#at least not until a chunk of time

[vioranhyperfixation]

Disable!Damian Al Ghul au #4

Times in the lounge of assassin #1

[=] Damian Al Ghul

• Damian spent 95% of his time in the LoA studying and doing mission.

• Damian grew up with a lot of studying to make up for his disabilities, but that doesn't mean he doesn't experience discrimination. He experienced it, a lot. But if he learned one or two things from his grandfather is that, if you just actually look, he mean look, at everything you can see they have hidden advantage. You just need to search, and then they have everything in it, so he view it as being spoiled ( in his case it is)

• His past time is either watching Jason and #011 doing whatever they do as he talk about whatever he like, or he does whatever he feel like at that moment.

• With Jason he also like to hear him rant about his past live in Gotham, they got to gossip real quick once Jason got news on what happened in Gotham.

• He had at least done everything once in his time at LoA.

• He's being teach everything including but not limited to LoA and Al Ghul way of killing.

• Around the same time he realised he wants #011 as insurance, he also realised how bad his position is and need a quick insurance so he end up with a proposal for an entire new organization with no ties.

• He somehow managed to get the approval after wondering around the world in three month, three fatal wound, and dying once.

• That wondering around fill up with scamming, gaslight, gatekeep, making up myth and legend that's absolutely not there.

• His organization is build around everything he's sure will benefit him.

• Most or the members of his organization is handpicked by Damian, either he found them somewhere and inviting them with a formal letter. Or that he saw them when he's in his mission, look useful, pick them up, and brought them back.

• Damian goes around with a wheelchair, before he got his attendant he usually wheel them himself so he pack quite a punch.

• He got his attendant after his first time dying on his 6th birthday

• His attendant is a meta with tentacles at her back that she can control as she wish.

• Damian internally keep side eyeing Ra's.

• Damian still get a lot of mission, but it's nothing involving killing as it suggests that he's a possible heir of Al Ghul.

• Damian enjoyed his mission as Ra’s would let him keep one thing or two from his mission as long as it did not affect the aftermath of the mission. And he also met his friends and his insurance there.

• One of his organization member + Insurance that he gained from the mission is when he was tasked with dealing on a slavery action. Some people from that place did not have other places to go, so Damian decided to take them with him to be his agent in his organization that he built and divide their training method depending on their talent which would be beneficial for him in the long run.

• The people that he take as to his organization would be sheltered and trained to be the best version of their place, the minimum of time they must spent is two years before they got deployed

• The system he uses is different for each kind of member, it works depending on the results of the method, but the main system is the reward system. How it works is simple. At the end of your training and mission you would be given coin’s based on your progress and outcome, that coins would be stored into your id and barcode, and that coin is the currency that you can use to get whatever you want within the organization.

• The agent of the month gets a lot of work benefits.

• His organization cover a lot of things, from medical to resort to entertainment but the main bussiness is trade.

• The bussiness may be different but all the employees, even the one that's unaware of the big boss are all required to be capable of self defense and the routine if an emergency happened.

• He is generous with the pay

• I mean, he is loaded. Why must he care?

• He is very judgemental so all his personal personel is very talented.

[ravencromwell]

The poem evokes human greatness and human vulnerability. People are “godlike” in their courage and skill, but even the greatest mortals fall and clutch the dust between their bloody fingers. The beautiful word minunthadios , “short-lived,” is used of both Achilles and Hector, and applies to all of us. We die too soon, and there is no adequate recompense for the terrible, inevitable loss of life. Yet through poetry, the words, actions, and feelings of some long-ago brief lives may be remembered even three thousand years later.

--Emily Wilson's introduction to the Iliad

[neverfruit]

Until dawn the movie may not have been good. But its trailer is what pisses me off the most. The movie would have really benefited from not showing over half the deaths in the trailer. Also maybe making the characters the slightest bit likable. Or hateable. Not just. There

[unnonexistence]

i'm reading the witness for the dead for the second time and i can SEE the influence on my writing style

[lamortwrites]

Idk this is such a niche problem but like. The state of non specialist tea selection is growing worse and worse

[zemnarihah]

guys i have so much homework this week:(

[evanbuckleysarms]

Someone give me $3000 to completely overhaul my bedroom pls

[spingu]

inane ramblings on ttc and hockey players in the tags

[the-weeping-dawn]

‘So.’ Ilz said out loud, to keep them from sifting any further than was needed before switching back to the psionics he’d gotten more comfortable speaking to the Emperor in, <’Now that we know where things went wrong…I suppose the question of where we’re both going forward from here still stands.’> He felt the familiar combination of annoyance and affection. It was buisness as usual. Almost.

Me having a draft of the first chapters of at least what's set after done if I'd get less nervous about posting???? That can't be right....

[bayetea]

for funsies - chapter 1 preview:

Clouds like pillows floated over Rosenbrandt. There was no hope of the sun piercing through such dense overcast, a thick white cotton pad packed tight against the sky. Rain bled from it often and unrepentantly, fog coiled and surfed through the heavy atmosphere, and a durable stillness mastered the air--a permanent state of unchallenged normalcy. It was the way that Rosenbrandt always was, the way its people presumed life would always be. And the sun thus remained a lost artifact, for it had not been seen in over one hundred years.

Dozens of spires perched on the rooftops below--skinny fingers with talons for nails stabbing towards the sky. Stone masonry buildings sat uniformly on cobblestone roads where streetlamps shone through layered darkness. Curfew soon. Noctivagants were not tolerated without good reason, and the people of Rosenbrandt in their drab, wool cloaks were scrambling to put themselves in a place where they belonged: home, a workplace, or anywhere else, so long as they were indoors and the doors were closed shut.

As for Luke, he wasn’t in such a rush. Someone like him really didn’t have to be.

He and his fellow soldiers were hunched around the bar of Dakota’s Tavern, a quaint, moody affair with sparse lighting and half-attempted decorations: paintings loosely affixed to the walls, weary rugs older than the wooden floor beneath them, random knick-knacks in place of table centerpieces. The air was stiff with mixed scents of old leather and barley-based beer, which was slightly repugnant to Luke. He never cared for this low-grade bar nor its cheap offerings, but it was what his troops preferred, and he was used to their poorly cultivated tastes.

Rancor and chatter filled up the room. About a dozen of them had gathered here after work and already surrendered to their evening rituals: get stupid drunk, have a laugh with the crew, and then stumble home before the nightwatchers stalked through the streets.

“Nothing for you tonight, General?”

He spared a glance towards his first lieutenant, Nyssa Barrera. A hardened, stoic woman with short, dark hair and labored eyes that seemed permanently exhausted by her circumstances. She didn’t have to be so formal with him during their off-hours, and he had told her so before, but Nyssa wasn’t the type to let her guard down after work. He respected her for that.

“Nothing for me.” Luke confirmed bluntly. “I have places to be after this.”

“Places like the Grace House?” teased Sherman Yang on Nyssa’s left. A faint dash of blush was smeared over his cheeks as his eyes were dazed from the beguiles of his liquor. He was a good lieutenant--the second one after Nyssa--but the man's low tolerance for alcohol was a compelling blight against his credibility. “Places like--like the president’s daughter’s bedroom?”

Luke smirked. “Aren’t you tired of making the same joke?”

“I’m just saying,” he slurred, holding his hands up to deflect from criticism. “Always over there at night. At night. Past curfew. Seems suspicious… is all I'm saying."

Nyssa grimaced. "Yang. He's the general. He reports directly to the Graces. Do you have to make something vulgar out of everything?”

“Ughhhh,” was his signature exaggerated groan. “Lighten up, Barrera. For once in your life.”

“For once in my life,” she echoed. “Not likely. Maybe after I die.”

The two kept speaking about something or other--Nyssa tolerating more meaningless verbiage from Sherman, Sherman trying and failing to get a rise of her. Luke had lost interest in them. He was here to keep an eye on his troops, to ensure the truly drunken ones were taken care of and stalled from becoming too disorderly in public--which was unacceptable, and would reflect on him poorly. But his current boredom had transformed their chatter into muffled and indistinct whirs, had set a thick blur over his tawdry surroundings. There was nothing for him here. He’d rather be somewhere else.

“--Barrera,” Luke intruded suddenly on her talk with Sherman. “I should get going. You can take care of things here, can’t you?”

Nyssa frowned--though she was always frowning one way or another--but still nodded her head dutifully. “You can go. Don’t let us keep you from matters with the president.”

“Or his daughter,” Sherman spoke.

She scowled and chided him again. Maybe it was Nyssa’s distaste for sordid behavior that made her so defensive of Luke’s intentions. Maybe it was her unflinching regard for the chain of command that impelled her to demand respect for his integrity. He wasn’t sure; he didn’t know anything about Nyssa beyond what their line of work necessitated. But it was always her voice that rushed first to dispel suspicion towards his relationship with Thalia Grace, as though the whispers and jibes were of actual consequence or even detriment.

In reality, and no one really knew this, Luke savored the rumors. He liked that others recognized the possibility of something going on between them, that others thought it feasible for the head of the military to be involved with the president’s daughter. He liked the privilege of owning a secret that inquirers tried and failed to uncover--was there a dalliance brewing? Were they kissing in the night? And was he courting her, was he a marriage prospect? And wouldn’t that make sense? Weren’t they a good fit?

They asked him all the time. They floated gossip everywhere. And the pervasiveness of that ongoing narrative was almost enough of a thrill to make up for the fact that the stories were largely fictitious. Almost so. But indulgence in fiction could never sublimate Luke’s urge to seek out more than what he already had.

As for right now, he was inclined to seek out conversation improved from that of drunken soldiers. Luke excused himself respectfully and exited the tavern.

went insane last night and drew a thaluke scene from pillows over rosenbrandt (vampire au) wip out of nowhere (it's not for kids sorry)

[becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys]

Actually, I think this does link in with a wider conversation that I have been thinking for a while Tumblr maybe needs to hear.

There's a common meme on this site now that no one here has any reading comprehension skills. The best one is, of course, the original "No offense but reading comprehension on this site is piss poor/How dare you say we piss on the poor" post, which gave rise to the nickname "pissing-on-the-poor website". There's also the "I like pancakes/How dare you say waffles are terrible" one. Both of these are great, because they're silly jokey ways to show two closely related phenomena that are probably the commonest ways to fail a reading comprehension check.

The first is someone reading certain catchphrases or buzzwords in the post, and based on their own biases or prior experiences or whatever else, their brain simply fills in what it reckons the poster is saying on the topic. Instead of reading the rest of the sentence and digesting it, the reader then just uses their assumption as the interpretation, and reacts to that.

The second is closely related, because it also uses biases and prior experiences to to interpret the post, but rather than ignoring what the OP is actually saying, it instead performs a series of gymnastic leaps to construct a whole new assertion on the OP's behalf that simply isn't there.

There's also a third, of course; that one is people being so eager to feel smug and superior over someone they perceive as Bad that they wilfully assume the OP is stupid or being serious when they're actually joking. And if the reader hadn't been so blinded by their desire to get to look down on someone, they'd have seen the very obvious tells, sometimes even including sentences like "Obviously this is a joke." (I think we have all seen examples of these. Also, in a bid to avoid as many reading comprehension fails here as possible, this does not include misunderstandings borne entirely of neurodiverse struggles to parse intentions; but, neurodiverse people are just as likely as neurotypicals to have ego play a part in their misinterpretation of others, and that is what this point is about.)

And the thing is... actually, we are all capable of any of these. I imagine a sizable chunk of people reading until this point were probably thinking "Lol, yeah, people are so stupid," but na, nage, I'm not having that. Literally everyone does these sometimes. And it becomes a particular risk when the topic under discussion is something that might brush against an issue that is a pressure point for you, like a social justice talking point that you are forever having to argue with internet strangers about, for example. Your brain holds schemas! And sometimes it likes to pattern match things before it deigns to tell you about its findings! And that can hit you right in the emotions, which if they are strong enough, really can shut down all rational thought.

But. This brings me to the real point of the post.

Because the thing is, we have all saddled up and gone to war under these conditions, or at the very least been strongly tempted to. And a vital skill that literally everyone has to learn, sooner or later, is:

Before you hit 'reply', double check the post to make sure you fucking understood it.

And that does not mean "simply re-read, confirm your bias, carry on." It means, "Is it possible to read this post from the point of view of someone who doesn't intend it the way I've taken it? If I put myself in the shoes of an innocent, could they still have written these words? Is there another interpretation for these phrases?"

And you do have to do this step. You simply do have to. Because if your desire is to 'clap back' and call someone a gargling knobskin made of garbage, fuck me sideways but you must see that it is imperative that you check if they actually deserve that kind of treatment first. You cannot spend your time claiming that we must all choose to be kind and then not bother doing your due diligence before screaming a person's various and assorted bigotries at them. If you misread it, and they were innocent - you are the raging aggressive cunt in this situation.

It does not matter that you reacted from an emotional place of normally having to defend yourself either, by the way. Sure, that makes the quality of your human soul better than that of the average Redditor who just enjoys anonymously hurting people, I guess? But it's also irrelevant. If you messaged someone and called them a misogynist because you performed several mental somersaults and landed on your own sore spot when they meant no such thing, you are the attacker. You owe them an apology. And yeah, sure, you can explain your over-reaction as the product of your normal experiences if you like, but that is only an explanation, not an excuse. You are still the asshole here. You still need to apologise and mean it.

And you could have avoided it if you'd done that due diligence, as you should have. If you're going to take a swing, make sure it's the right target. This was once described to me as donkey people - they don't think, they just kick. This is admittedly a little unkind to donkeys, who always do their due diligence, but I feel it's an apt metaphor.

TL;DR: If you feel moved to angrily reply to something, first make sure you've interpreted it right. Don't be a donkey person. And if you ask for clarification, people are innocent until proven guilty. Ask nicely. If they are a bigot, you can then smelt them for parts.

[haloshattered]

I love VTM but I think my least favorite thing about the way they do the embrace is that the banes and all the bad things are supposed to take hold immediately. These are vampires. Theyre immortal. Let it take time, and it will be so much more horrifying.

Let the new Nosferatu scratch their head two nights in and a chunk of hair falls out. They look in the mirror three nights later and realize how much thinner their skin has gotten, and they touch their jaw carefully, and a strip of skin peels away to reveal the jaw underneath.

Let the new Malkavian be so so so paranoid because they KNOW whats coming, but by a month in, nothing seems to have happened. And theyre so worried, but theyre hoping against the universe that please, maybe they'll be the exception. Maybe they wont fall to the voices. And then they get home and talk to their friend about their worries, and after a little while, they feel relieved. The friend helps, so they keep talking to them. A few months go by and they are happy that they were worried over nothing, and they never even realize theyve been talking to the walls this whole time.

Let the new Ventrue have to figure out their blood limitation themselves. Their first few nights or weeks, they can drink whatever, but slowly the curse sets in. They drink some blood and immediately puke it up. They drink another type and break out in hives. Another sends them into torpor. But they HAVE to keep going. They have to find what they CAN drink, because until they do, they'll feel nothing but hunger and pain and rage and suffering. And the longer it takes to find it, the worse the wrong ones will be

Let the banes take time to take hold! I think thats significantly more interesting than everything just happening all at once all in one night, especially since these are immortal beings we're talking about. The horror of the vampire is supposed to be that all of the suffering is eternal. Let this take some time too.

[exopelagic]

i can’t believe i managed to get fucking mono and didn’t even get it by doing anything fun

[bochowssinner]

🪽 GUEST.

summary: your mama gave remmick permission to come in whenever he wanted, not knowing what he was, and he wanted you first. but remmick has a problem of playin' with his food.

warnings: fighting, light choking, hair pulling, spitting, biting, and a lil freaky.

a/n: y'all loved my other remmick post so i made another. bad at endings, sorry.

your mama had always been sweet, perhaps a little too sweet. especially when a white man stood on your porch one afternoon and offered to cut the grass for free. nobody did anything for free around here, at least that you were aware of. and what white man would do any kind of work for some black people? something wasn't adding up, and only you noticed.

that afternoon he saw you... it had been like a punch to the gut. something that made him want, something that made him.. ache. now here you were, trapped in his arms, just what he wanted. just his type.

“quit fightin’ so hard.” remmick’s voice was a near order as he stepped closer, forcing you back until you bumped against the edge of the kitchen counter. he lifted you higher, strong enough to maneuver your body without much effort at all.

“you sound.. sweet like this.” his hand around your throat loosened slightly, a few gasps of air escaping your lips. he leaned closer, nose brushing your ear, voice low and gravelly.

“what’s that pretty mouth taste like?”

you were pretty when you squirmed, really, it was almost sexy how hard you were still trying.

remmick’s hand squeezed your neck again, tilting your head to the side and back, forcing you to expose the long column of your pretty throat. “i'm gonna find out,” he murmured.

his tongue slid from his mouth, slick with spit and unnaturally long, and you instinctively screamed in disgust as loudly as you could, tilting your head back away from him as you struggled in his firm hold. remmick tsked. now that just wouldn’t do. he didn’t like that sound, or that struggle.

his thumb pressed on your windpipe enough to cut off more airflow while his other hand tangled roughly in your hair, yanking that pretty head back. he leaned closer, mouth just above that exposed neck, breath hot enough to send a shiver down your spine. "you know, you oughta be nicer.” his tongue flicked out, a quick tease of the skin. "you’re real vulnerable like this.”

his tongue traced an invisible line down the curve of your throat, lips pressing softly against you. he held you like a vice, body flush against yours, hand wrapped so tight in your hair it bordered on painful. "maybe I’ll make that pretty mouth scream again,” he murmured, teeth nipping at your collarbone. “just not in disgust this time.”

you reached up and grabbed a chunk of his hair and yanked his head away from your neck. he didn’t like that at all. in a quick, fluid motion, his hand gripped your wrists and slammed both against the edge of the counter, effectively trapping both your hands in one strong grip.

he leaned forward, breath hot against your ear. "do that again, and i’ll do worse than just bite you.” his fingers pressed into your skin, enough to leave little red spots. “i like my hair right where it is, thank you.”

then you spat. right on his lower lip. you weren't any stronger than him, but god forbid you let him bite you with those teeth. that was a bit more than the usual struggle, enough to break his attention. he raised a brow, eyes narrowing as he licked the saliva from his lip. it would’ve been funny if it hadn’t just taken him off guard.

"careful now.” his tone was still low, still thick with a sinful edge, but that sharp hint of warning was clear. he shifted his grip, pulling your head back a bit more as he leaned forward. if you wanted to spit.. he’d have a good way to shut you up. “spit on me again, and I’ll make sure that voice is hoarse for a week.”

“what makes you think you can just spit on me, huh?” he murmured. that ain’t how you should treat a guest, is it?”

"i ain't let you in—" you protested, breathing heavily as he craned your neck back in an uncomfortable position.

“no,” he chuckled, breath hot on your ear as he pulled back far enough to watch your face. “your sweet lil’ mama did.”

he leaned closer, lips just above your pulse. “your sweet ma let me in and told me i could stay as long as i needed to. said i could have a seat at the table and everything.”

his teeth scraped your skin. “so i think that does make me a kind of guest.” that was the last thing you heard him say before he sank his sharp teeth into your neck, piercing every vein along the way.

[a-b-riddle]

Part Three

Warning: If you don't like Taylor Swift, you're not gonna like this chapter that much, homie. But So Long, London is so fitting for this drabble series. (I guess a series since it's longer than a drabble at this point)

Can’t stop thinking about reader just trying to move on

You had to remind yourself several times not to check in with the guys. It had almost become second nature doing something big like this. But going to another country…

Not that they would care. You told yourself. It was for the best that way.

The expo went better than you expected. You didn’t believe that there would be a line out the door of eager readers wanting to read your book, but you got a decent amount. More than a few told you they couldn’t wait to read it. Several asking for photos and asking questions on any future books, a spin-off or even continuing the series.

When one a particular large group of girls your age asked for a group photo, you could have cried. They were had found each other in an online book club. You had given them your book several months ago. All copies signed with a note thanking them for taking the time to read what you had poured your heart into.

You had spent a large chunk of your free time talking to them. Bonding more so as women than over your book.

"Have you listened to Taylor's new album?"

It had only been out for two days and you had been able to avoid it like the plague. You didn't need to even listen to 'So Long, London' to know it would fucking gut you. So you would enjoy your time in the states. Save the listening experience for when you were packing up their stuff.

They had posted and tagged you before continuing on with the rest of the expo. You had reposted the photo to your own social media. Or at least one attached to the pen name you had crafted. You only had twelve thousand instagram followers, but it was something.

The first day was much like the second. You had attended several Q & A sessions with a panel of more experienced authors and managed to go to a few meet and greets. Before you knew it, it was time to pack up shop.

The agent the publishing house had assigned to you had stuck with you for most of the day. You were able to pick her brain a bit about new ideas for possible future plot lines and her thoughts. Overall, the trip was great.

Not only were you able to make great connections and take a lot back home with you to reference, but for a few days you forgot what waited for you back home. Or rather what wasn't waiting for you.

By the time your plane landed back in London you could barely hold yourself up. You left the expo, went straight to the hotel to shower, pack and head to the airport.

Your flight was delayed. Your luggage was taking forever to get onto the belt. It was only seven, but fuck if you weren’t ready to just call it a day. Tomorrow you would have to start again. Opening up the shop. Coming back to an empty flat. Maybe start gathering up the items the boys had left behind.

Should you give them in separate boxes or just one giant one and let them sort it out themselves? It was easy to discern whose sweatshirt and t-shirts belonged to who, but when it got to things like socks and chargers...

Yeah.

They could sort it themselves.

You could drop it off at Kyle's when you knew he would be at the gym. He was good at avoiding you anyway.

It wasn't until you stood in your apartment did it hit you.

You were alone.

For the first time in over a year you couldn't call one of them over to soothe that ache of loneliness.

For the first time in over a year, you had to relearn how to handle just being alone.

You usually showered at night. Washing away the grime of the day before settling into bed. But today was a new chapter. You woke up wanting to start it on a good note. Plus you went straight to bed after getting home so you still had a bit of airport funk on you.

It had been a week. One official since you had sent that text nailing the coffin shut. You had touched base with your friends who didn't bat an eye at you dating four men at once. They liked them, even if Simon scared them. You didn't give them the details of the breakup or the cause. You were pretty private in your problems and if you wanted relationship advice, you would seek an unbiased unopinion.

You had a good group of friends, but the moment you told them that you were well and truly heartbroken, they would insist the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. Something you were nowhere near ready for.

So you needed to look like you had your shit together. You put on a dress that was feminine and, most importantly, comfy as fuck. An A-line floral frock paired with a light sweater and some white trainers. You knew a few of your friends would be stopping by for tea so you need to look like you were taking the separation well. Even if you were barely holding it together.

With makeup and perfume on, you started the early morning stroll to your shop.

You loved openings. Starting up the register and selecting the playlist for today. Picking out the essential oil to put in the diffuser even though you mostly stuck with a lavender and vanilla blend during the spring months.

For the morning you stuck with a Taylor Swift Instrumental playlist you had found initially for studying, but you liked the peaceful feeling it brought. Even when it covered the most gut wrenching songs.

You had started to collect the online orders that had accumulated over the last week. Sending out the e-mails alerting to your patrons that their orders were ready for pick up. Luckily you weren't set to receive a delivery until tomorrow.

It was eight and everything was set. Although not many people came to a bookstore at eight in the morning, it really didn't bother you opening up that early considering you were the only employee that was on the payroll. It gave you the possibility of making money, but mostly you spent the morning reading or writing.

You flipped the sign over from CLOSED to OPEN. Ready to start take on the day.

You had turned the kettle on in the back room when your friends had stopped by around lunch. You always said it was just tea, but you always had an array of snacks on standby for you all to munch on.

Meredith was complaining about what a dick the new client at the law firm was being. An absolute slime who had been married to his wife for almost twenty-five years before he decided to fuck his twenty-two year old assistant.

Tabitha didn't want to talk about work. To her, her career in tech was just a paycheck. She did what she needed to do and left when she was done.

You talked about the expo and how your book. Although neither of them really read, they had promised that they would read your book. You didn't hold your breath. They had reposted your posts as well as making ones of their owns in celebration of you. Words of praise about your dedication and hard work.

You realized that even though they couldn't give you the support you needed as readers, they supported you blindly. You could have written absolute garbage, but they would still support you.

You talked about how many people liked your book and wanted pictures and to sign their copies.

Then came the question you had been rehearsing since you had texted them a week ago. They both shared a look before Meredith finally asked.

"How are you holding up?" You gave a half-smile and a shrug. So perfectly rehearsed in your head you were ready to deliver your lies lines.

"I'm fine," you lied. "It was just fading so there isn't much of a difference, I guess." Not necessarily a lie. "We just wanted different things and were on different paths in life." Not a lie. "It's for the best." You weren't sure if that last one was a lie or not just yet.

They both shared a passing look before returning their gazes back to you. "You know you can come to us about this stuff." Tabitha's hand reached across the table, placing a hand on top of yours.

"It wasn't going to work out." You added. "Situations like that don't and I should have known better."

"A situation?" Meredith asked. "When have you ever called it a situation?"

"It always was one."

"I love you enough to call bullshit." She raised her eyebrow at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "You loved them and you need to stop pretending this is easy."

"You're a divorce lawyer, Mere," You reminded. "You see marriages fall apart every day."

"I do. I get to see from across the table how a woman is still willing to take her cheating arse of a husband back. So the fact that you went from on cloud nine with all of them to not even talking about the break up is concerning to say the least."

"Tabitha," you looked at your only ally left. "A little back up would be nice."

"I'm with her on this one." She confirmed. "You loved them. Not that I cared, but if you weren't talking about books or the shop, you were talking about them. What you did, where you went. How they fucked you."

"I think I'll miss that part the most." Mere sighed. "I lived vicariously through you."

"You know you could actually date people." Tabitha suggested.

"I'd rather live with chronic carpal tunnel than a man." You almost choked on your tea. If you were wearing pearls you would have used the comedic relief of clutching them to break the awkwardness of the current topic of conversation.

"That should be put on a t-shirt." You suggested

"I wouldn't mind it on a welcome mat to be honest." Tabitha added.

"But in all seriousness, cut this bullshit." Meredith gave you an sympathetic smile. "We're here. Good, bad and ugly."

You returned her smile. "I know."

You had closed up shop for the evening. Your lunch had gone longer than expected so now you were left doing the dishes and clean up during closing. You were setting the last cup on the drying rack when you heard the front door chime.

Shit.

You must have forgotten to lock the door when you turned the sign.

“I’m sorry!” You apologized, making your way out of the back break area and to the front of the store. “We’re-”

“Closed.” He said, locking the door behind him. “I saw the sign.”

[specshroom]

°~ A MAGE IN THE JUNGLE ~°

Includes: Use of she/her, Slimy naga dick, Size difference, strangers to...fucking? Idk.

In which: Our Mage searches the jungle for a rare species to add to her "research".

She curses as her boot clad feet catch on another root, almost sending her tumbling into the dewy jungle ground. Deciding to stop for a short break, she swats at the buzzing mosquitoes, taking her hat off to fan herself futilely while eyeing the map she bought.

The vender who sold it to her was an eccentric type, which is always a good sign in her eyes. If you're going to scam people at least commit to the whole "mysterious merchant" bit. The old hag managed to make her cough up 7 copper coin for this "traveler's essential". 

Her goodwill has not been paid back as apparently the map was more unreliable than she expected. The mage curses herself as she glowers at the useless map, trying to decipher where the hell she is.  

After a few more minutes of squinting and pointing to random places on the map, she just scrunches the flimsy paper in her hands and sets it on fire, burning it up before the embers could even reach the floor. She wasn't looking for anything any cheap map could show her anyway. 

She came here to follow an urban legend about a deadly beast that stalks the jungle. The creature has many different variations depending on who's telling the story but what is consistent is the shining gold scales adorning the creature. Stories vary widely from village to village, some say it's an old wrathful god sent down to punish those greedy enough to seek it out and some say it's a beautiful maiden with a golden tail here to bring good fortune to those deserving of it. 

Which ever story is the truth, she just couldn't hold back her fanaticism. A strange creature that apparently nobody has seen before but for some reason is being spotted closer to nearby villages more and more? That is absolutely right up her alley. 

Now if she could only find the damn thing. The villagers seemed almost relieved that someone else was going to try and find this thing, so getting information was quite easy. While the area has been narrowed down, it's still a huge chunk of jungle. At this point it would be easier if the monster just came out and tried to eat her already. 

The mage percs up when they hear water flowing and walks in that direction until she stumbles on a river. She kneels down by the waters edge, it looks pretty deep or maybe the water is just too murky to see the bottom. She hums and pulls out the flask she enchanted, fills it with water and waits for the magic to properly dispose of the dirt particles and bacteria before taking a long gulp. 

This river is wide and the water flows slowly but surely past her. She places her hand in the water, curious to see if she can see the bottom or perhaps any fish to eat. 

She softly chants an incantation, forcing the dirt particles away from her hand. This proves harder than she thought as she's never had to cleanse flowing water before. 

She leans in closer to concentrate her energy and eventually the water becomes clearer and she can see something glistening at her from the water. Is that really treasure at the bottom of the river? Could she be that lucky?

 She squints and leans closer to get a better look, the golden specs glinting in the murky water blink at her through the surface. 

She freezes and the blood in her veins turns colder than the depths of the river. 

Before she can even move a huge clawed hand shoots up from the  surface and clings onto her arm, tearing through her cloak, undershirt and skin. There's no time for a painted scream as she's pulled into the water with great force. She can feel the waters resistance against her body as it's dragged into the murky depths. 

Before this beast actually drowns her she manages to force her other hand against the current to grip onto the beasts scaly wrist. She casts the first spell she can think of, Combustion. 

Suddenly the surface of the water explodes outwards, splashing water high into the air. She propels herself upwards and breaks the surface to hover above the water. She curses and looks around frantically, she can't lose the monster now. Panicking, she summons her hat and starts chanting, willing the plentiful vines of the jungle trees to plunge into the river and search for the beast. 

When she feels a tug she wills the vines to pull the heavy struggling mass to the surface. The huge mass writhes and thrashes in its confines as it rises from the water. 

She can finally see just how massive this thing is as it fights and snarls at her. It's much bigger than any Naga she's seen before, the human half is near orc sized! The bottom half being even bigger with the long thick tail thrashing in the water below. She reinforces the vines to bind the rest of the ridiculously large tail and sets the beast down on the ground next to the river. 

When her feet meet the ground, she sighs and wills the water out of her soaked clothes. She checks her bleeding arm and sucks in a breath at how deep the gashes are. 

"Now look what you did. Fucking hell, thats deep. How long are your claws?!"

Of course she can heal it but it's such a pain. The monster on the ground hisses and spits in response. 

She takes a better look at it, or him, she discovers. His scales really do shimmer like gold with black scales painting a pattern all the way down his back and tail. His white underbelly fades into something resembling human skin as her eyes move up his rapidly moving chest. The gold scales fade into a darker black down his shoulders to the tips of his clawed fingers. Her eyes flicker to his intense stare, pure gold flickers in his irises. His drenched black hair gets in the way of his glare. 

"Wow."

She can't help but verbalise her awe. She carefully moves around him to look at him in a different angle.

"I knew you were a naga. I knew it."

She summons a book into her hand, not her spellbook but one for these special cases. She flips to a new page and licks the tip of her pencil. She crouches down to look at him expectantly,

"Do you happen to know how much you weigh? What do you eat? Most nagas are some sort of omnivorous but I'm assuming you eat mostly fish. How many fish do you have to eat to stay this size?"

She gestures incredulously to all of his giantness.

He just growls some more, quiter this time as his confusion overtakes his anger somewhat.

"Come now, I know you can understand me and I know you can speak."

He stops growling to stare at her incredulously. How could she possibly know that? The giant snake man tries to readjust but hisses again, this time in pain. She jolts up and immediately goes to assess the wound on his wrist, which is tied tightly to his back. She cringes at the red, fleshy wound she created on his body. So much for first impressions. Without much warning she immediately starts with the healing spell. This creates great discomfort for him, as his cells rebuild themselves but she knows this is better than dragging it out for longer.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

She coos at the massive man almost like he's a child or a small animal. This woman evades him. Once she's done and his wrist is good as new she springs up and clears her throat, looking somewhat embarrassed.

"Sorry about that but...you did try to eat me so..."

He looks like he wants to say something but doesn't know how exactly. By the scowl on his face it doesn't look like it would be anything good. She crouches down again, peering down at him.

"Do you still want to eat me?"

He growls, nothing but hatred in his beautiful eyes as he hoaursly spits out,

"I want nothing more in the world."

"..."

The mage tries and fails to hide a girlish giggle behind her hand as she rocks back and forth on her feet. She reacts as if he'd just complemented her outfit. The Naga man pulls his mouth into a snarl and huffs in irritation, hating how this woman continues to confuse him.

After composing herself she summons her little reaserch book again, holding it against her crouched thighs to write.

"Have you actually ever eaten a human before? Be honest."

The Naga writhes in his bonds to eventually turn away from her so atleast he doesn't have to face his captor. He lies there for awhile just squirming every so often, he's already tried to cut the vines with his claws but she must have done some kind of reinforcement magic when she healed him. Damn witch.

While he devises an escape plan, he can hear scratching on paper from behind him. The mage seems to be writing quite a lot in her book. When the Naga looks back at her he catches her gaze staring intently at the intricate patterns on his back, the way the scant black scales blend with the bright gold makes for a very unique pattern.

"How much will you sell it for"

She stops sketching and looks back up at his eyes. She lets out a confused "hmm?"

This only makes him angrier.

"My hide! It must be worth a fortune! That's why you're here!"

Her gaze softens a bit, kicking herself mentally for being so unthinking towards the man. He might be big and intimidating but that doesn't mean he can't be scared for his life.

"Look, I don't want your hide. It would be much easier to just fake one anyway since nodoby knows what you actually look like. I just want to ask you a few questions and then let you get back on with your day. I'll even cook you a meal as a thank you."

The snake man is obviously skeptical, all he does is stare back at her with those gorgeous eyes.

She sighs and opens her book back up, flipping over to a particular page.

"Researching rare and perculiar creatures is a hobby of mine."

She rolls down onto her stomach and shuffles closer to the massive Naga. She leans on her elbows to show him the open page as if they were best friends at a slumber party and she's showing him her dairy.

"You're not even the rarest or most sought after Naga species I've met."

She points to a drawing she sketched of a male Naga, this one with the torso and arms of a human but the tail and head of a snake. There's a bunch of scribbles and descriptions around the drawing in a language he can't read.

"Where he's from people worship him like a god. He's a very rare species that can hypnotise someone just by looking into their eyes."

She chooses to leave out the part where she willingly let the Naga hypnotise her and use her as he pleased for weeks.

He doesn't have a response to give the mage, staring blankly at the pages as she rattles on about other species she has in her book. His skepticism somewhat dampened by these sketches of Naga just like him but with characteristics he's never seen before.

The mage notices how dark the sky has gotten, catching a few stars glinting overhead. She gets up and starts assembling the tent she brought. Pulling thick fabric out of her infinitaly deep satchel.

The Naga man just lies there watching, wondering if it would be so bad to comply with this mage. They don't seem dangerous or malicious at all but the magic they wield is still a concern. She talks to him as she works on building her temporary abode.

"Y'know, the village folk are quite nice. If you want I could talk to them, I'm sure they would rather cohabitate than live in fear of a man-eating monster in the jungle. Since you're definitely a rare species this part of the jungle could even be named as a conservation zone."

She keeps yapping stuff the Naga man doesn't care to listen to. The mage erects her shoddy little tent, does some sort of chant and then hurriedly crouches inside the small space.

She stays inside there for a while to the point where the Naga man thinks she might not return for the night. He smells something absolutely devine and realises it's cooked beef coming from inside the tent.

The damn mage walks outside with a steaming bowl of that devine smelling concoction. She stabs a piece of meat with a fork and offers it to him after blowing on it a little. She doesn't really give him time to react before poking the fork into his mouth. His taste buds are lighting up and he almost moans at the taste.

The mage grins at how he accepted her offer and stands back up.

"I just want to ask you a few questions. I'm sorry for causing you trouble but I didn't come all this way for nothing. I'm more than happy to repay you for your troubles if you just come inside."

After that she turns and walks back into the tent. As she walks away the vines binding his body loosen until they fall from his body entirely.

He's free. She's giving him an out. He could just leave.... But he can still taste the meat on his tongue. Nothing has happened to him yet so atleast he knows it's not poisoned or spiked. He turns to where the dark water of the river calls to him and turns back to the fire light coming from inside the mages tent. He sighs and hangs his head. As if the jungle itself is trying to urge him, a cool breeze blows past that seems to urge him closer to the tent.

The Naga sighs, stretches his sore limbs and slowly slithers towards the tent. He takes a deep breath before parting the fabric of the opening and crouching inside.

As he expected, the tent is much bigger than it appears on the outside. Bedding and pillows cover the floor and there is a fire with a pot over it in the middle.

The mage is humming to herself while pouring more steaming hot stew into two bowls. He sits across form her coiling his tail into a pile to sit on top of it.

She holds out a steaming bowl to him and waits patiently for him to take it. He hesitantly accepts the offer and, after watching her eat a fair portion of her own bowl, starts slurping up the meaty stew.

After the first and second serving the mage places her empty bowl aside and picks up her book. As the Naga pours himself a third helping she clears her throat, making him look up at her expectant gaze. He huffs but nods, lazing back against his tail to keep enjoying his meal. The mage gleams across from him.

"I don't know how much I weigh, I eat mostly fish and I've never eaten a human."

The mage scribbles all this down as he speaks, very pleased with his cooperation.

"How often do you shed?"

The Naga rests his arms on his tail like it's a comfy backrest. He takes a generous gulp of his stew before answering,

"...Once every season."

"So you grow moderately quick then? And you're still growing? Or do you think this is how big you'll get."

"I still shed, so I'm still growing."

The woman nods and jots that down.

"You're a constrictor type, right? No venom or hypnotising?"

He gives her a deadpan stare, as if to say "What do you think?". She gets the idea and confirms her own theory.

she chews her lip, deliberating something before she finally asks.

"Can I measure you?"

He gives her an irritated look before he slowly unwinds his tail from it's bunched up state, unfurling it out on the floor as he lies on his stomach.

The mage wastes no time springing up and pulling a rolled up tape measure out of her hat. She holds it out to him and says,

"Hold this at your head, please."

He boredly does as she asks and she carefully walks back the length of his body. He doesn't know why but he straightens his tail as much as possible while looking at her over his shoulder. When she gets to the tip of his thick tail she exclaims some numbers in a measurement he doesn't know but from the look on her face it's clearly impressive. She hurriedly scribbles that in her book.

The measuring roll disappears and the Naga goes back to his meal. He pours what's left in the bowl into his awaiting mouth before he feels a soft touch on his tail and freezes.

He slowly looks behind him at the culprit. He watches her with a predatory gaze as she hesitantly tests his patience. He watches her, as if daring her to go further and so obviously she does. She inches higher up his tail to where is gets much thicker, lightly tracing the patterns on his reptilian skin. She softly touches his golden scales as if they're fragile.

The mage gets more confident and crawls higher up his tail, getting more inquisitive and bold.

"Is the underside more sensitive?"

She asks, genuinely curious. He doesn't answer, just keeps staring at her with a look that says "Try it", so that's what she does. She looks into his eyes and slides her hand down the side of his tail towards the white underbelly.

He strikes before she can even blink. He has her on the floor coiled up in his tail as he entraps her whole body with his. She doesn't offer much of a fight besides some squirming but his tightening hold on her body forces her to still.

"Is this what you want mage?"

She says nothing, only looks up at him with those same curious eyes. He can feel her heart beat as he squeezes her rib cage, it beats steady and bold. She's not scared of him at all and that intrigues him more than he likes.

The Naga looms over her, he reaches out to grab her jaw tilting her head around to look over her face. He's tried to ignore it but he's also quite curious about her and her own species. He pinches his fingers slightly so that it makes her lips pout together before he reaches out with his other hand to take her pink tongue in between his thumb and pointerfinger. She just stares up at him, offering no resistance.

He strokes the small wet muscle with his thumb, rubbing over where it would split into two if she was a Naga like him. It's so small compared to his fingers and much warmer than he anticipated, probably due to the warm meal they just shared. He sticks his tongue out to lick the air and pauses when he smells something unfamiliar but unmistakable, coming from the Mages lower parts.

He's smelled it once before when he caught sight of a human woman bathing in the river, he couldn't help but linger in the brush and watch the human as she touched herself. He feels the same need now that he felt then, a curious burn in his stomach.

The mage struggles in his hold,

"I know you're curious too..."

She says up at him, almost hopefully. She slowly struggles her legs free to wrap them around his wide torso, squeezing him between her thighs. As he looks down at her the snake man feels her warm body heat radiating off of her seeping into his skin, the movement of her chest, her pulse. He can feel his cock poking out from the slowly parting slit on his white underbelly.

He licks the air one more time before his mouth catches hers in a needy kiss. She immediately kisses back with fever, fidgeting more in his hold making him tighten the heavy coils which only makes her let out a pleasured cry into his mouth. His tongue feels so odd on her own, it's much longer than hers and he pushes it down her throat with abandon.

His tail slithers around her body, lifting her shirt up. When she first feels his cold skin against her warm stomach she's filled with need to feel him against every inch of her skin. She struggles in his hold, kissing him with more need and trying to grind her neglected cunt against something.

The Naga huffs a laugh and watches her kick her legs helplessly.

"Do you have other clothes?"

He mumbles against her lips, she nods into the kiss.

His claws tear her pants and underwear away as if the garments were made of tissue paper, doing the same to the neckline of her shirt and undershirt. She groans at the feeling of his cold skin against hers and the humid night air on her cunt.

She feels a slick substance drip onto her pussy and groans loudly.

"Show me. Let me see."

She pleads and struggles even more. He chuckles and nibbles on the skin of her neck,

"Little thing like you should be scared. What if it's too much for you?"

His concern is real even if he's insanely turned on by this situation. Her body might not be able to keep up with her inquisitive mind.

"Try me."

She looks into his eyes with determination, he looks back. One of his hands go to stroke his growing cocks as they unsheath from their slit. She stretches to pear over his tail wrapped around her. There's two, one big cock clearly meant for insemination, the same colour as his white underbelly and a second reddish coloured one, she assumes is meant for extra stimulation. The Naga strokes the big one with one hand, both cocks have slick ooze spilling from them and they're dripping with slick which she guesses is produced from the slit they come out of.

She worms her hand over one of his coils to grip onto his tail, she whines loudly at him. She wants it inside her so bad. He chuckles at her again as more of his precum drips onto her pussy lips.

He can't deny her pleas for long and against his better judgement he prods at her entrance with his cock, rubbing the tip up against her hole.

She grinds up into him and he takes that as the go ahead to slide inside her. The slippery tip sheathes inside her rather easily, it's the rest of him he's worried about. He struggles to hold himself back from pounding the hot tight pussy squeezing around him, he truly doesn't want to hurt the Mage.

Said Mage is almost in tears at being unintentionally edged by him. She squeezes her thighs around his massive waist, squirming around as much as she can. The Naga finds he likes the way her soft naked body wriggles in his coils, he especially likes the way her thigh muscles tense and relax. His sharp claws gently caress the fat of her thighs, curiously squeezing and jiggling the fat slightly. She whines again and he decides to be merciful and slides his cock further inside her while gripping her thighs.

He's too slow, too cautious and she just can't take it anymore.

She mumbles a little spell and the Nagas body feels a sudden force pulling him closer to her making him hiss as his cock is suddenly thrusted to the hilt. The smaller cock is rubbing up against her clit delisciously and the slick coating his cock seeps out of her pussy.

"If I want you to stop, I can make you. Stop, pussying around fuck me."

He stares down at her with blown out eyes, she stares up at him so determined while still being thoroughly bound in his hold. His breathing is more ragged and a grin finds it's way on his face. He looks almost feral and it makes the mages pussy clench around him which makes him reactively thrust back.

She's spun around suddenly in his hold, his tail unwinding until her arms are free and there's one coil left around her waist. Her arms are quickly bound by his own hands, gripping her much smaller arms. He gives a hard thrust into her cunt and growls in her face as she moans back up at him.

He starts a rough pace, having thrown all cation to the wind. Her tight human pussy squeezes him so tight like he squeezes around her body with his tail. The loud wet slapping sounds his hips make against hers make everything even more erotic. His coiled tail around her grips her waist tightly and he groans when he can feel his own cock bulge against her stomach where his tail holds her.

He brings the end of his tail to wrap around her wrists binding them together while his ramming into her soaked pussy.

He speeds up even more and places his palm on top of his smaller dick, pressing it against her clit. His other hand is gripping her under thigh so hard she's pretty sure his claws have pierced her skin. The stimulation on his sensative cock makes him frantically thrust into her until he releases deep inside her. He shakes and spasms as he empties himself into her. If he was more conscious he would be embarrassed at how needy he must have looked.

His orgasm lasts quite awhile longer than she expected, she realises he must have been really pent up as his cock just keeps shooting seed into her every few seconds. The poor Naga looks exhausted when his orgasm finally ends. His eyes are closed, breathing deeply with strands of black hair fall delicately around his face. The tail around her wrists loosens and she immediately goes to pull him down into her embrace, clutching his sweaty body into her warmer one.

He hums into her neck, enjoying her warm softness. His tongue flicks out occasionally to lick her salty skin and smell her on the air.

"Did I tire you out, big guy?"

She jokes, while her hands caress the comparatively massive expanse of his back. She tries to remind herself that he might be inexperienced and more sensitive than usual, she doesn't want him to feel bad about getting overstimulated.

The Naga lifts his head from her neck, his body casts a shadow over hers as he looms over her again. He gives her a sharp fanged grin.

"Don't be so cocky, Mage."

The end of his tail slowly comes from behind to wrap around her neck as the coil still wrapped around her waist lifts her torso up high. His softening cock slips out of her dripping cunt as he lifts her up with his tail. She groans low as she feels the copious amounts of slick and spend fall from her pussy to the floor.

The naga curiously runs his thumb up the length of the mages pussy, gathering up the fluids. He feels a strange urge to keep as much of his cum inside her as possible. Careful of his sharp claws he opts to push his spend back into her pussy with his tongue, feeling the way she squirms and clenches around his forked tongue. The Naga hisses lightly in delight and smooshes his face into the fat warmth of her thigh while looking into her eyes. She peers at him with a dazed look, loving the way his tail lightly squeezes her thoat.

"I'm far from done with you."

As it turns out she didn't get to ask him many questions that night. Not that she complained about it much.