twenty five years, that one was the worst. 

“Baby?” he calls again when you give no answer. He’s sure you’re home by now, though, and so he crosses the distance to the threshold and living area, finding you in the couch cocooned like a burrito.

Chuckling, he steps closer and lets the cushion dip in his weight when he sits on it. You’d give him an earful if you see him letting his outside clothes touch your sheets but right now all he gives a fuck about is you hearing the news about his promotion at work. Granted, it’s not “promotion” per say, it’s just that he’s going up from being an apprentice to an actual tattoo artist at the shop. He can finally quit that job at that shit-paying convenience store and can focus fully on the shop which he actually likes doing. And he can finally get a more formal pay as well. It’s all for you. 

When Jungkook rolls you to his side, he swiped away the hair that’s gotten all over your face. You stirred, but when you wake up, Jungkook frowns. 

“What the fuck happened?” 

Your eyes are puffy and red. Swollen. You look tired, drawn, exhausted. And Jungkook couldn’t have mistaken the tear stains on your cheeks for anything other than you've been crying.

“H-huh?” You say, obviously still not fully conscious.

“Were you crying?” Jungkook asks, concern growing heavy. He tries to think if you texted him today about something – but other than your usual texts of I love yous and I miss yous, there was nothing. So what could you have been possibly crying about? 

It seems like you’ve snapped the haze of sleep off your mind because you quickly turn away from his touch, untangling yourself from the sheets and sitting upright. 

“Nothing.” 

Jungkook’s brows crease even more. 

“What?” 

“I said nothing!” You snapped, which surprised the both of you. Jungkook doesn’t have a clue what the fuck is going on – but then you turn around to look at him and you look so fragile and scared shitless and sad and broken that it just sends him into utter confusion when you stutter, “I’m– I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Jungkook says, a bit irritated now because he doesn’t like it when you skirt around what you feel. “What happened?” 

He tries to ignore the fact that when he lifts his hand to put it on your thigh, you flinch and your muscles grow tense. As if you don’t want his touch. 

“I was… I was watching a movie.” you say, lips tilting into a small smile Jungkook knows is fake. 

Now he’s just perplexed. What the fuck is all this about? You’re flinching at his touch and you can’t even look him in the eye as you fake a smile at him. 

He peels his hand away from you and stands up from the couch.

“Yeah?” He knows he has a temper. And it definitely shows when he continues to saracastically add, “Pretty fucking dramatic movie, huh?” 

You stay quiet but you definitely have a physical reaction to his sharp tone.

Every single second that passes and you still don’t utter a single word, Jungkook begins to feel like this air is growing into tension. 

And his defense mechanism gets the best of him. 

“Alright, lay it on me,” he says with a leveled tone, staring at you coldly. “Are you breaking up with me?” 

Jungkook thinks that must be it. There’s no way there’s another reason why you’re acting like this; looking at him in that solemn way. 

Two years. Two years of trying to fix him and you’ve finally reached the rim of your dam. You finally realized he’s not worth your time, that you could have so much better, be with better men, have a better life with them than whatever the fuck you have and will ever have with him. 

Jungkook’s always been aware of that. It’s not even self-deprecation, it’s just facts. 

But fuck if it didn’t hurt to confront it this way. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Two words. 

Two words and it’s enough to make Jungkook’s head spin. 

“What?” He asks again, because there’s no way you just said that. 

“I’m pregnant.” you repeat again, this time louder. Jungkook sees you inhaling a sharp breath, and it’s clear to him when your eyes begin to tear up. “I’m pregnant, Jungkook.” 

His mouth closes and opens like a fish in a tank. He goes from confused then disbelief then just… nothing. 

“You’re… you’re pregnant.”

You obviously take his tone as something different, and Jungkook can’t blame you when you snap once again. “When you put your dick in me without a condom, that’s what usually happens, so yes, I am pregnant with your child, Jungkook.” 

“You let me put my dick in you without a fucking condom,” Jungkook retorts, looking at you incredulously. “What the fuck, __? What– what happened with– are you not taking your pills?” 

“Fuck you!” You roar, venomous and mostly hurt. 

Jungkook knows you’re feeling more like the latter. 

He knows that, and yet, he decides to press more. 

“What did you fucking expect, babe? That I was gonna smile and laugh and carry and spin you around this fucking– this fucking tiny apartment?” Jungkook gestures around wildly, and he hates that when he looks at your face it's now contorted into tormented pain. Your shoulders shake as you sob silently. But his head is on a haywire and he feels like he can’t think straight. You. A baby. You two. A family. He runs a hand along his face. “We’re barely making ends meet. You wait tables while I only rely on commissions from my apprenticeship at the shop and earn shit at that convenience store five blocks away. We can barely afford the fucking AC and – and now you’re telling me you’re pregnant? What the fuck do we do with a fucking child, __?” 

“I don’t know!” You say exasperatedly, abruptly standing up from the couch. You sniff as you rub away at your eyes – red from all the crying you must have done and been doing. 

“So why the hell would you get mad at me for reacting this way?” Jungkook answers, because frankly, he doesn’t understand. And then he says the next words he thinks of, “Are you keeping it?” 

He regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth. 

You usually look at him with so much adoration in your eyes – so genuine and loving that Jungkook gets confused sometimes – but now you look at him with nothing but pure distaste. Hatred. And even he was taken aback. 

“I don’t know. I don’t know what the fuck the answer to that horrible question is. But whatever the hell I do, you decide if you want to be part of it or not – and with the way you’re acting right now, I’m assuming you want out,” you say, voice firm and full. Gone was the fragility, all Jungkook could see was a stone-cold person in front of him who didn’t give a fuck about whether or not he stays in her life. And your next words further prove that. “But there’s something I want you to know and make sure you remember this: if you walk away from me, right now, I don’t want you coming back. Ever. And I mean that. I mean that, Jungkook.” 

Jungkook stands glued there in the middle of the living space, heart squeezed to fuck and his lungs tightening as he processes your words. 

He follows your figure as you disappear in your bedroom, feeling like the room is suddenly spinning when you leave.

Jungkook lets himself fall on the sofa and for the first time in what felt like years, he cries. 

[stevie-petey]

now you're a stranger (and i'm still july)

﹂ season three of "come home"

a lot can change in a year, and when summer comes to hawkins, you think you're finally okay with this idea. you've settled things with jonathan, nancy is now your friend, and steve harrington calls you angel. then dustin intercepts a secret russian code and your grand plans of you and robin teasing steve all summer, and maybe even falling in love, all come crashing down. (meanwhile all steve wants to do is ask you out). (but the russians complicate things). (as usual).

episode one: suzie, do you copy? - you help nancy sneak through jonathans window, the party uses you for your "in" with steve, and you sorta become the reason dustin almost blinds lucas. meanwhile, steve tries, and fails, to make you his girlfriend (this will happen all summer), but have no fear ! dustin intercepts a russian code and makes everything even harder for everyone. what a sweet brother <3

episode two: the mall rats - dreams are weird, billy is a hitchhiker, and hopper flirts with joyce in front of you (youre not sure which is scarier), somehow robin knows russian and has genius ears, you get caught in an awkward breakup showdown, and you shamefully are shocked when you discover that hawkins is anything but normal. you would think youd be a pro at this already, but at least steve is hot and really good at sneaking through windows.

episode three: the case of the missing lifeguard - dustin blackmails you for $5 and then dubs steve as boyfriend material for you, robin cracks yet another russian code, you all almost waterboard yourselves after sneaking onto the mall's roof, you have a sexy nervous breakdown, and jonathan takes you for a drive in his sick car.

episode four: the sauna test - dustin has some brotherly concern for you (dont tell anyone though), steve is offended you dont think he can fight, nancy gets upset during therapy hour, robin encourages child endangerment, erica becomes your hero, and you lose your lunch on hawkins makeshift tower of terror (aka sketchy russian elevators).

episode five: the flayed - you have the worst birthday of your life, you almost strangle steve with your bare hands and then later get snot all over him, erica is your savior, dustin is doing his best, robin starts to suspect things, and the russians have opened a gate to the upside down. its all pretty miserable tbh. but hey ! at least steve won a fight !

episode six: e pluribus unum - things get hot and heavy in the face of death, mean russians kidnap your hot almost-boyfriend, you have a philosophical discussion about nerdiness with the kids, acid becomes your new favorite weapon, and steve and robin try drugs together. yippee !

episode seven: the bite - steve and robin are your nightmare blunt rotation, you manage to escape a russian lair: mario cart style, you learn that therapy sessions are fun in public bathrooms, steve places your brother on the russian fbi most wanted list, el probably just killed a bunch of people (deserved), and reunions with jonathan are always special when one of you is gravely injured.

episode eight: the battle of starcourt - jonathan becomes a certified surgeon, hopper returns and is oddly sentimental (wonder what that could mean !), you and dustin show off your musical theater talents, the mind flayer becomes a track star, fireworks become weapons, and really a lot just happens so suddenly it gives you whiplash. dont worry though, the rest of your summer involves painful goodbyes and the scary realization that youre growing up. absolutely disgusting. but at least steve gets to kiss you whenever now, so hooray for that ! side note: you keep making promises to people, surely there wont be narrative foreshadowing as a result !

⌑ set between seasons 3 and 4

episode nine: the good - the party battles the horrors of high school and leave you stranded, tw: applying for college is harder than fighting literal demons (you would know, youve done it), jonathan joins your nightmare blunt rotation, max worries you, and steve solidifies his position of Best Boyfriend in the World as you slowly fall apart (though is anyone really surprised ??).

⌑ status: COMPLETE

⌑ season three title based on this song x

⌑ blurbs set within "come home" can be found here x

⌑ “come home” season masterlist

*note: this is a part of my stranger things rewrite, “come home”, and other seasons can be found linked above :)

[brujamala-aka-gigi]

"time will tell" ... but what exactly?

i thought about making this reading because we are living at times when we all know that patience is a virtue, we all know that we should work on said virtue, and so on, yet, things move are always seemingly moving in the fastest chaotic way possible. for some of us, embracing uncertainty and the absurd ways of the universe is hard. so hopefully there's something in here that helps you to have a clearer vision on what is meant to come to you with time and experience.

dividers by: @bernardsbendystraws & @cafekitsune pngs by: @florietas

pile number one pile number two

pile number three pile number four

.‧͙˚ *༓ scroll down for the readings ⋆ִ ‧͙⁺˚

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before starting with this reading i just want to say that my heart goes to anyone on the united states that feels disappointed and is going through emotionally stressful situations due to the results of the elections. at times like this is important to find empowerment and safety by taking care of our peers and participating our communities, political organization is just as important as caring for one another. having a right wing president who borders fascism is not a great experience, i have my own alt right president here in south america, but surviving these moments is easier when you find strength alongside the people who share your ideals.

we don't owe tolerance to those who are intolerant, our time is always better spent when we are building the future we want or doing our best to face the adversities of the present. please, do not allow others to take away your humanity and your hopes.

・₊✧⋆ pile number one ⭒˚｡⋆

If someone ever told you that your expectations are unrealistic, they are not wrong, but not entirely right either. I think you're someone who unconsciously tries to be aware of every possible outcome and every single detail, it's quite a hyper vigilant way of approaching things and also a quite anxiety inducing one. I wouldn't say your expectations are unrealistic, but I would definitely say they are realistic in the context of the millions of head scenarios you have going on. Some emotions are being limited by logic and some logics are being limited by emotion. There are plenty of experiences that are coming your way in order to give you the opportunity to be more present in the moment instead of experiencing things mostly in your head. You need time to further develop your judgment, as of now it is something that is in an adolescent state, not because of immature or juvenile thinking, but because you are going through a, hopefully, slightly painful phase of your mental growth. Think of it as existential growing pains. You might have too much information, too much to think about and too much to feel about, it's a very difficult moment for you to maintain a self perceived stable or coherent point of view at all times. Take this time to comprehend what's making you feel paralyzed and unable to move forward mentally, and then you can begin doing something about this conjunction of mental and emotional stress.

・₊✧⋆ pile number two ⭒˚｡⋆

What I get from this combination of cards is that you are becoming more aware of the things that are threatening your higher self. From the Queen and the Page I can see that you are usually almost confident enough in what you bring to the table in terms of material achievements that are easily recognizable, although not always perceived or valued enough by yourself or others. I don't think I want to say there's someone or yourself gaslighting you into belittling yourself, but I do want to mention that it's likely that there's a sketchy energy near you or at least the cards are giving a heads up about negative reactions to you doing your thing and, to say simply, slaying it. What it is safe to say tho is that with time you will learn who is worthy of your generosity and your companion. It's key that you understand that any kind of success you achieve is not only valuable because of what you got from it, the value comes from what you did to get said achievements. With this in mind, don't hesitate to avoid others who drain your energy and misuse your time. Your presence by itself it's already enough for others to benefit at your cost. This is not something meant to give you a reason to be overly distrustful, this is to give you reasons to set boundaries, specially for yourself, in order to make sure whoever or whatever brings you down, it's out of your way. If people see the respect you have for yourself, it's more likely they are not even trying to waste your time.

・₊✧⋆ pile number three ⭒˚｡⋆

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Being emotionally attached to the person you were in the past is obstructing your path towards further personal and existential growth. I definitely understand that sometimes the only thing that gives us a sense of stability is our own identity, and our power to define ourselves in our own terms. I don’t think you are afraid to grow or to evolve as a person, but I can see that right now you are resisting change by ignoring your intuitive need to expand your limits and find out about all the things, the positive and negative,that you choose to ignore because of old fears and anxieties. It’s very likely you know exactly what to do or what to keep and what to let go off,  you certainly are aware of where to go and how to get there. What's conflicting with your ambitions right now is that you have exhausted yourself by never taking the time to appreciate how far you already are from plenty of situations that have restricted your authentic self. I honestly understand what it's like to make a lot of progress after moving away from tough situations only to realize there is more work to do in order to restore or find an integral state of peace of mind and contempt. In your case, you’re lucky because sooner or later your emotions will lead you to how you can be truthful to yourself and experience life without any of the weight from limiting perceptions that other people have imposed on you. Many things have limited time in our lives, don’t miss out on them.

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・₊✧⋆ pile number four ⭒˚｡⋆

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Don't force yourself to be the first to do anything or the best at anything if you're comparing yourself to others. It is not fair to set your expectations about yourself by looking at what is supposably perfect or highly desirable, yet not a true reflection of what you as an individual can accomplish in a way that's genuine to your personal journeys. It's necessary that you embrace your experiences, putting yourself and your own ideals as the guide for what it means to advance and grow. Time will show you how to build a stronger confidence in your core beliefs and how to act upon them with the efficiency and courage you might be needing right now. This will develop as you become more comfortable with allowing yourself to fail, and to learn from said failures by setting structures to support the process of becoming more connected to a higher sense of self worth. You are going through a process in which key communicational aspects are at play;  many of your personal achievements will depend on your ability to share your ideas with others before taking any kind of action, as many things you’ll do will have long lasting effects. This is why I would recommend making sure you can really align your actions, your communication and your goals directly to yourself and the roots of your ideals. Don’t hurry up, it takes time to evolve and you will certainly do so by comprehending how equally confused, disoriented and impulsive we all are, and how that’s nothing anyone can ignore for too long.

.

if you enjoyed this post, maybe you should check out the rest of my account <3 and keep an eye open for ask games and a tarot reading giveaway (but lets not hurry too much about it please im still figuring out the logistics of a tumblr giveaway jajaja)

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⋆bookings for personal readings are open ཐིཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

[nimadjart]

Happy halloweeen. :)

This is the commentary track(?) to my digitober. It's just rambling, so don't expect anything too interesting.

This first picture came out on a whim, I originally didn't intend to do anything for this october. I had just arrived home from helping my mom out with something, and was in a good mood. I think this picture, as sketchy as it looks, reflects that feeling. I'm content with it - and it's halloween themed! All the better.

For the second, I tried to follow the "official inktober" list (something I'd drop quickly in the following days). I'm disastrous at making backgrounds, so I gave it a shot for practice sake. I think it's not a bad result, it almost kinda tells something of a story.

"Boots", hah. It's not terrible, but it's also missing a lot of polish. I think the idea behind it works well for a cute/sexy picture of Angewomon. Maybe some day I'll revisit it? I should put more practice into drawing the human form in the meanwhile lol.

I really dislike the fourth one. I think Lianpunmon deserves better art, so I'll definitely do it again some day. My skills are so undeveloped, it's very obvious seeing this poor hatching.

Speaking of hatching, I bit more than I can chew with this one. The composition isn't interesting enough either, and just like with Lianpunmon there's no story here. At least Angewomon seemed to be interacting with the viewer lol.

The sixth is something I liked better. It's kinda shody, but there's something of an urban fantasy thing going on.

The Vamdemon one I can see the faults: I need better line control, the shapes aren't locked in as well as they should be. Yet, I'm partial to it…

Rapidmon deserves better lol. I still really dig the idea behind this drawing, I just wish I'd have given myself the patience and time needed to render a kickass explosion.

SkullGreymon, I have little to comment. It has zero story, but it's carried by the vibes. It's the first (and arguably last lmao) time I think I was cooking with the halftones.

The tenth is arguably the peak of the entire month. It has some story, a neat composition, and acceptable execution. Strangely enough it was one of the quickest to make: I had an idea, and it came out in a few minutes (compared to some other drawings where I was fighting for my life), and it ultimately was one of the most interacted with drawings in my entire blog. Funny how that goes.

I like a lot the Piemon one, as bland as it is. It's like a design piece, more than a drawing. It helps that the perspective deformation hides my poor linework haha.

I went too hard on the Mephismon X one, to the detriment of the piece. Instead of adding texture, it just looks dirty. Damn.

The thirteenth one was my poor attempt at making a background. Originally, Bakemon was gonna have this devious, whimsical look, but as I finished drawing the stairs I thought "I'd be kinda tired after climbing a few floors", so I changed Bakemon's expression to reflect that. Just a little trivia.

The Jesmon is what I'd argue was my peak. Shapes are locked (as best as my skill lets them), values worked well, it told a story. It's my favourite of the month.

Fiftenth was made, mostly, trying to catch some Adventure buff to the ammount of interactions I'd get. I mean, I had fun drawing the characters, but the reality is that I had petty reasons. I don't dislike it though.

I know exactly what I wanted to do with the sixteenth, and I didn't achieve it. Looking back, I think I should've done it in BW, rather than grayscale, to make it pop more. Fix the composition too. It's too plain. Shame, I really like Lilithmon X's design.

Seventeenth was also one where I just phoned it in. I think the values are all over the place; though I do like the harsh light. Impmon is a lot of fun to draw, all things considered.

Greymon was fun, lots of fun to draw. But this was another piece where I went too crazy trying to use halftones, I ended up making something that lacked impact or presence. I do like, in a self deprecating way, how the background seems okay until you look at it directly and see that it's kinda bad lol.

I made Nefertimon's torso too long! I only realized when I was doing the finishing touches lol. Yet I like the whole thing a lot, I think the texture and lightning kinda sells it as a photo (the white border was an attempt at selling that further). Saw someone refer to it as "the last thing I see before I die", and that comment might stay with me forever lol.

The twentieth is another I had a clear picture in my head as to what I was actually hoping to make, but failed to. Instead of landing some sort of finish, it's on a weird gray (lol) area. Making clouds is hard y'all.

Twenty one is one where I managed to stick the landing to what I had in mind. I think the composition needed a few more minutes of baking, but overall I'm content with the result. Death-X-DORUgoramon is a complex design, so any degree of succesful translation is a win in my book.

I think I needed to draw some more background Kuramon for the twenty second. Y'know, to really sell the swarm thing. It's kinda too clean.

Before twenty three, I had never given myself the time to draw a tree shilouette. It was fun to turn off my brainfor a bit and just draw line, after line, after line, after line. I did the tree first, and then I tried to figure out how to make Shurimon. Originally, I wanted him to be hunched over more dramatically, almost as if he was climbing down the tree, but I was incapable of drawing it in a satisfactory manner. So this is what I got.

Twenty four is so bad! I think Monitamon came out fine, but the background elements are so poorly done! I'm so embarrassed! lol

Kabuterimon was really fun, very dramatic looking. I think it has some serious readability issues with the hands, but I don't dislike the idea I had at all.

Hackmon's drawing was done almost like a sibling piece to the fourteenth, Jesmon's. Like, Huckmon is somehow watching his exhausted future, yet he stands stoic. On it's own, I think it's plain. Like, it has some charm, but it's lacking in impact compared to the fourteenth. But maybe that's for the best of the story?

The Wizarmon sticker came through me realizing I wasn't practicing my lineart! So I did a sticker instead. This was actually version two, but number one was so bad I had to redo it. Despite it being a humble sticker chibi, it's overall the day I spent the most time drawing.

Twenty eight came from me realizing I hadn't done any Alphamon! So I did what I thought would look badass. As much as I like Alphamon, though, his shapes are difficult for me to grasp so it came out shoddy and weak lol.

Twenty nine, Ragna Lordmon vs Ragnamon, was hurt by me recording it. While an exciting thing to do, I felt like I wasn't allowed to do anything but move forward quickly, or to change things (I'd have moved both Ragnamon and the main Ragna Lordmon body closer to the center) that would've made the composition flow better. It's not an abject failure, and the video is fun to watch, but still…

Dorumon is a simple piece that I was a bit surprised to make. My birthday is not information I tell people, but I was just compelled to share a bit of myself. I dunno, it feels weird. I'm weird. It came out cute at least.

And at the last! Noble Pumpmon again. I'd love to tell you that I applied everything I learned throughout the month and it's my best piece and stuff, but that isn't the reality. It's a better show for a similar amount of effort compared to the October 1st drawing, but it's not some crazy good display of betterment. A bit, yes, but less than I had hoped.

If you made it this far into this silly wall of text I wrote, I thank you. I thank everyone who interacted with my drawings, it pleases me a lot to see that someone gave it a like, or a share, or a comment. I learned about myself, and my limits, through this experience. It was tiring, but setting myself the goal of "make a drawing a day" was, paradoxically, liberating. Like, now I had a reason to draw! (despite me having some comission work to do lmfao). It was nice. This was one of the most entertaining octobers in recent years. Thanks again to everyone who participated in some fashion.

[youzicha]

Thinking about that that "slop accelerationism" post, and also Scott's AI art Turing test.

I also hope AI text- and image-generation will help shake us loose from cheap bad art. For example, the fact that you can now generate perfectly rendered anime girls at the click of button kindof suggests that there was never much content in those drawings. Though maybe we didn't really need AI for that insight? It feels very similar to that shift in fashion that rejected Bouguereau-style laboriously-rendered pretty girls in favor of more sketchy brush work.

But will we really be so lucky that only things that we already suspected was slop will prove valueless?

As usual with AI, Douglas Hofstadter already thought about this a long time ago, in an essay from 2001. Back in 1979 he had written

Will a computer program ever write beautiful music? Speculation: Yes, but not soon. Music is a language of emotions, and until programs have emotions as complex as ours, there is no way a program will write anything beautiful. There can be "forgeries"—shallow imitations of the syntax of earlier music—but despite what one might think at first, there is much more to musical expression than can be captured in syntactical rules. There will be no new kinds of beauty turned up for a long time by computer music-composing programs. Let me carry this thought a little further. To think—and I have heard this suggested—that we might soon be able to command a preprogrammed mass-produced mail-order twenty-dollar desk-model "music box" to bring forth from its sterile [sic!] circuitry pieces which Chopin or Bach might have written had they lived longer is a grotesque and shameful misestimation of the depth of the human spirit. A "program" which could produce music as they did would have to wander around the world on its own, fighting its way through the maze of life and feeling every moment of it. It would have to understand the joy and loneliness of a chilly night wind, the longing for a cherished hand, the inaccessibility of a distant town, the heartbreak and regeneration after a human death. It would have to have known resignation and world-weariness, grief and despair, determination and victory, piety and awe. In it would have had to commingle such opposites as hope and fear, anguish and jubilation, serenity and suspense. Part and parcel of it would have to be a sense of grace, humor, rhythm, a sense of the unexpected and of course an exquisite awareness of the magic of fresh creation. Therein, and therein only, lie the sources of meaning in music.

I think this is helpful in pinning down what we would have liked to be true. Because in 1995, somebody wrote a program that generates music by applying simple syntactic rules to combine patterns from existing pieces, and it sounded really good! (In fact, it passed a kind of AI art turing test.) Oops!

The worry, then, is that we just found out that the computer has as complex emotions as us, and they aren't complex at all. It would be like adversarial examples for humans: the noise-like pattern added to the panda doesn't "represent" a gibbon, it's an artifact of the particular weights and topology of the image recognizer, and the resulting classification doesn't "mean" anything. Similarly, Arnulf Rainer wrote that when he reworked Wine-Crucifix, "the quality and truth of the picture only grew as it became darker and darker"—doesn't this sound a bit like gradient descent? Did he stumble on a pattern that triggers our "truth" detector, even though the pattern is merely a shallow stimulus made of copies of religious iconography that we imprinted on as kids?

One attempt to recover is to say Chopin really did write music based on the experience of fighting through the maze of life, and it's just that philistine consumers can't tell the difference between the real and the counterfeit. But this is not very helpful, it means that we were fooling ourselves, and the meaning that we imagined never existed.

More promising, maybe the program is a "plagiarism machine", which just copies the hard-won grief, despair, world-weariness &c that Chopin recorded? On its own it's not impressive that a program can output an image indistinguishable from Gauguin's, I can write such a program in a single line:

print("https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Gauguin,Paul-Still_Life_with_Profile_of_Laval-_Google_Art_Project.jpg")

I think this is the conclusion that Hofstadter leans towards: the value of Chopin and the other composers was to discover the "template" that can then be instantiated to make many beautiful music pieces. Kind of ironically, this seems to push us back to some very turn-of-the-20th-century notion of avant-garde art. Each particular painting that (say) Monet executed is of low value, and the actual valuable thing is the novel art style...

That view isn't falsified yet, but it feels precarious. You could have said that AlphaGo was merely a plagiarism machine that selected good moves from historical human games, except then AlphaGo Zero proved that the humans were superfluous after all. Surely a couple of years from now somebody might train an image model on a set of photographs and movies excluding paintings, and it might reinvent impressionism from first principles, and then where will we be? Better start prepare a fallback-philosophy now.

[a-n-i-m-a-t-i-o-n]

Animation for Treasure Planet by Raul Aguirre Jr. Source: Artist's animation reel on Vimeo

From his old website studioraul.com, which I think is currently unavailable & now a completely different site (that is very sketchy-looking) since I was only able to access it through the Wayback Machine:

"Above is a sample of some Traditional 2D animation I did when I worked at Walt Disney Feature Animation from 1994 to 2002.  Below is the reel breakdown. I owe my mentor Glen Keane a million thanks for taking the time to teach me what Eric Larson taught him. 1.Long John Silver test scene. This is the first thing I animated under the instruction of Glen Keane. I wanted him to be glad he selected me to follow up and inbetween all of his scenes properly. The result speaks for itself. 2.Long John Silver test scene. I wanted to show range in my acting. The 1st test had Silver all intense and explosive. This map meant the world to him. He lost his eyes arm and leg chasing this map across the galaxy. But in scene two I wanted to portray a gentler side of Silver but with the subtext of deception. It was a tall order, but hey I don't like ruts! 3.Long John Silver Production scene. This is my first production scene! Here Silver is putting Jim through pirate camp. I just thought of my Dad "Supervising" me as a kid when I washed the family car. 4.Long John Silver Production scene, Jim Hawkins by John Ripa I believe.

5.Alien Background Characters. Not only did John Musker and Ron Clements the directors of Treasure Planet let me animate this production scene they let me design the aliens.”

[boringkate]

You can stream almost any movie or tv show (usually with subtitles) for free on anything that can run a web browser by visiting fmovies.to

If the ads are egregious then get an ad blocker. It's easy to do if you're on desktop. If you're on mobile then Firefox supports ad blocking, but Chrome doesn't. You can still block ads while using Chrome on Android though by installing Adguard.

If you want a higher quality and local copy of a movie or show then install a torrent client (I use Deluge) and find an active torrent for whatever you're looking to download. You can find torrents by going to 1337x.to, searching, choosing on of the top results, and then clicking the magnet link. If the magnet link doesn't automatically open the torrent in your torrent client then right click on it, copy the link, and past it into it (how you do this will probably vary slightly depending on what torrent client you're using).

You can also find movie torrents at yts.mx (which I like using just because it's a nice spot for browsing new releases when I'm not looking for anything in specific).

If you're worried about getting in trouble for torrenting (in canada ISPs are legally required to pass along any threatening copyright notices that they receive for your IP address, but you can and should just ignore these notices) then (instead of paying for a VPN) the website seedr.cc will torrent things for you and give them to you as regular downloads (that way your IP address isn't exposed to anyone other that seedr) (using it also means you won't need to install a torrent client). You don't get much space, but you can get more (without paying) by referring people (who also don't have to pay).

Running a random torrented windows executable can be sketchy sometimes, but you aren't going to get a virus from a pirated movie or song or a console video game rom.

[loulou-land]

Prompt: “I Don’t See a Future With You”

Pairing: rockon | deacon kay/donovan rocker | 979 words | angst and mentions of infidelity

Prompt list used: here

The sound of heavy panting filled the dimly lit motel room, the scent of sweat and sex suspended in the air. The weight of things unspoken pressing down on its two inhabitants. They laid side by side on the stiff mattress, bodies still charged with the electrifying aftermath of another reckless rendezvous.

Rocker's chest rose and fell in sync with Deacon's, but the consonance ended there. In that moment, he came to the startling realization that they'd never been on the same page—hell, he didn't think they were on the same damn book at all.

Rocker would blame what happened next on the post-nut clarity—or maybe just the overwhelming exhaustion of constantly trying to break through a brick wall with no result. He couldn't really pinpoint it. All he knew was that the question had been haunting him, hanging over him during every interaction they had, every stolen moment they shared.

It had been there between their stolen kisses in the quiet locker room after the others had left. In the hurried, heated moments in the showers, swallowed gasps and moans, the warm spray doing little to extinguish the fire always burning between them. In the back alleys where his shoulder blades scraped against brick, feeling the ache of wounds that lingered long after they healed, and in sketchy motel rooms like this one, where they paid in cash and pretended not to look over their shoulders.

The question slipped free, sharp and accusing despite his best attempt to soften the blow.

"Deac...what are we doing here?"

Deacon stiffened immediately. The change was subtle, but Rocker felt it—in the way Deacon's arm twitched against him, like he was doing his best to keep his reaction under wraps.

"Don't," Deacon said, his voice a quiet warning. "Don't ask me that, Rocker. Just leave it."

Rocker turned his head, studying Deacon's profile in the flickering yellow light of the bedside lamp. He looked calm, composed. But Rocker had known him long enough to see through the mask.

"No," Rocker said firmly, pushing himself up on one elbow. "We need to talk about this. It's been months, Deacon. You can't just—"

Deacon cut him off, sitting up abruptly. "I said drop it." he said, brown eyes looking intently at him, almost begging.

But Rocker didn't. Couldn't anymore. The words kept tumbling out, heavy and raw. "This...whatever this is—it's not enough anymore. I can't keep doing this, Deacon" his voice broke. "I'm tired of feeling like I'm some dirty little secret you'll never admit to."

Deacon swung his legs over the side of the bed, his back to Rocker. He was already reaching for his jeans, pulling them on with jerky, deliberate movements.

"It's not that simple," Deacon said sharply, his voice tight.

"It's never that simple," Rocker shot back, sitting up fully now, the sheets pooling around his waist. "But I know you feel the same way I do. I feel it when we're together. I know this isn’t just fucking—‘getting our rocks off’."

Deacon froze mid-motion, his hands hovering over the zipper of his jeans. His shoulders tensed, the weight of Rocker’s words pressing down on him.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Deacon said finally, his voice low, dangerous.

Rocker’s laugh came out hollow. “Don’t I? Then tell me I’m wrong” he goaded bitterly. “Look me in the eyes and tell me this is just sex to you. That's all it’s ever been. That I’m imagining all of it—the way you take care of me, like I'm something precious…”

Rocker suddenly felt the tears running down his face, but couldn't stop the words from spilling out, still pleading with Deacon’s back. “The way you hold me after, like you’re afraid to let go. The way you look at me, like you—”

“Stop,” Deacon snapped, finally turning to face him. His eyes burned with a mix of anger and something deeper, something Rocker couldn't quite name. He saw the flicker of guilt there too and watched as Deacon flinched at whatever his own face was doing.

“No, Deacon. You don’t get to shut me down this time. You don’t get to walk away from this conversation.”

Deacon’s jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. “I have a wife, Rocker. I have kids. A family. A life I've built, fought for—”

“And none of that is real anymore!” Rocker interrupted, his voice rising. “Not if you're here with me, in these shitty motel rooms, pretending they don't exist. Pretending this means nothing to you. You can't have it both ways, Deacon. Not anymore.”

Deacon’s face twisted, something fragile cracking across his expression. But then his defences slammed back into place, his usual calm settling in, and his voice came out cold.

“I don’t see a future with you.”

The words hit him like a gut punch, stealing the air from Rocker’s lungs. For a moment, he felt the world come crashing around him, and he couldn't move. Couldn't breathe.

“Say that again,” Rocker whispered, barely recognizing his own voice.

Deacon didn't. He couldn’t. Instead, he grabbed his jacket and walked to the door, his steps heavy. He paused with his hand on the doorknob, his shoulders rigid.

For a moment, Rocker hoped—hoped he would turn around, that he might say something, anything. But then the door opened, and Deacon walked out, leaving Rocker alone in the silence.

The sound of the door clicking shut felt like a bullet to the chest, the finality of it shattering through the fog that had settled in him.

Rocker sank back onto the bed, the silence somehow feeling deafening. The room felt colder now, emptier. The words echoed in his mind, over and over, like a broken record.

I don't see a future with you.

And for the first time, he believed it.