#at least in my experience its you fuckers

[clawsdevour]

tied to you

wc: 1.3k content warning: smut, bondage, slight bdsm, friends w/ benefits, some degradation, slight humiliation, mouth fuck, not proofread, shitty writing, multi-fandom x reader

note: hihi whoevers reading this its kinda like my first time writing something more darkish in terms of smut idk how to explain??? bc i was kinda interested trying my hand at writing bondage and whatnot so um hopefully its at least ok???

*:･ﾟ✧

“Does it hurt if I tighten it like this?” are the words you hear as the red ropes grip around your curves, tightening at every given movement.

“No, it actually feels good.” You always wanted to try this fantasy of yours that you’ve seen on a variety of different medias. It’s a way to stimulate and satisfy you through bondage, essentially meaning being tied up. You thought this way of pleasure was very intriguing at first glance, being able to feel pleasure through being binded tightly by strings. Since you had a friends with benefits relationship, you wanted to experiment this with your partner.

“You look so hot right now, you know that. Can’t move, just tied up for me. Ha.. I can’t help but get hard just by looking at you,” your partner grins. Skin starting to come to a slight bruising the more you move. The tight rope just barely hitting your bare perky rosy nipples, making your tits spill out of the red rope. You grinded yourself on the rope that was right in between your folds, letting out silent moans while soaking the cords with your wet fluids. Your ass is fully exposed with each cheek separated along the lines of the cords. You were currently kneeling on your bed, with the ropes digging into your skin, hands binded behind your back as well as your ankles. He’s standing, watching and observing the ropes tightly against your skin right in front of you. You watch as your partner’s hard on keeps reaching its peak, watching it grow. You want to see it closer and maybe even give him a reward for tying you up so well.

“Take your pants off, I’ll suck you off” confidently you said to him, underestimating what he’s gonna do since you’re in a pretty vulnerable state. He raises an eyebrow, shooting you a look of surprise.

“Anything you want for looking so gorgeous,” shuffling off his pants and sliding down his boxers. The moment his dick popped out and recoiled off his stomach, you start salivating looking at his length and thickness. He steps closer to you and watches as you try to catch it into your mouth. Obviously, you needed his hand to guide you if he wanted you to suck him off! He couldn’t help but laugh at you for wanting to suck his cock so bad in an attempt to humiliate you.

“You’re so silly. If you want it that bad you have to beg for it,” Holding his dick still, he starts smacking you multiple times in the face as he lets out a low chuckle. You can’t help but givehim a dirty look for his tauntings. Fueling your irritation you blurted out at him.

“Just put it in my mouth already dickhead! Fuck you, stop teasing m-” the warm thick dick of his, stuffs your mouth completely hitting the back of your throat. You let out a groan from his sudden thrust. His hands gripped handfuls of your lucious locs as he pushed your head further down. Feeling it prob the back of your throat made you gag, causing him to jerk it back out. Coughing violently, tears started to sting your eyes as your body reacted.

“Well? I did what you said you wanted me to do. What do you wanna do next, hmm?” the sincerity in his low voice made you wanna clock him right there. Obviously, since you’re binded, you can’t. All yo ucould do was be angry. Although he was right, he did give you what you wanted and you can’t prove him wrong. Shit, your brain thought out of all people I chose to try bondage with this fucker?? Well, it’s like you had no other friends with benefits to try this out with. Recovering from his impulsive move, you might as well continue. Well.. you were gonna anyway since you’re quite literally tied up. You let out one big sigh which made him respond with a loud huff.

“I.. I want to…” what you’re about to say, just the thought of saying out loud in front of this guy is enough to make you die of embarrassment. You knew what you wanted to say but couldn’t spit them out. He watched you struggle with your words for a good minute with his eyebrow raised and arms crossed against his toned chest.

“Just say it bitch, I don’t get what you’re picking at here…” he sighs and scratches his head trying to figure out what you’re saying in his thick skull. You can’t help but look down turning a red hue, completely humiliated with what you’re gonna tell him to do.

“I want you to mouth fuck me,” he’s staring at you like you’ve gone mad and turned into a whole different person than he usually has sex with. Your words sent chills up his spine, he wouldn’t expect this even if you’ve never became friends with benefits.

“I.. Uh, are you sure..??” you nod, staring him down making him gulp. Opening your mouth wide for him, he intoxicates your warm plush mouth with his thick cock. His girth making your eyes tear up, his hands reach for the back of your head as he start moving in deeper. As he thrusts your head over and over on his dick, your body moved with him. The squelches sounds squeaked out of your mouth while your bedsheets shuffled. The tension coming from the ropes on your body restrain you from moving even further. You can’t help but moan from the friction the cords produced on your skin and intimate areas, causing a bright red to start fading in. The thin sheen layer of sweat starting to show up on your bare flesh as you took in his cock.

“Shit this feels so good” seductively was heard from above. Looking up at him, he was enjoying himself as much as you were. His tender muscular build mixed in with his musky scent and sweat, as his cock rubs harshly against your gummy mouth.

His rough pace quickens as if your sloppy, swollen lips were now his own personal fleshlight moving at his own rate. Your cheeks hollowing and altering back to normal as you suction on his dick. The moment your eyes rolled back was the moment he started to twitch in your mouth, knowing he’s coming to a close.

“I’m gonna cum.. Do you want it in your mouth, you filthy whore?” you tried hard to shake your head. Gross anything but his cum in your mouth. Feeling your shake, he was at least nice enough to respect your decision. Right as he pulled out leaving you exhausted and gasped with your sore coarse throat. He instantly pumps his cock with his hand, releasing explosions of his thick sticky fluids flying onto your sweaty, tear stained face. 

His essence dripped down onto the rest of your body and the ropes that bruised and turned your skin into different shades. You were beyond exhausted and overstimulated from the rope rubbing against your most sensitive parts. Your partner couldn’t help but stand for a moment, letting him catch his breath, watching you regain your composure. 

“Augh.. shit” you can’t help but cough overwhelmingly after getting your throat fucked severely like that. Droplets were still streaming down as your body reacted to what it’s just been put through. His warm touch swipes your tears off the surfaces of your cheek.

“Sorry. I was a bit harsh with you, wasn’t I?” untying the rope from your body, you collapse in his heated embrace as he reaches for a tissue to wipe his cum off of you.

*.༄ DABI, SHIGARAKI, SUNA RINTARO, OIKAWA TOORU, ATSUMU MIYA, YUJI TERUSHIMA, SAKUSA KIYOOMI, GOJO SATORU, SUKUNA, TOJI FUSHIJURO, KAEYA, CHILDE, TENGEN UZUI, OBANAI IGURO, MUZAN KIBUTSUJI, DOMA

masterlist here

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 2

ftm yautja oc (Bhankui-ya) x male reader

Can Yautja be FTM? No idea, but this one can. Ive only watched one predator movie, so this is mainly just cooked up from my own imagination and attraction to Yautja, as well as the many fics I read. I used a generator for the name, so if it’s bad, blame the generator.

This is also more just “haha funny relationship between a yautja and his ooman” kinda vibes. very fun to write, i would love to write about Bhan again.

Mixed wording for the yautjas bits.

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Dating a yautja was an… interesting experience. Bhankui-ya, or as you called him, Bhan, was no exception. But really, dating a scaley 8ft tall alien warrior who could rip your spine out of your body with his pinky really didn’t get any weirder. You were never gonna complain though, except for the times he would sit his entire weight in your lap, and you were left gasping for air. It wasn’t your fault that yautja weigh the same as three men of their size. You loved it though, and you had a feeling Bhan knew that.

How you came to date your partner, mate, as he called it, was another strange set of circumstances. You had a past of your own, and there wasn’t much left to live for. So, you had set out to take down the people who’d harmed you and your loved ones the most with you. Your body was littered with the scars they left on you, and your heart was covered in even more, aching for the siblings they’d taken from you. Be it from their abuse, or your siblings taking their own lives because of them.

It hadn’t truly registered at the time. You didn’t know what a bad blood was, or that Bhan was an enforcer. You just knew that scaley fucker, who was already missing an arm and hissing like a wet feral cat, was trying to take your kill goal from you. Bahn would later tell you, after laying in bed feeling like hed just drained the very life out of you, that you fought more feral than a kiande amedha fighting for its queen.

You still didn’t really know what that was, but you had seen skulls, trophies, Bhan kept of them. Apparently, they were a big deal, and seeing you acting like one got him wet. For some reason. But hey, you got hard seeing him cleaning his knives and spears, who were you to judge that he got heated up seeing you rip a bad bloods mandibles right out their face.

Anyways. In the end you came with him, since you’d “proven yourself” somehow. And having literally nothing and no one on earth, you just followed. You were no warrior or hunter, at least nothing compared to yautja. But you had a “look in your eye” in Bhans words, or rather clicks. The implant to understand him still itched at times. You just “needed to unleash it” whatever that meant.

Turns out the one place you can unleash this so-called power is in the bedroom. Because, where yautja may be the superiors in many ways, it seems in the way of the body humans were still more advanced. Bhan would tell you it was because “Oomans like you are controlled by bodily urges”, you just think he’s jealous you used to fuck a toy before you met him.

You honestly felt like you were on top of the world the first time you used a vibrator on his clits, because apparently his people had three. Seeing him rip holes in his seat and how he would arch, and roar made you feel euphoric, it had to be the same rush Bhan felt on a good kill. But instead, you got it from making him squirt so hard his legs were shaking.

You never got to live on that high for very long. Apparently Bahn liked to “peel you back down again” so you “didn’t get too confident”. Apparently, a confident hunter was a dead hunter, or something like that. It was pretty hard to think about his “lessons” when he was riding you though, his sheer bulk slamming down on your already aching human hips until you were making noises similar to the creatures he hunted when they were dying.

That didn’t stop you from stocking up on toys though. The next time you came to earth, you scrounged up money one way or the other, and immediately entered the best quality shop you could find. Bhankui-ya was off doing whatever he needed to do, and in the meantime you were trying to find out which wand would work on him.

The conversation with the store clerk was embarrassing, to you at least. They seemed quite entertained as you fumbled out that you were trying to find something that would work on your “taller than you can imagine, buff as hell and more dangerous than a tiger on steroids” partner. They were very helpful though, and even gave you some discounts and wished you luck on your way, as you stumbled out of the store with at least two bags on each arm.

It was only experience at this point that helped you remember where the ship was, since it was invisible and all that. But as you got inside you immediately clambered off to the bedroom, where you got to work. Bhankui-ya wouldn’t know what hit him when he got back, you would make sure of that.

Of course, you shouldn’t have been surprised when your mate came back beaten and bloody, but lugging the bad bloods head under his arm. You had gained a fascination with seeing the heads of his kills, alright? So, what if it made you morbid. And Bhan? He just seemed to almost preen as you oohd and aahd over his kill.

Patching him up was a couple’s activity, mainly just because you liked patching him up, and Bhan liked when you did it. He could have easily fixed himself up with the many tools he got as a yautja, but where was the fun in that, when he got to see his little blood thirsty ooman patch him up instead. Bhan did have to stop you from licking his blood up at times, lest he decided to ride you right then and there.

In the end you forgot all about the wide array of toys youd laid out in the bedroom, in the order you planned to use them on him. You sent Bhan on his way, deciding to be a good mate and drag his heavy as fuck armour and weapons off to where they needed to go for cleaning and polishing. It caused aches in your back, but Bhans purrs made it all worth it.

Walking into the bedroom Bhankui-ya got to see your little plan, and if the hunt and your pampering, as well as that flicker of bloodlust in your eyes hadn’t got him wet, then this did. How sweet of you, his little mate, to want to pamper him this way. Had you remembered it was your anniversary? (you hadn’t) how could he not use the gifts you set out.

Walking into the bedroom to see Bhan fucking himself with one of the toys, a vibrator against his clits made you almost pass out. Hed even worked one of the plugs into his other hole, his muscular thighs spread wide open as he purred in your direction, his noise like a siren call that had you stumbling over your own feet, almost making you eat floor.

Bahn had tried to laugh at your stumbling, but you were on his slit like a starved animal. It was only the fact that Bahn let you that you got the vibrator away from his nubs, mainly because he loved your mouth on him. It was just so much nicer to have a human eat him out than a fellow yautja, he had taken lips for granted his entire life.

Having just gotten back from a hunt left him more pliable, and willing to go along with your whims. Which was how you got four of those wired vibrators strapped to his thighs, and up his cunt, set to the highest setting as you fucked into his ass. The wand youd bought was worth all the money as well, as you used it to swap from one bundle of nerves to the other, Bhankui-ya howling loud enough that your ears were ringing. You wouldn’t be shocked if they were bleeding, but did you care? No, no you did not.

The adrenaline from his hunt, your powerful scent of want and hunger, and just the fact that Bhankui-ya didn’t indulge in other mates before you, left him sensitive and so needy, something you gladly abused any chance you got.

The bed needed to be completely replaced afterwards, but that’s how it went every time you got him like this. Never in your dreams did you think you could have someone as powerful and dangerous as Bhan, limp and panting, his entire body shaking and spent. Seeing his mandibles quivering always made your heart lurch, it felt like a symbol that you had done it all right.

Times like this were never about you or getting you off. But you also knew Bhan wouldn’t accept it if you didn’t get to finish too, so you always did it wherever he wanted it most. There was little chance of you two having offspring, mainly because Bhan had an implant that made pregnancy impossible. Because, unsurprisingly, yautja had even better prevention care than humans could ever dream off. You swore you heard him chirping about pups every now and then though, when you had him so wrung out that his eyes kept rolling back, even when you weren’t doing more than petting his torso.

Aftercare was also something Bhankui-ya could appreciate that came from humans. Yautja did care for each other after mating, but it was mainly just to patch each other up if it got bloody, or feeding the other food and water. Being rubbed all over and massaged was enjoyable, so you wouldn’t catch Bhankui-ya complaining.

You both knew you were gonna be the one shaking and limping in a few days though. He couldn’t let you get too confident, now, could he? Maybe hed even show you how some of the weapons he owned could be used in more… fun and creative ways.

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Nova Genesis

Part One

Summary: tensions rise as strangers board the ship and turn Dibs' entire operation on its head to obtain critical evidence. But not everyone feels the same at the prospect of returning to Earth | Word Count: 4.5k~ | Warnings: mentions of Ettore's crimes, swearing, mentions of violence, threatening behaviour, masturbation (m)

A/N: A birthday present for @dreamymoomin @in-a-mountain-pool, my fellow Ettore fucker (affectionate 😘). Have a very happy birthday <3

For the last several days, Dibs was irritable. There was something she wasn't telling them, and none of them had the interest nor the energy to ask. But something had spooked her, and that was never good. She stopped the weekly examinations for the females, and started destroying the samples from the males. Both of which were things she previously cherished as part of her twisted experiment for a child.

The rest simply followed their daily routine as usual, just without the lingering, judgemental glances from Dibs, replaced with a sense of unease and confusion when she’d shut herself in her office for days on end. It was a good and happy coincidence that at least without her help, they knew how to look after themselves. 

Loud alarms startled their otherwise quiet lunch. Some didn’t move an inch and others merely looked around, eyes wide with fear, not knowing what to do with themselves. And the second they felt the ship quite literally jolt, as if something had docked against them, Ettore had a sense of where the situation was headed. No more than fifteen minutes later, the doors where they had boarded the ship, opened once again, revealing quite shockingly a band of official looking people.

Several armed guards stood like pillars beside the army of lawyers and technicians, prepared to both shut down the operation and steer the spacecraft back towards Earth. They held their weapons casually, their gazes insistent that violence would occur should the team be threatened in any way.

“If you all know what's good for you, you'll let them do their work. And you'll all get to go home.”

Ettore watched with a stoic expression, as if uncaring and neutral at the idea of returning. He highly doubted that everyone shared the same opinion about the prospect of returning to Earth, to their prisons, where they all knew too well. 

His eyes watched with a deep interest as the team split off to start their investigation around the prisoners, starting with downloading the encrypted files Dibs had attempted to hide. Each one potential evidence for the twisted doctor's misconduct.

He watches one of the lawyers particularly closely, unable to admit to himself exactly why he finds her interesting to look at. They all wear casual clothes, something he has not seen since leaving Earth in the first place, and now something that seems so undeniably foreign and alien.

Her lanyard displayed both her name and her title. Legal Representation.

She started by organising individual meetings with the prisoners, for them to air their grievances, with evidence of course. Documenting each one regarding their treatment, health and level of punishment. Some were forthcoming and some, predictably, were not. And could she blame them? For so many months, years even, distrust was just another fact of life up here. 

Dibs watched with frustration her life work being dismantled and dissected. At first her attempts at justification were met with cold looks and shakes of their head from the legal team, eventually turning into silence. They were there not to debate ethics but to enforce the law and protect the rights of those who had been under her control.

The little lawyer, Ettore so affectionately named her in his head, was diligent about her work. And when he spotted her next, she was deep into downloading onto an external hard drive the encrypted data on Dibs' computer in the infirmary. He couldn’t deny, it was strange to have other people wandering the ship. The otherwise wide and meandering hallways now felt cramped, with barely two people able to stand side by side while letting another pass. It felt suffocating. And he knew it was only a matter of time before someone snapped. 

His jaw clenched as he watched her from the doorway, attempting to make sense of the software Dibs' had so often fiddled with to make it near impossible to infiltrate. And he wondered with a sense of defensiveness and perhaps immaturity, or naivety, that this woman was pushing change, and he wasn't sure if he liked that.

She let out a pleased sound when she cracked the last layer of security, and Ettore laughed through his nose.

“Suppose she didn't account for someone like you, hm,” he mused dispassionately and somewhat uninterested. A flash of irritation gnawed at him when she didn't look up from her work to address him.

“‘Dr Dibs’ didn't account for a lot of things,” she started, her tone neutral, “nevermind taking accountability.”

His eyes darkened, roving over her form behind. She was easily smaller. If he really really wanted, she wouldn't be able to fight. But did he want her to?

She finally paused and swivelled on her chair to face him, her expression insistent, making his darkened thoughts pause for just a moment.

"You don’t seem too thrilled about the prospect of going back to Earth. Most would be eager to leave this place.”

It wasn't a question, but he could smell that she wanted an answer. And normally, he would have entertained her. But her expression, coupled with her expectancy for him to bend, made him huff and turn away.

“Content with staying here and giving Dibs sperm samples for the rest of your life? Not that I think that's the part you dislike.”

She mumbles that last part under her breath, turning back to the computer to check its download progress. And while her back is turned, something is stoked in his eyes. That was an incredibly dangerous thing for her to say. Especially to him. To someone like him.

He shoves his hands in his scrub pockets, mostly to touch himself.

“And what is there to go back to?” He inquires, watching with interest when she turns back to him halfway. He raises his eyebrows, tone somewhat mocking, “something about the devil you know.”

She gives a breathy laugh, “suppose it's comfort in its own way. Wouldn't you rather live than just survive?”

He narrows his gaze, stubbornness enhancing his disbelief.

“You really believe that it's just step off this ship and poof, everything's fine?”

“I didn't say that.”

“Why would I want to go back to a world that forgot me the second they sent me up here?”

She sighs. “It'll be what you want it to be, if you keep thinking like that.”

He has to resist the urge to roll his eyes. These lawyer human rights fucking types will always cling to some kind of hope, however naive. It was a word long flung out of Ettore’s vocabulary, not that he was usually the hopeful type. She sighed through her nose at his lack of response and turned back around, typing quickly and practised on the keyboard. Her messy, plaited hair fell down her back, and for a brief, fleeting moment, he thought of what it would have been like to grab the end, and twist it over his fist he’d be strong enough to subdue her, that was for sure. Even thinking about it, he ran his tongue over his teeth.

He wondered if she knew what he was here for. Did she know the ins and outs of what the jury said about him? Or what the judge condemned him to? Or was he just another tick box on her list, just another name? Did she either understand the man he was now, or what he was capable of? It both thrilled and unsettled him in equal measure. He watched her slender fingers move across the keyboard, thinking, how would she react when she knew how dangerous he really was. 

Would she still carry that same determination, or would fear finally colour those idealistic eyes?

He smirked slightly, thinking that he had met many women like her that used her indifference as armour over her, shielding her from the darker truths of the world, or perhaps, just the darker truths of his world.

“You’ve read my file, haven’t you.”

His voice was low, almost a growl, daring her to acknowledge the monster many believed him to be. She paused, her fingers halting mid-type, and her lips parted. For a moment he thought she might turn around again, but she wet her lips and continued typing.

There was a firmness in her voice that surprised Ettore. “I've read your file, yes. I know what you've done.”

“And?”

“I’m not giving a glowing review on your crimes.”

He gave a huff of a laugh. “No need to get antsy, sweetheart.”

She turned her head, her face calm with an expression that belied any fear in him. “My job isn’t to judge, it's to defend human rights, yours included.”

Ettore's smirk widened, his eyes narrowing as he processed her words. "That's a neat way to put it. Defending human rights, even for someone like me? Must make you feel pretty good, huh?"

Her expression remained unchanged, her resolve as firm as ever. "You think I do this for my health?"

Before Ettore could respond, the sudden clang and shout from the other end of the corridor cut through their conversation. Both turned toward the noise. A group of guards hustled past, their faces tense, moving toward the source of the disturbance.

Ettore's attention briefly flickered to the commotion, then back to her, a victorious smirk on his face. "Looks like not everyone's as cooperative as I am."

She cocked her head, “and you’re being cooperative are you?” she asked firmly, with a harsh rhetorical edge. “Anyway, it’s not about that. It’s about your safety as a whole-”

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that carried an unmistakable edge. "And what if I wasn't safe? What if I was the one out there causing trouble? Would you defend me then?"

She met his gaze, unflinching. "I defend the rights of all prisoners, no matter their crimes."

"Theoretically, right?" Ettore pushed back, amused.

"Practically."

Their intense exchange was suddenly interrupted by the return of the guards, escorting a handcuffed prisoner between them. The man was shouting, struggling against the restraints, his eyes wild with desperation.

"Fucking assholes! You're all just dressing it up as justice!" he yelled as he was dragged past them.

Ettore watched the scene unfold, his expression unreadable. Once the noise had died down, he turned back to her, his voice low. "Not everyone believes in your justice. Being out here…it changes people, makes them into monsters."

“I don’t believe that.”

Ettore's smirk faded, replaced by a contemplative frown. "Maybe you should. The monsters are real. And sometimes, they're closer than you think."

His words lingered in the air, thick with an ominous undertone, he turned and walked away, his steps deliberate and heavy against the metallic floor. She watched him go, his broad silhouette gradually merging with the shadows of the spacecraft's corridor. It was only when he disappeared from view that she realised she'd been holding her breath, her chest tight with apprehension.

She exhaled slowly, trying to dispel the tension that had coiled inside her during their conversation. The exchange had revealed layers to Ettore she hadn't fully appreciated before, depths of cynicism and a hint of something darker, perhaps a warning or a challenge. His parting words echoed in her mind, a reminder of the complex human narratives woven into the fabric of this mission.

Her eyes lingered on the corner where Ettore had vanished, the unsettling feeling of his presence still palpable in the air. She was left with a profound sense of the weight of her task, not just to administer legal justice but to understand and navigate the human elements at play. The reality of Ettore's warning, that the monsters might indeed be closer than she thought, settled heavy on her shoulders as she turned back to her work.

The mission to dismantle Dr. Dibs' operation continued, but a quieter but equally dangerous plan was brewing among a faction of the prisoners. These were men and women who, for various reasons, fears of retribution on Earth, lost ties, or simply the terror of facing their past crimes, had decided they were better off lost in space. They saw the arrival of she and her team not as a rescue but as a threat to the precarious stability they had found, or rather forged.

Ettore, caught between his newfound interest with his little lawyer and his inherent distrust of returning to a world that had discarded him, found himself pulled into this group’s orbit. Monte led the group, not particularly charismatic but he was seen as trustworthy, had quickly identified Ettore’s influence among the prisoners and sought to leverage it, despite their dislike for each other. There was something in Monte that was also as antsy as Dibs, as if he feared returning to Earth not because of the consequences, but because it meant confronting ghosts he had long buried.

With them, huddled in secret within the confines of the storage room, Mink leaned, arms crossed, as if she were still on the fence and could be persuaded. 

“This ain’t redemption,” Monte started, his eyes firm, “up here we’re forgotten, nothing but fuckin’ dust. Back there, we're monsters on display.”

Ettore scoffed lightly, “and what? Hijack the ship? You think that ends well for any of us?”

“You know Dibs wants ‘em gone too.”

“We’re not killing them,” Mink interjected.

Monte glared at Mink, his frustration evident. "You think I don’t know we can’t kill them? We take control, redirect the course. We can find a place out here where they can't just drag us back to face whatever hell they've cooked up for us on Earth."

“So they’re hostages,” Ettore added bluntly. “They’re not like us. They'll come looking for them."

Monte nodded, his voice steady. "Then we make it too costly to come after us. We send a message back, make it clear we’re not their lab rats anymore, not their spectacle."

Mink shifted uncomfortably, her arms still crossed, her gaze flickering between Monte and Ettore. "Okay, stop measuring dicks for one second. We're talking about potentially starting a war here. What if they send the military after us? We're equipped to handle guards, maybe, but not a fucking assault."

The two men beside her fell quiet, and Ettore glanced down the hallway as if to check they nobody was listening in.

Mink filled the silence, her decision torn in two different directions, “And what about the others? The ones who might want to go back?"

Ettore rolled his eyes slightly. "Sometimes you gotta make the hard choices for people. Look at where trusting Earth got us in the first place." 

His point didn’t at all mean to sound like he was supporting Monte, so he hated the little nod of agreement he gave. The way his eyes lit up.

But Monte caught it, misinterpreting Ettore’s reluctant agreement as support, his own resolve hardening. "We were discarded, forgotten. If we don't take a stand now, when will we ever?" he speaks erratically, as if even now pleading his case, “I killed a man. His family won’t rest until I’m buried. Talking won’t change that.”

Mink and Ettore remained silent. But their expressions could not be any more different.

“It won’t change it for you two either,” Monte added with venom, “You think any of us got a fair shot down there? You really trust this lawyer, these people, to make it right? Open your fucking eyes. She's here to make herself feel better, not to save anyone."

Ettore, who had been following the exchange silently, felt a surge of concern. His thoughts briefly flashed to his little lawyer, her conviction that the law could serve justice, her determination to fight for their rights. It contrasted starkly with the raw survival instinct that drove Monte.

“So that’s it then,” Ettore mused, “you want violence.”

Monte turned on Ettore, his gaze fierce. "If it’s violence they understand, it’s violence they’ll get."

Ettore met Monte’s fiery gaze with a steely resolve of his own. The tight confines of the storage room seemed to shrink further, suffocating under the weight of impending decisions. Decisions that could very well define the fate of everyone on board.

“You want to lead us into a war we can’t win,” he countered, “you’re gonna fuck all this up, and for what?”

Monte's breathing was heavy, his chest heaving with each breath, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He looked as if he wanted to say more, to argue that his plan was their only chance, but the fight seemed to drain from him second by agonising second. 

“Fine. We’ll see what your lawyer can do. But if it doesn’t work, if they don’t listen...” His voice trailed off, leaving the threat hanging, an unspoken ultimatum that they all understood.

After a week of tireless work aboard the spacecraft, tension simmered under a deceptive calm. She and her team had catalogued countless files and dismantled numerous experiments, yet they were still not close to gathering all the evidence they needed before the planned return to Earth. The ship was suspended in the vast silence of space, a temporary lull in their journey both literally and metaphorically.

Ettore leaned against the doorway, the threshold between their ship and the prisoner's felt so inescapable. The distance between their daily lives aboard the ship was not lost on him, and a cynical remark bubbled to the surface, and he couldn't help but run his eyes over her as she made her way past him to go to her own quarters.

With a sardonic twist to his lips, he approached her, his voice carrying just enough edge to be provocative. "You look tired, sweetheart. Must be tough, being so close yet so far from all the answers you need.”

She merely glared at him sideways, and despite her composed exterior, there was a fatigue in her eyes that spoke volumes about the strain they were all under.

“It's part of the job. And Dibs hasn't exactly made it easy.”

Ettore chuckled softly, the sound more mocking than amused. "Sure, but at the end of the day, you get to retreat to your safe corner of the ship, away from all of us. Sleep better thinking you’re not surrounded by monsters?”

Her face remained impassive, but her eyes hardened slightly, a hint of steel beneath the surface.

He huffs. “Maybe one night you should try sleeping over here, see how dangerous we really are. Maybe then you’d get all your evidence faster.”

There was a moment of silent acknowledgment between them. It was a threat. One meant to hit deep. If she was smart, she'd see the larger threat beneath it.

"Just remember, justice feels different depending on which side of the ship you sleep on.”

She cocked her head at him, but not in question, her eyes remained steadfast and firm. It was as if she merely wanted to see a different angle of him.

“Maybe it’s less about where I sleep,” she muses, “maybe it’s understanding the lay of the land, hm? Knowing where the landmines are buried.”

Ettore’s expression shifted only barely, whether she caught it or not, he couldn’t tell. She had obviously been interviewing all the prisoners. And if he had to guess about who was likely to blab about this plan Monte had cooking, it was most likely Boyse. They’d notoriously disliked each other.

But a subtle smirk rose to his lips. She was trying to prod him, thinking he was the leader in all of this. Where she could not be more wrong.

“You’re barking up the wrong tree, sweetheart.”

Her jaw tightened at that. And his warning was cryptic enough and yet clear enough to read the hidden meaning beneath. There were dangers lurking within the ranks. Uprisings. That not only jeopardises the mission, but their lives as well. She felt her heart thud hard in her chest, feeling right now more than ever, that she did not belong here.

With a thick swallow, she sighed, trying to appear calm, “I appreciate your concern for our safety.”

Ettore gave a half-smirk, recognising her diplomatic reply. And though he was tempted to say more, to see how she’d squirm, he pushed off the wall and turned his back to her. He recognised he had shared too much with her, a crucial piece of information, but something that also revealed a concealed trust for her. 

When he turned back to glance at her, he felt a smug pride in his chest, she was still watching him. And her eyes flickered upwards when she felt she had been caught. And the little lawyer scurried away back to her haven, with not another word.

She returned to her quarters, the sound of the door sealing behind her echoing slightly in the compact, utilitarian space that served as her temporary sanctuary. She slipped out of her shoes, feeling the cool metal floor beneath her feet, a small comfort after another long day of navigating the tight corridors and tighter tensions of the spacecraft.

After a long and decompressing shower, she moved to her small desk, where she activated her datapad, to record her nightly entries for the team back on Earth, to update them on the progress.

Day 23.

Looking at herself on the screen, her hair wet over her shoulders, she felt she looked tired and more weary, compared to when she first arrived. And wondered briefly how the prisoners had not yet gone mad. 

“The evidence we need to solidify the case against Dr Dibs is…extensive and…elusive. She’s trying to hide things, which doesn’t help, behind walls of useless other data she thinks we’ll miss. The crew’s morale fluctuates, as expected. They are under immense stress, given that the cooperation of some of the prisoners has been divisive at best.  Boyse’s interviews are particularly interesting. She’s afraid of going back to Earth, seeing as there is little support for her. But she seems rather excited to see Dibs see justice for the horrendous things she's done to them. She made me aware of a former prisoner, Elektra, who died shortly after childbirth due to lack of proper care. The baby... also did not make it. Boyse has made it very clear that the experiments and examinations on the women have both become more frequent and more desperate after this incident. Mink tells a similar story, albeit with some details redacted. Unfortunately, Dibs disposed of the bodies shortly after their deaths, so they won’t be recoverable.  They both heavily dislike most of the men on board, with the exception of Tcherny. He seems keen on returning to Earth. Mostly because he has nobody there to judge him anymore. Monte…has refused interviews. And too refuses interaction with any of us. Ettore. Well, he was cryptic today, as usual. I believe he is the type of person to lure people in just to watch them try and escape him.”

She paused, with a heavy sigh, running her hand through her hair. Stress gnawed at her temples. And something else tugged at her gut. Something she could not mistake as sickness.

“He refuses to say anything outright. But we must tread carefully. It’s clear some, if not most, of the prisoners do not wish to return, fearing retribution and violence, or whoever awaits them who will not share in our opinions of them. I can’t help but…wonder why we are here.”

She couldn’t concentrate after that. Her thoughts involuntarily drifted to Ettore. There was something undeniably compelling, beyond the complexities of his personality. Her racing thoughts could not keep up with her mouth, it felt.

“He’s an enigma. He has strong features but…manages to control them under a mask. And yet, there’s an intensity in his eyes that’s so piercing. The way he looks at me sometimes…it’s unsettling. And yet I can’t find it in myself to look away. And his voice, even when he whispers it’s…”

“The monsters are real. And sometimes, they're closer than you think."

She swallows, her fingers resting on her throat as if to feel her own pulse.

“It carries a weight, one that commands attention. Like a threat but also…like he’s testing me, measuring my reactions…”

“Maybe one night you should try sleeping over here, see how dangerous we really are.”

“...like a predator.”

She paused, clarity rushing back to her like a wave, pulling her under and robbing her of breath. With a quick flick, she turned off the video, taking a moment to really consider her words and her runaway thoughts. Why was she focusing so much on his physical details? She argued perhaps that it was the amount of time she’d spent with all of them. But she shook her head slightly, trying to steer her thoughts back to reality.

After a moment of pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes, the stress and internal conflict caused her to hastily climb into bed, hoping perhaps that the sweet escape of sleep might rid her of these thoughts. As she lay back in her bed, staring up at the ceiling of her quarters, the ship's constant hum a soft backdrop, she couldn't help but replay their interactions. There was an undeniable tension there, something that went beyond the usual professional dynamic. Was it just the stress of the mission making her over analyse, or was there something more, something real and tangible in the way he moved and spoke that kept drawing her thoughts back to him?

Ettore too, lay awake, lost in turbulent emotions. His mind replaying his interactions with her, each moment etched into his memory. The way her eyes narrowed in concentration, the subtle shift in her posture when he spoke of their harsh conditions on the ship before their arrival, and particularly, the flickers of fear when he would tread into dangerous territory with his words alone. Not even having to be near her. He was captivated by those expressions, those nuances, and the challenges they presented. 

In the quiet solitude of his cell, Nansen asleep in the top bunk, he allowed his hand to slide beneath his scrubs, eyes slipping shut as his hand lazily stroked his length to full hardness in no time at all. He indulged in the image of her. Her intelligent, alert eyes seemed to follow each word he said. Always evaluating.  Evaluating him.

And fuck, did it feel good to be picked apart by her. 

He returned to the same recurring thought he’d had every night, that if he pushed her boundaries, how would she react when truly tested? He wanted to see her rough, unguarded. Would she shrink or rise to the challenge? The mere thought of breaking through those defenses to a place where she might react out of sheer instinct, rather than reason, was intoxicating. 

With a stuttered moan, and coming hard into his hand with a jerk of his hips, the challenge was set, and Ettore was eager to see it through, to discover just how deep the layers of his little lawyer went.

General Taglist: @aemondsfavouritebastard @bellstwd @blackswxnn @buckybarnesb-tch

@castellomargot @emmaisafictionwhore @hb8301 @jamespotterismydaddy @justbelljust

@mochi-rose @nenelysian

@qyburnsghost @randomdragonfires @risefallrise @theoneeyedprince

[toxictigertonic]

Glad to see that my mad ramblings are entertaining this corner of the outlast community, I will continue to talk until I've juiced the smooth ball of gum I call a brain of all its flavor. Pspsps Franco fans hiiii tell me what I should draw him doing/wearing pleaaaase.

Today's headcanons are: How are the prime assets when it comes to board/card games?

COYLE

- Do not play games with this man unless you want to have the least fun of your life.

- He has the rule book out on the table as you're playing so he can read them off at any point.

- In fact I know that fucker memorizes game rules and starts fighting people if they don't play by them.

- "WE GOT LAWS AROUND HERE! WE GOT FUCKING LAWS!" "Leland calm down we're playing uno..."

- If he catches someone cheating he's hopping the table, there's a crime in progress and he's about to be SUCH a good cop.

- Play monopoly with him to experience The Thrill of being tased over fake money.

- If you use a +4 on this man in Uno he will scream until you show him your hand to make SURE you're not lying about not having any other cards to use. He'll also pout about you using it in general.

- The sorest loser ever, genuinely. Somehow worse than Franco. And Franco is a baby man with a gun.

- It should be a rule that he's not allowed to play cards with Franco but Phyllis is stubborn and wants them to get along. It never ends well.

- Gets far too giddy playing Mousetrap.

MOTHER GOOSEBERRY

- Forces Leland and Franco into game nights. They can't say no or they'll upset her, thereby upsetting Futterman, thereby risking their lives to The Goose.

- Has a massive collection of card games and board games, take your pick.

- And she knows how to play all of them, mind you. She has the rules memorized as well but doesn't have an electric stick up her ass like somebody we know.

- LOVES Candyland and Parcheesi. The brighter and more colorful the board the more she finds it adorable.

- Futterman eats pieces when Phyllis is losing. Don't turn around he's a hungry little guy.

- He got caught eating pieces once and had to wear the Bag of Shame for multiple game nights afterwards.

- Futterman also is allowed to play the games, somehow always wins in the end. Leland is suspicious of him cheating (but isn't willing to face drill wrath to investigate)

- Have I mentioned that Futterman will call both Franco and Leland awful names when he's losing? Because he does. Has made both of them cry before. Game night had to end early and Phyllis felt very bad.

- Not a sore loser per se, but will ask to play again until she wins. Futterman will stare whoever down until they agree to another round.

- If you don't help her put away the board or cards she's holding a grudge. And if pieces are missing you BETTER help find them, even if it means shaking them out of Futterman's mouth.

FRANCO

- Play silly games, win silly prizes. I'm saying if you try to beat him at cards (and you're not a fellow prime asset or someone whose lap he wants access to) you're getting shot in the foot.

- He's required to turn in Lupara at the beginning of game nights now after he tried to take Coyle's shin off. He only gives Lupara up bc Phyllis asks so nicely (and because he's a simp lol).

- Really good at cards, but still cheats. Mainly to fuck with Coyle. He'll take any opportunity to piss that man off.

- Sometimes wants to play solitaire like an adult, other times he's playing candyland with Phyllis having the time of his life.

- If it's a game with unique pieces you BETTER let him pick his piece first or he's throwing a tantrum.

- If Leland's winning he'll kick him under the table then say he was imagining things. Leland is THIS 👌 close to starting a fight.

- He lets Phyllis win to get on her good side. Doesn't matter the game, he'll let her win. Gets pissy when she wins naturally though.

- He always tries to gamble when they play anything. Coyle does not approve of gambling. Have I mentioned these two want each other dead?

- Phyllis complimented him on being really good at shuffling a deck of cards and he rode that high for weeks.

- Very good at convincing the others that it's his turn if they've lost track of who goes next. Doesn't matter if he just went, he will get to go again.

- Likes to play card matching games by himself when he doesn't wanna think about the game too hard. Phyllis sometimes sits with him and plays too. Futterman calls them both stupid if they fuck up.

I love how much Franco and Leland hate each other I want them to fist fight ❤️. Lock them in a room together and whoever crawls out at the end wins. No weapons just two bald bastards.

[gingerjolover]

I need jb riding my strap for Valentine’s Day 🫠❤️💗

OOOOOH BABY

this one is SO highly requested, and ive got some opinions

shall we take a blurb-esque journey together?

RPF smut under da cut, minors gtfo<3

there was no specification for reader but i think this could be soft!gf reader or even masc!reader bc realistically i think you're getting treated like a princess on valentines day

i do think jules has certain feelings about v-day like maybe the capitalistic affects on holidays riddled with consumerism

but she also will use ANY excuse to spoil you

so vday could be a day where jb literally just does whatever you want, like you wanna go to the aquarium? you bet your ass she's taking you to the aquarium. movie marathon? oh babe, she's on it and has snacks and drinks and the living room all cozy and decked out

depending on how long your relationship has been going on for or even if its relatively new but maybe it' your first vday together, its clear that jb is a GIVER

like she would literally rip the moon from the sky and give it to you kneeling down holding it on a silver platter for your taking

but the one thing that you really want is to give back to her

and there are plenty of things that you can do for jules, she strikes me as a "just wanna be in the same room and breathe the same air" kind of lover

like after a long day you washing her hair, giving her tense muscles a massage, rubbing cuticle oil on her nails and giving her hands a massage with some nice lotion, "coloring" in her tattoos, or even just giving her a long hug or cuddling and pressing kisses to her skin are all acceptable physical means of compensation for what she does for you

but she doesn't ask for things, especially during sex

she strikes me as someone who isn't quite stone, but maybe somewhere adjacent where like yes of course she wants to get off but she finds SO much pleasure in making you feel good that sometimes she doesn't NEED to

but you want to spoil her so after a really nice dinner or maybe a fun day at home, you're both snuggled up and on the couch or the bed and i think the approach might be a little different

soft!gf is definitely more timid when initiating sex, not like timid like shy but more passive? like jb knows your body better than you do practically and she knows by the way you squirm that you want her to fuck you

regardless, i think jb's perfect starting point is her being able to make you cum at least once with her mouth/fingers OR a combo

like thats a starting point, it can only build up from there but to her that is the best way for her to gauge where you're at and its a good spot for her to be (girlie LOVES to be between your thighs, she eats like she's never eaten before i will die on this hill)

and jb will usually kiss up your body afterwards, her wet chin and lips smacking kisses on every part of your skin

the little fucker loves to press her lips to yours, mumbling against your mouth, usually along the lines of "tastes good, hm?", moving away from your lips and pressing kisses on your face, her brown eyes twinkling mischievously

and usually your hands in her hair as she makes her way down, tongue and teeth teasing a nipple, sucking hickeys into your chest but tonight you tug on her hair gently

she looks up, lips all puffy and pink, baby cow eyes blown out with lust, "what're ya rushin' me for?" or something comes out of her mouth, her lil southern twang making an appearance

and you're like, "the strap," and she's smirking, thinking you're being needy and she tries to dive back in, "be patient..."

"no i- i wanna use it on you," tumbles out of your mouth, confidence skyrocketing from your first orgasm

and she looks like a deer in headlights being like, "huh- w-what?"

and all it really takes is you whining a please, before she's helping you adjust it on your body

i feel like soft!gf has very little experience actually wearing the strap, maybe masc!gf has more experience despite jb being the giver in the relationship

either way jb is sitting lowkey awkwardly, her cheeks are a pink mess or she's doing that eye thing where it's kinda giving side eye

"we don't- i don't have to do this jay, i can just use my mouth," you say, making sure she knows she has full control

and she's stammering like, "what?! no i just-"

"what baby?" you ask her so sweetly, running a hand through her hair, and she's shaking like a fucking leaf

"if you keep looking at me like that with that, thing, on you i'm gonna cum," she says quickly, hella embarrassed that just you kneeling on the bed with it is doing something to her

it's honestly a blur but next thing you know jb is on top, riding the strap, your hands on her hips

and she talks about you being whiny.... biiiiitch she is the WHINIEST mf ever on the strap okay

she literally can't form coherent words, her forehead is glued to your shoulder, her breathing heavy as her hands press on the bed next to your head

you have to encourage her to keep going, truthfully she doesn't have a ton of rhythm, like the way she moves her hips is sloppy because she's feeling more than just the base of the strap on her clit like she would normally feel

i think you'd adjust slightly, pushing her up gently and thrusting upwards and she would damn near shriek

it takes a lot to get her worked up sexually, she's the dirty talker when she's domming you but she has no words, just little mumbles and whines and whimpers and they sound so pretty you can't help but patronize her just a bit because she does the same to you but a million times worse casually

"doing so good jay," you'd breathe out and she's about to lose it

poor jb's literally leaking all over the base of the strap like she can't help it

and when she cums she literally squeals and you have to stifle a giggle because her face is buried into your neck

she moves in to overstim territory pretty quickly so you kinda move her off of it and pull out which she does not like and she kinda huffs when you do

and then you pull out all the stops

lots of kisses, warm cloth, ice water through a silicon straw (she likes to bite them this is my hc another hill i will die on), words of affirmation and praise and then a nice soak in the tub

i wouldn't say she's in subspace but she is kind of in a haze until she's laying with her back against your front in the tub and its almost like she sobers up

"you're in my spot," she grumbles, the grumpiness in her voice a result of absolute vulnerability

you just giggle, pushing her hair out of her face and kissing her cheeks

"we can switch" before she's scoffing like of course you were going to switch

there is definitely a debrief about how she felt, i think she can't quite articulate how much she likes it but its not going to be an everyday thing because as much as it felt good she feels more pleasure getting you off

*insert cheesy "happy valentine's day" exchange here* which julien engages in with an eye roll and a small smile before going into the history of western consumer driven holidays

and of course when engaging in pillowtalk, she does spitball some "new positions" that you could try if "you ever want to ya know, wear the strap again," and you're like.... "so you liked it?" with a smirk, and she's kinda playing it off before being like, "maybe for my birthday we could..."

[box-dwelling]

My Dumb sexuality head canons for bg3. Ignoring the player sexualness

Wyll: beloved bi king. I am pretty sure he even has a line about it

Lae'zel: OK this is complicated because like, I genuinely think being a gith in the material realm means that she is just not comprehending the gender of the people around her in the question of attractiveness. It's the classic monster fucker thing where you stop caring about gender. And sex within gith culture is complicated anyway due to how they reproduce so she's probably omnisexual.

Shadowheart: She's definitely sapphic. There is nothing heterosexual about her and laezel and honestly her and Nocturne too. As for if she's into men. I'm not sure but I want to say no just because I know she's the go to romanced companion by straight men

Karlach: Listen Karlach X Wyll shippers. I see you. I understand you. I love you. You're so valid. Its not my ship but i do get the vision. I cannot see that woman ever dating a man. If it's any consolation I do think Wyll has a weird relationship with gender so, that could probably still work out.

Gale: He's definitely into women. I honestly switch on if I think he's into men or not. This will probably be subject to change after I do a romance run with him

Halsin: Pan and poly. 100% and I love him so much for it

Jaheira: OK ok OK. Hear me out. Aspec. Khalid and her had like a genuinely great relationship even though her feelings towards it were probably more platonic than she was willing to acknowledge but after he died she had no interest in ever having anything again because she could kinda check it off her mental list of things she is supposed to experience.

Minsc: I swear it is not intentional that I'm saying this for the non romancable compaions but I also think ace. I think he like thinks he's straight. He will sleep with women because he socially thinks that's what hes ment to do but his heart is never in it and boo is desperately trying to explain to him that he can just not do that if he doesn't want to.

Astarion: left for last because I think this is my biggest hot take. You cannot convince me he is into women at all. That is a gay man. Basically, every line that I'm aware of where he talks about romantic or sexual desire is with men. Like it's Astarion so his relationship with sex is complicated and you can maybe convince me of homoromantic bisexual though i personally think he doesnt consider his own desires at all during sex at least at the beginning of the game, so he doesn't mind sleeping with women because sex is just the thing he thinks he has to be doing but beyond that I cannot see it.

[varilien]

(character uses they/it) i keep wanting to start posting my ocs over here again and then Just Not Doing It so uhhhh !!! some stuff from february, had a dream about knives that made me think of a plant oc with a constant power output so extreme that it generates a deadly radiation field around them. because of that they've been living alone this whole time, avoiding contact with other living things, and over the years they've learned how to suppress that output for short spans of time or "safely" pour out the excess in order to be safe to be around, though they ultimately prefer their solitude due to a history of bad experiences with humans. they're very blunt, spiteful, and curious

@whatever-you-can-give-me suggested lr would make good friends for them since they are 🤝 about being extremely hard to hurt lol

also! wrote like 2k about they and razlo's first meeting below the cut if anyone's interested in some good ol violence + gore :3

that was a fr content warning btw read at ur own discretion:

Chance encounters with violent strangers out in the open desert are nothing new to LR, even when Livio purposefully had tried to find the quietest possible route to travel.  It’s not even necessarily surprising to run into someone a little to the left of human, someone a bit bigger or stronger or more durable than they really have any right to be.  The Eye aren’t the only ones designing freaks on this planet, that much is obvious, evidenced sufficiently by the odder fights LR have ever gotten in.  

And this one is shaping up to be one of their oddest fights yet.

Livio hadn’t seen the fucker coming, occupied as he was with the slow realization of why this stretch of road doesn’t see much use anymore: a creeping heat across his nerve endings unrelated to the overcast, evening suns, the taste of metal in his mouth, and a deep-rooted nausea twisting up his guts.  Radiation sickness.  He’s dealt with it before, and as unpleasant as it is, it’s hardly enough to slow him down too bad.  

It’s damn distracting, though.  A good enough excuse for not noticing them hiding up along the rockface above his head.  Not a good enough excuse to keep Razlo from tagging in, especially after something’s pierced straight through the back of his neck, nearly taking his head clean off.  

Razlo rolls for cover with a strangled sound, blood gushing from his forced-out throat and foaming at his lips.  Even with his senses jarred and his vision blurred, it'd take more than a near-decapitation for his instincts to be overridden.  He's slinging out a Punisher before he even knows what he's up against.  

There's a blur of motion to his right as soon as his sights are raised.  They're probably surprised Razlo's still standing, but so was everyone else who's gotten a lucky shot at him.

He can track their motion by sound alone.  They're sloppy.  Feet hitting the cracked earth in hard thumps, every one a warning that Razlo can aim a spray of bullets at.  And by now Razlo's healed enough to notice and wonder why the hell his head is still so fucked up.

At least now he can mostly see them when he turns, hanging back a ways, out of Razlo's reach.  Shorter than him by a head and a half, covered toe to tip in layers of sun-bleached rags, save for their face.  That's hidden behind a tall, curved mask, shaped in a way that looks an awful lot like a tomas' crest, with the false eye markings to match.  Even the glass for the lenses is opaque.  The only part of them that’s exposed is their left hand, extended delicately aside to keep Razlo’s blood dripping off it from getting on their clothes.

Razlo physically tries to shake out the buzzing in his skull that only gets worse by the second, only to notice the foul smell of burning meat and risk an instinctive glance down at his arm, where his flesh has started to bubble and steam seemingly on its own.  He looks between his arm and his opponent, the way their body tenses and head begins to tip, shaking hard, simultaneous with his skin boiling that much more fiercely.  

Something clicks in his brain.  There’s no way.

And no time to find out.  This time when they dart in he’s expecting it; he takes a swing at their head, and they dodge right into his follow-through, slamming his Punisher into their skull with a crunch and a wet sound from their throat.  They drop, like he’d expect them to, like anyone would.  And like no one does, they just roll out of the way and onto their back, braced to spring back up again.  Razlo puts his boot through their ribcage before they get the chance to.  That should be the end of it, too, but the fucker just keeps kicking, trying to get away, the only sound they make being the gurgle of their lungs filling with blood, and they keep kicking.

At this point Razlo doesn’t even have a plan anymore.  Needless to say, he doesn’t go up against an awful lot of guys who match him in the department of being a pain in the ass to take down.  Razlo's just starting to come up with a new idea when those long arms swing up, claws digging into and making ribbons of his right leg.

Razlo curses and tries to pull away, which only makes them hold on even tighter.  He's staring that four-eyed glare down when that burning feeling across his whole body raises in pitch again, and it's the sight of his flesh starting to disintegrate around their fingers that finally makes him back off.

Razlo rather gracelessly falls on his ass in trying to take a step back, not expecting his right leg to simply break off halfway down his thigh.  He scrambles back a ways, ready to keep going, missing limb or no, but— they aren't following him.  They're collapsed in the sand, limbs akimbo as they fight to draw a full breath.  Razlo watches with morbid curiosity as his severed leg dissolves into nothing more than an off-colored patch of sand beside them.

All that angry tension has gone out of their body, leaving them limp and motionless except for the stutter of their chest, and Razlo can hear the damp gasps muffled behind their mask.  By all rights, it should look like more of a struggle.  They should be dead, really, but from where Razlo is sitting, it looks a lot more like they’re just taking a rest.  He feels more sure of that when they roll their shoulders back a bit, arms braced in the dirt as they delicately arch their spine.  There’s some sharp popping sounds, and a little exhale from them; setting their ribs, Razlo figures.  He’s had to do the same thing before.  Once they can move their arms more effectively, they start to gather themself up into a seated position, bones and joints still crackling like popcorn here and there as they go, til they’re all the way up, with their hands resting in their lap, looking far too fucking comfortable for the fight they’d just had.

"You're not dead."

Their voice startles Razlo despite being as soft as it is, and his gaze flicks up to that mask, just slightly tilted to the side, orange lenses glinting in the harsh sunlight.  They don't move at all that Razlo can see.  Even their breathing has evened out enough to have become imperceptible under their heavy shroud; if they're in any pain still, Razlo sure can't tell.

"Nope," is all he says, or can manage to say.

He scrubs at his eyes with the back of his hand, blinking hard a couple times to scrunch up his face in the hopes his nerves might start feeling right again soon.

Another wave of nausea hits him, but his stomach was empty before the fight even started, so he leans forward to put his head between his knees and dry heave for a while.

The whole time, he's aware of his little opponent continuing to sit in silence, watching and eerily unmoving, even when Razlo manages to sit up again and wipe his mouth with his wrist.

"The fuck's yer deal, anyways?"  Razlo asks.

"'Deal'...?"  They echo.

"Couldn't exactly kill you, either."

He wasn't expecting them to spill their life story or something, but he was thinking he'd get something more of a response than their head tilting back the opposite way.  There's not a lot to work with here in trying to get a read on them, but Razlo feels it's safe to hazard they're probably just pretty damn confused, the same as him.

"You kinda smell like a Plant.  M'not an expert, but I've met two others."

Now that gets something out of them.  A tiny wiggle of their head that makes the pieces in their mask rattle.

"I wouldn't know.  I've only met me."

“Huh.”  

Whether it’s a confirmation or rebuttal hardly matters at this point.  He’s feeling sure enough that his assumption was correct, now, anyways.

"You, uh…"  Razlo has to pause for breath.  Unlike the thing across from him, he's having a hell of a time getting his back.  "You're the one making this radiation field?"

"Yes."

"Any way you could turn it down?"

They say nothing, though Razlo feels suddenly that he's being studied very intently.  And shortly after, slowly, slowly the fire in his cells begins to go out, and he can spit the worst of the sourness off his tongue.  Eventually he can't feel any radiation left at all, though his body's had a rough enough time from the dose he got, he'll be getting the sickness out of his system for a while yet.

Regardless, Razlo’s fingers twitch against the triggers when he hears that mask rattle again, and his eyes are on it in an instant.

"You didn't answer my first question," Razlo reminds, cautiously.

More silence, for a while.

"You wanted to hurt me."

There's no malice in the statement, at least that Razlo can tell.  Just the simple facts.  Still, he narrows his eyes.

"You started it.  Figured it was mutual."

"That's true."

Razlo grins.

"So, what now?  Regrow my leg, and get back to not killing each other?"

"If you'd like to."

That gets a laugh out of him.

"Nah, I think I’ll pass, if it’s all the same to you.”

“It is.”

That much is obvious.  They stay put, seeming transfixed on watching Razlo’s leg grow back, only a little more slowly than any of his other injuries, now that he doesn’t have the radiation to slow him down.  It leaves him feeling itchy and achy all over, and he’s got a bad hunch that right ankle doesn’t have the best chances of coming back right.  Once there’s enough of it to fuss about, he gets his foot in his hands and starts experimentally rolling it on its hinge, checking that the range of motion is right.

And still, those orange lenses glint at him curiously.  They don’t flinch or look away when Razlo considers them in return; he guesses they don’t know it’s not polite to stare.

“What's yer name?"  Razlo asks.

"My name?"

"Don't tell me you ain't got one."

The silence that follows is pretty self-explanatory.

“I’m Razlo.”

He can just make out the sound of them mumbling his name under their breath, like they’re not sure how it’s going to come out.  Almost warmly, almost shyly, they manage to say: “hello, Razlo.”

[livwritesstuff]

Mid-bath, I realised that Eddie and Steve had daughters during Lush’s peak popularity with the bathbombs and bubble bars, the themed releases (especially for Halloween). How did that go?

omg as a mid-2010s adolescent who *loved* watching lush hauls (Zoella's specifically and that's someone I hadn't thought about in a bazillion years), I cannot believe I didn't think of this sooner

Okay, but I see your Lush, and I raise you this:

The mall closest to their town in Massachusetts (the epic Natick Mall for any fellow New Englanders) just so happens to separate the Lush and the Bath and Body Works by just two (2) stores.

Add a Yankee Candle to that shit and you’ve got a brand new circle of hell – that’s Eddie’s opinion anyways, and he’d be the one to know given how Steve pulls the migraine card every time the girls lobby for a trip to the mall.

Like most adolescent girls in the mid-2010s, Moe, Robbie, and Hazel love Lush and they love Bath and Body works, so it’s a given that they’ll be building time for both into their mall adventure.

For Eddie, it’s his least favorite part of an already not-so-enjoyable experience, because, yeah, one of those bath bombs or whatever might smell nice on its own, but a hundred thousand of the fuckers crammed into a store with less square footage than the entryway of his and Steve’s house…that’s gotta be some form of prison torture (and if it’s not, it should be).

Eventually, Eddie just sets them loose for that portion of their shopping trip, which Steve might not necessarily approve of (but what Steve doesn’t know can’t hurt him, and those two stores back to back definitely would hurt Eddie).

“Do not lose Hazel,” he tells Robbie and Moe, deadly serious even though Hazel is almost ten and the risk of losing her in a real way is getting slimmer and slimmer, “If you are not walking into the bookstore in exactly thirty minutes, I will send a mall cop in to bring you to me the long way. Through the food court where all the kids from your school will be. Capiche?”

The system works – the girls get to spend their dads’ money on over-scented garbage and Eddie gets to retain his sense of smell and his sanity – but it’s only half the battle. The second half takes place at home, in the upstairs bathroom that all three girls share.

“Hazel!,” they hear Moe yell, “That one was mine!”

Steve shoots Eddie a look, as if to say that’s all you, man.

“C’mon, Stevie,” he protests, “I broke up the last one about the stupid hand sanitizers.”

“Nope. You facilitated buying them that shit. You can deal with it.”

Right on cue, they hear Hazel upstairs start to cry. Eddie groans, gets to his feet, and heads upstairs.

Indeed, Hazel is sobbing, because she almost always is these days (Steve and Eddie secretly joke that she’d never cried as a baby because she was stock-piling it all for her elementary-school days), and wrapped in an elephant towel (there’s a hood with ears and everything; it’s very cute). Moe is holding a half-dissolved bath bomb that she’d clearly just fished out of the bathtub and wearing an unreasonably irate expression for what is ultimately just a glorified ball of baking soda and citric acid (Eddie looked it up).

“Dad – Hazel’s using my bath bomb.”

“It’s not yours!” Hazel hiccups.

Eddie squints at the deformed mess fizzing in Moe’s hand.

“I gotta side with Hazy here, Moe. I mean – c’mon. Did you actually want a Santa Claus-shaped bath bomb? Really?”

“Yeah,” she insists, “It’s limited edition, Dad. For the holiday collection.”

Eddie lets out a long sigh.

“Okay,” he says, “You guys are keeping this shit in your own rooms. Starting now.”

[rise-my-angel]

I blame the idea of the spectacle for the downfall in the franchise. Don't get me wrong, big moments can be great, but the constant striving for it to keep the audience addicted to adrenaline is what has caused the really shallow writing in my opinion. It takes a really self aware person to realise they are getting nothing but CGI keys jangled in their face as if they were a baby.

I think that's what the earlier seasons achieved, the perfect mix of much quieter moments with effective use of dialogue, writing and set to get their money's worth, and the big dramatic moments for the later parts, where they save their best for last and bring EVERYTHING to the table. It's all about having money to fund the big moments, vs having barely enough money to cover everything.

You have no idea how thrilled I am that you said everything I was thinking. The thing I hate about reviews of HOTD so far is how good things look. The dragon fight in episode four, oh but it looked so spectacular. But that's the thing, their effort was put all into making that fight look as wonderful as possible so that it avoided the simple fact that the story, characters, and action were all poor.

My best example, is actually probably unpopular beacuse I know people really liked the Battle of the Bastards. And I did too, the action cinematography, the chaos, one of my favorite shots of the show where the camera does a long take just following Jon through the chaos as he experiences it. It also looks good, they clearly made a great effort to make the battle as cinematic as possible.

But here's the thing. Hardhome is better. Hardhome does NOT look as good as the Battle of the Bastards. It is very chaotic, it is disorienting, fast paced, a lot of cuts and its very loud and there are so many bodies in the scene that it feels hard to keep track of how many people are even dying around them. But that's the point.

Hardhome takes you on a journey of chaos.

It's like a 20 minute sequence with an amazing build up. The meeting with the elders, it's a dark room of people standing around a fire. It doesn't look good, now it doesn't look bad it just isn't a cinematically pleasing shot. But it's over six minutes long of mostly Jon giving everything he has into convincing these people that he's being genuine. It's his passion and his raw honesty that Jon looks his enemy in the eye and tells them that they deserve to survive and that he wants to protect them. How when they ask how Mance Rayder died, Jon does not give himself an out. He is honest and says he shot an arrow in his heart, and how he stands there firm and not afraid when they start to threaten him, only to have Tormund put a stop to it and give context. Looking these parents and grandparents in the eye and telling them that if they don't let him protect them, their children won't even survive long enough to have children of their own. And pleading that even with all of them it may not be enough but "At least we'll give the fuckers a fight."

It is a fantastic scene filled with hope, that sets the stage for whats about to happen.

There's no dwelling on shots. The moment Longclaw clashes with the weapon of the Walker, Jon realizing whats happened and actually killing it occurs really fast in a manner of seconds. What it dwells on, is the aftermath of Jon so overwhelmed by what happened he falls to his knees, the snow misting around him that blurs anyone else from view. Even the moment where the Walker raises his arms and the dead rise, is not a dwelled on, cinematic shot. It is very raw, and rough and what it focuses on, is that close up of Jons face. And the realization in him of shock turning to a desperate despair that he could've gotten all of the Free Folk out of there and it still wouldn't be enough. It focuses on his face, beacuse the intensity and emotions are about him. Not the shots.

You remember the visuals of it, but really, the visuals aren't what gives you the emotions. Hardhome was not shot to be visually appealing, it was by design, extremely chaotic and overwhelming because not a single person in that fight had a chance to get the upper hand.

Battle of the Bastards on the other hand, is a cinematically amazing battle with a terrible story. The stakes mean nothing, because the story to get there was inconsistent, nonsensical, some people acting completely out of character and is won because of a deus ex machina. The story and characters surrounding it are completely not worth the quality of the battle itself. It's shallow. It's remembered as good because it looked good, not beacuse it was good.

That to me, is the House of the Dragon problem. Such a focus on making it look good, sweeping shots and amazing cinematic focus especially on the dragons, but it runs hollow. Because what do you have beyond the good looking shots? It's rare I ever feel the emotions of whats happening more then I do what the spectacle is showing me is happening.

The worth of a lot of these scenes, are rooted in a desperation to make a visually appealing story. When Game of Thrones was at it's best when it was people standing or sitting around a room and talking. It was the dialogue, the mystery, the intrigue. We never needed beautiful visuals for our eyes to feast upon because the spectacle was always in service of what the actual emotions of the scene was portraying. Not the stand out part in and of itself.

There's nothing wrong with spectacle alone, but House of the Dragon is relying on it to push through it's worst parts and hoping that the nice images and pretty colors is distracting enough that you forgive the poor story. Yeah the story and characters and writing is bad, but boy those dragons, look at them.

General audiences will fall for spectacle beacuse we appreciate good visuals, but general audiences didn't need spectacle to get them through season one of Game of Thrones. They were confident enough in what they already had, that they did not need to pad out the visual fluff to feast the eyes rather then the writing feasting the brain.

Audiences are smarter then to value visuals over writing, but House of the Dragon fans are relying on the visuals to get them through the bad writing because they have nothing left, and really, they deserve better.

I do not need spectacle to be impressed by the immense scale of a scene. Hardhome is a fast paced, confusing and chaotic sequence that has never left me since the day I watched it air live. Not a single one of these grand moments in either season of House of the Dragon, despite having more chances to use it's visuals to enhance it's storytelling, has come anywhere near as smart as Hardhome was.

Visuals do not impress me. Using the visuals to enhance the story you already are telling, is what impresses me.

Not using your visuals as a crutch to power through bad storytelling.

[mentalhomosexual]

𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙤 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙦𝙪𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙛𝙞𝙧𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚-☆ ˢᵏᶻ ᵛᵉʳ

𝗰𝗵𝗮𝗻☆-

he would secretly be trying so hard to get you to squirt every time you guys have sex.

the moment he found out you've never done it before he was determined to get it out of you

when it actually happens he's so fucking happy omg

he would praise you through it....🪦

"Mhm~ that's right baby squirt all over my fucking cock like a good girl" me next

He would love it so much and would have his mind set to at least make you squirt once when you guys are going at it

PRASIE PRAISE PRAISEEEEEEEEEEE (i'm sorry)

he would see how surprised and thrown off you were and he would be such a sweetheart and tell you how amazing you were

"Next time I want some in my mouth yeah~?"

𝗠𝗶𝗻𝗵𝗼☆-

would be such a meany about it 🤕

honestly it would take him by surprise at first because you've never done it but it would raise his ego sm.

"Did i make you feel that good baby?~"

smirking like a meany while you whine through it

but don't worry he's not that mean.... ☠️

he'll still comfort you after and clean you up (🥹)

"you should do that for me often"

he'll tease you about it though-

𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗴𝗯𝗶𝗻☆-

Honestly I feel like he would be so in love with the idea of him making you squirt

He's always known about what it was but you've never done it and he just thought that he wasn't doing something right (😕)

UNTILLLLL that fateful day where he was fucking you from behind with your leg propped up.

you both were so into each other you didn't even realize at first until he noticed a big stain on the sheets and then it clicked.

would so overjoyed that he was wrong about not fucking you right 😭

would literally flip you over and lick whatever is left off your pussy

I feel he'd be a praiser as wellllllll~ 🧎🏽‍♀️🤲🏽

𝗛𝘆𝘂𝗻𝗷𝗶𝗻☆-

WOULD THINK ITS SO SEXY.

omg please help me

He loves to eat you out.

he loves to see you while he works his tongue and mouth on you

so when you squirt in his mouth/ on his face a bit

he loses his fucking mind

" that was so sexy baby, fuck"

would probably cum just from the view

"can you give me one more~"

y'all go at it all day just because he's so worked up from you squirting for the first time.

pussy drunk on another level

𝗝𝗶𝘀𝘂𝗻𝗴☆-

PUSSY DRUNK CANDIDATE # 2

you and jisung have sex so much, like i feel he has a high sex drive and he also just can't get enough of you

maybe on your 3rd or 4th round and he's using his mouth AND fingers on you

you come undone and he kisses you afterward to make you taste yourself on his lips

would overstimulate the fuck out of you because he thinks you look so hot when you squirt for him

would reward you by fucking you all night 🤩

D i r t y t a l k

becomes even more addicted to your pussy after that night

𝗙𝗲𝗹𝗶𝘅☆-

This nasty little fucker.

While your riding him, babbling the nastiest things as he's hitting all the right spots you can't help but give into the tight sensation in your stomach

you squirt all over his pelvis and just feeling you cum around him makes him cum.

pussy drunk as well tbh-

He kisses you all over as he begs you to let him fuck you one more time so he can experience the whole ordeal again

"you feel so fucking good~ let me fuck you one more time baby, I need to feel you again~"

𝗦𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗴𝗺𝗶𝗻 ☆-

you knew he was trying to get you to squirt, you both have talked about it...

mostly just you telling him that you want him to make you squirt

at first he wouldn't quite understand what he has to do differently and honestly...neither do you 🤩

but you just tell him to go a little deeper and maybe a little slower, he agrees and the next time you fuck he's a totally different person

he would be fucking you so good omg. occasionally  asking you how you feel and if he's deep enough

half way through fucking you he places a vibrater on your clit and you fucking lose it

you squirt everywhere with the sluttiest moan

he would immediately make you suck all your juices off his cock as a reward to him for making you squirt

now hear me out. praise mixed with degradation w/ Seungmin. (im evaporating 🫠)

"My dirty little slut did such a good job didn't she?, taking me so fucking deep" he spits out as he guides your head up and down his cock, holding your hair up in a ponytail

he's so turned on from getting you to squirt so much

𝗝𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗶𝗻 ☆-

He's so gentle with you 🥹

but he is also ruthless-

You love when he fucks you with his fingers and boy so does he~

as he works you open with his fingers, he talks you through it

I feel like he would always talk you through when you two are intimate because he wants you to feel safe and relaxed with him

"are you gonna cum for me babe? are you gonna cum all over my fingers like a good girl~ "

and you love that from him. It makes you squirt so much and so hard that he's almost taken back by it

" You did so well my love, let me get a towel to clean you up" he'd say as he tenderly kisses you

CUDDLES AFTERWARDS 🗣️❕

[teecupangel]

Hello dear angle. I'm back with an ask that idk if it's wierd or not. Actaully I'm trying to start a fanfic about a civilizade xenomorph society and I'm turing everthing I like to these cute little parasites. So… I wanted to ask what do you think about an android Desmond with his three white xenomorph ancestors? I've read several comics and novels of alien and what I discovered was that xenomorphs were created to be a biological weapon. So I was thinking what if Desmond android was created by abstergo to controll the xenemorphs. He is like a queen to them because of the DNA they share. In this au the assassin-templair war is not still over. And even in the sky they are trying to take cotroll over the galaxy. What if Desmond works in one of abstergo's labs. Until he saw a xenomorph for the first time in his life. It was pure white with a strange looking mark on its forhead. Some thing about this mark was familiar to him which he didn't know why. The first time he saw it he felt a strong bond between them. He felt so safe around that monster. It felt like family. Like home. He put his hand on the glass. The creature came closer with curiosity and placed its hand where was desmond's. And suddenly something flashed before Desmond's eyes. A face. A man with white cloak that was standing there and staring at him in a kind smile. And then he was in the lab again. He stared at the monster and smiled. "Ezio. So it's your name."

I will leave it from here for you. I belive in you. You can turn this to a movie that worths watching. And mabey it's ezides? I love ezides fanfics and i don't know why. They're kinda apposite but still cute. Your blog is wonderful 🤩

(Thank you! While I cannot promise I can make this a movie worth watching, I will do my best to make this something monster fuckers would at the very least be curious about XD)

It’s not weird. I mean, I’m fine with weird ideas XD

Also, Alien is one of my favorite horror movies.

For this one, what if we just throw away Alien/Prometheus canon and spin this into another AU (mainly because this gives us an excuse to not use the canon explanation of white xenomorphs and the proto xenomorphs.

For this one, let’s set up Abstergo as being sorta in a decline after humanity decided to live among the stars. While they had been focused on profiting and trying to eradicate the Brotherhood, Weyland-Yutani slips pass them and became the juggernaut corporation that more or less controlled human settlements.

DESMOND was meant to be the prototype of an android line that should have exceeded everything Weyland-Yutani approved androids could.

But there were a bit of problem with DESMOND. For one, he appeared too cold, less expressive than the cheapest android and has a hard time understanding orders.

It was a failure.

So Abstergo had to pivot and create a new product. They manage to get samples of Weyland-Yutani’s ‘prized’ secret project and a basic ‘overview’ of what it’s meant to be.

Unfortunately, the samples didn’t have enough genetic information to complete their version and they thought, “Hey, you know what we have? The DNA sample of some dude that died during the 21st century! That might work!”

In their defense, the lead of the project, Dr. Vidic (relation to the late Warren Vidic is unknown), believed in this ‘rumor’ that Sample 17 is the golden ticket to Abstergo’s success. It was the key to the success of the Animus Project. Why not this project as well?

If the human DNA is unusable for this project, Sample 17’s Isu DNA might be what they needed.

For this one, they made three Prototypes to use for different ‘experiments’.

They were called Zero-One, Zero-Two and Zero-Three.

Zero-One is taken to the deepest part of the space station to be experimented on.

Zero-Two is kept in one of the more secured floors to be observed with limited ‘contact’.

Zero-Three is kept on stasis while Zero-One and Zero-Two are being ‘observed’. Once the observation period is over, Zero-Three will be eliminated and dissected to gather more data using what data they gathered from Zero-One and Zero-Two.

DESMOND has been turned into a messenger android, delivering devices and other items and acting similar to someone who takes picture of the person who took a package.

It was one of the few things it could do without having to be supervised the entire time.

It is during one of its delivery to Dr. Vidic that it sees Zero-Two.

There was something about Zero-Two that makes it feel something.

Makes him feel something.

Their first meeting ends with him calling Zero-Two ‘Ezio’.

His Ezio.

DESMOND starts visiting him whenever he has the chance.

And Abstergo sees this all.

Hard not to considering the floor Ezio is in is covered in surveillance tech.

Dr. Vidic thinks this is a good thing.

DESMOND can communicate with Zero-Two. With enough time, DESMOND can be used to control Zero-Two.

No.

Control an army of them.

So he takes DESMOND under his wing and starts to supervise the meetings.

The tried and true method of carrot-and-stick.

With DESMOND being the carrot.

During that time, the team in charge of experimenting of Zero-One fuck up big time.

Maybe they didn’t take in consideration the idea that Zero-One would use its acid blood to destroy its cage.

Maybe they underestimated Zero-One’s intellect and it manages to get them to open the cage by pretending to be sick or dead.

Whatever the reason will be, the end result is the same.

Zero-One kills the team that has been experimenting on it and starts to hunt down everyone in the Space Station.

During this time, Dr Vidic gets the idea of hunting Zero-One using Zero-Two.

And he does it by having DESMOND become bait because he knows Zero-Two will protect DESMOND.

He didn’t take in consideration that DESMOND’s connection might not be exclusive to Zero-Two alone.

So when DESMOND sees Zero-One, he sees him about to kill another Abstergo personnel. The personnel begged for help but DESMOND simply stood there.

Dr. Vidic thought (as he watched the feeds from a drone) that DESMOND is doing as ordered, to find Zero-One and to place himself in danger until Zero-Two gets to his position (Zero-Two has been fashioned with a device that would push a strong sedative inside him in a push of a button, deliberately placed in a part of his body that he cannot use his acid blood to dissolve it)

Zero-One kills the personnel and starts moving to DESMOND’s position on all fours. A predator slowly making its way to its next kill.

That’s when Dr. Vidic sees DESMOND take a step towards Zero-One and reach a hand.

Without any mirror, DESMOND touches Zero-One as he says, “Altaïr?”

“You want to kill them all? Okay.”

“… We can do that.”

.

Unorganized Notes:

They take Ratonhnhaké:ton out of stasis during Altaïr’s rampage and DESMOND stays with him because he hasn’t gotten used to moving yet and is the most vulnerable of the three.

Considering it’s me, I would suggest we just turn this into all three main couples (AltDes, EziDes, ConDes) for triple the ‘fun’.

They feel a connection to DESMOND because he is created to be a complete copy of Sample 17 with an android body. Technically, his ‘genetics’ is more or less in that ‘white fuel’ he creates himself and a bunch of 1s and 0s makes up Sample 17’s entire DNA.

In a more… ‘strange’ level, they feel a connection to DESMOND and DESMOND feels a connection with them because they’re the closest species to one another. Both created from Sample 17.

If you want smut in this one, well, they see DESMOND as their Queen and they have the instinct to mate with their Queen because Sample 17’s genetic code had a hardwired ‘order’ of needing to reproduce sexually. (to create Desmond Miles but the order is still there). Otherwise, they feel the need to protect DESMOND and to satisfy his every desire.

The xenomorphs take one more and more characteristics of the ‘target’ ancestor in terms of personality and habits. On the flipside, DESMOND starts acting more… ‘selfish’ the longer he stays with the three.

This would end with the space station succumbing to the xenomorphs but Dr. Vidic manages to send out an SOS before he dies.

This is the part where we can focus on developing DESMOND’s relationship with the xenomorphs (insert smut here if you want).

Then… an Abstergo rescue ship is pinged on the radar and… more cannon fodders as well as the possibility of finally leaving the space station.

The twist is there’s an Assassin aboard the rescue ship and this Assassin would get in contact with DESMOND and realize who he is based on because the Brotherhood never forgot Desmond Miles. (this gives us the chance to make this either (1) DESMOND and the xenomorphs joining the Brotherhood for a sorta morally gray good guys scenario or (2) they kill the Assassin and go on full on corrupted “the world against us” setup)

[clatterbane]

Time for a batch of one of my old "I was a teenage vegetarian in the early '90s" cooler weather comfort foods! Which also helped keep me fed through my broke-ass 20s.

Plus, Mr. C is gone for the weekend, so it's time to samefood on some things he's not as enthusiastic about! (Though yeah he is fine with various spiced-up beans and rice--just probably not for several days straight. And we both might suffocate in our sleep, with his system extra-unused to that.)

Today, I'm rounding it out a bit and actually turning out palak rajma--through the simple expedient of throwing in some frozen spinach towards the end.

This batch is going to be both an Instant Pot and Crock Pot version, in a way. The current (Crock Pot branded!) one may be slightly busted and refusing to seal properly to pressure up, but everything else works fine. So yeah, I decided to set the (unsoaked this time) beans to stew on its slow cook function before I went to bed.

Being red kidney beans, I did bring it up to a rolling boil for 15 minutes first before setting it to slow cook on low--but, if any slow cooking appliance is well set up to boil the hell out of something without using a separate pot on the stove, this is it! In-pot searing/sauteing too.

This was actually my trial run using it as a slow cooker, believe it or not. We had a dedicated one in the UK, and I just hadn't yet here. They do have a reputation for not being nearly as good for it as the purpose-built models. Not least because it isn't designed with the wraparound heating.

But, I should be used to working with that! Somebody actually gave my mother one of these fuckers. I think it came from a work Secret Santa thing or something like that. It's been a long time.

How '80s! We even had that pattern.

Now, that type was really not very good. We mostly kept it for backup purposes. That is indeed a nonstick pot set on top of an underpowered hotplate. They pushed it as being great for an all-in-one experience, with searing directly in the pot. If so, you'd better do that on the stove and then move it over onto the simmering hotplate. Because that thing won't even bring water to a full boil. We tried when our stove broke temporarily.

But, it was better than nothing. Which was sort of my conclusion with the pressure cooker that won't. Only it will get extremely hot if you want it to! And the whole unit is much better heat insulated.

I figured it would be hard to fuck up plain cooked beans too badly, and I did wake up to some perfectly fine beans still on "keep warm". ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ It did lose more liquid than expected, but I did know full well that steam was escaping where it shouldn't. Easy enough to adjust for. And at least I used enough water that the beans didn't dry completely out.

Next up, probably: some kind of stew, cooked entirely in there. (And, erm, hopefully another unit with fully functioning valves soon.)

[wormwoodartemisia]

@xintothewoodswegox 🍀🥃🍻

I wasn’t really planning to but this was just the wee bit that was missing to actually make me start to post all my silly little ideas... Probably not what you expected, but I now make it your problem, anyway! 🤷‍♀️😉💋🫂

Inspiration immediately hit me when I saw this:

This is my icon (I got permission to use it from the artist, Notesz, and I love their CoD-art, among others!), the bigger version to fully experience its magnificence. 🥴🖤

THERAPIST JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH...

My version, at least... 😏😋 Civilian afab!reader, no specific desciption, no use of y/n Warnings: Absolutely no smut - instead, Soap using a ridiculous amount of pet names because I need him to... Furtive approach of making him sound a bit Scottish now and then, but I'm still very shy about it... Reference to abusive relationship, but I have the impression that tw is not needed. Let me know if I'm wrong! Short appearances: Price & Ghost, only brief mentioning of Gaz About 2.5k words, starting below the cut.

SHENANIGANS

It's gonna be ok...

You are more than relieved that the address is the same as before. A change would have been more than inconvenient. This place is known to you, every staircase, exit, door in the building. You know what to expect, where cars can park, which closeby places are crowded and where to disappear if needed.

Therefore you don't hesitate before entering the building where your therapist has got their office, first floor. From this height, getting away out of any window might be manageable in case it has to be, even for you, or so you hope and wish that you'll never have to find out...

You are more than grateful that it's not a total change. When your therapist told you they had to postpone your next session for several months due to some scientific research and a book that had to be written, you were about to quit, but they immediately tried to comfort you: "Of course you will not be alone in this situation. I've found the perfect stand-in for you, one who can absolutely meet your needs, trust me. Doctor MacTavish will fully take over this office while I’m working abroad. You just keep coming here for your normal appointments and clarify the rest with him."

You were led to the exit, they shook your hand and left you standing there, speechless, the news fresh like a bleeding wound. This was how your last session ended three days ago.

The situation itself was too surreal for you. So you simply accepted there was no suitable aftercare and that you wouldn't be introduced to Doctor MacTavish properly. There were too many thoughts on your mind to ask yourself if any therapist would really let their office be fully taken over this way...

When you enter your therapist's (your new therapist's) office, you notice that nothing, absolutely nothing has changed. There's still no secretary in the anteroom and despite the fact that you are perfectly on time, your knock at the door to the main office is shy. The deep male voice that bids you enter is a bit muffled through the closed door, but audible enough for you to instantly like its sound - very much so.

The moment you open the door to step in, the man on the other side of the room gets up from behind his desk to greet you with a radiant smile that directs the view away from his remarkable eyes and to his mouth with that striking scar on his chin. He comes over to you, holding out his hand to shake yours. For just a second you are too stunned to react properly. This guy is as far away from how you imagine a therapist as you want to be from your fucker of an ex-boyfriend...

He's quite tall and massive, slightly tanned muscles he knows to put on display - but not as some wannabe poser. He simply isn't afraid to show his self-confidence, clearly earned one way or the other. His casual blue jeans do his muscular legs some good, the woven brown leather belt around his midsection a nice devider to accentuate his upper body. A soft dark blue T-shirt hugs his frame like a second skin.

While you keep staring, your eyes wide, he has locked the door and performed the act of greeting (which includes taking your hand) all by himself because you are not much of a support. Without any effort he holds eye-contact with you - and this is the meanest thing to do, for you immediately fall for that sparkling cerulean blue. In fact, his intense eyes were the first thing you noticed about this man. (Not to mention his mohawk - which has never suited anyone better, you have to admit...)

When he strides back to his desk, reality sets in again and you recall the warm feeling of his strong hand holding yours in his. There is his scent in your nose, a perfume of woods and leather and the essence of green - moss and fern, maybe?

You watch him walk, his broad shoulders, muscles rolling beneath his skin, and you catch yourself staring at his arse. You are somewhat shocked about how blatantly you've just sized him up when it is his brains you need.

It's a literal necessaty to shake your head twice in order to get rid of your - let's say - more physical thoughts. Only that it can’t get easier for you: He doesn’t sit down behind his desk again, but is now leaning at the front of it, facing you, half-sitting, his legs extended and crossed in the most relaxed style, his arms folded over his chest - in such a decorative way that you must notice the tattoo on his right forearm.

The smug grin playing on his lips adds to the mischivous glint in his eyes. He is well aware of the effect he has on you - obviously nothing that makes him uncomfortable - on the contrary. You even get the impression that he lets you have your fill before he finally says your name - just your first name. Your former therapist always called you by your surname...

"Such a pleasure we finally meet."

You nod once and, after clearing your throat, you agree. "The pleasure is mine, Doctor MacTavish. "

He quietly laughs at that, not condecendingly, but with a warmth that immediately forces your lips into a soft smile as well.

"Just John, please. We don't need a doctor, do we?" He notices your hesitation before you finally nod. "Oh - ok. John. As you please." Again his all-consuming smile. "Ever so polite, hen. Now lie down."

The way you stare at him, incredulously, your pretty eyes wide as saucers, is a sight to behold. Grabbing a notebook, he straightens up again and points to his right. "The sofa, lass. Isn't tha wha therapy's about?"

You feel a bit stupid because you are totally convinced that - of course - you would have understood this completely unambigous statement had it come from your former therapist - or any person fitting your image of how a typical therapist should look.

Meanwhile John has reached the sofa and the two armchairs facing it. Your former therapist always kept their place behind their desk while you were seated in front of it on a normal chair, but this option seems to be unacceptable for John.

You swallow. "Well, ehm... I'd rather sit, in case you're good with that?" No problem for him. "Ach, have yer way, dearie. Ah'm good with a lot of things. Ye mind if ah?" He lets his Scottish brogue show and doesn't wait for your answer before he himself drops onto the sofa unceremoniously, the door in view. His notebook is resting on his chest while he stretches out his legs and puts his arms behind his head.

You can’t take your eyes off him as you slowly lower your body into the soft armchair. For his part, he's also watching you, somehow expectantly - as if he is about to ask you next which film to pick and where to order some take-away food... You're not sure how to feel about this man - and you're an open book.

"Ye have yer doubts, luv, haven't ye? What is it? Tell me."

Yes, what exactly is it? you wonder. Of course you can’t tell him that you've never heard of a therapist as hot as him - because that's not really what puts you off (distracted you somehow at first, yes, but that superficial notion would pass). He's too close, too fast, isn't he? Doesn't seem to believe in professional distance...

You opt for a more diplomatic explanation, one that holds enough truth in itself. "It’s just... I guess, I expected someone older..." He donnes you a knowing smile. "Let me assure ye that ah'm old enough for the job and ah dinnae lack experience, if that's wha ye're thinkin."

In fact you do not doubt that he’s got some wide range of different experiences. You only muse if it's the kind of experience you need while you take in his extraordinary tattoo and the prominent scar on his chin as two visible hallmarks made flesh to tag to the ambivalent feelings you have towards your new therapist.

John follows the movements of your eyes and touches his scar, grinning. "Boys are boys, ye ken? And ah must admit that ah wasn't born a therapist." He adds your name, almost like an afterthought.

"That so? For how long have you been a therapist then?"

His smile doesn't waver. "Been a few days", and with that he winks at you. "How about this? We take a few sessions, get tae know each other, and then ye can decide whether we go on or nae. What ye say?"

You consider his proposition. The fact that it is him your former therapist has chosen as their surrogate clearly drips in his favour - but you are a bit afraid that therapy with Doctor MacTavish - John - will be something entirely different from before... However, does 'different' have to mean 'worse'? You lean back in your armchair. "Ok. How do we start?"

John hasn't changed his horizontal position so far and seems to be comfy on his sofa. "Tell me somethin about ye, hun." - "Haven't you read my patient records?" - "- course ah have. Gnawing self-doubts, trust issues, traumatic experiences in yer relationship. But ah want tae hear ye talk. Choose any random topic and we speak about it."

For a second you are tempted to go for the weather forecast or your favourite animal, but this idea is only short- lived. Instead, you go for something new you would have been willing to let your former therapist in about soon. "I don't sleep much these days. I have nightmares." You don't look up, so he reassures you with a low, calm voice. "Go on."

You shrug. "That's all."

John looks at you pensively. "So ye do sleep." - "Pardon?" - "Yer dreams. In order tae have nightmares, ye need tae sleep first. Or do ye mean that ye refuse tae sleep for fear of havin bad dreams?"

You're not sure you see much of a difference, but you think about his question. "I fall asleep. Then the dreams start and after some time I wake up in cold sweat. And repeat." - "Have ye thought about takin sleepin pills? They could help ye with sleepin through the night." - "So I wouldn’t wake up from the horror? No way!" - "Don't ye want tae know how the dream ends?" You blink. "I... No? Can’t be a good end. I mean... have you ever even had nightmares, John?"

It's the first time that his smile changes its tone into something tinted, a lopsided grin with a grave seriousness. He sits up and leans forward to you, his notebook now next to him, his arms resting on his knees, before he starts to speak. "Ah ken the weight of nightmares, bonnie. 'ave seen some trauma in ma life", he hesitates, "Therapist stuff, ye ken? Ah dream about getting shot sometimes. Or being blown tae pieces."

When he doesn't add any more information, you feel the need to ask: "And then?" He purses his lips: "Then the dreams take a bearable direction - or start again."

You stare at the man in front of you, he holds your gaze unblinkingly. You frown. "I don't understand in how far this can be helpful to me, John." - "Priorities, luv. Ah usually tend tae choose sleep over some more or less vague fears. Ma body needs tae recover so that ah dinnae have tae let the nightmares come true." He hesitates once more. "In a metaphorical way, of course. When ah'm awake then, ah can think about the bad dreams and work through them. Might take some time, though."

The impression he gives you is one of sheer honesty. You're intrigued: "And what have you found out? About your nightmares?" - "Just the obvious. Fear of being unable tae get the job done, fear of nae being able tae support those who rely on me, failure in general. All the therapist stuff ah'm going through. Ah really get stuck into it, lass." He smiles the gravitas away. However, you can feel that he means it. This is more than just a job for him. He's always on a mission to save lives. That's real. He wants to prevent death if and when it's in his power. He for himself has to deal with an immense amount of emotional pressure every day.

You can feel all the emotional pressure as well - but for you, there’s always the other pressure, too. The invisible threat of a former boyfriend who was quite close to being the literal death of you.

You don't think less of Doctor John MacTavish just because he has surely never experienced that his life was literally at stake. Your lives are just so different... "I only hope that I'll never become one of your nightmares, John."

A boyish grin: "Ach, dinnae fash, bonnie. Chances are up for some sweet dreams."

⬛◼◾▪️Meanwhile, outside▪️◾◼⬛

"I still believe Garrick would have been the better choice", Ghost rumbles while they are waiting for you to leave the building again. In the driver's seat, the Captain takes a sip from his coffee, flashing the masked man next to him a look out of the corners of his eyes. "Soap's got some useful background knowledge from previous missions, some intel Gaz clearly lacks. Not to mention that Kyle couldn't make it back in time, right?" Ghost slowly shakes his head, almost unnoticeably, so Price adds: "You think MacTavish can’t handle the situation and take it far enough?"

Now Ghost barks a laugh: "Bloody hell... I'm not worried about his interrogation skills or acting abilities. 'm just worried that he might take it farther than he should - and we might get more than we've bargained for." - "He thinks she's that dangerous?"

It's a harsh laugh as response that the Captain gets to hear from his Lieutenant instantly. Ghost keeps his eyes trained on the entrance of the building when he answers: "This bird's not too dangerous. Yet I wouldn't guarantee she can’t take him apart..."

⬛◼◾▪️▪️◾◼⬛

You feel heat rise to your cheeks. But when you think about it, you have to admit that your choice of words was a perfect set-up...

"Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me, John. I'll think about your words, I promise, but for now, I'd love to change the subject." Luckily, your therapist is more than willing to fulfil your wish.

"That's fine. Now it's ma turn tae choose a topic. Let's talk about relationships. Just in general. We needn't necessarily come tae tha specific partner of yours. Wha was his name again, hen? Macaron?"

[fatass-adam]

Personal thoughts so far because I can't focus on shit else lol

Adam is a Gryffindor because he's too brave for his own fuckin good with all the shit talking he does and how powerful he considers himself (even being able to back it up against Alastor in their epic fight). Otherwise I'd go with Hufflepuff because he seems pretty loyal, even to a fault; he will stick with his side even if in the wrong

Probably comes from a pure wizard family that's upper middle class?? Pure wizard family because it gives him hot shit bragging rights regardless of his company, plus it kinda reflects his angelic status. I don't think he's full upper class though just because I'm taking his "struggling and surviving after being thrown out of Eden" period of his original life into consideration, but will also say that he doesn't have to go without much either given the other side of the story where he got to experience TWO different kinds of paradise (Eden before and Heaven afterwards)

He's great on a broom to reflect his long-ass afterlife of having wings (if he doesn't already have them depending on which verse we go with anyway...in which case I'll probably still just have him be lazy and have his broom do his flying for him BECAUSE YOU KNOW HE WOULD lol)

Also? Total Quidditch jock (maybe even on the way to becoming professional??) He totes has jock-bully vibes first and foremost regardless of age/setting we go with, not to mention he would do it because he easily gets bored anyway and needs something to do. And don't get me started on that Quidditch fan favorite status he'd try to achieve!

And adding to that, he's gotta be a beater. On top of the general enjoyment of getting to club a mindlessly violent ball senseless itself, it even funner when you get to club that mindlessly violent ball hurling into some other poor sap's direction with the intention of knocking them off and/or just downright injuring them

Socially speaking I'm gonna say that he's not above mingling with lower class, "mudbloods", muggles, etc. but will try to act like he is. In all reality I think he'd socialize with anyone who'd give him the time of day, but he's also just an asshole and gonna really play up his high ranking social status

That being said, if we have Death Eaters?? He's totally a Death Eater/Death Eater in training (if the age in the setting we go with allows it...and I'm gonna say yeah because they're all probably gonna be 8th years at least anyway). It only makes sense with his canon Exorcist shit lol

I am gonna go out on a limb though and say he's mostly a Death Eater (or Death Eater type) due to necessity (I mean ya gotta go with a winning team, am I right??). While I DO think Adam is naturally mean and an overall bad person, I also think he's been pretty misguided by how others have treated him (or his upbringing in this case) and has never really got to experience things from someone else's perspective to be able to judge things correctly. Like I said, he's pretty social and probably gets along with most people who treat him cool enough, he's just mostly been taught bad things that fed into his already naturally shitty personality and that has amplified it

Is probably still some kind of "dark wizard" anyway regardless because he wants that power and isn't afraid to go after it, even if it ends in regrets...SPEAKING OF WHICH-

Might face regrets/have a redemption arch out of it all?? Not that one just QUITS being a Death Eater...which is gonna be a lot of fun to explore on its own XD

He's also pretty good at dueling. He held his own in that epic battle with Alastor and only really got tripped up once he got too cocky and started getting sloppy on him. Even then he landed the winning blow that made Alastor retreat. Meanwhile I'm gonna say his magic mostly favors light/lightning spells because SUCK MY HOLY LIGHT FUCKERS!!" lol

His patronus is totally a dog and not a cool vicious dog but something cute and/or stupid like a golden retriever (and yes it's embarrassing when people find out what kind of dog it is because he'll admit to having a dog...but never specifies). This is because overall he is a big, dumb, loyal puppy lmao (he just fucking BITES sometimes)

That's about all I got for now! I'm now gonna start fucking around on wand specifics and get back to this later XD

[popthebop]

Actual opinions on GCPD and the rest of the cast in the GCPD (can’t say this in the dc discord I fear)

they are not good people all of them have at least committed 7 acts of police brutality, there’s a reason why Batman is a vigilante in Gotham.

A lot of the copagnda in Batman is that these acts of brutality and violence and manipulation and coercion, are deemed “good for the many” while in fact they keep fucking beating kids half to death or selling evidence for a profit or misplacing evidence or planting evidence or any of the many other things. (Uhhh in Gotham central that happens more times then I can count) (in the main comics I actually cannot count, fuck Harvey bullock biggest Harvey hater)

They run and have always run on the “guilty til proven innocent” narrative and it wants to you sit down and just accept it along with everything else.

(Some of the rouges are just literally guys who are poor, I will not even lie. killer croc is poor and disparaged due to his skin condition and the years of abuses and exploitations. or Mr freeze especially who worked on a teacher’s salary and couldn’t afford his wife’s medical bills and maybe if he had the money before she her cancer got worse perhaps he never would have been so desperate to save Nora perhaps the gothcorp incident that made him Mr freeze would have never happened. I find it very funny and frustrating that almost all the rouges became rouges due to wealth disparity and the abuses of the Gotham foster and healthcare system. The cops and the racism and the everything. But it’s never explored beyond “Mr freeze is evil” or whatever sorry I am a Mr freeze apologist)

The GCPD aren’t good people, in essence they can never Be “GOOD” that’s who they are they are the foil to Batman, the “law” he never follows or disregards.

(I have alot of fucking opinions with copaganda Batman, I have so many opinions on starlings treatment of Jason, I have so many opinions so so fucking many there have been times where I was seething. Fucking hell why do that do this to Batman. PLEASE 🙏 LET THE FUCKER BE ACAB PLEASE FOR ONCE IN HIS DAMNED LIFE. LET MY MAN;S HAVE TO GO UNDERCOVER AND JUST EXPERIENCE TRULY HOW BAD THE STUPID SYSTEMS ARE LET HIM BE KIND AGAIN I FUCKING MISS THAT BATMAN.)

When he (Batman) despite his many flaws lets due process happen and trust in the legal system. As seen by paying for all his rouges’s legal expenses.

(I still think it’s actually so incredibly heartwarming that he pays for the best lawyers he can get for his rouges they should explore that more)

In the above picture is an example of this fucking BULLSHIT, ughhhh way are the cops lives in Gotham valued more than any civilian “criminal” or not!!! FUCKING SHUT UP DRIVER.

the whole line of “if he was just a street punk, he’d be on death row right now” JUST INFURIATES ME THE MOTHERFUCKER IS THINKING OF THOSE KIDS FROM BEFORE. HATE YOU DRIVER HATE YOU. I HOPE THE JOKER BLASTS YOUR HEAD OFF UGHHGKSJVKHSJKVHJSKHVJSKVJHSKHVJ

The GCPD love to waive or coerce the human rights of its citizens, and seen in not only Gotham city year one but many many other stories. the corruption within the ranks of the GCPD is rife. They are not the good guys, no matter what the writers have tried to establish. 

Despite their efforts despite what we think of them, they are the ones contributing most of the bad in Gotham. Off screen and in between the pages are the stories of a history of long racial and ethnic disparities. Old Gotham and the narrows and park row/crime alley are where all the “criminals” live. When in essence it’s just the poor and homeless the poor and disabled.

In no man’s land, in cataclysm, in contagion, in all these things again and again the disparity of the lower classes and the disabled are felt heavily. In one no man;s land comic it’s supposed to be seen as this “oh the evil is in the streets only the police can clean it up” when it’s just desperate, desperate people who have been abandoned not only by the world but by the very people who wore sworn to protect them. Renee’s comment strikes hard because that IS what these cops truly think, they are judge jury and executioner.

This whole scene just makes me fucking angry, like FUCK YOU MONTOYA THAT IS LITERALLY YOUR COUSIN AND YOUR FIRST THOUGHT IS NOT

“oh SHIT I SHOULD GO WITH AND MAKE SURE HE’S OKAY”

IT’S “he’s a fucking criminal now” LIKE FUCK YOU OKAY WHAT THE ACTUAL HELL ARE YOU ON ABOUT THE GOVERNMENT LITERALLY ANAXED GOTHAM AND YOUR THOUGHTS ARE NOT THAT EVERYONE HAS LOST EVERYTHING AND ARE QUITE LITERALLY ALL REFUGEES NOW AND HAVE LOST EVERYTHING THEIR FAMILIES THEIR HIMES THEY HAVE NOTHING BUT THEIR LIVES AND THE CLOTHES ON THEIR BACK LIKE THE FUCK MAN.

and like in essence is Harvey dent even wrong for thinking that they were corrupt pieces of shit? Is his morality tied closer to fate even that bad compared to them?

(this is what makes him so incredibly interesting to me that despite everything he still is a DA at heart, despite everything he wants due process and justice. He also is a murderer who decides the fate of peoples lives on the flip of a coin. It’s super fun to see this duality with Renee and him seeing as they have a lot of beef i’m not getting into rn please I need more ACAB twoface and Renee finally realizing she’s the worst copaganda has to offer please please)

Like we see, so much incorrect procedure. Even if it’s for drama the fact that we see the utter disarray of the evidence holding the stolen evidence and all of this. Is it truly a good system one that can be “fixed” by these “good cops”?

there isn’t any, to begin with.

the GCPD is such incredibly interesting copaganda because it tries to sell you the only way through the soaring crime rate in Gotham-

(which the city has 30-27 million people at most times it’s like 5+ people a block)

is through the brutality and violence that the GCPD preaches, Harvey bullock, Jim Gordon, Renee and more they aren’t except from the law, but they keep just doing these things. Because there’s no one left to stop them. Except for Batman lol or huntress or twoface or any of the other vigilantes that live there.

I have pictures somewhere of the GCPD coworicing and beating the shit out of just all the random rouges lol, but I’ll have to find them.

but TRUST ME THERES A FUCKING LOT OF IT

Anyway that’s my thoughts

gotham central is fun but also it makes me wanna scream, I am reading purely for the rouges and such and lesbian Renee lol.

I hate the fact I love some of the characters, and the writing is amazing. Like DRIVER WHEN. I GET YOU DRIVER AND HARVEY BULLCK OHHHH I HOPE HE STAYS OUT OF EVERYTHING HATE SEETHING HATE OHHH FUCK HARVEY BULLOCK.

[syrupspinner]

i just completed Children of the Sun

the best sequel to JFK Reloaded that a girl can ask for

first thing I've gotta compliment is the aesthetics. this game has a PUNCH to it. there's just something so visceral about the sound effects, the guitar when you skulk around outskirts and the cymbal when you kill. the visual design is fucking astounding, the uses of purple and yellow make an environment that feels dreary and cold, like you've spent too long awake thinking about the past. all you can focus on is the glow of those fuckers in yellow. it's a great use of contrast to not only highlight your targets in gameplay, but also really gel with the plot. when you don't have dialog, measures to further understanding through the environment go a long way

so it's great to look at, how's it play? well, I had a kick-ass time with it. don't be fooled by the presentation, this is a strategy game at its core. you're meant to think through your plan of attack, looking over the land and counting heads, to plan out how you're gonna finish the level from your first shot. I think it maintains this really fun core through the game while introducing new mechanics that expand on it in engaging ways without throwing anything out. adjusting your trajectory after firing, straight-up shooting it again after you fire it, the speed up thing, all just extra tools that help you approach the same game. this is hard to do! I know too many adventure games that just have The Problem Solver that you never don't use, but everything feels really well balanced here

so like, I don't have that much fun with trial-and-error, you can see that in some of my other reviews. not only is "well that didn't work, let's start from the beginning and just change something minor until it stops failing" really easy to fall into when there's no objective correct answer, but there's my old nemesis: "am I doing the wrong thing, or the right thing the wrong way?". it's so easy to fail to convey to the player when they're getting close to solving a puzzle, and more importantly, when they're on the wrong track. especially when this game values aim and timing, it's easy to mix up an issue with your plan and an issue with your execution.

but honestly? I dunno if I can really articulate why, but this game does the best job I've seen of avoiding that problem. I think part of it is that it's easy to tell when your order is off because you'll be left floating without being able to reach another target, clearly communicating a failure state mid-attempt. and the game just gives you so many ways to get out of stuff like that, both in your moveset and in the level design with gas cans and birds to ricochet off when you're in a corner. it give you just enough wiggle room without being a total sandbox

I think this games at its worst at level 11, the one where you're on a hill in the middle of a graveyard, and I think the reason for that is that it's ironically too open ended. in most levels there's a clear starting point of who you should aim for first, or at least a reasonable enough first target in your line of sight. like fir example, the motel level (NMH? you're not slick you based motherfucker) seems open ended at first, but even if you fuck around with different targets, there's a clever intended solution the design guides you to.

the guy in the window should be last because he's a bit of a dead end for everyone but the armored dude (who's too close for your bullet to penetrate). but this guy is ALSO wearing armor, so you know you've gotta aim at him from further away, like about as far away as the dudes by the pool. then through experimenting as you attempt the level, you discover you can shoot through the connected rooms, and that feeling of discovering a secret route encourages you to use it as an advantage. there aren't a lot of possible routes that satisfy all the things the design is encouraging you to do. this is the puzzle genre at its best, in my opinion, where it acts as a teacher that socratically encourages player self-improvement through very loose guidance.

back to level 11, I... uh... okay wait I was really struggling to get my foot in the door before this but I think talking out the process really inspired me so give me a sec here. so obviously you can't aim for the psychic first, you need a reshoot charge. you can't build a charge off of armored enemies so you need to take out at least 2 of the groups before targeting the psychic. there's a car by the further duo and its the only car that can take out an armored enemy in this level (the main reason youre gonna use them after ricochet-charging body parts are introduces) and the trio has a riot shield, so if I start from the further... okay this is the rambling of a madwoman I need to go try and beat that level again brb

I. cannot. believe that worked. all I had to do was think about it from a design perspective and consider why it was made that way. the enemies aren't obstacles, they're the stepping stones to completion, like in nazo puyo. I take the single minor critique I had about this game right the fuck back, rené rother you're a generational talent

so let's finish the campaign with some plot discussion. honestly, the games pretty light on story from a perspective of like, how much its focused on compared to gameplay, but it still pulls off something cool and interesting. like, all you get is that sometimes you'll get a really cool animated cutscene that delves into the shooters backstory, and there's a flashback level that's just kinda about indoctrination, but despite the brevity it's hard for me to say you've had the full experience without understanding the plot. its not like I Am Fish or something where its just a vehicle to justify the levels, yknow?

you can have a rough idea that the cult leader is the bad guy and you're getting revenge, but seeing the protagonist develop their power and use it on others for the first time really adds a compelling edge to the whole experience. I try not to praise a game for it's aesthetics unless it can back up the style with substance, and I think the visuals do a great job if working with the story to make something greater that the sum of its parts. like, if this had an anime art style and a basic orchestral score, I would not be invested in the plot at all. likewise, the plot does a lot to help justify why theres such a sense of impact and gravitas with each cultist dead. the art style and the soundscape is so... scratchy. like it was put together in haste by a forced hand, like its a part inside your brain you cant reach to scratch, like a half-realized and manic plot to shoot down the bastards that ruined your life. what im saying is that it they work with each other to characerize the world and the main character in a really interesting way, and they game wouldnt be as good if they went in a different direction

and like... with as little spoilers as possible, that ending just has a delicious cruelty to it. its open ended enough that it could go either way on if the world + our protagonist is better or worse for it. personally, i think they could make it work, but theyd hate every second of it. they got their revenge at the only cost they didnt wanna pay, and that's the cult leader's revenge right back. really makes you think about who deserves what, the justification of revenge and who deserves to take their anger out on the world, and cycles of revenge in general. which is the best way a vigilante revenge story can end in my opinion, just the tragedy of something definitely not being worth it

I'll wrap this up by talking about the free update that just dropped (along with a sale... the game came out THIS YEAR and it's already almost half off, what the fuck?). its... pretty good! you can definitely tell the game wasnt really designed with it in mind, which is totally fine for a side mode. it seems to encourage you to chain enemies together by saying you "lock in" your score by retrieving the bullet (as in, your score doesnt count if your bullets still in the field), but there doesnt seem to be the same combo mechanic as the main game, which i was kinda surprised by. the main push/pull of the mode comes from this, because its really easy to lose track of who youre supposed to shoot without returning to your post and doing the middle-click marking thing.

also, ill take the time to appreciate this now, if you have a hard time figuring out the type of enemy from their silhouettes? when you mark them as targets, their tags are different colours. normal ones are yellow, riot shields are a light blueish-grey, and body armours are dark blue. you probably dont need help telling psychics apart, but theyre like a red.

btw, nightmare paralysis seems... slightly untested. there are times where ill middle-click and itll mark something totally out of the way as a target, my campaign progress is saved by it wasnt available next time i launched the game (which is fine, you can unlock it in the menu at any time - based as fuck) and there might be a typo in the instructions. "some children have so as well" seems wrong, i think it's supposed to be "have to". so its not perfect, but fuck it, free update, fuck me if im gonna complain about it

the most common complaint i see in steam reviews is that its too short, and if i may say, skill issue. if walmart expects $20 for a 9 year old blueray, so this isnt a question of value. what, do you want the game to just inflate itself to meet some arbitrary metric of time? how long would you have to stretch this to make it "good" or "worth it?". theres more to a game than playtime. and need i remind you, you own the game (yadda yadda steam digital licence) so you can replay it whenever you want. did you get all the achievements? how high are you on the leaderboards? theres more to a game than just blitzing through the campaign once. also, yknow, the new mode they just added for free. so fuck you im right

so yeah. the game kicks ass. play it if you like the part of action games where youre scouting things out and planning your attack. or if you like looking at and/or hearing things, 10/10 audiovisual experience. or if you like score-hunting and/or leaderboard climbing. or if youre an amputee, cuz this game is designed for just the mouse in a really intuitive way. or if you like guns, particularly sniping but i think just guns in general. yknow what im just gonna say if you like video games this is worth a try, s'fucking art