#but they would certainly be different people

[infimace-blog]

Keep coming back to this and thinking about the asker's perception of the Weatherlight Saga, because it's definitely not free of 'identity first' storytelling.

Tahngarth's entire plotline revolves around his identity as a minotaur, a racial characteristic in Dominaria. He's forced to question whether he's still himself, still a minotaur after Phyrexia captures and disfigures him, and the payoff for that is that a minotaur tribe starts decorating themselves after his new, distorted form when he helps rescue them from Phyrexia later on. So, you know, having identity issues during a apocalypse, like having a gender crisis during a Bolas invasion.

Mirri was discriminated against for having heterochromia, forcing her to leave her birth family. The desire to belong weighs on her so much that one of her big choices is whether to abandon her best friend and secret love for another tribe of catpeople who do respect her. It's less of a factor in her story than her doomed love for Gerrard, but, frankly, her willingness to get herself killed over a nice white boy for whom she was third-place (after Hanna and Rofellos) makes a lot more sense if if you take abandonment and isolation issues into account.

Maybe the asker didn't notice because these identity issues were put on the non-human side characters. But, you know, they were still there. They're some of my favorite parts of the Weatherlight Saga to talk about, besides the competition to become evincar and Urza's bizarre behavior. And while this happened with funny animal people, the structure is analogous to things the anti-woke crowd would hate. Tahngarth's identity issues are reminiscent of those of black people living in largely white societies. And there's a lot of people under the 'DEI' banner who've had to deal with getting kicked out of their home for being born wrong, often queer or disabled or neuroatypical people.

This is how you give characters good storylines, especially with Magic's limited ability to get the story in front of people who just play the cards. You find an aspect of themselves that they care deeply about, something fairly obvious and easy to communicate, and see how the external world impacts that. And we're still seeing that now. Chandra's putting herself through death-defying adventure in Aetherdrift because it might help her lover, and her love for her is a major part of her identity. Tone's certainly different than the lovelorn motivations of Mirri or Gerrard or Ertai over the course of the Weatherlight Saga, but it's the same building blocks.

I think more of that kind of characterization would have been beneficial for Sisay, honestly. I can't speak for Mark or Michael, but I've never really been interested in her because most of her story is about what she does rather than who she is. Gerrard bores me for similar reasons; I find it difficult to get a read on his personality besides 'heroic' and 'white savior'. It strikes me that the two greatest heroes of that era were raised and, in one case, born from Jamuraa, Dominaria's stand-in for Africa, but that never really comes up in the saga. Gerrard's background exists to give him an evil black stepbrother and the most important part of Sisay's is growing up owning the Weatherlight - I generally forget that she even fought in the Mirage Wars.

So yeah, I think anyone on the same page as the guy who asked this is not interested in getting good stories out of Magic. I'm regularly unimpressed by Magic's story output over the past decade, but I can't tolerate anybody who thinks the answer to that is 'make the characters less interesting. Shave their identities down'.

I want to speak out against the whole push towards DEI. I feel that ever since you made the push to make identity the forefront of a character it has hurt the stories you tell. Captain Sisay's race was never the focus of her character and she was a complete badass! And I fear if you did it over again Gerrard would be trans, black and disabled just because. It also cheapens the stories of world devastation when characters worry more about their gender than Bolas destroying everything.

The reason I started this blog is so we can have frank conversations about things, so please let’s talk about this.

Imagine if every time you turned on the TV or watched a movie, no one looked like you. For some of us, that’s never happened. We see ourselves constantly, so it’s hard to truly understand what not seeing yourself represented in media is like.

I do have a personal window to this experience. While I am white and male, there’s an area where I am the minority - my religion. Jews are just under two and a half percent of the US population. I have had many experiences where I’ve been in situations where everything is geared towards a group I do not belong to, and zero consideration is given that not everyone at that event is part of the majority.

You just feel invisible and like an outsider. It’s not a great feeling. And I just experience it a tiny portion of time, only things that are geared specifically towards something religious. Most minorities have this feeling all the time, whenever they’re outside their personal community.

Now imagine, after years of not seeing yourself ever, you finally see someone that looks like you, but nothing about the character rings remotely true. They don’t sound like you, they don’t act like you, the facts about their day-to-day life are just wrong. It’s clear whoever wrote the character didn’t truly understand the lived experience of the character, so the character feels fake.

You bring up Sisay. Michael Ryan and I didn’t technically create Sisay (she played a small role in the Mirage story), but we did do a lot to flesh out her character as the creators of the Weatherlight Saga. We turned her from a minor character into a major one.

And while I’m proud, in general, of our work on the Weatherlight Saga, I don’t think we did justice to Sisay as a character. Neither Michael nor I have any knowledge of what it’s like to be a black woman. Nor did we ever talk to someone who did.

And if you’re someone like us that has no knowledge of that experience, you probably didn’t notice. But that doesn’t mean it’s a good thing.

Imagine if we made a movie about your life, and we just made everything up. We invented people you never knew, we gave you a job you never had, and we had you say things you’d never say. The movie might even be a good movie, but your response would be, but that’s not my life - that’s not me.

Now imagine we put the movie out, and people that never met you assumed that was what you were like. When people met you for the first time, they assumed things, because, you know, they’d seen the movie.

That’s what misrepresenting people does. It not only makes them feel not seen, it falsely represents them, spreading lies, often stereotypes, making people believe things about them that aren’t true.

Our move towards diversity is just us trying to better reflect the world and the people in it. We’re trying to do to everyone else what a certain portion of people get every day without ever having to think about it.

But why are we “making it the forefront of their character”? We’re not. We’re making it a part of their character. But in a world where you’re not used to ever seeing it, it feels louder than it is. Things that are a natural part of the world that you’re used to feel like the background of the story because you understand the context to it.

If a man kisses his wife before going off to a battle, that’s not a big deal. It’s just a thing a husband might do to his wife when he leaves. It’s not the forefront of his character. It’s just part of his life. But you’ve seen it hundreds of times, so it feels normal.

When someone does something that isn’t your lived experience it pulls focus. It seems like a big deal, but only because it’s new to you. It’s just as mundane a thing to that character as the man kissing his wife is to him.

Even the turn “pushing” implies that it’s unnaturally here, that we’re forcing something that naturally shouldn’t be. But why? That thing exists naturally in the real world, and it doesn’t make the real world any less. Maybe you’re less aware of it, but is making you aware of how others live their life “pushing” something on you?

How you live your life is represented constantly, everywhere. Why isn’t over-representing your experience at the expense of everyone else’s “pushing” it? Why is media only being the experience of those in power the “proper way”?

Having more depth and variety doesn’t lessen stories. It makes them deeper, more rich, more nuanced. In short, it makes them better stories. In my former life, I was a professional writer. I took a lot of writing classes. One of the truism of writing is “speaking truth leads to better stories”.

There’s another famous quote: “When you’re accustomed to privilege, equality feels like oppression.” You’re used to being over-represented, so being a little less over-represented feels like something has been taken from you. But really it hasn’t. Having a better sense of the rest of the world comes with a lot of benefits.

I’ll use food as an example. Let’s say all you were ever exposed to was the food of your heritage. Yeah, that food is really good, but sometimes isn’t it nice to eat foods of other nationalities? Isn’t your life better that you have a choice? Isn’t your exposure and access to the food of other nationalities a positive in your life?

Exposure to variety is a positive. It allows you to learn about things you didn’t know, experience things things you’ve never experienced, and get a better sense of understanding of your friends and neighbors.

Our actions are not to harm anyone, and if you think that’s what we’re doing, please take a minute to actually absorb what I’m saying. You’ve spent your whole life metaphorically eating one type of food, and we’re just trying to show you how much you’ve missed out on.

And while this might not impact you directly, we’re making a whole bunch of people felt seen. We’re bringing joy. Think of it this way. We make a lot of cards. Not every card is for you. But if it makes someone else happy, if they get to include it in a deck, and it makes Magic better for them, how is it harming you that we include it? You have so many cards that you can play.

To this poster or people that share their viewpoint, the narrative that a gain for someone else is an attack on you is just not true. As I just pointed out above, you play a game all about personal choice, about players getting to choose how they play and enjoy the game. Why should life be any different than Magic?

Thanks for reading.

[canideformed]

To all the transfems that bring up forced sterilisation when a transmasc talks about forced impregnating and a loss of bodily autonomy: stop.

Transmascs also face forced and coerced sterilisation. In many places, it’s only recently that any trans person can change their legal gender without being sterilised. This is not a problem specific to transfems.

The issue is more complicated for trans people who can give birth (including some intersex transfems) because cis people want them to become baby machines so bad. This introduces more barriers when somebody wants to make certain legal and medical decisions for themselves!

All trans people are directly victimised by a restriction of reproductive autonomy. But the issue tends to be more central for trans people who can give birth, since giving birth is nearly a year-long process that can ruin your life and health. Being forcibly sterilised often is less focal in transmasc activism because, especially as people who might have dysphoria around getting pregnant, being forced to endure that for months, being forced to have permanent and sometimes harmful alterations to your body made, being forced to go through an incredibly painful process where they will almost certainly be repeatedly misgendered, being forced to produce a living being you never wanted to produce, etc., might seem like a worse fate than never being able to have kids in the first place.

This is not me saying one group or another has it worse! And I am not downplaying the pain of transfems (or trandmascs) who were forcibly sterilised. It is still a very serious issue that can cause a lot of pain for many.

But this is me saying that this specific issue is one that much more often impacts transmascs. And if it is not something you will ever be at risk of experiencing, then you have no business taking about how “bad” it would be or comparing the issue to some “equivalent” transfem problem.

Bigotry often does not have perfect equivalents. Transmisogyny and transandrophobia are distinct forces of oppression. Just because one group experience one type of problem doesn’t mean they’re More Oppressed or something. I say this as somebody who experiences both. It’s ridiculous to compare a trandandrophobia-specific problem to a general trans problem or a transmisogyny-specific problem because they just manifest differently. Neither is worse or better. They don’t have perfect equivalents. Don’t let your mind be tainted by oppositional sexism and give your fellow trans people room to discuss their fears and anxieties and experiences with issues that are unique to them.

[junoblivion]

Imagine satisfying Suguru's needs.

Contains: afab Suguru. Amab reader. Riding. Dub-con? Maybe non-con?. It's implied that Suguru drugged you. Doggy. Based on something I saw. Anal, and vaginal. Fisting(?). Someone walks in but they don't get caught!. Blow job, boobjob. OOC maybe. Spit (only once). Sub(?)top reader. Dom(?)bottom Suguru. Afab and amab anatomy described.

Imagine you were a non-sorcerer and had got caught snooping around Suguru's temple. Suguru had sent you to a dungeon where "monkeys" as he would call people like you were placed, but something was different about you.

Late at night, he entered the dungeon where he found you in your cell, passed out. He dragged you to his room where he undressed you and tied you to the bed.

When you had woken up, you were confused and felt like your mind was foggy. Why were you here? Weren't you in the dungeon waiting for your death?

All of those questions were cut when Suguru had entered the room wearing black lingerie. Under different circumstances, you would've horny at the sight but you were currently trying to understand what was going on.

Suguru had started venting to you saying how he's so annoyed that everyone kept asking for favors and appointments on his own birthday. How he never has time to satisfy his needs. Obviously from what you learned, he was sexually frustrated.

He walked up to you, got on his knees, and looked at your dick that was hardening. "You're certainly big, aren't you? However, that's no problem," he said.

Even though it was a sight to see a pretty man on his knees for you, you were uncomfortable to say the least. Your wrists wiggling to release themselves from their chains. Your wrists faltered however when Suguru had began to suck you off.

He moaned as he could feel every vein, licked the tip, pressed his tongue flat against the underside of your cock. You swore he had no gag reflex as you felt his throat swallow you deeper and deeper. Groans and moans threatening to leave your throat and throughout your lips.

Suguru had felt himself become wet and made his fingers go to his hole and inserted his fingers. He felt his eyes go back, something about blowing someone off and fingering himself felt so amazing. He felt your load down his throat and swallowed every drop.

He lifted his mouth off with a smile but it soon dropped when a small drop of semen fell on his lingerie bra. He smacked you across the face before saying," ugh, now I have to change. So annoying." He got up and left to change.

While he was gone, you broke free and tried to run. You only got passed the bed before you fell. You felt weak and your eyes were blurry. Suguru came out laughing but the only thing you could focus on was his naked body.

"did you really think I wouldn't take precautions?" The pretty man said. It sounded like gibberish to you though.

"Would you like me to cure you from your state?" He asked, and you nodded. He got to your face and let a drop of saliva fall into your mouth, and kissed you.

After the kiss, your vision was no longer blurry but you felt yourself be more aroused than usual. Suguru smiled at your slowly rising penis and pressed his man tits around it. Making his breasts up and down with his hands.

You held in your moans as Suguru was holding eye contact with you. You soon came but you were still hard, did he give you some sort of drug?

Suguru smiled once more before positioning himself above your cock. He lowered himself on your cock, letting a satisfied sigh. "It's been so long since I've had a dick in me," he mumbled.

Suguru had begun moving up and down, going faster and faster each time. You, on the other hand, were silent and watching as his pussy moved. Listening to his moans, the squelching of his cunt and your dick, and skin slapping against skin.

You watched as one of Suguru's fingers touched his clit. Suguru's moans were much louder as he stimulated himself from both pleasure points.

"fuck! I forgot how-" his moans interrupted him before continuing, "good this felt!". You didn't listen to what he was saying, you were too hypnotized by his cunt going up and down, and how he rolled his hips side to side, back and forth.

Suguru stopped as he creamed your cock. His back arching as he could feel your cum inside, painting his insides white.

Pants and body heat warmed the room.

Suguru composed himself for a moment before turning around, and riding once more. You felt your soft cock hardening.

He made you change the position and he was on all fours while you were behind, your hands around his hips. "move," he ordered, you obeyed his command and began moving at a slow pace. He let out soft moans before saying, "Mhm, go faster" he asked. You nodded and rolled your hips faster, Suguru let out wanton moans and tried meeting your hips. White creamy rings were forming around your cock

You removed one of your hands from his hips and slowly reached for his soft ebony hair. In the back of your head, you wondered, 'damn, what's his haircare routine?' you shook your head and grabbed his hair before pulling his hair. Suguru let out a loud moan, which you silently winced at (you hoped no one heard), and came. You continued your thrusts chasing your release. Suguru had become sensitive and tears left his eyes, moaning while his pussy spasmed around your dick.

You came to a stop and pulled Suguru close, shooting your release as deep as you can which made Suguru whimper.

You both tried catching your breath, however, Suguru's heart dropped as he could distinctly hear foots coming towards his bedroom door. He pushed you out of him and dragged you behind a dressing curtain.

"Master Geto? Are you alright?" Ah, a follower of Suguru had come in to check on him.

"I-I'm alright!" Suguru said bending over to make his head peek out the curtain. "Oh, there you are. I was hoping to speak with you since the events you organized are coming up," the follower says. Suguru nodded and asked the individual to just say what they needed. The follower nodded before listing the things that needed to be done.

You, however, wanted to piss him off as revenge for throwing you in a dungeon (you had not forgotten), and slowly inserted your dick inside of him. Suguru let out a silent moan before trying to smack you. You didn't care as you rolled your hips, careful to not make any noise. Suguru gripped the curtain and hoped his follower would leave.

"and we need to take in the fact Gojo satoru doesn't know what you and your group are trying to distract everyone so you can take Yuta." The follower stated.

You raised an eyebrow as you felt Suguru's cunt squeeze you at the mention of this man 'Satoru Gojo'.

Suguru nodded at his follower's words, and mentioned something you didn't care for. You thrusted faster which made it hard for Suguru. Tears were coming from Suguru's purple eyes and begged whatever force above would make his follower leave.

Before you came, you quickly left Suguru's sticky pussy and entered his ass which made Suguru falter.

Suguru whimpered which made his follower turn around, "are you alright? Should I leave?"

"Yes!" Suguru said, slightly yelling at the end, "I mean I'm not feeling too good so-" he choked out "come back later."

The follower nodded and left.

After Suguru made sure the person was gone, he let out the moans he was holding. "Fuck! Come in me, already!" Suguru moaned. You soon came as if your body was listening and waiting for his permission.

You pulled out as cum slid out of his ass. You scooped the leaving semen and shoved it back in. Suguru was completely sobbing from pleasure, he made a note to keep you.

You thrust your fist back and forth. Suguru's eyes roll back and his tongue hangs. You stop and pull out your fist.

Suguru panted and gained his composer. Suguru cleared his throat before summoning a curse to knock you out.

Before you fell into the abyss, you heard the man say, "Do that again, and I'll make sure you'll never wake up permanently."

[arcadia-smith]

Unrequited love. (I will always think that this is something that breaks hearts painfully slow)

Simon Riley x Reader.

You’ve always known that loving Simon Riley was a dangerous thing. Not because of the nightmares that clawed at his mind or the ghosts that followed him like a shadow. No, it was dangerous because he never saw you the way you saw him.

And maybe that was your fault. Maybe you should have walked away before the feelings sank in too deep, before your heart curled around him like ivy, clinging even when it hurt.

But you never did.

Not when he smiled at you, a rare thing that made your chest ache. Not when he held you close after missions, his breathing unsteady, as if he needed to remind himself that you were still there. And certainly not when he whispered your name like a prayer in the quiet hours of the night.

It was easy to believe you meant something to him.

Until her.

She was everything you weren’t. Soft laughter and bright eyes, warmth in the way she touched him, an ease in how she held his attention. And he looked at her the way you had spent years looking at him.

You remember the exact moment you knew.

It wasn’t when he first mentioned her name, or even when he started spending more time away. It was when he showed up at your door, eyes shining in a way you’d never seen before.

“She said yes,” he breathed, almost disbelieving.

And you smiled.

God, you smiled so wide it hurt, because that’s what friends do. They don’t break apart in front of the people they love. They don’t let the cracks show.

So you pulled him into a hug, let him crush you in his arms as he whispered about how happy he was. You buried your face into his shoulder, blinking back the sting in your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat.

Because he never looked at you like that.

And he never would.

—

You don’t go to the wedding.

You have an invitation, of course. It sits untouched on your counter, the elegant lettering spelling out his name alongside hers, mocking you every time you pass it.

Soap calls. Gaz texts. They ask if you’re coming, if you’re okay, if you need anything. You lie through your teeth, tell them you’re sick, that you’re busy, that you don’t want to intrude.

Simon doesn’t call.

You don’t think he notices your absence until much later.

Maybe it’s when the party winds down, when he’s alone for the first time in hours, when the realization creeps in like a whisper.

Maybe it’s when he looks around the reception, searching for you without even realizing he’s doing it. When he catches Soap's somber expression, the way Gaz avoids his gaze.

Maybe it’s not until years later, when the honeymoon phase fades and real life settles in. When he finds himself thinking of you in quiet moments, wondering why you aren’t around as much anymore, why it feels like something is missing.

You relocate. A different base. A different team.

You relocate to spare yourself.

—

Years Later

The news reaches him too late.

Simon is sitting in the common hall, watching the rain streak down the window, when his phone buzzes. He answers out of habit, not expecting much.

Soap's voice is quiet. Too quiet.

He barely hears the words over the rushing in his ears.

A mission gone wrong. Too much blood lost before help arrived. You were alone, left behind by your new team.

Gone.

The funeral is small. Simple. He doesn’t speak. Just stands at the back, hands clenched into fists, watching as they lower the casket into the ground.

Soap stands beside him, but no one else does. Not her. Not his wife. She hadn’t asked where he was going, and he hadn’t told her.

Because how could he explain it? How could he explain the way his ribs felt like they were caving in, the way his lungs burned with every breath? How could he explain that this loss felt different than any other?

He doesn’t cry.

He doesn’t say goodbye.

He just stands there, watching as they cover you with dirt, as the last piece of you disappears from his sight.

And for the first time, he wonders if maybe—just maybe—he loved you all along.

But now, he’ll never get the chance to tell you.

And that is the worst part of all.

—

Months Later

It happens on a quiet night.

Simon is going through old boxes in the closet, looking for something long forgotten. His wife is asleep in the next room, unaware.

He’s sifting through old mission reports, books, scraps of things that don’t matter—until he finds it.

A letter.

His name is scrawled across the front in your handwriting, the ink slightly smudged, like you hesitated before writing it.

He shouldn’t open it. He knows that.

But he does anyway.

His hands shake as he unfolds the paper. The words blur in front of his eyes, but he forces himself to focus.

Sim,

I don’t know if I’ll ever send this. Maybe it’s just for me. But if you’re reading it, then I guess I wasn’t brave enough to say it out loud.

I loved you. I loved you in all the ways a person could love someone. And I never told you because I knew—God, I knew you didn’t feel the same. And that’s okay. I never expected you to.

I just wanted you to know.

I hope she makes you happy. I hope she gives you the kind of love I always wished I could.

And I hope, someday, I stop wishing things had been different.

—Y/N

The paper crumples in his grip.

His chest is too tight, his throat burning as he squeezes his eyes shut.

Because fuck.

He should have known.

Should have seen it.

But it’s too late.

It’s too late, and you’re gone, and all he has left is the ghost of what could have been.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part of all.

[optimisticgrey]

Based on this anon ask for @dekariosclan (and her beautiful answer), I tried to write an intro to such a story. I do not actually need a new story to start but it has been on my mind ever since the answer was posted and we all aware how hyperfocus works, so here we are.

The idea is a (female) Tav from our world being plugged by the Nautiloid and thrown into Faerûn.

masterlist | requests? | ao3| kink encyclopedia |

summary: You wake at the beach after attending your friends birthday party last night. There are people standing in front of you, looking as if dragged from a fantasy movie. What the heck is going on?

author's note: Please let me know if this is something worth exploring and that you would enjoy reading. I will also need guidance in regards of skills/class for this Tav (please🥺)

content warning: This is just an intro.

word count: 1,3k

AO3 Link

You notice you are half-awake.

Not quite there yet, your mind not fully emerged in reality but you are awake enough to notice your head hurts.

Massively.

There is pressure at the back of your skull, as if you have been sleeping on a rock.

It is incredibly painful.

So intense, your stomach churns.

It has been some time since you fell asleep randomly after a party but you cannot really care as you swallow hard with a too dry mouth and try to contain the contents of your stomach.

You can feel your heartbeat pulsating in your temple.

Everything hurts, you realize.

Not just your pounding head.

What the fuck was in that drink Silas gave you?

After all you know you should have not taken that last shot he handed to you. But it has been his birthday, who are you to judge the birthday boy wishes?

In hindsight, not the best decision.

And yet, this does not feel like a hangover.

Something is wrong.

Slowly, you become vaguely aware of your surroundings.

The air smells of dead fish, bacon and….wood? Wet wood? Like the wood your father used to fuel the stove in his hut where you spent so many weekends in the child.

Yes. Not yet fully dried, freshly cut wood, consumed by flames.

The stench of fish is more intense, though. You are certain, fish is not supposed to smell like this.

There is water rushing by, in large quantities.

A river? Not rhythmic enough be the ocean. No waves, just a steady rush.

Your face is warm but it does not feel like a fever. As if you are lying in the sun, external heat burning your skin.

There are hushed voices.

"She’s alive! Still breathing—thank the gods!" whispers one voice.

"But what, pray tell, are those trousers?" another interjects. "And that tunic—dare I ask if this is some bold new fashion sweeping the high city?"

"I assure you, it most certainly is not," a third voice cuts in. "I've never laid eyes on such fabric before—nor, I suspect, has anyone with a shred of taste."

Huh. Interesting. There should not be anyone in your bedroom.

Let alone three men.

“Let me through and take a look,” a woman orders.

You notice, the surface beneath you feels wrong.

Too hard. This is not your bed.

It is….sand?

The realization is enough to jolt you upright.

The sudden movement sends a fresh wave of pain crashing through your skull. It feels as if your brain is too large for your head, pressing outward, straining against bone.

You wince, flinching as the sunlight stabs into your eyes.

If possible, your head hurts even worse from this sudden movement.

Multiple people immediately step back and stare at you.

You are instantly certain this is not your bedroom.

This is not even your house.

This is not even your city.

You force yourself to take a slow, steady breath and look at them properly.

As if all of this was not strange enough, you are somehow certain you have left….home.

You know, with a quiet, head-hurting certainty, this is not your home.

But you do not know how you are certain.

You look at the people standing around you.

A black man with two different eyes, one is glowing red but the rest of it is black. He has black dreadlocks, bound behind his head. There are scars on his face and down his neck, but he somehow the gaze on his face is kind, intrigued.

Another man, with a surprisingly cute face with a stubble. An earring with a star dangles from his left ear. His dark brown hair is bound back at the top, dark brown eyes watch you curiously as he crouches to one knee in front of you.

And then there is the third person, you have never seen a person like this. You might be hallucinating, you think.

Isn’t that a side effect of migraines? This headache really feels like a migraine.

Her skin is light green with dark spots on her cheeks and around her eyes but her ears are pointed, ridged with delicate waves. Her nose is pointy yet somehow flat. She watches you with clear disdain, her lips pressed into a thin line. There is a fucking sword, resting in her arm, too.

She reminds you of a frog, though you try to suppress this idea. You do not know where you are, how you got here or who the fuck these people are, but you are quite sure, calling someone a frog might not be the best idea.

The other woman has one of the most beautiful faces you have ever seen. There is a small scar beneath her right eye, but it’s nearly hidden below freckles. Her hair is pitch black and she wears an interesting pointy silver piece on top of her long braid at the back of her head. Her ears are also pointed, but not as much. Her eyes are curious but restrained. Light green. Laura would fall for her instantly.

The last one might be a model. Pearl skin, beautiful sharp jaw line, the most perfect tone of silver white curls you have ever seen. But his eyes are deep red. It suits him somehow. You do not know what to do with this information. His ears are pointed too. You realize, he is an elf.

Of course, in all of this – whatever the fuck this is - there is a beautiful elf staring at you.

They all stand around you, watching you.

As if all of this would not be weird enough, you notice their clothes.

The dark eyed man is dressed in a robe? Clasped at the front with a white shirt underneath it. There are leather embellishments on the shoulders and surprisingly elegant brown boots.

Both women are wearing….armour.

You have no other way of describing it.

Actual, medieval-style armour.

There are definitely metal elements in it, on the chest, shoulder and legs, attached to leather part. The dark haired woman definitely wears chainmail.

What the actual fuck!

You’ve read your fair share of fantasy novels, watched all the big-budget adaptations, but you are sure this is not CGI. This is not a badly rendered animation or even masterful makeup artistry.

Not your own, your mind couldn't come up with this if you focus hard enough.

For a moment, you consider being in a coma. You read an article once, on people having the most vivid dreams while being in a coma.

Or experiencing a near death scenario.

No. This somehow - although you are not sure how - feels real.

A real fantasy.

But you are quite sure, you made it home last night, unharmed.

You remember drinking water. And electrolytes. In your kitchen.

You remember undressing, before dropping into bed.

No, this, somehow, indescribably, feels real.

You can touch the sand.

You hear the river you can see when you look to your right.

You can feel the sun on your skin.

You can feel their gazes on you.

You can smell the stench of fish, wood and burning flesh. Not bacon. There are corpses burning behind them.

Of course, there are fucking dead people. Burning dead people.

When you look up, there is a…..giant tentacle?

What the ever loving fuck!

There is a burning, gigantic squid to your left, one of its monstrous tentacles held by large, light brown stones around you.

Your mind rebels against the sight.

It is not a ship. Not really. A grotesque fusion of flesh and metal, twisted and burning.

And there is an elf and a walking frog person, apparently, so it’s a start to your personal fantasy adventure?

It kind of feels like a nightmare, though.

How can this be real?

But they do not look like badly rendered CGI or very expensive makeup and you do not even have time to comprehend the entirety of weirdness of this situation, the fact that these are in fact breathing people, as the dark haired, crouching man speaks.

“Hello. I am Gale of Waterdeep,” he says gently. “Are you alright?”

[muffinsin]

Heyo so I had what I felt was an interesting idea for a gender neutral reader x Daniela, where reader is one of Donna’s experiments that she was done with, where she bound a human soul to a suit of plate armour.

And so basically Lady D takes it/them off Donna’s hand as a gift for Daniela because of her love for stories, and fairy tale romance

And I was curious what ur take on Daniela getting her Knight in Shining Armour Fairy tale romance, but with the slight twist of it being Knight that is Shining Armour instead of “In” shining armour

Awhh, this one’s hella adorable, hon! And I feel, it’s just what this romance bug needs!🙌

Let’s get into it :)

Masterlists

With Donna, things were quiet

You weren’t used to much, mostly stood about and helped her when you could. There wasn’t much to do, and not a lot of people to talk to

And even the dolls did not always make for good beings to have a conversation with

And still, when she said you’d be given away, sent to the castle, you had felt anxious

Here, at the castle, it’s much different

It’s louder, far more crowded than the Beneviento manor

You’re presented like a gift by the dollmaker, standing still and glancing at the four women in front of you

One, tall, twice as tall as Donna, easily

The other three shorter, but still capable of towering above the average person

One, a blonde, who looks quite bored if you had to guess. An unusual reaction, certainly, given your nature. Still, even as you don’t technically have eyes, you feel almost embarrassed looking at her and visibly turn your head

The next, a brunette

You notice her fingers are twitching, her sickle glistening in the chandelier’s light

You turn to Donna momentarily, unsure how to act and what to expect

Still, you get the feeling you’d be nothing but a fancy training dummy, if she was in charge of you

Thankfully, she is not

Then the third one, a little younger and gentler looking, with a small pout at her lips and her gloved hand clutching a sickle of her own

She’s looking at you almost dreamily, her eyes wide and curious, her hips swaying gently as she stands, just barely noticeable, as if she was lost in her own world

She seems almost lost at the sight of you, only jumping to attention when the tall woman’s hand- Alcina, the mother, Donna informed you beforehand- sets on her shoulder gently

Then, the almost comfortable silence and slow feel of the room is interrupted

You stumble slightly when the redhead moves, turning to a swarm of flies that buzzes around you excitedly

Then, of of the swarm, comes first a hand that grasps the iron glove that makes your hand

The rest of her follow, her lips curving to a wide smile as she wraps her arms around you

You think you hear her thanking her mother, though it’s hard to tell, as both other women- her sisters- begin complaining almost immediately

You tilt your head, a large, iron helmet, down and can’t help but notice…she’s beautiful

Her eyes, a striking gold, are wide and betray the happiness and excitement she feels

Her lips are painted a deep black, and are spread into a wide, happy smile that would have your heart ache, if you had one

When she rubs her cheek against your chest plate and shoulder piece, you think; you should cringe, should feel bothered about the blood smearing against your otherwise pristine armor

Not this time

This time, you only watch her

For the first time in your life, you wish you had a face, a mouth, lips

All just to smile at her

For her to see your smile, hopeful that it might inspire her to just keep smiling, too

In the time to come, you get a little more adjusted to living at the castle

You’re with Daniela, every day, nearly at all times

And while you hear whispers, some of the staff members pitying you, you see no reason for such a thing at all

You love being in her company

You…have come to love Daniela

You awaken next to her every day, yearning for lips to curl into a smile when she stirs and rubs her face against you sleepily

Whenever you can- whenever she isn’t directly on top of you- you’ve taken to sitting by the fireplace in her room

While you can’t feel the heat, you know the armor making up your body heats up a little

And how adorable it is when she curls on top of you, cooing and basking in the warmth, her swarm buzzing so loud it almost sounds like she’s purring contentedly

You spend hours holding her in the morning, the gloved and armored fingertips making up your fingers gently combing through her hair

You wish, you could feel her

You wish, you could let her feel you

But, both of your love makes up for it

She’s head over heels for you and has been from the beginning. You are, quite literally, her knight in shining armor

And oh my, you know just how to make her feel like a princess

You love to pamper her, and she loves being pampered. And how could you ever deny her a thing, when she looks up at you so pleadingly? When her cute, golden eyes widen and she holds onto your chest-and shoulder plates

When her flies buzz so adorably…

You also notice- Daniela can be very clingy. Thankfully, you don’t mind

She likes holding onto you in some way at all times when she’s with you

At times, too eager to be close to you, her flies quite literally dart between the gaps in your armor, as though she wants to be within you, as though even holding you isn’t close enough for her

You love feeling her love

Daniela’s love is so…raw

So passionate and unfiltered

She shows you what you mean to her and is not shy to show you off at all. Though, you notice she is very possessive and can get quite jealous

As such, any doe eyed, curious maid looking at you is disposed of quickly

And still, you know how to calm her again, when you scoop her up off the floor and into your arms, when you hear her giggle and watch her caress your armor lovingly

Of course, all this does not mean you can’t get jealous, too

Especially when, unfortunately, far too many believe that you’re nothing but a mere construct to her and that she is for the taking

And while you have no blood running through you, you almost feel it boil from the anger you experience whenever a foolish staff member believes they can just come up to your girlfriend

Luckily, she only ever coos and giggles when you draw your sword and the person jumps away

Her knight in shining armor, indeed

She loves your protective side

Especially in winter you prefer accompanying her, well aware she’s a little more vulnerable then

Daniela is fast. You’re invincible. When you hear as much as a threatening noise, you step in front of her, your armor illuminated by the blue essence that is you and wills it to move, your sword drawn

And, of course, you’re always quick to step in when you hear the staff spreading rumors or scary stories about her, tales painting her as a monster. Even if she is one, you don’t care. She’s yours, your love, your passion, your princess

And you won’t let anybody badmouth her

And while it’s usually unnecessary, she would never stop you

If anything, she swoons, her cheeks pink, smiling wide

You do so love it when she smiles

Her favorite thing to do is to curl up on top of your lap after you’ve been sitting by the fire

She’ll often read to you, usually from one of the fairytales she loves so much

She’ll trace your armor as she reads, her voice gentle and smooth, her lips occasionally grazing your helmet before she rests against you again

Like this, the two of you can spend hours together and still feel like it has barely been a few minutes

[thesilvertheorist]

• unprofessional •

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Fic summary: [set in s4] Five is forced to go into mandatory active therapy in order to ensure that he can perform well at the CIA, he finds himself opposite a young lady (21+ ish) who's taken him on as her first client. Five is resistant at first but soon begins to develop ALL kinds of feelings for this woman.

Warnings/tags: ptsd related traumas, flashbacks, self harm, self loathing, resistance to help, attitude, scandalous age gap (five is mentally 60+, body of a 21 year old), developing feelings, inappropriate relationship, unprofessional relationship, anguish, angst, sexually explicit content, mdni, stalker!five, reader should really contact the authorities in all honesty.

you have been warned

Masterlist

CHAPTER ONE

[3.7k words]

Hargreeves’ new world is certainly one of oddities. It’s almost identical to the world that Five and his siblings grew up in only, in this timeline, this version of his adoptive father owned essentially every active corporation all over the globe. A weird concept, but not one that is necessarily that farfetched. The basic premise of this timeline functioned exactly the same as all the others that Five knew: linear time (seconds, minutes, hours, days, months, years, decade after tedious decade), people going about their daily lives (bills and taxes to pay), and – of course, there’s the ever-present need to create family and community. Although, and this is the kicker, he’s been stripped of his powers. Every Hargreeves’ sibling had been.

Five had presumed that the loss of their powers was the price of a new life… that Luther losing Sloane was the price that Allison paid by proxy to get Claire back. Screwed up, but it’s the most logical answer considering they were energetically glued to stars on the floor in a universal mainframe fighting for their lives not too long ago.

As his siblings dispersed upon realising the situation, Five was left alone yet again, wondering what the hell he was going to do with his vacant being and lack of powers. His skills aren’t exactly what you’d look for when employing someone. Not to mention that his appearance doesn’t match his intellect. He was nothing short of absolutely fucked.

This rather strange situation kept Five’s mind awake for days. What exactly had happened? Why were they all here? Is this timeline a result of shutting down the last one? Is there a way to regain their powers? Do people even want their powers back? Did he want them back? Would he be able to realise that this state of helpless humanity may actually be giving him a fresh start? Was he ignoring things? Was this stupidly self-aware diatribe of crap swirling around in his head actually ungrateful screams of a thirteen year old who couldn’t prove to his father that he’d fixed what he’d broken?

It didn’t matter.

Five knew that, realistically, he’d have to start somewhere. The first thing he needed to do was secure himself a steady roof. He had no idea who’d rent to him…considering he had no money and looked like he belonged in some sort of private school for privileged arsehole boys. Oh wait. Pesky self-awareness again.

Five realised that if he couldn’t beat them, he’d have to join them. The second daylight broke the next day, he worked on getting himself a place at the closest university; he looked about that age and any required proof of braincells proved to be child’s play for his overly adapted mind. This gave him an opportunity to have a bed to sleep in whilst also allowing him to keep his brain active – even if his assignments were the equivalent intensity of doing the sudoku in the paper each morning.

Needless to say, he earned his degree quickly. He’d also acquired numerous commendations from differing scholars and academics throughout his studies which earned him an interview at the CIA. Five rationalised that, whilst he wasn’t exactly police material, the CIA was more up his alley…more dignified for a man of his age.

His interview went as well as could have been expected and Five was hired almost immediately. He’d breezed through basic training, explaining to those who were curious that his combat skills were from too many extra-curricular clubs after school and totally not from anything sinister [like being born into a family of super siblings and fighting crime at thirteen only to then be accepted into a temporal commission decades later who put field agents through intense training to prepare them to kill threats to the timeline].

He was just good at what he did and was a quick learner.

Totally.

Five’s first few months with the CIA went as any other months would do. He managed to find himself a shitty apartment and keep up the rent with whatever money he didn’t spend on outrageously expensive suits or artisan coffee. He wasn’t doing badly at all – he was even up for a promotion.

With things going so well, it came as a surprise to Five when his new supervisor insisted that he attend mandatory therapy as part of his new role within the company. He’d been advised that all higher agents have to do this – keeps them from boiling over. Five wasn’t really listening though; it was as if water had filled his ears. The last time he’d heard this bullshit was back at The Commission… only there, they forced agents into therapy to ensure they were boiling over – that their intent to kill was still active inside them.

After trying to reason with his supervisor, Five was told in no uncertain terms that he either attended the therapy or go back to his entry level basic training so he understood what ‘following orders’ meant. Pissed off and undermined, Five only nodded in response. He noted down when his appointment was: 8am Monday, 7th floor, office C.

When Monday came around, Five was more irritated than he thought he’d be. He had no clue what bullshit this, so called, therapist would come out with – and in all honesty, he wished that all therapists would just keep their traps shut. Now that would be therapeutic.

Upon arriving to work that day, Five decided that coffee was the best solution. He’d be able to respond quicker with his brain activated, and he’d be able to leave that office sooner. Perfect plan. Whilst waiting in line at the downstairs café to order his take away cup of gravelly black coffee, he couldn’t help but notice the woman in front of him.

She was young – she’d have to be a university graduate. She was well dressed in smart office kitten heels, sheer tights, a sophisticated pencil skirt, and a fitted blouse. Her hair was pinned in a claw-clip bun but she must have been in a hurry this morning because pieces had fallen out and were giving her that chic yet windswept look that only a few people could truly pull off.

As she ordered her coffee – a ‘mocha with a little bite to it’, Five noticed that the woman wasn’t carrying anything (other than the precise amount of cash to pay with) – nor did she have a blazer or jacket with her. Who the hell comes to the offices prior to 8am and sets up before getting their coffee? This woman was weird. Her chirpy voice and polite manners weren’t going to fool him.

Why the fuck did he even care?

He didn’t know this woman, nor did she know him. What she looked like, sounded like, or acted like was none of his business. He’d got a stupid therapist to see. This young woman was just another number in a pitiful equation that he no longer had the energy to solve. He tried to ignore her as she waited aside for her coffee to be made, pretending not to catch glimpses of her as she looked up at the hot food menu of the café to pass time whilst he ordered his own cup of drip black coffee.

Both drinks were prepared at precisely the same time. The young woman smiled at the barista as she collected the warm cup, turning on her heels to head towards the lifts. Without thinking much about it at all, Five followed her over after collecting his own coffee – trailing behind her as if he were some sort of lost puppy (or ravenous hound dog) as she crossed the foyer, offering her a curt smile when she summoned the lift.

Silence.

The woman was looking at her watch when the lift arrived. The ding of the bell alerting her to the fact that it was here. Five gestured for her to enter first – after all, he’s kinda got a weird thing about lifts now since the whole universe reset bullshit. He won’t enter one that doesn’t have another person in it…must be a newfound claustrophobia symptom. Perhaps it might be worth seeing a therapist. The woman entered and stood aside to let Five in also, shattering the silence with two ground-breaking, reality-altering, mind-bending words:

“Which floor?”

Five was deafened.

He was sure that his brain had malfunctioned. He hadn’t actually been deafened but he needed her to stop talking and yet never stop speaking all at once. Her voice was like velvet…Five hated the feeling velvet – but loved the way it warmed his skin. He needed to respond quickly before she thought he was weird; her smile would fade and he’d be deemed the office creep for following  a young woman from the café into the lift and then seemingly drooling over the only two words she deigned to utter to him throughout the last ten minutes.

“Oh, er- seven, thanks” he managed to force out.

“Cool, me too” the young woman smiled out in response to him.

This meant that Five had to endure seven floors of close proximity to this woman – standing so close to her that he feel he may actually happily suffocate from her perfume, pretending all the more that the sound of her honey-like chirps hadn’t done something to him.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

One.

She held her coffee in her left hand – no ring, red nails.

Two.

She wore a silver watch on that same hand – written in roman numerals the time was 7:50am

Three.

She had cuffed her blouse sleeves – ¾ length, likely to see her watch.

Four.

Her skirt had a hidden seam – she’d had it altered to fit better.

Five.

Her hair was falling out of the clip – he wanted to be the one to fix it.

Six.

She wore necklaces – silver and layered to match her watch.

Seven.

She was intoxicating.

The lift bell dinged again, signalling to each of them that they had reached the seventh floor. Five felt the air return to his lungs as the young woman stepped out of the enclosed space and walk a few paces ahead, only to have it ripped from him yet again when he realised they were heading in the same direction…

down the same hallway…

to the same office…

office C.

Shit.

Five was all but paralysed, stood eight feet from her office door as she opened it and stepped inside, leaving it open for her next psychological plaything to enter. She hadn’t noticed that he was her client yet. Surely she hadn’t. She wouldn’t have had the time to; hundreds of people worked in this building.

She proceeded to sit in one of the chairs that surrounded the dark, wooden coffee table within the small box-office - crossing her legs as she rested her notebook and pen in her lap. Reading. Learning. Waiting.

Five was left wondering if his brain had actually malfunctioned in that lift; he couldn’t seem to move his feet in either direction. If he backed away now, he wouldn’t be allowed the promotion and would be forced back into basic training. On the other hand, if he walked in that office, he was in the trap of a much younger (much too innocent looking) young woman who had no idea what she was dealing with. It was all well and good for her to prepare the snare, but what if she began to realise she’d caught a wolf as opposed to a rabbit?

Perhaps he could pretend to be a rabbit.

Perhaps…he wanted to be a rabbit.

He walked up to the threshold of the door, knuckles tapping the doorframe, breaking her from her surely feigned concentration. Five didn’t expect the reaction he had to seeing her face for the first time, seeing how her eyes met his, feeling locked in under her gaze. Feeling himself want to spill his secrets to her. He was about to be examined and read to filth and he knew it.

What remained to be seen was whether or not he liked it.

The young woman waited for him to speak, angling herself so that she was ever so casually inviting. She didn’t press him to say anything or even break the eye contact…she just waited. Five was well aware that this was the first trick in any newly-trained therapist’s handbook, but he swallowed thickly and knowingly fell for it anyway.

That promotion had to be worth it.

“I’ve got an eight am appointment in this office.” he managed to chortle out, clearing his throat as not to sound like he chain-smoked two packs of cigarettes on the commute alone.

“You’re early, Mr Hargreeves,”

Her words rang in his ears as she spoke. How did she know his name? Oh, right, therapist – list of appointments, names, times, job roles… fucking idiot.

Five couldn’t move a single inch forwards…or backwards…or anywhere for that matter. He was well and truly pinned down by this woman, and she’d said a total of six words to him so far. He didn’t feel at liberty to move closer to her or invade her office until she specified that he could. Maybe this was his old chivalry training kicking in that Reggie had forced him and his siblings through back in the day. Surely he was just being courteous and kind in the presence of a lady.

Oh, how he wanted to be anything but kind to in the presence of this lady.

“Well, take a seat.”

Five’s feet moved before he even realised they were moving. He didn’t rush over, but he didn’t waste any time either, shutting the door promptly behind him. He sat in the chair across from the young woman, positioning his coffee cup on the small table between them – mirroring her.

He noticed how she watched him closely but also rather nonchalantly, never for one second allowing him the grace of considering that this may be just as nerve wracking and heart attack inducing for her. She remained collected at all times; Five Hargreeves would not be beaten by a woman a third of his age.

“So, Mr Hargreeves, why is it that you’re here?” she questioned, opening a fresh page in her notebook, scribbling a singular word at the top of the page.

What the hell kind of bullshit question is that?

“Well, as much as I love the company of over-confident psychoanalysts, I’m sure you’re aware I’m here on a mandatory basis.” He managed to bite back in response, feeling as though he gained ground back with his viper-like tongue.

“Straight to the point I see. Well, let’s not waste any of your precious time, Mr Hargreeves.” She smiled back in response. Smiled – like some crazy, lunatic bitch.

“Please, Mr Hargreeves is my father” Five spoke out, discomfort increasing every time she chose to address him that way.

Perfect idea, Five - throw your daddy issues into the mix right off the bat - advertise the crazy.

She scribbled a little more, three words this time.

“Five it is.”

Five felt shivers travel down his spine. Her actually using his name felt a million times more invasive and a trillion times less appropriate…and he’d removed that first professional barrier himself. He’d been in her presence for less than twenty minutes and already wanted to kill himself as a sacrifice to whatever deity was torturing him with her.

The next few questions she had were rather basic, ‘tell me more about yourself so I can profile you’ questions. This told Five all he needed to know. She was new to this…she didn’t really have a clue what she was in for, and she was likely handed him as an easy case – but, damn, did she play a good game of poker.

Answering her questions, he noticed how she picked up her coffee and removed the lid from the to go cup. Wondering why, he missed her next question. Why would she have removed that? It keeps the coffee warm. It didn’t make much sense at all. Was she purposefully trying to throw him? How did she know that would throw him?

It took Five until after intently watching her sip her ‘mocha with a lil bite to it’ to realise that she was wearing lipstick…and she would have left messy lip prints all over that lid if she hadn’t removed it.

He wanted to see that lip print.

He wanted to wear that lip print.

He was losing his mind.

She must have noticed that he missed her question as she repeated it to him, making him look like an idiot in the process. He answered as best he could – ignoring the blood rushing from his brain to somewhere else entirely.

This was fucking him off – her hold on him. She didn’t even know him. How the hell had he let such a pathetic woman claim this much control over him? He didn’t know much other than: this situation is forced, unnecessary, and ridiculous. As well as: he’s much smarter than her and she needs to know that.

Five’s answers began to get shorter, snappier, and ruder as the appointment went on. He drank his coffee and steeled his mind over, not allowing this girl to contain him any longer. He ignored his body’s signals and focused only on getting out of this office. All he had to do was prove that he wasn’t some weird psychopath or stupid enough to fall into a mental spiral…therefore, all he had to do was pretend that he wasn’t pumped full of criminal DNA to ensure he did spiral.

He tried to project his anger into his words, feeling as if he could replace the barriers he’d begun to dismantle with a harsh, reliable distain for the people around him. It worked for everyone else, and it would work on this woman.

Only, it didn’t.

She dropped the corporate questioning the second she noticed the change in him, opting for a deeper – more infuriating approach. She tore strips into him as she politely asked him to watch his language in her office space. She pulled him up on every wall-building tactic he had…and he apologised for them. Not with his words; she hadn’t earned that – with his eyes.

He actually felt bad for trying to build walls between the two of them, and he’d known her a total of fifty minutes. She was right to pull him up on his behaviour. She didn’t back down from him once; completely reinforcing the fact that this was her office, and her appointment. He was a visitor. How fucking dare he?

Astounded by himself, Five had nothing more to say to this woman. He was absolutely, well and truly, entirely done for. He only hoped that he’d passed her initial inspection of his mind as not to be pulled by the sacred force of her gravity back into the four walls of this office where he couldn’t control his behaviour around her…but he didn’t.

The young woman set up a weekly appointment for him. Same time, same place; she didn’t feel as though he was ready to progress without support. So, as she signed his papers for him to enter his promotional role, she issued her warning:

“Don’t underestimate the will of others, Five.”

With that, she had him shaking her hand, and stepping out of her office – taking his empty coffee cup with him.

What, the fuck, had she done to him?

As he walked back down the corridor and summoned the lift to go to the 10th floor to see his supervisor, Five was left clutching at his empty coffee cup for dear life. Feeling like a doe that had a near miss with a haul truck. That young woman had just turned him inside out, deemed him insufficient, and asked him to leave…and he was pissed. she'd given him absolutely nothing, and yet allowed him the opportunity to experience everything.

He hated this woman. She was entitled, bossy, and thought she knew everything. She was young and overly caring about her appearance. She clearly had no idea what he was or who he was – nor did she seem to care. She had absolutely no fear. She was ignorant and arrogant. She didn’t have what it takes to do this job. She was infuriating. Her hold on him was a sham and obviously sexually fuelled. Clearly, she hadn’t been in the therapy business for long because otherwise, Five wouldn’t know this stuff about her.

Yet, there was a stirring in his stomach, something primal.

He couldn’t wait for her to do this to him again.

Once he’d handed in his papers, and handed over his old job role, Five was dismissed for the day. He headed straight home, feeling as though the subway couldn’t take him quick enough. His body was tense and his temper was short. Dropping his keys upon trying to get into his apartment was the perfect sum up to his day.

Finally letting himself in, not bothering to switch on the lights or get himself any food, he stripped off and headed immediately for the shower. He set the temperature to a skin-peeling high and stepped inside, letting the steam transport him back to her office.

He took his left hand, the one that she shook earlier today, and roughly took his hard length in hand. He’d been hard on and off since this morning. Any time she crossed his mind, Five was battling with his own blood flow.

He cursed out as he roughly brought himself to a pained climax – believing that the pain would train him into hating this woman…but all he could hear was her honey-toned voice in his ear telling him to let her handle him as if she were stood behind him taking him in hand herself. He could feel her whispy fly-aways tickle his neck as her breasts pushed into his back. That’s when he felt her lips graze his shoulder, leaving those sultry lip prints that he’d dreamt about since realising she wore lipstick.

His cum was hot in his hand and coated the shower wall.

Fuck.

He was a mess for this woman…a storm of feelings, a shitshow of poor behaviour, and a sexual wreck for anything she could give him.

Next week couldn’t come quick enough; and neither could he.

link to: Chapter Two

✦ okay so i'm sorry this took so long for such a short chapter - i got ill :(( hope you enjoy it anyway, more coming soon. this is my first real tumblr fic so pls be kind ✦

✦ the truly diabolical content is to come, let Five have a minute of rest before being mindfucked again :)) ✦

taglist for this fic below: (lmk if you'd like to be added or removed ♡)

@groovydazephantom @girls-overflower @clownstillwritesfanfic @diaryoftheodosia @vroomvroomgirl @kaybreezy3000 @badkitty3000

[ethicaltreatmentofcowplants]

part i (part ii & part iii)

“Spencer - oof. I don’t even want to joke about this round being fiery. You make me laugh, even when I know that I shouldn’t. You clearly care deeply for me and have left me in no doubt that you came to play, but some aspects of your personality give me cause for concern. I’m ready to lead a slightly less wild lifestyle in the future, but I’m not certain that you’d be there with me. So are you a forever or a simply for now?”

“Mister, I have little in the way of notes. While everything else is going great though, your relative lack of attraction for me is a little concerning. I’m more attracted to you than you are to me, and normally I’m the hot one in the relationship! I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But even though we’re not each other’s usual types, I think we should continue giving this a chance - and I hope you feel the same.”

“Delphine. You’ve certainly made up ground in terms of romance, and I find you utterly charming. Those above you however have more sentiments with me, so perhaps the solo date next round will give us more quality time together. You’ve also flirted with two other contestants - and caught the eye of our security! - while still letting me know that I’m on your mind. Not everyone can pull that off. [wry laugh] Trust me, I know how difficult it can be to make multiple people feel special. See you next time.”

“Tiago - wait, aren’t I supposed to be the one gifting you something? Nevermind, gimme that.” “We always have a good time together, and losing your HOT HEADED trait has made us even more compatible. However you didn’t make the romance gains that I expected you to this round. You’re still very much in the running - just something to keep in mind for next time. I look forward to you making me laugh - and more - during our date.”

“Pauline, still steady as she goes. While you’re more reserved than some others, you’ve won every single one of your date competitions, and that shows you’re quietly determined in your own way. The difference between you and those ahead of you are romance levels and sentiments, so clearly we need to create some more great memories next round.”

how scores were calculated

Notes: As it would have been more realistic, I gave pixels another formal outfit during this ceremony. Behind the scenes, let's say a haute couture rental company is promoting - and encouraging Lilac's whole sustainability schtick.

I tried to stay true to their style, and their likes and dislikes. The only one who disliked their clothes was my ungrateful pixel - smdh 😅

Also if you see an asterisk next to a sim's friendship and/or romance score, that means they were among the first to max out those and will receive bonus points for them from Round Three onwards (unlucky Pauline just missed out). How many points they'll receive, I don't yet know, as I'll have to play through Round Three and figure out an amount which will neither overpower nor underpower them.

@akitasimblr @igglemouse @changingplumbob @simsfvr @invisiblequeen

[wtfaniii]

Ultraviolence

"The union you had with the man you loved was more than just skin or love, it was a unique connection, an unbreakable bond like the chains that prevent ships from going away with the tide, you became addicted to the sensations that Moon-jo could transmit to you, you swore to be faithful to him until you give your last breath.... but your eyes met a person named Jong-woo. ¿What was your surprise going to be? Your boyfriend had the same interest in him as you did"

Moon-jo x Jong-woo x fem reader

◇Warnings: polyamorous relationship! verbal and physical violence, murder, toxic relationship.

In the eyes of society, you and he were an exemplary and loving couple, a nice dentist in love with a helpful police officer, walking holding hands, short and soft occasional kisses in public and romantic dates in the moonlight.

You loved the times Moon-jo would hold your hand with courtesy and chivalry every time they entered somewhere to let you pass first,

But you also loved the times Moon-jo held your hand to stab someone at the same time, such a heartless and terrifying act gave you warmth and security at his side.

You knew you were wrong, that something was wrong in your head when you thought that, you had dealt with murderers without empathy throughout career and you constantly told yourself that you were not equal to them, no, you had different reasons and motivations, Moon-jo said that what y'all did was an art and you were his muse, a girl whose inspiration was to become equal to him.

You remembered quite well, before you met him you were a good police officer, a good loyal and honest person because your only objective was to serve society, until one day you had a fight where you broke some teeth, an event that forced you to go to the dentist.

And there you saw him, a young dentist with black hair and a cute smile, you couldn't help your heart from beating faster than normal and your hands from shaking when you had him so close.

From that moment on, a small part of your psyche that you had been hiding deep in your brain came to the surface, you began to go to him dental office more than you should, you followed him every day to the point of knowing his addresses, routine and the people around him, you were a complete stalker and in the blink of an eye your whole life revolved around him, you took photos of him without him noticing, you fantasized about having him close to you and you got angry just by seeing him be nice to some flirtatious woman.

Moon-jo noticed every day how you followed him, whether in the car or walking, every photo you took of him he felt it and the curious thing was that he didn't confront you for doing it, he let you continue, he wanted to see how obsessed and crazy stalker you could become, he wanted to see if you were one more equal to him in the world or you were simply a woman with nothing else to waste your time on.

He tested you, let you watch him during his favorite pastime.

It drew you to the depths of the world and showed you what it really was, the monster that hid under the guise of a human.

Just as him imagined, you were not scared, by this point, after having observed and followed him for months without fail, you had idealized him and now you were blinded by your devotion that his "art" seemed so normal to you, something that you could easily handle if your reward was a kiss on the cheek at the end of the day.

At first he just let you watch his wonderful work, he loved the idea of ​​having a spectator applaud his actions after each murder, then he taught you how to do it...

It certainly wasn't easy for you, you had never killed someone before and when you did you practically vomited on Moon-jo's shoes and cried like a baby, you only liked to harass day and night, not take someone's life but he insisted so much that you accepted only to receive praise, the next one wasn't so difficult and so on until killing started to be as easy for you as putting melted butter on hot bread.

He had molded you the way he wanted and despite knowing it you didn't object at all.

You shared with him your first murder, kidnapping, dinner with the peculiar meat and as a birthday gift he gave you a ring made from one of his wisdom teeth, it was wonderful and romantic for you.

However, not everything was as nice as you thought, once you helped Gi-hyeok hide a body that was not previously planned and as punishment he tied you to a chair and pulled out one of your wisdom teeth without anesthesia.

"Don't do anything again without telling me first ¿understand?" He questioned holding your bloody mouth with one hand to which you quickly nodded with tears in your eyes.

It was an unbearable pain that he put you through but you tolerated it because it would hurt more not to have him by your side.

Moon-jo leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your crimson stained lips. “I'm doing this because I don't want you to get caught ¿What am I going to do if they put you in prison? Before you do anything reckless or drastic, call me"

You believed everything he told you and from that day on you never broke any rule again, well, you didn't let him find out again, you continued helping your friends in Eden, especially Gi-hyeok, you liked him although deep down you knew that if Moon-jo found out it would be the end of you.

Your position as a police officer was really helpful, that way you diverted certain clues and knew perfectly how your unit worked, you and him had many advantages.

But of course, sometimes there were small details.

—A friend of mine called me, he says he has been kidnapped and is in danger—said your partner, standing next to you with a distressed look —Come on, you know that residence and you would be of great help.

—¿What residence? —You asked, taking a big sip of your coffee, mentally hoping it wasn't the one you think.

But when the name "Eden" came out of him mouth, annoyance began to well up inside you.

—Go to the patrol, in a few seconds I'll go with you —You said, you let him leave the police station and went to the bathroom where you locked yourself to make a call to Gi-hyeok and alert him or else everything would come to light in society.

Sometimes you considered the man a real idiot, however, you couldn't stop helping him because if he fell, all of you would too. After calling him, you left the police station and got into the passenger seat of the patrol car.

You already knew what you had to do, unfortunately this was not the first time something like this happened but it was the first time that one of your fellow police officers got involved, that was another inconvenience and you considered calling Moon-jo but that would bring more problems for everyone involved, besides, you definitely wanted to keep your teeth and above all your life.

You let your partner ask the questions and inspect the place, you also looked around every corner to make sure there was nothing suspicious and Mrs. Eom gave you a fleeting glance from time to time.

You knew that they could also help you with this situation but you preferred to do it yourself, after collecting the little information could, your partner and you said goodbye and got ready to leave but as you went down the stairs you saw someone approaching the building, the new resident.

Your eyes looked at him carefully from the first moment, as soon as you saw his face you could see that expression that was reflected by all those people who still did not have their place in the world, serenity but at the same time always alert.

As you passed by him, the aroma of his cologne filled your nose while could also feel his gaze on you, something that made you smile unconsciously.

You were going to continue walking towards the truck in which you and your partner arrived, you would continue with your plan without obstacles but the presence of this man attracted you like a magnet to metal, or rather, like a moth to the radiant and warm light among the darkness of the night.

Then you turned around and spoke, stopping him instantly.

—Hey… ¿do you live here? —You asked cautiously under him curious gaze.

—Yeah… well, it hasn't been long but yes.

The sweet notes of his voice were intoxicating to your ears, one more reason to want to hear him speak, murmur, moan or scream…

—¿Have you seen this man? —Your partner returned to your side and showed him the photograph of the missing tenant and you showed him the police badge when noticed his confusion.

While your partner asked him the routine questions, you just kept your eyes on him in complete silence to the point where the poor guy began to get nervous and uncomfortable, you were fascinated by awakening those sensations in him, no matter how insignificant were under the circumstances.

He felt your gaze as if you were trying to see through his soul, a conclusion that was not very wrong, you could see that he was a person on the verge of a collapse, as if he only needed a push to reach the mental descent from which he could never recover.

You immediately thought of Moon-jo, you knew that he would be delighted to be the one to give that push to your new obsession, he would love to break, collect, repair and mold this man to his will just as he did with you but you didn't want that to happen.

No...

You wanted to take him, fix him and put him in a glass display case to observe forever, as he it were a treasure that you were willing to obtain and keep, avoiding at all costs for it to become dirty with the darkness of your world, ¿Why? The answer was simple, sometimes you felt like you were drowning next to Moon-jo and maybe… just maybe this man in front of you who occasionally looked at you with embarrassment could be your lifesaver.

While Moon-jo would motivate and push him into the darkness, you were willing to break windows to let the light in.

You would kill and die for him and for Moon-jo.

—Well, if you see anything suspicious you can call me... —You said, taking a card with your number out of your pocket and handing it to him while you paused waiting for him to say his name.

—Jong-woo —He introduced himself and took your card.

For a few brief seconds his fingers brushed yours and you immediately pushed them away, not because you didn't crave his touch, no, you did it as if you were afraid of contaminating him with the blood that has stained your skin several times before.

He noticed this gesture and found it strange, curious, and almost came to the wrong conclusion but instead of saying something drastic he simply looked at you in silence.

—Have a nice night Jong-woo —You said a smile forming on your lips, a smile that he found a little creepy but he still wanted to see again sometime.

You and your partner said goodbye to him and returned to the car where you knew that Gi-Hyeok was already waiting, you vaguely told your partner not to get involved but he seemed so determined to do so that had no choice but to kill him, your friend took charge of suffocating him with the car's seat belt and you stabbed him repeatedly until his blood splashed on your face and the interior of the vehicle, after finishing him, you fell back on your seat, gasping for breath from the effort and felt the adrenaline diminishing from your body, but once again your heart beat like a rabbit when you saw Moon-jo walking calmly and confidently towards the car in the rearview mirror.

—Moon-jo comes here —You said with a sigh while adjusted your disheveled hair, you knew that he was not very tolerable to a fault like this, doing things without telling him beforehand was like condemning yourself with him, so you did not even move from your seat when you heard him kill Gi-Hyeok, suffocating him with his own hands until the life reflected in his eyes went out, then, you felt him move to the other side of the car where you were.

—Hi love —He said with a deep and serious voice, leaving you in suspense of what he would do with you as punishment.

You turned your head a little to look at him but as soon as you did he grabbed your hair and slammed your face against the dashboard of the car causing to gasp in pain.

—He was a failure ¿but you? I thought you were smarter than this —He said with a low and soft voice, a great contrast to the emotions that were reflected in his eyes.

—It won't happen again —You said, passing your tongue over your lips, tasting the blood that flowed through the cut he had made when hitting you like this.

Moon-jo could have killed you at that moment and asked the others to get rid of the three corpses and the vehicle but he didn't, he wouldn't throw away his creation that easily and a part of him deep down appreciated you a little.

So he let go of your hair and walked away, told you to clean up the mess and walked away, leaving you with a warning.

You wouldn't lie, you loved each and every sensation he could make you feel, fear, passion, terror, love, no matter how bad were you always came back for more.

You smiled and cleaned the outside of the car a little where there were drops of blood that had run off, you moved both corpses back and sat in the driver's seat, you turned it on, turned on music and started down the steep hill.

As you drove down the hill you looked in the rearview mirror where saw the Eden residence, you saw Moon-jo and Jong-woo together on the roof sharing a chat, then you smiled and wiped the lipstick and blood that stained your lips with your thumb.

You knew you weren't going to be the only one interested in that guy, anyway, you knew how to share.

Sorry, I'm watching the series and I definitely had to write something about him

[2tired2haveopinionsonmain]

The only reason anyone sees this as an actual threat is because certain people have figured out the names of a few things that they are morally allowed to hate in public and publicly assigned them to anyone whom they dislike. Meanwhile, these names are measurable definitions of real aspects in real people, and audiences take to heart which and how many and how often people are assigned these names.

While it is certainly a non-zero amount, in reality, there are fewer nazis than the internet would have us believe, and currying favor with them makes far less of a difference than some would have us be led to believe.

what’s with you and the Elon thing?

if anyone did that gesture in basically any scenario it’d be seen as questionable at best. I don’t think he’s necessarily a crypto-nazi, but I do think it was an intentional statement of edgelord-ism to rile people up

Why are you going to bat for this guy? It can’t just be contrarianism, you seem genuinely passionate.

personally, I’m no friend of the SJ people, but I don’t think they’re crying wolf this time. Im not sure how to prove my truthfulness, but I was strongly against eg: 2020 BLM, defund the police, Daniel Penny arrest, and so on.

it is more important to believe things that are true than it is to believe things that are mean, even if they are mean about someone you don't like

any situation in which a large group of people are belligerently declaring "How dare you say we should believe things that are true instead of things that are mean! Anyone who cares about anything other than believing things that are mean is despicable and should be destroyed!" is a bad one

people are aggressively, openly, proudly throwing away all capacity for reason, and winning because they are inherently entitled to win for doing that. this makes me sad.

[zipzapfrogboy]

BYLER DOUBT BE DAMNED (An analysis on blocking and it’s significance)

Read this if you’re having doubt because I promise it will help at least a little.

(This might be sort of long and a bit unorganized because it’s my first analysis of sorts but just stick with me.)

The main thing that confirms Byler for me (and helps with doubt) is the final shots of season 4.

You know. Those.

I’m definitely not the first person to point it out but I want to talk about it a little more in depth. Specifically the blocking. It is so clearly a deliberate choice to place Mike and Will between two other canon couples (Joyce and Hopper and Nancy and Jonathan respectively). It’s most definitely foreshadowing both to romance and possibly s5 teams.

I’m a theatre kid, I’ve been acting since I was seven, I have experience and know some stuff. If directors don’t like what you’re doing or don’t think it works then they’ll tell you stop. The improv you see in shows and movies are things that were approved and stayed in because the directors wanted it to (in like 90% of cases). Same goes with blocking. Actors can’t just stand where they want unless explicitly told to do so.

Placement has purpose and meaning. It is so unbelievably specific and thought out. I have a director/theatre teacher who gave us at least a 30 minute explanation about how important stage placement is and the what it can convey. On numerous occasions she’s made us take two small steps forward, a large step back, stand a bit further from xyz, etc.

I was in a show that started rehearsing in June and the director had been planning and working on it since March or maybe even before then. Blocking (and choreography in the context of musicals) is planned for weeks to months ahead of time. Directors have visions and the reasons behind how they set scenes is to execute that vision perfectly and convey the right message and emotions.

I’m sorry if that all seemed random I’m just trying to emphasize my point.

Obviously it’s a bit different for filmed content but I don’t doubt that the same logic is applicable. You don’t place two characters who hate each other together because it doesn’t make sense story wise or character wise.

It’s thought out, planned, and so purposeful. It’s not just random placement and it’s certainly not foreshadowing just team pairings. Two characters who are a part of a complex love triangle standing between two already existing couples? Right…

And so now my question is, why?

Why else would they set it up and block it like that? Give me an answer that explains the reasoning behind that choice; the choice of having El stand alone in front of them and having her boyfriend stand next to the person who’s in love with him. What else would that mean? That’s simply not how you do blocking.

When you as a director look at something from the outsider/audience perspective you need to see it with their eyes. What else could that convey? I’m being genuine when I say I don’t see anything else. If there is another way to interpret it (that makes sense and isn’t plagued by bias) then please tell me.

It’s a perfect example of foreshadowing. El standing alone symbolizes her arc of becoming an independent person outside of romance and Hopper. Her whole story has been about learning how to be a person and be herself. Her standing out alone in the field in front of her burning hometown isn’t supposed to mean nothing.

Just like Mike and Will standing together isn’t supposed to mean nothing.

We know Jopper is endgame, I can’t see why they wouldn’t be, and I’m 90% sure that Jancy will be endgame (or if they break up it will be on good terms). So, again, why would they place Mike and Will between those people. If it was supposed to be showing how close they are and how wonderfully strong their friendship is then why did they choose those other characters? MAKE IT MAKE SENSE. IT’S THE DEFINITION OF A PARALLEL.

If I end up being wrong then idk.

Thank you for reading :)

Also there’s this so like

[bitchinbarzal]

Utah | C Keller

summary: clayton gets the call that he’s moving to utah, you’re not going with.

-

You never imagined that a single phone call could change everything. But as the news broke that the team was being relocated to Utah, it felt like the world shifted beneath your feet. You knew it was a possibility, but you never thought it would actually happen. And you certainly never thought it would tear apart everything you’d built together with Clayton.

It started innocently enough—Clayton pacing the kitchen as he told you about the team's decision, his excitement palpable in the way his eyes lit up, the grin on his face that told you he was ready for the next big chapter. The opportunity for him to shine in a fresh environment. But the more he spoke, the heavier your heart grew, the weight of reality crashing down on you.

“Clayton, I—” you cut yourself off, swallowing hard as you processed the words in your head. “This isn’t just about you. You know that, right? This is my life too.”

He paused, eyebrows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

“Arizona. My friends, my family, my job. It’s all here, Clayton. I’m not just going to pick up and leave like it’s nothing,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to hold it together.

He blinked, taken aback by your response. "It’s not like that, Y/N. This is a huge opportunity for me, for us. I thought you'd be on board."

You could feel the frustration building inside you. You had never been one to shy away from change, but this was different. You loved your life here. The career you had worked so hard to build. The people you’d surrounded yourself with. Could you really leave all of that behind for a new place, a new life, one that felt so far removed from what you had?

“I can’t just abandon everything, Clayton!” you said, your voice rising in frustration. “You think I can just drop my job and say goodbye to everyone I’ve ever known?”

Clayton’s jaw tightened, his hands fisting at his sides. “I didn’t ask you to abandon anything! I’m not asking you to quit your job. I just want us to figure this out together. But you don’t even seem willing to try!”

“You’re asking me to move to a state where I know no one, where my career means nothing, just for you,” you snapped, eyes flashing with hurt. “You want me to leave behind everything, and I don’t think you even understand what that means.”

Clayton stepped back, his eyes hardening as the silence grew between you both. He was always the one who took on the big challenges, embraced the unknown. And yet, here he was, asking you to do something you weren’t ready for.

“I don’t get it,” he muttered under his breath. “I thought we were building something together.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. You didn’t want to tear everything down, but you couldn’t bring yourself to blindly follow him to a place that felt so foreign. You were supposed to be a team, but this... this felt like an ultimatum.

“I need time to think about this, Clayton. I can’t just give you an answer. This isn’t easy for me,” you said, shaking your head. “I can’t just pack up my whole life.”

“You’re not even trying,” he shot back, his voice rising in frustration. “I’m fighting for this. For us. And you can’t even give it a chance.”

The words stung more than you cared to admit. You had never seen him so angry, so hurt.

“I can’t do this right now,” you muttered, turning away from him. “I need some space.”

The door slammed behind him as he walked out, leaving you standing there, feeling like the weight of the world was crashing down on your shoulders.

Days turned into weeks, but the silence between you both remained. Clayton had left, moved to Utah, and the distance between you felt unbearable. You tried to keep up with your life in Arizona, but nothing felt the same without him.

You couldn’t even pinpoint when you had realized it, but the truth had settled in your heart: You missed him. You missed him more than you cared to admit. You missed the way he always made you laugh, the way he understood you better than anyone ever could. The thought of him in Utah, trying to adjust without you by his side, gnawed at you.

You needed to fix this. You had to.

It took a lot of soul-searching, but one evening, you found yourself packing a bag with nothing but a few essentials. You weren’t sure how this would play out, but you were ready to find out.

You drove to Utah with nothing but hope in your heart, praying it wasn’t too late. You didn’t know what you expected—Clayton’s reaction, the conversation, the apology that was long overdue—but you knew you needed to try.

You stood outside his new apartment in Utah, heart pounding in your chest. The nerves that had once felt so distant were now overwhelming. You knocked on the door, pacing in place as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours.

When Clayton finally opened it, his face was a mixture of exhaustion and surprise. His eyes softened when they met yours, but there was still a distance between you both that you couldn’t ignore.

“Y/N,” he whispered. “I didn’t expect...”

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted, your voice breaking. “I’ve been so scared of losing everything. But I don’t want to lose us. I can’t just pretend everything’s fine. You’re right, I should’ve been willing to try.”

Clayton stepped forward, his expression unreadable as he reached for you, pulling you into his arms.

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t handle this well, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough. “I was so focused on the team and this new chapter, I didn’t stop to think about what you needed. What we needed.”

You hugged him tightly, the weight of the tension finally lifting. “I don’t know what the future holds, but I want to be in it with you,” you whispered. “Let’s figure this out, together.”

He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Together. Always.”

And for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again.

[meglosthegreat]

What bothers me about a lot of the takes I see comparing Veilguard to bg3, both in the vein of "Give DA to Larian" and "Larian could never because bg3 was just as flawed" is that both of these sentiments kinda miss the point.

Like, sure, bg3 is a very flawed game, most notably when it comes to the main story. Does that mean the writers at Larian are incapable of telling a better one? Of course not. To declare so would be a vast misunderstanding of how writing, art, or game development as a whole works.

And yes, let's say, hypothetically, miraculously, EA gave up the DA IP and Larian was the one that picked it up (there's quite frankly so little chance of this actually happening that this is purely the realm of thought experiment). Would Larian then create the perfect DA game, the one that we all envisioned while we waited for DA4? No. Larian is a different studio, with different writers who have different creative urges. Whatever they might have made would be as different from each previous DA game as each of them were from each other, at the very least.

But the key thing that I think people miss out on when comparing the two studios is this: Larian is a company that supports its developers, that invests proper time and resources in its writers, that doesn't lay off veterans at the drop of a hat, and that we haven't (as of yet, anyway) heard reports on about crunch, burnout, or mismanagement.

Would a hypothetical Larian DA game be perfect? Almost certainly not. Would it be better than Veilguard? Most likely, yes. Better working conditions with happier, healthier devs create better games, in the long run. And despite how flawed bg3 can be, there's a passion beneath it that is largely absent from Veilguard. Because you can't strip resources from your writers, change direction multiple times, fire all the studio veterans, and still expect a good game in the end.

[arizonaconservativegal]

Oh just for fun let's do some math.

Estimated 770,000 homeless people in the US. 20 billion divided among them is just shy of $26k per person. I think the original tweet US trying to suggest this would be a one time cost but since I cannot fathom how that's supposed to work out, let's be generous and say they meant annually. California's $24 billion works out to $42k per homeless person per year as of FY 2021-22. I'll let you tell me if you think homelessness in California has even been a little bit alleviated, much less eliminated.

Leaving aside how fun it must be to be a lefty who can just make up numbers at their own whim, throwing money at the problem indiscriminately isn't going to solve it. I'd actually be willing to talk about spending some money here but there are some conditions on that.

First and foremost, we have to acknowledge that chronic street homelessness is not in any way the same as someone who lost a job or got in an accident and fell behind on their bills. It is true that the latter group is the majority of the homeless population and we can help them with relatively little money to get them back on their feet and let them take it from there. But. Federal law prevents us from doing so and activists and so called advocates don't give a damn. They only care about the unlucky temporary homeless when they want to shame people who bring up the mentally ill addicts begging for money on the side of the road.

Those people are a whole different issue. They can't be simply put in an apartment and expected to thrive. They need significant help getting clean and treated. They also, largely, do not want that help.

Now personally I think it is abusive to say they are competent enough to choose a slow death in the elements while od-ing on something but the law says they are free to refuse treatment. Fine. Except the law also says we can't spend our resources helping the temporary homeless until we have helped the chronic homeless first. And the chronic homeless don't want help. So we can't do anything for the temporary homeless - again, the majority - who do want help and who can be helped pretty easily.

Instead we get to spin our wheels wasting time and money on people who don't want it and who we cannot compel to accept it and everyone else is left to fend for themselves.

That, combined with the weight of massive public and non profit sector bureaucracies eating up large portions of the money before it ever reaches the street, is why $24 billion later and California is no better off than it was. This won't change until we the law changes to either reverse its priorities or to allow us to compel treatment. Or both. If we did that, $20 billion a year probably does get us pretty close to handling the problem. It would certainly be enough to take care of the temporary homeless.

[celestiaras]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ a shot of lust ]❜

ft. claude clawmark x f! reader — ttt, nijisanji en

╰₊✧ while testing out potions, you take an experimental sip gone wrong & your friend isn’t half as innocent as he seems┊2.2k words

contains: smut!! dom reader & sub claude┊slight dubcon, reader is mean but claude is into that, unintentional (high-key nonconsensual) drugging with an aphrodisiac, kinda unrequited feelings but requited lust, making out, marking & biting, slight masochist claude, spit as lube, degradation, unprotected piv on a chair (because you guys are nasty like that), implied multiple rounds

➤ author's note: oh my god, i’ve been starving you guys again, i’m so sorry, i’ve been hit full force with squid game brainrot. this isn’t my best work, but i’m slowly getting back into niji because it’s my first vtuber family and i miss them :( 

potion-making is a refined art that is desirable to all with its effectiveness in battle or healing properties yet mastered by few with how dangerous or explosive results could be with something simple as an extra drop of dragon’s blood becoming fatal. personally, you’re willing to take the risk of the deadly consequences when it comes to elixirs of speed to slay your opponents before they could even blink.

for these very reasons, you study the craft under your fellow adventurer and close confidant claude clawmark. admittedly, he wasn’t your first choice regarding mentors with his messy workspace and questionable habits, but he was willing to teach you for free so you agreed. even victoria and kunai were unsure of your decision but figured that if anyone could handle the eccentric cleric, it would be you. even though this was something you took upon yourself to learn, you really didn’t like being cooped up in his shop all day while taking orders from customers and spending all day mixing strange components. you miss going out and looting dungeons with your guildmates, but learning through experience would certainly be worth it in the amount of gold you could save by making your own potions (people really pay for the expertise of a professional rather than the collected common loot dropped to make them).

the wooden table in the center of the room had a batch of roughly fifteen glass vials filled with strength potions for a customer, a finished half of the order while working on producing the other half of invisibility. you placed a sealed jar of fermented spider eyes on the table for your partner to brew and went to go grab some night vision potions for the base, but you noticed an odd bottle filled with a shimmering pink liquid that stood out among the batch of dully-colored royal blue potions on the self. it clearly wasn’t organized on the right shelf, but it didn’t have a label nor did its appearance match any of the others. “hey claude, do you remember what this is supposed to be?”

he turned his head to examine it for a second before continuing his work, “eh, i’m not actually sure. maybe you should test it out.”

oh yeah, another thing about potions is that if you aren’t sure what it is, you have to try it out yourself. there are tons of healing medicines all over the place in case someone got poisoned, so you drank it without hesitation like you’ve done plenty of times before. it tasted artificially of strawberries and cream, not an uncommon flavor to mask the usual strange medley of ingredients, but it left a weird aftertaste of bittersweetness on your tongue. you didn’t feel any different nor see any change looking in the mirror so perhaps it was simply a base potion that didn’t have any magic added yet, leaving you to go on with your day after placing the empty glass into the sink.

it didn’t hit you full-force as soon as you swallowed it, but the effects were slowly but surely taking hold of you. it started with you feeling warm, taking off your jacket and touching your face, wondering if there was a sudden change in room temperature for some reason. your breathing steadily became more labored even though you weren’t moving around much, trying to take deep breaths through your mouth in a futile attempt to clear your fogged mind and soaking a towel in water to pat away the perspiration beginning to form on your forehead.

were you ill and coming down with a fever? it didn’t feel like any virus you’ve ever had, felt more like… it was definitely from that unlabeled potion you drank earlier, but why would he leave such a thing lying around if it was really what you thought? this was really why you were warned to get a proper tutor instead of a cleric known for fumbling his belongings. the sun had begun to set and the shop would close in about fifteen minutes anyway, so you decided to wait it out even though it felt borderline unbearable. leaning back on the table, you think there must be an antidote or something somewhere to counter it, but you were interrupted before you could get up and look for it.

“are you okay? you look sick,” claude mentioned, taking off his tool belt equipped with various gadgets and moving away from his station to check in on you. “do you… need help with anything?” he took off his glove to gently press his hand against your forehead followed by your cheek to test your temperature, suddenly feeling conscious of his presence with the proximity and feeling his breath on your skin as he stared intently at your face.

you never paid too much attention to his looks, but you suddenly found yourself studying his appearance now that he was so much closer to you: his long opalescent locks that were neatly tied in a ponytail tossed over his shoulder, his sleepy eyes that shifted from magenta to aquamarine, how built he actually was with his broad shoulders that well defined his frame— was he always so handsome?

“hey… claude…” you felt like a living furnace with lit coals that were bursting at the seams, fire burning into desire at your core and could only be quenched by the man standing in front of you. vivi and kunai aren’t the best at keeping secrets (especially when it’s past midnight at a sleepover), you knew he had a crush on you or at the very least found you attractive. either way, he wouldn’t reject you at the moment unless he considers the friendship on the line, and you were willing to bet everything on that.

his eyes met yours, staring deeply into them while waiting for you to finish your sentence. the tension was so palpable that it could be cut with a knife and you sighed, closing your eyes and leaning forward to break it with a kiss. you couldn’t see his reaction, but he didn’t flinch nor did he pull back, instead reciprocating it once he seemed to process it.

it took some of the edge off, but you still felt insatiable and starved for more of him. slipping your hand to the back of his head and intertwining it with his hair, you deepened the kiss and began to dart your tongue out to ask him to part his lips. you had no way to know what he was really thinking, but he seemed to be understandably confused about the whole thing and yet he didn’t deny you or offer an ounce of resistance. he obediently followed your motions and let you take the lead, just how you liked it, even whimpering slightly when your tongue gently brushed against his and felt the cool titanium pierced through it.

oh, when you heard that sound escape his lips, something feral awakened within you. “fuck…” you placed your hands on her shoulder and swung him around, roughly shoving him down onto a nearby chair and splitting his legs apart with a knee in the middle while continuing to kiss him roughly. fiddling with the hem of his clothing, “is this okay?”

he blushed a deep red as if the gravity of the situation was only hitting him now that you were requesting for content, “y-yes! of course! totally!” he mentally cringed, his ass did not just say ‘totally’ when his crush of over a year was asking if it was okay to fuck him.

thankfully for him, you didn’t seem to mind in the least bit and fervently began to strip him of his clothing, pulling his black top over his arms and tossing it haphazardly on the floor. his strapping frame was even more evident with his bare chest exposed to you, pretty unblemished ivory skin that was just begging to get marked up and bruised. you were quick to leave one last kiss on his lips before lowering your head to suck on his neck, watching a dark purple-red hickey bloom on the spot. you repeated this process a few times before outright sinking your teeth into his tender flesh, finding yourself unable to refrain from behaving like a wild animal even though you were trying your hardest to hold yourself back. 

meanwhile, claude felt like he was dreaming and was almost light-headed by your touch. he allowed you to use his body as you pleased, like a doll for you to play with and abuse. the pain didn’t even register as such to him, feeling more like ecstasy shooting through his veins wherever your mouth found itself as his eyes rolled back like the pathetic fool he was.

“fuck, i feel like i’m going crazy,” you groaned, adjusting your position to sit on his lap and pulling back his pristine white pants to reveal his leaking cock before holding out your palm. “spit.” he complied, taking a moment to gather saliva in his mouth before spitting a clear glob into your open hand which you smeared all over his dick to act as makeshift lube.

the heat was really beginning to get to you like the wrath of a thousand suns, prickling at your skin and causing you to pause your actions to remove your own clothing. you didn’t notice until you were fully nude the way he was staring at you like he had just witnessed the unfiltered beauty of a goddess for the first time. maybe if it was another day under different circumstances, you would have felt soft at his obvious affection and admiration towards you, but unfortunately, you were feeling nothing but irritation due to the effects of the drug.

you extended an arm to push him back so he was sitting properly against the chair instead of slouching, moving to straddle him and finally, finally, lined up his angry red tip with your entrance before sinking into it. claude gasped as he buried his face into your chest, unable to rut into you as he so desired with your purposefully straining your weight on him. 

despite not being able to think straight, your dominance over him was made clear as you set your own pace, ignoring the strain beginning to form in your thighs as you worked your way up and down his length. his size was perfect, not too difficult to take, and also able to hit all of the right spots.

despite not being allowed to put in any work, claude’s heart was hammering in his chest like he was running a marathon with strands of hair sticking to his face thanks to the beads of sweat that formed on his forehead. he struggled to find a place to put his hands with your hips moving too fast for him to grip and the little groan you would let out in the precipice of pleasure and disdain each time he tried to touch you elsewhere led to him simply gripping the sides of the wooden chair he was seated on, basically hold on for dear life while chasing an orgasm to snap you out it. 

“you did this on purpose, didn’t you, you little freak?”

“h-huh?”

“you wanted me to drink that potion, didn’t you? so that you would get fucked like a whore, just how desperate are you?”

he opened his mouth to deny the accusation but found himself unable to and let out a pathetic whimper instead. how could he deny it when it was completely true? he didn’t think you would actually drink it, only planted it on the table and allowed for chance to take the reins, but he didn’t think anything was actually going to happen.

still, there wasn’t a single ounce of regret in his body, even if you were being a little mean to him. he didn’t mind how your sharp words cut into him, it made him dizzy if anything. 

you began to slow down as the ache of constant bouncing was catching up to you, moving your hand to circle your clit and crying out when you felt yourself unravel at the contact. feeling your velvety walls pulse around him had him following shortly after when you lifted yourself off of him, causing him to finish on your lower stomach in pretty white splatters.

both of you were exhausted at the exhibition of energy on top of the long day before this situation occurred, breathing heavily as you got off the chair in favor of leaning against the table with your shaky legs. 

he couldn’t read your reaction, if the gravity of what just happened had sunk in yet or if you were still basking in the satisfaction of your climax. it made you glow in a way, making him dumbfounded and unable to meet your eyes. “i-i should go…” in a matter of minutes thanks to his stupidity, he just went from a good friend to a lowly slut in your eyes all because you were able to see right through him like glass.

however, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him back towards you, nude bodies pressed flushed against each other, kissing him fervently again with a slightly crazy edge to your actions. “yeah, no, you aren’t going anywhere. you started this mess, you’re going to help me out until the potion wears off or until we both pass out.”

[whencyclopedia]

The gods and goddesses of Ancient Egypt were an integral part of the people's everyday lives for over 3,000 years. There were over 2,000 deities in the Egyptian pantheon, many whose names are well known - Isis, Osiris, Horus, Amun, Ra, Hathor, Bastet, Thoth, Anubis, and Ptah among others - but many more less so who were also important. The more famous gods became state deities while others were associated with a specific region or, in some cases, a ritual or role. The goddess Qebhet, for example, is a little known deity who offered cool water to the souls of the dead as they awaited judgment in the afterlife, and Seshat was the goddess of written words and specific measurements overshadowed by Thoth, the better known god of writing and patron of scribes. Ancient Egyptian culture grew out of an understanding of these deities and the vital role they played in the immortal journey of every human being. Historian Margaret Bunson writes: The numerous gods of Egypt were the focal points of the nation's cultic rites and personal religious practices. They also played a part in the great mortuary rituals and in the Egyptian belief in posthumous eternal bliss. (98) The gods evolved from an animistic belief system to one which was highly anthropomorphic and imbued with magic. Heka was the god of magic and medicine but was also the primordial force, pre-dating all the other gods, who enabled the act of creation and sustained both mortal and divine life. The central value of the Egyptian culture was ma'at - harmony and balance - represented by the goddess of the same name and her white ostrich feather, and it was Heka who empowered Ma'at just as he did all the other deities. Heka was the manifestation of heka (magic) which should be understood to be natural laws which today would be considered supernatural but, to the Egyptians, were simply how the world and the universe functioned. The gods provided people with all good gifts but it was heka which allowed them to do so. These gods all had names, individual personalities and characteristics, wore different kinds of clothing, held different objects as sacred, presided over their own domains of influence, and reacted in highly individualistic ways to events. Each deity had their own area of expertise but were often associated with several spheres of human life. Hathor, for example, was a goddess of music, dancing, and drunkenness but was also understood as an ancient Mother Goddess, also associated with the Milky Way as a divine reflection of the Nile River, and, in her earlier incarnation as Sekhmet, as a destroyer. The goddess Neith was originally a war goddess who became the epitome of the Mother Goddess, a nurturing figure, to whom the gods would turn to settle their disputes. Many gods and goddesses, such as Set or Serket, transformed through time to take on other roles and responsibilities. These transformations were sometimes dramatic, as in the case of Set who went from a hero protector-god to a villain and the world's first murderer. Serket was almost certainly an early Mother Goddess, and her later role as protector against venomous creatures (especially scorpions) and guardian of women and children reflects those characteristics. Bunson writes: The Egyptians had no problem with a multitude of gods and they seldom shelved old deities in favor of new ones. Characteristics and roles of various gods were syncretized to reconcile differing religious beliefs, customs, or ideals. For political and religious reasons, for example, the Theban god Amun, who was considered the most powerful deity in the New Kingdom, was united with Ra, a sun god whose cult dated to the beginnings of Egypt. Worship of the gods of Egypt evolved over time as large cults developed on a local and then on a national scale. (99) The following list of the gods and goddesses of ancient Egypt is derived from numerous works on the subject which follow below in the bibliography. Every attempt has been made to create a comprehensive listing but minor regional deities have been omitted if their role seems uncertain or they were transformed into major gods. When a major god evolved from an earlier minor deity, it is noted. Included also are concepts, such as The Field of Reeds or Lily Lake, which were regions in the afterlife associated with the gods. The definitions of the god's characteristics and the roles they played are synthesized for clarity but it should be noted that not every deity listed was understood in the same way throughout Egypt's long history. Osiris, for example, was most likely a fertility god in the Predynastic Period of Egypt (c. 6000-3150 BCE) but was already understood as the First King by the Early Dynastic Period (c. 3150-2613 BCE) and was the most popular god in Egypt during the time of the New Kingdom (1570-1069 BCE) at the same time that Amun was considered King of the Gods. Although these developments are sometimes noted below, the gods are generally described in the roles they were best known for at the peak of their popularity.