#ares emulator

[sunberry-strawflower]

if you remember beat beat vocaloid plus then here's a gold star ⭐

[katistrophe]

That feeling when you get a plotbunny for a fandom where you don’t even go, IN A CONLANG, and you don’t have anyone who knows it so it’s just pingponging around in your brain

[anotherlongstoryshort]

Things about the Wisdom Saga that have plagued me all damn day

Legendary

Whether intentional or not, Miguel's Telemachus really sounds like a younger version of Jorge's Odysseus. And that hurts.

"If I fight those monsters, is it you I'll find?" The layers. Could he go out and hunt for his father? Could he find his 'legendary' strength within himself? Or will Odysseus be the 'monster' he finds?

"Somebody help me, come and give me the strength" And his call is answered T_T

20 years.

Antinous fully interrupts this bop. Rude.

Ayron sounds legitimately scary and Telemachus taking a stand is so O.O

Little Wolf

I wanna fight this guy. Love that Athena agrees. (The beat of the song and sharp bursts of vocals really emulate blows.)

The quaver on "I don't know how".

Athena is immediately charmed by Telemachus' enthusiasm. She sounds so fond.

The fact she sees heart in him as an advantage when it was Odysseus choosing heart over mind that drove them apart. Guh.

Did she tell him to bite Antinous? XD

"Oh, maybe I pushed you a bit too hard." The change in her perspective is already so apparent - she wouldn't have admitted a mistake or miscalculation to Odysseus.

We'll Be Fine

"I had a friend before..." A FRIEND? FRIEND?!?!

An admission that she didn't fully appreciate what Odysseus was going through, that she feels guilty for having "missed it all".

It's unclear to begin with if she's come to Telemachus for Odysseus, or to try and replace him. Both are equally heart-breaking.

"I don't know who your friend is, I don't know what he's like" UNKNOWINGLY ECHOING HIS OWN THOUGHTS IN 'LEGENDARY'. NO IT'S FINE I'M FINE.

"The best day of my life because I got in a fight and I didn't die! :D" Telemachus, child, please.

"We'll be fine" using the same run as "this is my goodbye" T_T

Him immediately offering up friendship to Athena, like Odysseus once did, must hit her so hard. "You're a good kid." Yes he is - because he's more like his dad than he knows.

Love in Paradise

"Old friend..." FRRRRRIIIIEEEENNNNNDDDDD!!!!!

10 years.

The memory fragments sounding so fraught and chaotic together, hitting harder because they're hitting Athena all at once. She missed a lot.

"She's my wife." "Anyways..." Calypso, girl, please.

Love that they're singing completely different melodies through the first half of this song for two reasons: because Odysseus is revisiting previous motifs, once more trying to hold onto the man he was, and also because it shows Calypso is not willing to compromise on what she wants.

"Last I checked goddesses can't die." We'll come back to this later.

Then Odysseus realises he is truly trapped and he sings along to Calypso's melody in muted horror.

POLITIES OUT HERE STILL HAUNTING THE NARRATIVE.

Just the words "open arms" are enough to confront Odysseus (again) with all he's lost. All he hears are screams.

And the one he screams out for is Athena.

"He needs my help." NO KIDDING GO GET YOUR BOY.

God Games

"Father, God, King..." There's a lot to unpack in that fun family dynamic.

"To untie apprehensions that were placed on that Greek?" Zeus is like, nobody likes that guy, why do you care?

The gods being called out like X Factor finalists is everything.

So there's a great contrast against the previous song - unlike Calypso, Athena is matching each of her singing partners with their tone and beat as she convinces them. She isn't winning by 'imposing her will', she's meeting them where they are.

Rational arguments work until Aphrodite, where Athena says "please" for the first time. She softens to appeal to Aphrodite, which is why Ares has to step in.

The way she says his name XD

Ares' lines sound like as much of a fighting chant as 'Little Wolf' did, which makes it all the better that the mention of Telemachus is what gets her to 'fight back'.

"His son's my friend!" YES HE IS. And Athena of all people declaring "a broken heart can mend" is fascinating. Can't help but wonder if she's talking about herself coming around to forgiving Odysseus.

"Never once has he cheated on his wife." Handwaving the source material is worth it for this line ALONE.

Zeus is so pressed by everyone openly knowing he cheats on Hera. Stop doing it then my dude.

Ares sounding genuinely concerned for Athena is doing things to me. Goddesses can't die, huh?

Her time motif flitting in and out like a weak heartbeat.

The soft piano of 'Warrior of the Mind', touching on a whisper of 'Legendary', then rising to a triumphant crescendo as Athena regains herself. I will be forever haunted by visions of Odysseus and Telemachus helping her to her feet.

And then, finally, she faces her own father and begs. Because Odysseus and Telemachus deserve a chance to be father and child.

The parallel, by the way, of Athena entering this saga to help an outnumbered Telemachus, and now closing it with him/Odysseus unknowingly helping her win her own battle too. JORGE HOW DARE YOU T_T

[worldsover]

Professor Knows ft. Arin

(5.5k words)

You’re seated at the front of the lecture hall, and you’re not sure if you’re in class, or a movie theater with an actress playing a prank for some hidden camera, and here comes the host ready to pop out at any time; hold in your jaw, please. But no, that’s Professor Arin, and everyone here thinks it’s normal that her white pinstripe dress shirt and her gray skirt are both short enough to reveal so much skin that you’re already picturing her naked so that if you were to be saying a speech in front of a thousand people, that’s 1/1000th down to make the task easier.

That’s Professor Arin, teaching passionately, and you don’t give a damn about what you’re learning because this isn’t your campus, and you just wanted to get to graduation already—well, those are the excuses. You don’t give a damn because you’re drooling at the so-called professor dressed more like a slutty schoolgirl/pornstar emulation of one, or at least you have to hold back from drooling. 

You are mesmerized by her perfect hourglass figure, and her heels—goodness, those heels. In her knife-thin heels, she’s rocking an entire lecture hall like she’s that one summer fling that got away, stabbing at hearts and bleeding them dry. How do your classmates do it? How can they concentrate with those hips swaying, and a pencil skirt so tight you can read a book on her ass? How can you focus when she bends over to pick up a dropped pen, and you’re one millimeter away from seeing the absolute territory? You’d call it collective self-control of an entirely different level.

It could be how friendly and bubbly she is. Overtly touchy with all her students, she treats everyone like longtime personal friends, casually grabbing arms and shoulders, patting backs and heads, and no one minds because why would they. The only one minding is you since she doesn't treat you the same way. You would often shift in your seat as the fabric of your pants becomes taut against your honesty whenever she catches your gaze.

And whenever she catches your gaze, for a beat, your heart stops. But then she smiles impassively and continues her lesson without any chalance. You exhale, relieved she didn’t read your mind.

That’s how it goes on for the entire semester: hell on earth, and you couldn’t be more grateful.

Or so you believed. Arin, as it turns out, is omniscient or psychic or maybe just some hair-level more observant than an average student like you—she's the one at the front of the class after all. She knows everything she's doing to you. She must. You hope. Pray. Beg.

Arin calls you into her office one day. This is it. The rumors. She’s a total nympho, a freak, down for anyone half good-looking, and you’d say you’re not so bad yourself.

She's sitting down in her leather chair, her crossed legs revealing just a hint of lace-adorned thighs; you lose your cockiness the moment you're inside the room. You're captivated by the soft, warm lighting that illuminates Arin's flawless features. Her lips are a shade of red that begs to be tasted, and you wonder what those luscious curves must feel like against your own. You swallow a dry lump in your throat, mentally willing your erection to subside.

"Sit down," she purrs, her voice as sensual as silk against your overheated skin. Her eyes never leaving yours, she uncrosses her legs and recrosses them in a way that makes her skirt ride even higher. That's more of her thighs. Less of your sanity.

Your fingers clench into fists at your sides and then you take a seat in the chair across from her, acutely aware of the space between you.

"So, Mr. Lee," she begins, raking her eyes over you, "I've called you here today because I've noticed something... interesting about you." Her voice trails off, and she leans forward, resting her elbows on the table separating you. You swallow hard, fearing and praying for what she might say next.

"Interesting?" you manage to croak out, cursing yourself for sounding like a lovesick puppy. Arin has reduced you to a puddle of hormones with a single look.

"I’ve noticed your… attention in class," she says, removing her glasses, and you're done for. "I want to make sure all my students are participating, fully engaged."

"I am, Professor," you whine.

"Just call me Arin," she says.

You blush. "Arin, of course."

Space becomes even more of an attention hog; the room feels like it shrunk a thousand times its size now, every one of your heartbeats echoing off the four walls, the bookshelves as your eyes follow her fingers, which now travel up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher. Your breath catches in your throat as she uncrosses her legs, revealing just so the white fabric of her panties. Arousal hits you like a ton of bricks, your cock throbbing in your pants. You swallow hard, trying to moisten your mouth as she gets up from her chair and sits on her desk instead.

Then, she touches you for the first time, like she's your classroom crush, finally noticing your feelings, and you can believe that easily, the woman at most a few years your senior. It's a simple touch, a brush of her index along the back of your hand and wrist, yet it's enough to spike the little hairs onto ends like you're touching a Van de Graaff generator. The moment she lets go: there's the blue-white snappy little spark. At this heightened state of awareness, your eyes are flies or bumblebees or hummingbirds, your heart the latter's. You can't make sense of anything else but her.

"I think we both know why I called you in here, don’t we?" she asks, her voice husky.

Now, it's your turn to speak up. Choose your next move wisely.

You say, slowly, "I need to… learn. My lesson."

Arin nods, hops off the edge of the desk. Her smile turns from sultry to goofy. (How’d she do that?) "Exactly!" She pushes a couple of papers in front of you. "Practice these cast studies, I’ll have you read them for the class next lecture."

You were about to get hit by a truck, didn’t get hit by a truck, and felt disappointed that you didn’t get hit by a truck. You take the papers, nod, and leave with your head down. She waves bye when you look back.

Fast forward to the next lecture. You’re a hot mess. You didn’t sleep, rehearsed those damn lines a hundred times as if you were some damn actor. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you can’t for the life of you stop staring at her high heels and gym-toned midriff, showcasing themselves like they were on display.

Your turn comes around, and Arin nods at you to read aloud. You take a deep breath, step forward, and start reading. Your voice is shaky at first but soon, you find your rhythm. Her encouraging looks don’t help, her leg bouncing up and down playfully. Occasionally she’d take her glasses off, chew on the end of them...

Your mind starts to wander into dirty places you'd rather not mention here, but suffice to say, your pants are a little too tight now. It has you stumbling over words when you thought you had it. You force yourself to focus on the text in front of you, but it’s near impossible when she leans in and whispers in your ear.

"Mmm. Getting warmer," she says.

Your voice cracks a little as you try to regain control of your senses but it was no use; you were all hers now. Arin has successfully reduced you to putty in her hands with just one sexy whisper-purr hybrid thing she did so well.

You finish the rest of the reading, and when you look up, you see her staring at you, eyes hooded. It means nothing; you’ve learned this quickly. There’s no truck to be hit by, just the ghost of a promise of one.

You’re in the club later that night, and your balls are ocean/sky/blue-raspberry blue. You down your fourth shot of vodka, determined to forget about it all. There are a lot of girls here. Your friends are going for it. Good for them. They’re all from your old campus, so they would have never met Arin. That adds up.

"You okay, man?" Dongwoo asks, patting you on the back.

You down another shot. "Fine, just fine," you slur.

"She was something, wasn’t she?" he asks, grinning like an idiot. You can only assume he was talking about some girl you must’ve hit on.

"Arin?"

The world tilts on its axis as Dongwoo whips his head around so fast you fear for his neck health. "How do..."

"Long story." You wave him off and order another round, beer this time. "Tell me more."

Dongwoo leans in and starts spilling, but all you can think about is the way Arin looked at you today in class. And how her voice curled itself around your cock like a python around a deer and squeezed just as tightly.

You think about it so much that when you get back to your dorm on campus, stumbling around, world spinning, you make your way to that very lecture hall.

And then you sober up, real fast.

Moans fill the large room. Thick, throaty, oh-god-yes moans.

"Fuck," you gasp, covering your mouth as you peek through a small crack in the door. "She’s..."

Arin, your perfect goddess of a professor, is on the floor, skirt hiked up, glasses askew, as her fingers work in and out like engine pistons.

Your heart pounds as you watch Arin pleasure herself on the lecture hall floor, her soft moans filling the room. She arches her back, her free hand groping her breasts through her silk blouse as her fingers delve deeper. You can't tear your eyes away from the erotic display, mesmerized by the way her body writhes with each thrust of her fingers.

A quiet whimper escapes your lips, and Arin's eyes suddenly lock onto yours through the cracked door. At first, she tenses up, but then, her face softens, and she’s smiling. Then she’s frowning and shaking her head. You know this, understand this, are running through the whole gamut of emotions yourself. You’ve heard the rumors are true, to an extent. She has indeed slept with every professor, male and female, that she’s deemed decent enough. Never crossed a line with a student.

You're frozen in place, unable to move as Arin saunters over to the door, her fingers still wet with her juices. She smells like sex and orchids, two of your favorite things now that you think about it. She closes the door behind you, then laughs at you.

"You smell like booze," she says. She’s wearing that same outfit, the skirt so short you’re ready to go all-in on temperance, whip the ruler out, have her punished for wearing something so scandalous if whatever lord above smite her now, you don’t blame His lightning. Her thighs are a juicy steak—the juice is a trail of something clear.

You look down. "Y-you… you smell like…"

Arin doesn’t know what to do with her hands like how you don’t know what to do with your hands. She also lowers her head. "Fuck. I really, really shouldn’t do this."

Two breaths, heaving, yours and hers.

"You’re right. I’m sorry, Prof—"

She presses her index finger against your lips, and you get a close whiff of her taste. "Why are you apologizing? It’s my fault. And… Arin."

"Can I call you Noona?"

Arin giggles. "Sure."

"Noona," you mumble, your heart in your throat, "I shouldn’t have—"

"Then why are you still standing there? If you’re going to apologize, at least do it right."

"A-apologize?"

Arin rolls her eyes and pulls you toward the seating. When she sits down, your spot, front of the class, she brings you to the floor, where you can see her skirt hiked up even higher. "I was so close, but fine. Apologize for interrupting me by…" She inclines her head toward her wet panties. "You know what to do, right?"

You never thought you’d be kneeling where you pay halfhearted attention to useless studies, but sure, this is church now. Pray. Pray at the altar of the space between Arin’s thighs which heaven envies for lack of same glory, or the idyll garden where the cuff of her socks squeezes the ample flesh. You hesitate, taking in her scent. It’s so much stronger here. So much more Arin.

"Hurry up. Don’t make me regret this." Her fingers in your hair—oh, you won't make her regret this, no, no. You press your lips to her thighs, kissing your way up her inner thighs with a fervor that would make the most devout jealous as you lick-suck-peck at the bare skin and taste the sweat on your tongue, delicious and tangy and a hint of that musky flavor. Oh, she’s been dripping for a while.

Your cock reacts, throbbing in your pants like you haven't had a single drink tonight, as you finally reach the holy of holies.

Arin’s thigh-high clad legs are wrapped around your head, depriving you of basic breath, but you don't care. This is the rapture, and you’d die for her right now and be satisfied. You slide your tongue between her folds, lapping at the nectar she so generously shares as her moans spur you onward. You can hear her panting above you, feel her rocking into your mouth in time with your ministrations. She tastes better than any woman you've ever been with, salty like the sea and as sweet as honey.

"Fuck," she gasps, and you faithfully redouble your efforts. Her grip tightens on your hair as she grinds against your face, and it’s a miracle you don’t pass out from oxygen deprivation or an erection that won't quit. "Yess," Arin hisses, her heels digging into the ground.

"Fuck!" Her juices flood your mouth in a tidal wave of orgasmic release as you swallow every drop like a good little student. She squeezes your face tightly between her thighs, forcing every last drop out of her before finally letting go with a shudder.

"Fuck…" she breathes out, combing her fingers through your hair. "That was unexpected."

Arin blushes, and you smile into her crotch. Reluctantly, you pull away, then return to your seat as Arin adjusts her skirt and glasses, straightening her hair. As you lean back on your heels, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, proud and embarrassed by your performance."Did I do good, Noona?"

Arin laughs out a low and throaty sound. "Oh, you did more than good. But I think it's my turn to apologize now."

"Why?" you ask.

She smiles slyly, reaching down to grab your hand and pull you to your feet. "Because I've been teasing you all night." Arin leans in, her warm breath dancing over your ear. "And I’m not one to leave a task half-finished."

Led by the hand, you follow her into her office, leaving the empty classroom behind. The door closes with a resounding click, sealing you both inside. So this is where the real lesson begins.

The office is a complete one-eighty from the cold, sterile environment of her classroom. You didn’t realize it before, too focused on her to see anything else. Warm, rich colors greet your eyes, and the scent of vanilla and sandalwood fills the air. Arin's desk is a sea of ​​piled-up papers and knick-knacks, but she clears a space for you as she pushes them aside.

"Sit," she commands, motioning to the plush leather chair in front of her desk at as she locks the door behind you with an audible click. The sound of the lock engaging sobers you up at once.

Arin, your professor, just had her way with your mouth and now you're about to... what? Your mind reels with possibilities as she saunters around the room, slackening her black tie and unbuttoning her blouse one button at a time. Each button revealed another inch of porcelain skin, bared for your hungry eyes only. Her dress shirt hangs loosely on her now, just like her tie, and now you can see how her lace panties match her bra. You wonder if this was all planned or a serendipitous coincidence. Arin shimmies out of her panties, then turns around, which lifts her skirt just enough to show off her ass. Arin’s ass is a sort of cryptozoological being that earns hushed whispers at the end of lectures—did you catch the crease of her cheeks when jumped to pull down the blackboard, or did you see how it jiggled when she jumped to pull the blackboard down? But here, in the bare flesh, with its goosebumps and every trajectory, a hushed whisper is too quiet for Loch Ness or Bigfoot’s more famed sight. Her ass makes your mouth water. It makes the desert water. The sun waters. If there were a shape to describe it… yet circle, then perfect, then slappable each inch ever closer to an apt description as apt as the appleness of oranges—now there’s another inch closer: Arin’s ass is juicy. Yet, you can’t even render anything above mute: porcelain skin glowing in the dim light and that pussy... that enticing wetness between her legs, glistening with arousal.

"You must be hard," she says, academic, as though stating fact off a lecture slide or textbook.

You might not graduate with any particular honors on your diploma. Where is honor or prestige and how could it be written down: you have your professor on her knees under her desk, grasping tight on your cock; this can't go in the transcript. (Magna cum loudly—that’s how. If it were not written, lest the porn titlers monopolize this for themselves.)

"You don't know the half of it," you say, and she smirks because she knows more than you, with the proof in her fingers, uncoiling you free.

Digits that hold red pens and chalk and sheaves of paper are now working their magic on your straining erection, already at full mast, but here the flag might fly further such that flagging no longer can belong to that cloth the flaps in the wind because it would not be so accurate a description. Arin watches you squirm, her eyes glinting with mischief and something else you can't quite place. Pride, maybe? As if she's always known this day would come and has been waiting for it.

You're so hard her grip doesn't even feel particularly tight, but when she looks up at you through those glasses, that impassive facade in tatters? That is the tightest leash your heart has ever worn. Her lips are a soft pink, colors you might see on her dress on occasion, and she parts them—the colors you see are a hot white flash, how did she get you down so quickly, and good lord if he were good you’d need his help to last. There is no way she’s this skilled at this unless she’s been practicing like it’s a side job. Her head bobs up and down, each movement accompanied by a moan that vibrates along your cock. She looks up at you through her glasses, more spit on them now, impassive as a hurricane. You make eye contact; it’s all you can do to avoid cumming right then and there, however paradoxical since her glare is saying all you need to hear. Don’t cum. Don’t cum or I fail you. Don’t cum or you’re punished—well, that doesn’t sound so bad.

Releasing and letting out a sharp gasp, Arin lets your erection flop into your stomach, spit-messy and begging. "Good boy. You pass."

As all she speaks, this too is a truth: you pass—into the next life—no time to process how she rips open a packet of latex with her teeth, places it into your length with her mouth, pushes you down onto the desk, one knee on either side of your thighs as she hovers over you.

"I’ve wanted this," she says, grinding against your tip, "since the first day you walked into my class."

"Oh, really, professor?" you manage to croak out, and damn it all if she doesn’t laugh, sexy and low in her throat.

"Don’t call me that right now." Arin sounds so stern saying that, stern like you've never heard her before. Then, in a smooth motion, she sinks herself down, takes all of you in one go, and moans out "fuck me" not nearly so severe. Her inner heat grips you more than the condom could hope, and her soft groans and profanity drain the office of its dry air as if it were never there. Well, the draining is less the sound, and the dry less the extant, both because of what surrounds your cock.

You hold on for dear life as Arin rides you like she's trying to break something, but with no handles to save you, nor any mercy in her movements—up, down, side to side, her black tie and open shirt flapping about—you can only grip her hips and hope to keep up. It’s nothing new for how new it is. This is just like how she treats you, how she treats the class. Just like the rumors. She’s in charge, knows what she’s doing when she has you under her—the metaphorical thumb becomes the literal body; the pretense becomes past tense—and fuck, her body.

The sounds of slapping aren’t your work (yet); that’s her thick thighs and ass smacking against your crotch, hard enough to make her pleated skirt fly wildly. Then, her adorable tits, clad in that black lace, call out to you, have you leaning your head forward in some desperate maneuver to capture them in your mouth.

"Touch me." Arin guides your hand to where she's dripping wet, where her clit throbs impatiently. She arches her back at the simplest circle your fingers can manage, and you’re feeling more at home here, less regret. You’re also palming at her breasts over cloth, and she abates her rhythm to unclasp her bra, letting you have a taste of her nipples, firm and delicious in your gentle teeth and lips. That’s another handle, her breasts a needy handful to be kneaded.

You don’t have the right to command your professor, nor the will. The closest thing to a request is how you grab her loose tie, earning a pleasured squeal, and a harder ride. Hard enough her glasses might fall off. As always, she knows you and your wishes, no need for words: nails dig into your thighs, fingers run through your hair, hands explore all over your body. The touch sends you way too close to tripping off a cliff in a car crash that ends in explosion that might fill latex to its brink, so you do end up with a command, albeit expressed physically as you grab her waist to peel her off you.

When she pouts, she truly looks more like the schoolgirl in your fantasies than the professor who has your graduation at ransom. And how is it that you're the one with any sort of leverage in this situation? Maybe you can tell by her eyelids, falling close, mouth, falling open. Whatever you’re doing, you’re doing it right. You flip her over onto her stomach, pressing her into the cool, smooth surface of her desk with a resounding thud. She whimpers, arching her back and presenting her still-slick pussy to you like an offering. But instead of sliding your cock inside right away, a recipe for disaster and early nights, something else calls out to you. Her asshole, like a forbidden fruit, beckons you to your knees, and you spread her cheeks apart, flipping her skirt up and bringing her tight entrance into full view of your face.

You start with a kiss on the pale skin. "May I? Noona?"

She giggles, no semblance of a mind in the airy noise. "Please."

Continuing with more pecks, tender and loving on her beautiful behind, some kisses along her thighs where they’re squished by thigh-highs, then you get closer and closer until your mouth is around her asshole. While you undertook this sabbatical to let your furious erection and imminent orgasm simmer down, the first taste of your tongue inside of her ass does no favors for your arousal. Tangier, saltier, and hotter than you could have imagined, Arin's tightness envelopes your tongue in a way that makes you groan, the vibration resonating through her. Her fingers grab at the edge of the desk as she moans out your name, or maybe it's "fuck" and "yes," but either way, you know you've struck gold.

You lace your fingers through her folds while you deepen your one-sided French kiss, tonguing her anal passage.

"Oh, god. Yes, right there!" she squeals between pants, rocking her hips back and forth.

As much as you'd love to continue this exquisite torment, there are other needs to attend to. Withdrawing your tongue from her ass, you see a strand of her pussy juice connecting her thigh gap. You stand up, lining up your latex-covered length with her cunt. "Ready for me, Noona?" you ask, though you already have the slick cheat sheet answer on your fingers.

As you press your hardened cock against the velvet folds of her intimacy, you position yourself to plunge into her waiting warmth. However, instead of granting that eager penetration, you ruthlessly tease her entry with the rugged tip before pulling away prematurely. As though left bereft in a hollowness only your presence could fill, she instinctively chases after your ghostly retreat. She gasps out impatient words underscored by carnal desperation, "Don’t tease me. Fuck me already!"

The sharp crack of your palm on her round ass cheek echoes in the small office. A blossom of pink blooms on her fair skin.

Bunching her cheeks apart with strong fingers, you terminate all playful actions as snug heat engulfs your cock.

Each rhythmic thrust into Arin is executed with a savage fervor that serves to claim dominion over every inch of her, to take all semblance of control. Take everything she knows and transform that knowledge into this snapshot crackling sensation that’s reducing her to sobs and groans. Fuck the unspoken implications and the quiet tension built up throughout the school year. You thrust into her like loud is the only path forward, and this path of volume is where Arin follows you. A single tug on her makeshift ponytail prompts her grip at the edge of her desk, and whimpers turn to screams, screams that might hazardously fill the hallways. When she glances over her shoulder, you can see her whole face pleasure-wracked. It takes one or two more plunges for her to surrender completely, tight contractions traveling rhythmically over your engorged cock. Trembling through spasming ecstasy, her whole body reacts, but especially her substantial thighs. Despite how tight she gets, you don’t stop pumping until she’s flowed through her entire orgasm.

After you pull out into much cooler air (the condom covered in her nectar), Arin recovers from climax with a surprising quickness, bewildered half-laughs at her own highs. "You might be my favorite student now."

Even though she says it playfully, you still take it to heart, feeling a delighted warmth in your chest. So you thank her with all sincerity.

Rising to her feet, she takes hold of your erection with a lip-bite. She leads you cockwise toward her window, looking back at you through her glasses with a smirk that steals air. One moment she looks cute, the next she’s a succubus, a natural-born seductress.

Once Arin turns around, her palms seize contact with the cool glass window, presenting herself to you for another round. As though framed by the night herself, Arin couldn't be more exposed if she tried. Although it's late at night, the possibility of someone catching sight of Professor Arin, compromised and partially clothed, lingers in your mind. These moments are when and where and how rumors are born. But you refuse to let that hold you back.

Once again, you piston into Arin, fucking her standing. The darkness turns the window into a mirror, reflecting Arin's expressions of pure bliss. Watch the tantalizing bounce of her breasts in her open shirt, the glistening beads of sweat navigating downward across her lithe abdomen, how she’s forced onto tiptoes to thrust right back into you—it’s sensory overload.

You grab each of her wrists and pull them back, getting all the leverage you can to fuck her like a ragdoll manufactured for taking all the punishment you can give, skewering her body to the windowpane with your cock. Her face and glasses push against the window with each firm thrust, and how she’s given into you, it’s time to steer off the edge.

"Gonna fucking cum," you tell her, your hips working at a fiery pace, your pulsating cock gripped over and over by her insatiable pussy.

"Yes! Yes!" At this moment, there is no professor and student, only two creatures consumed by instinct. She is nothing more than a debauched schoolgirl in her uniform (only halfway so), eagerly taking everything you give her. And you give it to her.

Withdrawing just long enough to strip off the barrier between you both, you offer yourself hand-guided satisfaction, as you reward Arin with sticky shots of cum onto her lower back, each dimple and dip soaked by pools of your load. Some of it gets onto her cropped

The two of you laugh as you both stumble back into her desk. She gets tissues and hands them to you, so you clean the evidence.

Steering yourself onto the creaking chair leather, you’re soon joined in cozy proximity by Arin who nestles comfortably into your lap, her head into your neck’s crook.

"So does that mean I get free grades, Noona?"

She slaps your arm—and that familiarity is enough to picture domestic life with her as your partner, the sort of casual delusion she engenders. "Don't even joke about that!" Arin giggles, pretty and unabashed like everything else about her.

You scoff. "That's where you draw the line?"

Displaying rare seriousness, she narrows the gap between familiar lips so close it feels like sharing a breath. "You still smell like soju, you know." Her hand moves up to your hair, taking stock of you in your ruin and bliss. "God, you're so cute. I shouldn't be doing this."

"Well, you did," you point out.

She nods, and nods, and laughs, until nothing separates lips anymore, sealing the context between professor and student, which somehow fits perfectly... like missing puzzle pieces that finally found each other, or a story that’s found its climax in this moment. The intimate tangle in her office chair goes from tongues to jaws to lower and intimate. Arin kisses the muscles of your chest, and you kiss the valley of her breasts.

"Why do you wear stuff like this?" you ask as you hold open her cropped shirt.

"Because I can," she says with all earnestness, and you believe her; it’s just as you figured.

Looking down at her thigh-highs, you tell her, "You know you look like an amateur camgirl."

"Ooh, now that’s an idea." Arin goes for your throat in literal and other ways.

As you make out with the straddling Arin, you return the favor with her own hickey, which you notice at class the next morning. You're proud of the little purple thing there on her skin, the opposite of proud of the whispers they cause. But like all things Professor Arin, these pass. And like all things Professor Arin, she winks, and you too pass.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

[aroaceleovaldez]

there has absolutely got to be at least one demigod at some point who found out they had literal superpowers and decided to just become a superhero. did they know they were a demigod? who knows. irrelevant. it's had to have happened at least once.

cause like. "superheroes" exist irl. Phoenix Jones is probably the most well-known example on tumblr. if fictional superheroes exist in a universe, there's gonna be at least one person who will try to emulate that, and if this is also a universe where people just also sometimes have real superpowers? well. duh.

and the Mist can only hide so much. like, if they're just an Ares kid or something and their powers are just being very strong and resistant to damage? the Mist isn't gonna be able to disguise that very much.

anyways i wanna know about the inevitable demigod-turned-superhero(es).

[p0rk-guts]

YAAAAALL IT'S ANGEL DUST!!!!! bro I'm so exited to tell u about him hehehehe he might be my fav redesign of the bunch idk

Comparison & rant!⬇️ + A bug/spider cw. I put reference images in there!

Ok guys can I be honest with you. I think. Pilot and pre-pilot Angel were peak 😔 I'M SORRY I'M BREAKING MY SILENCE

Like whaaat... WHAAAT.... I'm sorry he served here he had the BEST design idc idc you can't change my mind. These were NOT bad designs. I've got a slight preference to his oldest design but even then the pilot design was great to me.

THIS however...

OooOOOH MY GODDDDD THEY NEUTERED HIM!!?! NO tits, three measly ugly stripes on an uglier coat, LONG GLOVES THAT ARE MISMATCHED??? ONE OF THEM HAS THESE WEIRD... WHITE FLAPS?? WHO— WHAT. WHY. AND THEY GO OVER HIS LONG SLEEVES 😭😭😭

I'm sorry but Angel will always be the most egregious case of character assassination in this show, design and character wise. He sucks now and I used to love him.

Okay enough crying let's get serious.

So yeah show Angel sucks. Removing his chunky gloves removed a lot of the fun shape in his silhouette so now he's just a gangly twink. Very little visual interest. Also hate hate hate how his new mismatched gloves are pulled over his long sleeve coat. So dumb. Hate it.

Also explain to me how he's gradually gotten less tits but has simultaneously become more femboy-ified..... So many people immediately mistake him for a girl.......

They also mistake him for. Literally anything but a spider. Once again Viv can't code or theme characters for shit. I also don't like how his face changed... I can't describe it but It's so much less appealing and charming. Something in the eyes and his little cheek bump. Idk. Really hate show Angel props to the animators for making him watchable with his bold animation ts was real nice

Okay onto my Angel! He's now a goldenrod crab spider now! Thank you @/cryptablog for this idea!! (Not tagging them bc they hate the hellaverse with a burning passion lol 💀) They can be white with pinkish markings like our og Angel but most of them are tinted yellow or completely yellow!

I decided to make him most similar to that mid ground mix of yellow and white with pink-er markings. 1 because I kept lust pink and I feel like that'd be a prominent sin of his (+ purple is in here a lot bc I feel like he'd also be pride aligned! Purple is now the pride color :3) and 2 because the yellow tone in his fur is kinda meant to connect him to Husk in a way... Cuz that's kinda his main color... Idk maybe I'm onto nothing with that one BUT his primary color is purple and Husk's primary color is yellow(ish)! Complimentary boyfriend's!!! Are you seeing my vision!!!!! (Also on a lesser note his colors look more similar to my fav version of Angel aka his design from the pre-pilot ref sheet I showed)

Another idea you can thank Cryptamen for is him being partially translucent in places just like real goldenrods!!!! The idea behind that was because he was in the mafia in life and he had to be really stealthy at times so now in certain environments he's harder to see... Maybe he can even turn fully invisible for a bit... There's also possible character reasons to consider tying in there as well... Ough very cool idea 10/10

Gave him 4 legs and 4 arms + the big abdomen to really make him scream spider bc yes spider boys can be hot and no Viv was not willing to CAPITALIZE on that 😒 Also lengthened his fangs... Also moved his eyes to his forehead to make them more prominent and hopefullyyyy seem more like eyes. Idk. And now he's got pointy little pedipalps as well!!!

Gave him his boobs back bc he deserves them and just generally gave his body more shape (though the second set of legs definitely helps lol). Slightly de-twinked... But not by much...

Once again looked up some common hairstyles at the time and people loooved their hairspray and curls, or swoops, or waves— they were gettin funky with it. Hard to emulate that on his nonhuman skull so I took some artistic liberties applying ideas from common styles onto him.

Didn't do much research at awl for his clothes... I mean... He's not wearing much to begin with... I kept the long gloves bc I thought they had potential to look cute and I have him rolled cuffs on short sleeves. Wanted to keep the style simple but otherwise I would've drawn button clasps keeping them in place. No notes on the thigh high heels so I kept them. Everything else is just kindaaaa whateverrrr EXCEPT THE NECKLACE. Though it was hella funny and fitting

And that's awl folks.... Do u like him do u fuck with him.... Let me knowwww....... Okay byeeee ✌🏾🧍🏾‍♀️

[luigiblood]

I'm going to semi-retire from the game preservation scene.

This is by no means a decision that I took on a whim. I am genuinely sad that it came to be this way, I've been involved in this stuff for a genuinely long time, I've seen many things, met many great people, also the bad and stupid dramas, which shouldn't really be discounted either, even though this was not the kind of thing that affected my decision.

I have no regrets on how I handled my job and I wouldn't have it any other way. But I just don't have the heart anymore. For roughly a year as I'm typing this, I started to seriously resent any attempt at public releases and contextual research.

This kinda sucks for how I want things to be treated with respect. I blame myself for giving myself too much responsibility and was not able to successfully pass down some of it to other people. This definitely did not help as it took a toll mentally speaking. But despite trying to change this, I found out how I just stopped caring about details, and just wanted to move on. I gave myself a little more time to ponder about it, and my final decision is that, yeah: I need to quit, I really don't have the heart anymore for it.

That doesn't mean I want to stop everything though, there are still things I need to do, and still have interests with, like with Satellaview and 64DD, but I want to gradually move away, and eventually pass the baton to people who still has the fuel. But I don't intend to disappear.

I still have a burning passion for the obscure parts of Nintendo, that's not changing any time soon, but the work I've been doing really just felt like a chore, and it was a job I've been doing for years.

I've been involved with Satellaview since around 2008/2009 with my Hello World SNES homebrew adapted for BS-X. The technical knowledge of the Satellaview was just very limited. I've started then a project to at least reveal how the satellite signal worked, and I got it working (then nocash did even further work that shouldn't be discounted, but he's really just too fast at this). It was my first reverse engineering project, and it was very formative, and shaped my knowledge of computer science like never before. I've then worked on emulation and preservation, managing quite a few dumps of Satellaview content.

Then in December 2014 I've had my first version of the 64DD Disk Dumper, done with help from the N64 scene people, on December 31st, all commercial 64DD titles were dumped, then I worked on 64DD emulation for a bunch of emulators, based on the works of Happy_ from MAME, and eventually was able to write my very own emulation code from scratch and higher accuracy than before on Ares. This year will be 10 year anniversary of my 64DD Disk Dumper.

So I've been doing this stuff for like, 15 years at this point, and now... Aside from the fact that I haven't been as into it as I used to, I also got older. I'm at an age where I'm sorta thinking if I want to do other things with my life, but in that case, other things have to be put on the wayside, to an extent.

I can't say what I will bring in the future, I have tons of ideas, and besides, I'm still gonna be behind a few game preservation works here and there, but my involvement will be limited from now on.

Also, Nintendo: Don't think I'm done datamining your NSO apps lol You still have so much shit that we don't have and I'm not gonna give up on having hints.

[jasontoddsguns]

Shazam, but the people of the pantheon are actually all Greek. (Choose which ones you want to build your ultimate SHAZAM)

S- Light of Selene, Temperance of Sophrosyne, Preservation of Soteria/Soter

H- Speed of Hermes, Youth of Hebe, Protection of Hera, Warmth of Hestia, Energy of Horme, Discipline of Hephaestus, Vision of Hyperion, Magic of Hecate, Competence of Hades, Strength of Hercules

A - Justice of Astraea, Health of Aceso, Swiftness of Arke, Wisdom of Athena, Force of Ananke, Tenacity of Ares, Gale of Aeolus

Z - Power of Zeus, Emulation of Zelus, Winds of Zephyrus

A - Aim of Artemis, Light of Apollo, Stamina of Atlas, Courage of Achilles, Truth of Aletheia, Fortune of Agathodaemon

M - Knowledge of Métis, Memory of Mnemosyne, Judgement of Minos, Sight of Mopsus

[imagionationstation]

So I was watching Knights of the Zodiacs and idk it made me think what if the turtles were like…reincarnation of gods? Idk

Anyways, this is what I’d personally assign -

Leo - Athena. Raph - Ares. Donnie - Apollo (god of knowledge and all that) or Hephaestus. Mikey - Hermes.

I also spun a wheel to let it decide. So much funnier and more interesting.

Leo - Hermes. Raph - Aphrodite (did you know Aphrodite was also a war goddess?). Donnie - Artemis. Mikey - Demeter.

I think it’s fun, you don’t have to respond lol

I play with Greek/Roman history sometimes so I know enough to recognize the gods and their tempers/hobbies/interests.

If they were recarnations, how much of them would remain? Or would they still have the turtles personalities? Would they still have their powers or some variations of them…?

Never seen Knights of the Zodiacs so I have zero frame of reference for the thoughts that you are having. It’s making my train of thought stop at multiple stations despite its desire to chug on.

(Edited due to minor confusion)

Lemme see…

Athena: Goddess of the wisdom and warefar, a leader and very into tatics and strategies, strong views and she was very big about honor, truth, and justice.

Sounds like Leo. Checks out.

Ares: The god of war, very into all kinds of violence. It gives him a bad reputation bc, yk, obvious reasons. He can also be considered the god of courage depending on where you look. He’s not necessarily on anyone’s side as long as violence happens.

He and Athena are often depicted as frenemies, with them fighting often, probably because he likes war for the sake of war and she fights in wars with purpose.

Interesting take on Raph. I can work with that.

Apollo: The god of quite a few things. I remember prophecy and archery in that lineup. Music and poetry was in there too. He also emulates Athena’s beliefs in justice and peace. If I’m recalling correctly, he could also be passionate/emotional and tended to have some jealous streaks.

Yeppers. Sounds like the boy but with a musical flare <3

Hermes: The god of speed and travel/luck. He’s a tricky, mischievous boy with the best intentions. He’s bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, and only lives to do as he pleases. He’s very fast, very annoying (to the other gods), and very sneaky. I think he’s also a protector of travelers/wandering souls. He’s genuinely a good, silly guy.

Mikey in a nutshell right there. I think we’re on the same page here.

Other than the fact that I, again, have not seen Knights of the Zodiacs. Sincere apologies.

There’s a whole lot that goes into them being gods, tho.

Do they keep all their powers? ‘Cause mythological gods tend to be overpowerful creatures and overpowerful creatures are no fun.

I want to beat the turtles up. Make them suffer and bond. How do I do that when they have few weaknesses??

What if- they have powers, but they have mutant forms now. So they have the weakness that come with mortal bodies. It’s harder to unlock and use their powers. And it’s really annoying because they have to shift between struggling to use the powers and randomly unlocking them mid-battle, only to find them locked later.

#The Struggle Is Real

I wish I could draw. I have some images on the brain that I’d love to share but sadly my talents do not extend so far.

[incorrect-hs-quotes]

TT: So, people. I have done some awful things with experimenting with AR, and I may have found a way for him to emulate my own voice. Poorly.

TG: OH??

TT: I have no words for this. I’m just gonna let it play.

AR: Hey youtube it’s Dirkkhhh. And today we have some sad news. I know a lot of you are going to be dissapointed by this, BUT. I’m getting turned into a pig. Now please- you have to understand I didn't want.          To get turned into a pig. But this is just something that I just have to deal with. Sorry, anyways I’ll have a large number 6 combo meal- uh-OH IT’S HAPPENING. OINK OINK OINK OINK. squeaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAL.

AR: Oink. Piggy Piggy. Hah!

TG: FDSHJKUAHFGLID H GIU.DAWG DFSghd???????

GG: PARDON?

GT: Cheese and fucking crackers!

GT: The fucking- “Anyway, I’ll have a large combo- UH OH IT’S HAPPENING!”

TG: AND THE RELA PIG NOICE AFTERWORSD…… MY GOG…. 

[gubbles-owo]

When whipping up Railgun in two weeks' time for a game jam, I aimed to make the entire experience look and feel as N64-esque as I could muster in that short span. But the whole game was constructed in Godot, a modern engine, and targeted for PC. I just tried to look the part. Here is the same bedroom scene running on an actual Nintendo 64:

I cannot overstate just how fucking amazing this is.

Obviously this is not using Godot anymore, but an open source SDK for the N64 called Libdragon. The 3D support is still very much in active development, and it implements-- get this-- OpenGL 1.1 under the hood. What the heck is this sorcery...

UH OH, YOU'VE BEEN TRAPPED IN THE GEEK ZONE! NO ESCAPE NO ESCAPE NO ESCAPE EHUEHUHEUHEUHEUHUEH While there is a gltf importer for models, I didn't want to put my faith in a kinda buggy importer with an already (in my experience) kinda buggy model format. I wanted more control over how my mesh data is stored in memory, and how it gets drawn. So instead I opted for a more direct solution: converting every vertex of every triangle of every object in the scene by fucking hand.

THERE ARE NEARLY NINE HUNDRED LINES OF THIS SHIT. THIS TOOK ME MONTHS. And these are just the vertices. I had to figure out triangle drawing PER VERTEX. You have to construct each triangle counterclockwise in order for the front of the face to be, well, the front. In addition, starting the next tri with the last vertex of the previous tri is the most efficient, so I plotted out so many diagrams to determine how to most efficiently draw each mesh. And god the TEXTURES. When I painted the textures for this scene originally, I went no larger than 64 x 64 pixels for each. The N64 has an infamously minuscule texture cache of 4kb, and while there were some different formats to try and make the most of it, I previously understood this resolution to be the maximum. Guess what? I was wrong! You can go higher. Tall textures, such as the closet and hallway doors, were stored as 32 x 64 in Godot. On the actual N64, however, I chose the CI4 texture format, aka 4-bit color index. I can choose a palette of 16 colors, and in doing so bump it up to 48 x 84.

On the left, the original texture in Godot at 32 x 64px. On the right, an updated texture on the N64 at 48 x 84px. Latter screenshot taken in the Ares emulator.

The window, previously the same smaller size, is now a full 64 x 64 CI4 texture mirrored once vertically. Why I didn't think of this previously in Godot I do not know lol

Similarly, the sides of the monitors in the room? A single 32 x 8 CI4 texture. The N64 does a neat thing where you can specify the number of times a texture repeats or mirrors on each axis, and clip it afterwards. So I draw a single vent in the texture, mirror it twice horizontally and 4 times vertically, adjusting the texture coordinates so the vents sit toward the back of the monitor.

The bookshelf actually had to be split up into two textures for the top and bottom halves. Due to the colorful array of books on display, a 16 color palette wasn't enough to show it all cleanly. So instead these are two CI8 textures, an 8-bit color index so 256 colors per half!! At a slightly bumped up resolution of 42 x 42. You can now kind of sort of tell what the mysterious object on the 2nd shelf is. It's. It is a sea urchin y'all it is in the room of a character that literally goes by Urchin do ddo you get it n-

also hey do u notice anything coo,l about the color of the books on each shelf perhaps they also hjint at things about Urchin as a character teehee :3c I redid the ceiling texture anyways cause the old one was kind of garbage, (simple noise that somehow made the edges obvious when tiled). Not only is it still 64px, but it's now an I4 texture, aka 4-bit intensity. There's no color information here, it's simply a grayscale image that gets blended over the vertex color. So it's half the size in memory now! Similarly the ceiling fan shadow now has a texture on it (it was previously just a black polygon). The format is IA4, or 4-bit intensity alpha. 3 bits of intensity (b/w), 1 bit of alpha (transparency). It's super subtle but it now has some pleasing vertex colors that compliment the lighting in the room!

Left, Godot. Right, N64. All of the texture resolutions either stayed the same, or got BIGGER thanks to the different texture formats the N64 provides. Simply put:

THE SCENE LOOKS BETTER ON THE ACTUAL N64.

ALSO IT RUNS AT 60FPS. MOSTLY*. *It depends on the camera angle, as tried to order draw calls of everything in the scene to render as efficiently as I could for most common viewing angles. Even then there are STILL improvements I know I can make, particularly with disabling the Z-buffer for some parts of the room. And I still want to add more to the scene: ambient sounds, and if I can manage it, the particles of dust that swirl around the room. Optimization is wild, y'all. But more strikingly... fulfilling a childhood dream of making something that actually renders and works on the first video game console I ever played? Holy shit. Seeing this thing I made on this nearly thirty-year-old console, on this fuzzy CRT, is such a fucking trip. I will never tire of it.

[silviastoll]

The real villain is the gods, it always has been. But the way its being set up early, years before it is in the books is so wonderfully done.

We don't get to see Annabeth truly denounce her mother till the mark of Athena in the books. But,

"eat of be eaten. power and glory and nothing else matters. ares is that way. zeus is that way. my mother, is that way. HE isn't that way. he's better than that. maybe I was that way once, but I don't wanna be that way anymore. I won't be like all of you. I just won't"

She looks at Percy, a boy she's known for less than a month, and sees someone more worthy of her devotion, her emulation; than her mother, than the very gods themselves. and it is his humanity, his love, his loyalty, that she respects, that she wants to embody. He loves so honestly, so freely, and that's something she's never experienced.

Annabeth is so young, but so are all the campers, so deeply entrenched in the doctrine their godly parents give them, "get enough kleos and maybe I will know your name, maybe I will love you. Strive to be ME." and when she needed her mother most, she was punished, for the actions of another. But perhaps that was all it took for little, incredibly smart, so very smart Annabeth to understand that no matter her devotion, her attempts to be godly, her mother would never love her, because her mother barely knew her name let alone valued it enough to love her.

[tc-doherty]

Author Questionnaire Tag Game

Tagged by @the-letterbox-archives thanks ^__^

About Me

When did you start writing?

I was writing by kindergarten at least, so…1996 or thereabouts. I do still have some writing from this time. I actually decided to be an author when I was 8 so that would be 1999. :)

Are there genres/themes you enjoy reading different to the ones you write?

I mean probably, I love to read and I read widely. Generally though, if I like something I will try to write it as well even if I'm not good at it. The biggest one I can think of would probably be cozy mystery novels, but I am still planning to try and write some of those.

Is there an author you want to emulate, or one to whom you're often compared?

I read a lot of Mercedes Lackey growing up, and I think that people who are familiar with her work might be able to tell from the way that I approach world building and especially magic. It's not really intentional though, it's just because I read so much of her work at a formative age. I'm not really trying to emulate anyone, I'm just being myself.

Of course I also love fairy tales, folktales, and legends so my work is very much inspired by that kind of storytelling. You'll see fairy tale and folktale elements everywhere.

Can you tell me a little about your writing space?

I have a lap desk so that I can make it easier on my arms when I'm writing by hand. I will use that either at my office chair (the height and incline of my desk is not right for me) or while sitting on the couch. Otherwise, because I use dictation, I'm always writing at my desk.

What's your most effective way to muster up some muse?

I just sit down and write. Writing is its own reward to me, so I'm always motivated to do it. I've never had a problem with that kind of thing.

Did the place(s) you grew up in influence the people and places you write about?

I shouldn't think so. I never write about the real world, and I never intentionally include references to any real places or people I know.

Are there any recurring themes of your writing, and if so, do they surprise you at all?

My writing is all themes really. There is a running narrative of "home" being the people that you're with, and so finding the "place" you belong by finding the people that you belong with. Also themes of coming to terms with yourself, and moving forward.

There are plenty of themes, aesthetics, and other little Easter eggs that show up in a lot of my work. For instance, I love to write about forests, I love to write about the ocean. I often include gryphons in my work because they're cool! I really like sun/moon imagery, I really like elemental imagery…lots of little things.

My Characters

Would you please tell me about your current favourite character?

I'm legally required to only have one answer, my Main Babe(tm) Ithea! Ithea's got everything. She's elegant, glamorous, and intelligent, she is also very manipulative and loves the power of violence. Her favorite hobby is treason. She uses sex as a weapon. She also uses weapons as weapons. She'll also kill you with her bare hands if you give her the opportunity. She's always smiling. How can you tell if Ithea is lying? Well, is her mouth moving? She loves her partner's kids more than anything in the world, she can, will, and has killed for them. The level of her arrogance is entirely unparalleled. Her goals are completely inscrutable. She lives a dramatic life and dies at 36. What's not to love?

Which of your characters do you think you'd be friends with in real life?

I honestly think I would have difficulty getting along with a lot of my characters. But I could probably hang out with Dante, Gheist, Temitope, and Kadife. I would love to be able to say I could get along with Nelli, and maybe that would be true. She can be a little rigid for my taste though.

Which of your characters would you dislike most if you met them?

Most of them. I love writing about people who cause problems on purpose, and I love writing about people who are very arrogant and manipulative. But in real life I don't like that kind of personality at all. But I also write about a lot of characters that I would personally consider too pathetic and would not be able to deal with.

I'm the kind of person who takes things in stride and continues forward no matter what. I'm extremely even-tempered. People who are too energetic are kind of exhausting for me, and people who are willing to give up annoy me for a different reason. But I'm not really the kind of person that would make a very interesting character, now am I? Hahaha…

Tell me more about the process of coming up with your characters.

I usually start with the sort of relationship that I want to explore, and then I make up what sort of characters need to exist in order for that relationship to logically happen. When it comes to their development I might start thinking with some kind of scene that is the peak idea of…well, the core of their relationship, maybe. From there I can go backwards and forwards to figure out who they were to get there, and what's going to happen because they know each other. But sometimes I just have a very vague idea and I start writing with nothing else. In that case I end up making a lot of characters just to fit the story, because they need to be there.

Do you notice any recurring themes/traits among your characters?

I love writing about women who are ambitious and arrogant and manipulative. I love writing about men who are so soft and sweet. Secondarily, I love to write about women who are practical and down to earth, and I love to write about men who are extremely prickly and emotionally wary. I love writing characters (of either gender) who are way overly dramatic or purposefully annoying.

Also. I mean. Most of them are gay.

How do you picture your characters?

Vaguely. I've talked about it before, I have almost complete aphantasia so picturing things is not really my strong suit. I generally will have a collection of descriptors and traits, and that's why I draw them myself or hire artists to work with. I only picture things in snapshots and even then only with a great deal of effort. I have a lot better idea of how my characters dress than what they look like. I talk about clothing a lot.

My Writing

What's your reason for writing?

I simply love it. There's no other reason.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating coming from your readers?

I love getting key smashes, and things that are in all caps, and other representatives of people YELLING. But I screenshot every comment that I get and I keep them on my computer because I love them all ^__^

How do you want to be thought of by those who read your work?

I don't need to know what they think about me LMAO I write stories that I love, and when other people love them too I'm flattered. But that's the extent of my relationship with most people, if they aren't actually my friends. And people who are my friends will think about me in much different contexts than just as an author, one would hope. If I have to say something though, I do hope that the people reading my work can tell that I was having a good time when I wrote it.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

I love writing dialogue, and people often like the dialogue that I write! I know people also often like my characters, and as a character driven author, that is very pleasing to me. I struggle with description because I'm not good at visualizing so it's not very important to me. On a line by line basis I don't think that my writing is particularly beautiful. I'm just not that kind of author. It's difficult to get things out of my writing if you only see one line. But I write about character growth and dialogue, and if you look at my writing in chunks it's exactly what I want it to be.

What have you been frequently told by others is your greatest strength as a writer?

My dialogue and my characters. But one time someone told me that my writing reminded them of The Princess Bride, and I've carried that with me to this day.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I love it! I constantly crack myself up. I know in the grand scheme of things I'm not a particularly funny person, but I think my writing is hilarious. After all, I'm writing for an audience of one (1) person, so if I'm not enjoying it, what's the point?

If you were the last person on earth and knew your writing would never be read by another human, would you still write?

The only thing that will stop me is the cold, hard embrace of the earth. Honestly, even if I knew for a fact that not one of the eight billion people currently on the earth would ever read a single word I had written, I would still do it. I'm not here for them.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely what you enjoy? if it’s a mix of the two, which holds the most influence?

I write purely for myself.

Tagging @did-i-do-this-write @thegoddesswater @mrmissmrsrandom @outpost51 @bloodlessheirbyjacques

@magefaery @italiangothicwriteblr @tryingtimi

Honestly, I wouldn't mind seeing everyone do it hehe

[thetimetraveler24]

Okay now that I’ve seen the first two episodes of the PJO show once through, here’s my initial thoughts.

To get the negative ones out of the way… I didn’t like how they did the “You drool when you sleep” line. Leah delivered it great but it was very… out of place. It felt shoehorned in for the fan service and I think there were better ways to fit it in. There were other lines but I can’t think of them at the moment.

I was also expecting more from the fight scenes. Percy vs. Mrs Dodds was a blink of an eye. I agree it should be quick, but Percy accidentally killed her. He didn’t even know the pen was riptide. In the books, I know it went “I did the only thing natural. I swung the sword” and him killing Dodds wasn’t him being a master fighter, but it wasn’t totally an accident. The Minotaur went down too easy. Percy’s fight with Clarisse and the Ares kids shouldn’t have been longer than Percy’s fight with the Minotaur. Also, Gabe’s car should have blown up.

On to the good stuff!

Walker is everything as Percy. I love love love him so much for this role. He delivers every time with the Percy attitude with just the right amount of cluelessness and the right amount of sarcasm and sass. Love it so much.

Aryan is definitely giving Grover. He’s exactly the right awkwardness I pictured with Grover in the books. Can’t wait to see him shine as Grover in the next episodes, especially in the Vegas episode because that’s when we get to know more about Grover’s past with Thalia and his desire to find Pan. I think Aryan will be great.

Leah was perfect for Annabeth. She absolutely gives off an air of knowing more than the people around her. She was book accurate frustrating vague about Capture the Flag and I loved it when she just disappeared and left Percy wonder what to do now. The whole Capture the Flag scene was perfect in my opinion. Not a ton of Annabeth in these first two episodes, so I’m looking forward to seeing more of Leah in the next weeks.

Like I said, Capture the Flag 10/10 no notes.

Loved the Mr D pretending to be Percy’s dad. That was so fucking funny I was cackling the whole time. “Peter Johnson is here!” was giving “Another Terrible Day” I loved it. Perfect Mr. D casting.

Loved Chiron. He always gave me old grandfather vibes and thats emulated here. Another great casting choice.

Percy is already demanding child support and I love it. My guy is ready to fight the gods and I’m here for it.

Love Luke putting it out there that the bond between him and Annabeth is strictly siblings. I will be okay if they keep Annabeth’s crush on Luke because I think it’s normal for tweens to crush on older teens/young adults they idolize, but I think the show is keeping it strictly platonic. Love that change, opens it up for some heartbreaking dialogue to replace some lines in Last Olympian.

Lastly, one thing that isn’t necessarily good or bad about the show:

I wish the episodes were longer. I would be okay with hour long episodes. The content is there, and the audience will watch the whole thing, pinky swear.

But I’m not complaining. I’m pretty happy with what I saw today. I can’t wait for next week and the next and the next. I’ll probably rewatch over the next week and give more detailed thoughts as I watch.

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth | Christmas Carol (5x06)

There was a time when Dana adored him. Mom said all little girls looked up to their big brothers, but she was only half right. Bill could still feel phantom pains from his childhood brawls with Missy, but when Dana was young, you would have thought she lived in the space on the ground where his shadow lay. He couldn’t count how many times she bumped into his back when she’d follow too close behind him, or how often he rolled his eyes when she’d pretend to be interested in whatever he was into.

He didn’t realize how much her admiration meant to him until it wasn’t so freely given.

Even in name, he was trying his best to honor his father’s legacy. Of course Mom said he would be so proud, but over time, he realized Dana was his only mirror into seeing how true that was. The colors that spanned his uniform didn’t have the same effect as the glint in her eyes when she looked at him and saw their father.

He hadn’t seen that glint in years.

Dad had always told him that he was setting an example for his siblings, but he was too young and too dumb, so he treated the privilege like a burden. As a kid, his attempts to emulate his father’s authority were sloppy and mean, something Dana realized far sooner than he did. As an adult, he recognized how great his father was at commanding respect while never letting his kids question how much they were loved. 

If he had to pinpoint the moment everything changed between them, it was when she called him saying that she was joining the FBI after spending years in medical school. He’d been exhausted from his deployment, and the words just slipped out. 

“Dad’s going to be so disappointed in you.”

He might have been the one with their father’s name, but she was daddy’s little girl. Even though he thought his statement was true, he felt the need to spit the acrid taste of the words out of his mouth. Melissa and Charlie might’ve reveled in rebellion, but he and Dana lived their lives in a way that ensured a statement like that would never be true.

She got mad, he apologized, they moved on, but their relationship was never the same. It made him feel guilty that her estimation meant so much to him, and he returned the favor by watering the seed of doubt in her mind so that it became an invasive weed woven into her psyche.

Sometimes Bill wondered if it would have been easier to mend their relationship if she was partnered with anyone else. He called Mr. Mulder a sorry sonofabitch a few weeks before, but he was preaching to the choir. Maybe that’s what pissed him off so much. Mulder does blame himself. There’s nothing Bill could ever say to that man that he hadn’t said to himself a thousand times over.

Her partner knew, yet nothing changed. They hadn’t slowed down, they hadn’t taken a break, and Dana was stuck living a life devoid of all the things she’d dreamed of growing up. Mr. Mulder never saw the childhood crayon drawings of a doctor with red, shoulder-length hair. He didn’t know about how often Melissa and Dana speculated about baby names or gushed about what their future husbands would look like. But Bill always thought about his baby sister and how often she came home, battered and bruised, to an empty apartment. Dana might love her work, but her work wasn’t keeping her warm at night.

She barely even saw her family any more. It pained him more than he could say that his children would only get to know his family through trips to the cemetery and Christmas visits.

And even that wasn’t a guarantee.

Bill watched as Dana walked back into the living room and sit down after contributing a hefty addition to next month’s phone bill. His eyes were drawn to her fingers as she worried the cross that hung around her neck. What used to be an act of devotion now just looked like thoughtless muscle memory in effect.

“Mulder’s on his way here,” she stated matter-of-factly.

He knew by her body language that this was information he was expected to accept without argument. In a measured tone, he asked: “Did he get a room at a hotel?”

“No.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mom’s hands still as her back straightened. Despite being an empty-nester for nearly two decades, she was still prepared to intervene in her children’s fights. Only this time, she was beaten to the punch.

“I can’t wait to meet Mulder! I’ve heard so much about him,” Tara beamed from his side.

Dana offered his wife a polite smile, but Tara’s last comment earned him a biting glance.

Mom, picking up on the subtext his wife hadn’t, was quick to try and prevent an argument. “I’m always glad to have him around. He’s like a part of the family.”

Bill held back a wince as his incisor dug into his lip. He wanted to say that this was his house and that he should have a say who gets to be here. He also wanted to remind his mother she didn’t seem to consider him family when she was sobbing on the ride back from the hospital, lamenting  that Dana needed to give chemo another try instead of a goddamned piece of metal.

But he didn’t. He knew his mother would remind him that the little piece of metal did work and that Mulder had effectively saved his only living sister’s life. Just like he knew Dana would threaten to leave if he didn’t welcome this man into his home and keep his mouth shut about the fact they would likely be sharing his guest bed.

He was tired of being the bad guy when all he wanted was his family to be back together.

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on AO3!

@gaycrouton

[dullanyan]

does anyone know of a decent n64 emulator ?????

i really would like to stream more n64 games but it seems like every single n64 emulator is shit.

project 64 sucks for a lot of reasons (kept freezing, wouldnt let me load save states without crashing), mupen has a ton of graphical errors, ares loads a little bit and instantly crashes, i cant get simple64 to launch and rmg my computer wouldnt even let me open.

keep in mind i am like an old man with computers.