#code vein comic

[jayraysbay]

Maybe next time, they’ll reconsider being in the middle of Home Base?

[rinhaler]

DEATH IS NO MORE !

you know you shouldn't be here, right? what would possess you to visit an underground fight club? one of the fighters is kinda cute though...

✧˖*°࿐: 18+ only, no minors.    ✧. ┊ underground fighter!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

Genre: porn with a plot Notes: ty penny for beta reading again! picturing sukuna like this art by @innaillus bc i have had nothing else on my mind for days. Warnings: 18+, fem!reader, violence, blood ♡, daddy!kink, size difference ♡, age gap, degradation, fingering, orgasm denial, pussy spanks, dacryphilia, finger sucking, vaginal sex, choking ♡, creampie, squirting ♡, pet names (princess, sweetheart, baby). Words: 10k

As your heels snap against the pavement, you can almost feel the pulsing bass from the music surge from your toes and throughout your entire nervous system. The music is loud enough to hear, even from a distance, and it only gets louder as you step closer and closer to the abandoned warehouse.

You shouldn’t be here.

The voice is yours, internally. Though it feels like an out of body experienced as you venture head first towards a destination you have no business being anywhere near. The music muddies your thoughts. It’s confusing you, deeply.

Is there a dress code?

That doesn’t matter, because you shouldn’t be here.

The bass is hypnotic. That pounding bass that makes you feel weak and ethereal all in one dizzying bout. It’s like you’re going to a rave, though you’re not even close to being dressed the part. You’ve been at work all day. The last thing you should be doing is trespassing into a building that has been off limits for five years.

You just couldn’t resist, this.

Not with the rumours flying around and the hushed whispers of secrecy luring you in to investigate for yourself.

With the double doors in sight, you finally see that the entrance is being manned. Is it security or just a ticket holder? You aren’t sure you want to find out. They might take one look at you and shoo you away. There’s no way you can leave until you get what you came for.

You slip out of sight as you see another pair of men get out of a car parked near the entrance and approach. Your breathing is egregious, though you try to calm it. The adrenaline swirling through your every vein and muscle is enough to make you pass out. But the agonising desire to enter and see the truth for yourself is holding you steady.

$100 for a ticket.

“Christ.” you whisper to yourself.

You put your hand in your pocket and fish out your purse. As you open it and begin to look, you halt. The way your hands are trembling is abnormal, even for being this worked up. The pumping of your heart transfers to your brain. The pink, mushy organ pounds dramatically against the inside of your skull, and really, you think melodic beat of the music inside must be slithering its way into the creases of your braincells.

There’s a pain behind your eyes. You feel a migraine coming on and you’re all too familiar with the agonising feeling as you often leave your work days suffering from them.

You deepen your breaths in a bid to steel yourself. And eventually, you find the money to pay the fee. So you wait, patiently, for the other two men to enter the warehouse before you reveal yourself from the shadows. There’s an air of confidence to you as you approach the entrance.

Though it fades, slightly, as the man holds his hand up like a crossing guard.

“Women don’t come around here,” he starts, checking a clipboard that looks too small in his comically large hands. He flips through the pages and then looks at you again. “You’re not on the list.”

“I have the fucking money.” you tell him, slapping it on top of his stupid clipboard hard enough for him to almost drop it. He tries to stop you as you attempt to barge by him, though it isn’t a strict action.

More like a warning.

“It’s not a sight a lady should see, I think.” he tells you, still putting your hard earned money into a tin of other generous donations, you expect. His eyes focus on your own as he continues to speak. “You’re rich. Expensive clothes… shouldn’t have worn those here. Gets messy. Be careful.” he tells you. And with that, you enter the warehouse and heed his warning.

You walk slowly, but with purpose. A chill stabs down your spine as you approach a flight of stairs a group of men are running down. They wolf whistle upon seeing you and it curdles in your stomach. You try to keep your head held high as you climb and follow the sound of that intoxicating bass. Wherever the music is coming from is surely the source of the action, too.

The time of day is indicative of the lighting. It’s pitch black outside and it it’s even darker, still, in the warehouse. Though the moonlight manages to break in through the shattered windows enough to illuminate your path.

There’s a smell that you’re beginning to notice that invades your senses. A potent stench that is so specifically masculine and territorial. It’s sweat. Blood, too.

Once you get to the top of the stairs, there are double doors with a red light bleeding through the cracks. The music is louder, too, as well as the vociferous shouting being contained solely by the big, heavy duty doors.

And now, truly, you worry things have gone too far. The doors part and you slink into the shadows, still approaching without hesitation. You’re scared. God, terrified, really. But the adrenaline keeps you from retreating. There’s one goal you have in mind, and once complete, you can return back to your peaceful, suburban life.

A man holds the door as he waits for a friend to leave with him. You watch them walk away together, bragging about their earnings before you slip inside inconspicuously.

The red light contrasts from the rest of the building. And you think your retinas might explode from the change, you don’t let it divert your attention, though. But it’s hard to deny how distracted you are.

As the atmosphere has changed you begin to feel heady from the scent of sweat and testosterone. You do your best to continue undetected as you try to keep to the edges of the crowd. But a few eyes find you. Nudging and laughing when they see a woman, God forbid, enter their sacred male space. You notice there’s no malice mostly. It’s more leering and ogling despite doing all you can to not give them any attention or feed into their sex drive.

But you scream.

Scream could even be an understatement as you feel a tight squeeze on your upper arm flesh yank you away from the crowd and into the background of the room. Your adrenaline seems to die the instant one red eye matching the ambient lighting filling the room like a brothel in a red light district stare into yours.

Half of his face is covered by some sort of black mask.

Protecting his battle wounds, you assume.

There are a few laughs and stares before they’re pulled back to the main attraction. There’s a feeling of embarrassment rushing through you, but you can barely dwell on it as you look up at the man who had dragged you away so carelessly.

He’s easily the tallest man you’ve ever met. At least 6’5 and towering above you like you’re a puny child as you try and stand confidently beneath him. But the little gasp you emit when he bends down to whisper in your ear gives you away, instantly. He smirks, knowing just how scared you are. He knows just how worried you are and how out of your depth you are.

“And just what is a fragile little thing like you doing in my club?” he asks, a tantalising lilt in his words that would have your knees folding like outdoor furniture if you didn’t have one reason and one reason alone for being here. He pulls away from your ear, an intimidating glare staring back at you as he waits for an answer. “You don’t look like you can fight. Not that I’d allow it, anyway.” he tells you.

“I’m looking for someone.” you blurt out, unsure if you should have said that or kept it to yourself. It’s too late, now, and you see a sadistic smile transform his ravenous expression into one of sheer entertainment.

“Oh? Don’t tell me you’ve got a boyfriend you’re worried about fighting here.” he laughs, and it doesn’t go unnoticed how his eyes move from your face to your breasts. They’re covered, entirely. The decision to wear a turtleneck for work has come back to bite you as the sweltering heat feels enough to knock you unconscious.

It’s suffocating.

He isn’t really looking at your tits, however. His eyes instead seem to hone in on the silver necklace you’re wearing. And you can see how his eyes squint as he tries to think of anyone fighting here who’s initial begins with M before letting his dirty mind race at the thought of the letter slipping between your cleavage had you opted to wear something a little more revealing.

“You look like a cop, sweetheart. Not a good place for you to be all by yourself.” he informs you. A cop? You hadn’t even thought about how you’d stand out in that way. “I don’t need the fuzz poking around here, what do you want?” he asks, his voice a little more pointed and venomous as he raises your necklace with a single finger to toy with it.

If you weren’t so frozen in fear, you would have backed away and hid your necklace down your sweater. But you were scared, statuesque. The only movement you were able to perform was moving your lips.

A pretty trait for you to possess, he thinks.

“My brother is here, I think.” you tell him, calmly, hoping your honesty will earn you some favour in his eyes. His eyebrow quirks as he thinks about you possessing a family resemblance to anyone here. “He’s underage.”

He smiles at that. The pieces suddenly all fall into place as he knows exactly who you’re talking about. And he parts space between you both, grabbing the collar of your white, wool coat and pulling you along with him. The two of you get through the crowd with ease until you’re standing at the front.

A shriek leaves you as the losing opponent hurtles towards you, though your self-appointed escort gets in his way before your clothes can become ruined by the blood that has now smeared on your saviour’s skin. You’re sure he’s thankful that he wore a black vest so that you can’t really see the stains on it. Realistically, he probably doesn’t care, you think.

He wouldn’t be running a fight club if he cared about something as tedious as stains.

As he moves out of the way to reveal the victor, your own blood begins to simmer and spill from you. Megumi raises his arms triumphantly, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground next to the wounded man he’s evidently just beaten to a bloody, unconscious puddle. And you could tear his head off with your bare teeth with the rage that you feel.

But you can’t.

Not when the man who led you here steps into the makeshift ring of people surrounding them and hands him his earnings. And your brother smiles, gratefully, as he accepts and counts it.

“There’s someone here to see you, kid.” he tells him, tilting his head in your direction. Your foot taps against the dirty warehouse floor as you wait for him to notice you. And boy does he notice you. “Oh, are you that scared of her?” he laughs, noticing all of the colour draining from Megumi’s face as he processes the fact that you’re here. That you’re really here.

“The fuck are you doing here?!” he asks, running up to you and attempting to conceal the money as best he can. But it’s too late, you snatch it from his hand and look at him with contempt.

“Me? What are you doing here?! You’re seventeen! You’re not Tyler fucking Durden, Megumi.” you slap him upside the head and drag him away from the crowd. “I’m furious, I don’t even know where to start with you.” you tell him as you approach the heavy doors that are keeping this disgusting little community trapped in the sweaty, blood soaked room.

“Get off.” he shakes himself loose. “I left my stuff in Sukuna’s office.” he announces, leaving before you give him permission. You huff, following him up the steel stairs as you continue your onslaught of verbal abuse and anger at his sheer stupidity.

He should see a doctor, really. But you worry he’ll get in trouble if the police get involved. And he might end off worse, still, if he rats out this place and gets everyone else in trouble. It’s too much, you know you’ll have to cover for him.

You could cry, now. But you aren’t sure if it’s anger or genuine upset. And honestly, you don’t want him to see you cry over this. Weakness is not something you need him to see right now, you want to keep it together. You’re his guardian and you can’t be soft with him just because he’s your brother.

He picks up his gym bag from a locker in the room. Your eyes are laser focused on him, all of the trust you felt towards him is long gone. And now, you aren’t sure if you’ll ever be able to take your eyes off him again.

“Megumi… how did you even get involved with this?” you ask him, earning nothing more than an infuriated grunt as if you have no right asking. How dare you care about him and his wellbeing when you’re all each other have? You want to scream, to fucking scream at him for being such an idiot. “I thought you were getting bullied at school. I asked you if—”

“Drop it. Can we just go?” he asks.

“Tsk.” you kiss your teeth. Your gaze suddenly stolen as the man you can only presume is Sukuna walks into the office like he owns the place. He does. You close the distance between yourself and Megumi as his sadistic boss sits on a comfy looking chair behind an old battered desk. “Give me your phone. Go wait in the car. Do not go anywhere.” you warn him as you hand him the car keys.

He sighs, placing his phone in your hand before turning to leave. You don’t look at him, though, too focused on Sukuna to even pay him any mind.

Your blood continues to boil, bubbling under the surface of your skin as you look at Sukuna. A smarmy smirk plastered on his face as he kicks his feet up onto the desk. So, Megumi leaves. He knows better than to push you when you’re this pissed.

“Before you start, princess,” Sukuna stands back up and circles around the desk. Your eyes vibrate with fury as you watch him, backing up as he gets too close. “I didn’t force him to do this.”

“Don’t call me princess.” you tell him, shutting down the cutesy pet name in an instant the minute you get an opening to speak. You rest you hand on your hip as you point at him furiously. It’s rude, you know it’s rude, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Not after seeing your little brother like that. “He’s just a kid. I don’t want him involved in this stuff, I’m trying to be a good role model and you’re fucking everything up. He’s not coming back, ban him.”

“Fuck no.” he chortles. “He might be a kid but he’s good. I pay well. ‘n I like him, I do. He’s a moody little brat but he makes me laugh and earns me a shit ton. I’m not banning him for you. Or anyone.”

“Maybe I should call the police, see what they have to say about all of this.” you threaten, immediately regretting it, when the smile drops from his face and is replaced with something akin to bemusement. He hadn’t expected you to threaten him. But the incredulous stare is soon replaced by another smile.

“You wouldn’t risk getting Megumi in trouble… nice try though.” he speaks, leaning back against his desk and crossing one ankle over the other as he folds his arms. He’s thinking. Genuinely thinking of a way to compromise. “What do you do?”

“I’m… a doctor.” you tell him. Earning a set of raised eyebrows and an amused scoff as he looks you over once more. He supposes it explains the fancy clothes and snooty attitude.

But—

“You’re too young to be a doctor, aren’t you?” he wonders.

“I’m a primary care physician.” you tell him. He nods in understanding, but you’re confused now. You shake away his questions and his interest in you before staring at him again with intent. “This needs to stop. I’m not going to call the police but I’m not letting my brother come back here, it’s too dangerous. He’s a child.”

“He’s a man, you’re babying him. He made three grand tonight, he’s earning money and staying out of trouble because he has an outlet for his anger.” Sukuna tells you. The amount of money he’s made surprises you, and you’re holding it in your coat pocket right now. He’s going to be down $100 after you take it out of his earnings, though. But still. Even you can’t deny that it’s impressive. “Stuck up princess. Snooty doctor. Think you can come in my fuckin’ club and tell me what to do? Fuck that.” Sukuna claims.

He doesn’t say anything else as he waits for you to speak. But, truthfully, you’re still thinking about Megumi. The fact that he needs an outlet for his anger is worrisome. You’ve tried to get him to see a therapist, but he isn’t interested in the least.

It’s been hard being a single parent to him when you’re too selfish and irresponsible to even look after yourself, let alone a teenage boy. He probably thinks you’re useless. You have no control over him, really. All you do is make sure he’s fed and has a place to sleep and get his school work done.

But after discovering this, you’re sure he hasn’t even been bothering to attend school.

“Oi.” Sukuna speaks, stealing your stare again as you’re finally brought out of your troubled gaze. “You’re a sheltered little princess, aren’t you? A place like this is just full of scum to you.”

“I don’t care about this.” you laugh, minimally, not really seeing the funny side but you have nothing else to offer by way of expression. He hesitates a little, seeing the defeated look in your eye. “The injuries and psychological damage these places can cause…”

“Not everyone’s got a fancy college education like you, girl.” he tells you, patronisingly, as if you don’t know that. But he doesn���t let you interrupt. “Some people need a quick buck to get out of trouble. Other’s like the thrill. But who the fuck are you to come into my club and tell us all we’re wrong? Comin’ in here in your doctor clothes… looking down your nose at us.”

“That’s not—”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what you’re doin’, sweetheart.” he continues. “You get to sit behind a desk all day and tell people what pills to take to feel better and then go home to your cosy house in the suburbs without a care in the world.”

“Don’t fucking patronise me.” you warn him, though you don’t have the muscle or means to back it up. He reminds you a lot of how your dad used to be. You didn’t particularly take shit from him, and you certainly won’t be taking it from Sukuna if you can help it. “If you’re letting a seventeen year old walk away with three grand, I’m sure you’re making a lot more money than I am behind my desk. I work hard. You’re lining your pockets from other people’s pain.”

“Only a little,” he smirks at that, knowing you’re right but not entirely. “I fight. I bleed.”

And you scoff. It’s so fucking archaic and you can’t help but pace around with your hands on your hips as you try and decide where to even start with that. What can you say, really? Congratulations? No, definitely not. You stop in your tracks as you realise how close he is to you, now, deciding he wanted to close the gap between the two of you while your mind was elsewhere.

You breathe a little heavier as you fall backwards onto the couch behind you while he towers above you. His eyes rake over your body as he drinks you in. The slight fear lingering below the surface, shrouded by a cloud of false confidence as you do all you can to not succumb to his intimidation.

His arms almost cage you in.

Almost.

He’d let you free yourself if you tried to escape.

But you aren’t trying.

You’re just staring into his eye.

And he likes that.

“Watch me.” he orders. The sentence is soft but with a hard, seductive edge. It’s an offer despite it sounding like a command. You aren’t sure what he’s asking you to watch but your heart rate is imploring you to decline, whatever it may be. He tilts his head, it’s barely noticeable, and somehow you do notice. You notice the way his eye flits from your eyes to your lips. Not once, multiple times. He has no shame, he doesn’t care that you know he’s looking. He doesn’t act on it, anyway. “Watch me fight.”

“Pardon?” you ask, instantly. Bewildered that he would even dare to dream that you’d do something so idiotic. Your brother is waiting, patiently, for you to take him home. Unless he’s stolen your car, of course. But you’d like to think he knows he’s in enough trouble than to do something so stupid.

“You’ve never seen a fight. Watch the best at work, you might change your opinion. Watch me.” he repeats.

He watches as your eyes glaze over with a watery sheen, smirking. There is a breeze left in the wake of him quickly freeing your body from his caging arms and heading towards the entrance to his office. Your breathing is intense and your hands begin to shake. You think to text Megumi and check he’s okay, before remembering that you have his phone.

You look over your shoulder to see Sukuna leaning over the railing. He’s yelling about something but your ears are ringing in your confusion. The music isn’t helping, either. You look down at your phone to check the time, not even really taking it in before you place both Megumi’s and your own in each of your pockets.

Sukuna returns, entering with a cool swagger before leaning on the edge of his desk again.

“You’ve got ten minutes to decide.” he tells you.

Decide?

You’ve already decided. There’s no way you’re sticking around to watch him beat someone within an inch of their life. Or vice versa if his opponent proves to be too much. But with his physique and confidence, you doubt he’ll lose. And almost as if he’s read your mind, he smirks.

“I’m going to win.” he informs you, a cocksure grin saturating his lips as he drinks in your reaction to his words. You cross a leg over the other and fold your arms, still determined to remain and appear defiant as you listen to him. He can sense you’re weakening resolve, though. “I always win, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” you remind him, and he tuts in response. You can’t tell him what to do. You can try, but he won’t listen. And he hears the wavering in your words. Your desire to appear cold and callous towards him crumbling the longer you spend time in such close proximity to him.

“I think you like it.” he tells you, smiling. “Why are you still here?”

“I’m thinking.” you tell him in turn, scowling as you decide whether or not to leave right now or actually think this through. If you leave, you know your pride won’t allow you to change your mind.

“Don’t have all night for you’re thinkin’, doll.” he speaks. “Oh… I know, how about we make a little wager?”

“No.”

“Awe, c’mon, live a little.” he laughs, menially. He smirks as he hears you gasp whilst lifting you up like you’re nothing. He sits you down on his desk and for some reason you find yourself tightly wrapping your legs around his waist. Your chest heaves, panicked from the process. You aren’t sure how that happened and you can’t seem to shake any of it away. Not when your fingernails are digging into his biceps and your lips are ghosting each other’s. What is he doing? “How about if I lose, I’ll tell Megumi he can’t come around here anymore.”

“You said you’ll win.”

He smirks, at that. Scarred hands nip and grab at your entirely covered flesh. He wishes he could just rip the material off you right here, right now. But he wouldn’t feel right about sending you to your car in torn clothing, telling your little brother exactly what kept you busy for so long.

“That, I did…” he speaks as if recollecting an ancient memory. But he looks at you, eyes traversing your body again. “So what—”

“’m not betting with you. I know you’re gonna win.” you tell him, moving your head back slightly so your lips are no longing tracing each other. Instead, you’re looking at him intently. “You’re just trying to get me to agree to something that I won’t be able to back out of. ‘m not stupid.”

“No, you’re not stupid.” he agrees. He tucks some hair behind your ear and grabs your chin so that you can’t break your stare from his own. “I know we both want the same thing right now, though. That pride will do you no good, y’know.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” you lie, feigning ignorance as the heat between your legs begins to pool and seep into your panties. You hope he doesn’t notice. God you hope he doesn’t fucking feel it. You hope that your trousers will protect you, the fight should be starting soon. “I’m taking my brother home… but I hope you enjoy your little fight.”

“You’re not going anywhere or you would have left already.” he tells you, matter-of-fact. “The things I could say… I’m gonna say it all after I win.”

“I won’t be here. ‘n I’m not giving you my number.”

“You’ll be in the front fucking row watching me.” he sneers.

You inhale a sharp breath as he forcefully moves your head. A finger hooks into the collar of your turtleneck, lazily pulling it downward to reveal the bare skin of your neck. His lips are close, breath dancing over the expanse of your skin. It’s a battle to withhold the shudder that is creeping through your veins. It makes your eyes water, a tear threatens to spill but you refuse to let it. You weld your eyes shut as he continues to torment you, and they appear even more watery when you open them again. The way your body trembles is harder to mask, though it’s nearly imperceptible as you accept you need to release it. All you can do is hope that he hasn’t noticed.

But he does.

The intensity of your breathing increases as you think he might kiss your neck. Your eyes flutter shut in preparation, but all he does is tease. And when you feel a near empty chuckle fan across your neck, your eyes widen once more.

“It’s time, princess.” he tells you, pulling away completely. He doesn’t wait for you to respond, heading towards the exit to his office before turning back to face you. “Come.”

And like you’re a voice activated toy, you follow him. He quick steps down the stairs while you struggle in your heels. You cling to the railing as you descend, and he waits patiently for you at the bottom.

He’s agnate to a God in this warehouse. You see how people respect and admire him as he enters the room. People part for him so that he can walk through with ease with you in tow. You’re really going to watch an authentic fight.

You wonder how different it will be in comparison to movies. You’re scared, shaking, but part of you is telling you that you need to see it. You need to see the state that Megumi could one day end up in if you don’t scold him correctly.

“Should I go easy on him, sweetheart?” he asks, loud enough for the crowd to hear. “She’s going to decide your fate tonight, listen up.” Sukuna tells his opponent. You want to kill him yourself for drawing everyone’s attention to you. You struggle to find words, mouth drying every time it opens.

“Just… don’t kill him.” you shrug. “But don’t get yourself killed, either.”

He laughs, shrugging his shoulders too. Neither of them look scared, though you suppose that’s the point. Neither of them would be doing this if they didn’t think they could win. They wouldn’t be here if they were afraid of getting hurt.

“She wants me to go easy on you…” Sukuna smirks.

You watch, nervously, as they circle around the ring for a while. He looks at you, briefly, as you fiddle with your necklace as you try and occupy your mind.

A ragged breath leaves you as they both lunge at each other. The way Sukuna dodges and weaves away from each and every attempt that should be hitting him is almost like watching a beautiful ballet.

It’s art, here.

Between these walls and amongst this audience. It is a true art form that is celebrated and enjoyed. The casualties don’t matter, not even a little. Everyone is a willing participant, even you, now. You could have left but decided not to.

It’s for Megumi, you tell yourself.

You need to be better and act better for him. And you can’t possibly do that without the knowledge of how truly dangerous this can be.

But now, seeing it for yourself, you’re starting to understand.

Sukuna is strong. Heavy fists affix themselves to his opponents face again and again until he’s on the ground. Blood pours from the man’s nose and you think he might suffocate from lost teeth and gurgling blood pooling in his throat.

And Sukuna… he’s been starved of this.

You start to think that maybe he doesn’t fight as regularly as he claims. It seems too easy for him, now. No one can beat him, so what’s the point? But he has missed this feeling. The feeling of seeing blood gush from an adversary who whole-heartedly believed they could take him on.

He takes pleasure in it, violence. Particularly the brand inflicted by him. He profits from it regularly, but this is a rare treat nowadays. He’s happy to sit in his office and let idiots do what idiots do as long as his pockets and wallet fill with each event.

This fight… it was on a whim.

Was it just to impress you?

He straddles his opponent as he repeatedly smashes the same fist into his face again and again and again. And he’s laughing. It’s maniacal, borderline insane laughter as you see blood spatter and clots form and congeal against the poor man’s skin.

And why…

Why are you loving this?

You can practically feel hearts and glitter adorning your eyes as you watch on in horror, unable to turn away. You’re mesmerised by it. You should be ashamed, really, you’re meant to be a doctor.

If you were a good person, you’d be breaking this up. You’d be rushing to the man’s side and calling an ambulance to help him. Instead of watching on in astonishment, you should be doing all you can to keep him alive after such a vicious assault. But instead, you’ve sunken to the balls of your feet so that you can be on their level and watch each and every punch land with excruciating detail. You don’t want it to stop. You could watch this forever.

Watch him forever.

You’re sick.

This is sick.

“Sukuna!” you yell, standing upright again and looking down at him. He stops short of landing one final blow to his opponents bulging and split nose so that he can look up at you. There’s worry in your eyes, and it makes his brows furrow. His eyes squint as he examines you. He isn’t sure how to read you or what you might be thinking. But he realises worry isn’t the only thing lingering behind those glimmering, wide eyes.

Something else entirely resides there that he’s longed to see since the moment he set eyes on you.

“Sorry, I got carried away.” he speaks down to the near dead man beneath him. “Were you done or did you want to keep going?”

“D… Don—”

“Thaaaaat’s great.” he responds to the man’s choked attempt to end the fight. Sukuna jumps to his feet, barely a scratch on him, and walks by you without looking back. You hasten behind him, almost unable to keep up in your stupid shoes. You see a man hand him something before walking away. You scrunch your brows as you look between them both.

Oh, he’s been paid.

He reaches the top of the stairs to his office and holds the door open for you to pass through. You duck by him, hiding in the room like you shouldn’t be there. You shouldn’t. You feel so small and inconsequential when you’re near him.

It’s his height, you realise.

It’s effortless intimidation. He’s a giant and you have to crane your neck just to look up at him when he’s close to you. His giant frame and bulging muscles don’t put you at ease, either. If you make him mad enough, you wonder how far he’d go. Would he use his strength to his advantage? Maybe he’d just take pity on you.

“You’re still here.” he rasps, locking the door behind himself and closing the blinds to the room. He likes the privacy as he counts his money. It excites you, for some reason, to see so much in a big fat wad. He looks up at you briefly before focusing back on it. “You liked it.”

“No.”

“Yeah ya did,” he laughs. You watch him as he collects a heavy looking bag from another locker in the room. It’s different to the one Megumi used. It looks shinier, newer. Sturdier. “I can tell you liked it.”

“Well, I’m going now.” you start, turning to walk away before he stretches out an arm to stop you in your tracks. He walks you backwards until your ass collides into the edge of his desk. He doesn’t pick you up, though. He just sizes you up, slowly, purposefully. And what a pathetic size you are in comparison to him. “Megumi needs me…” you whisper, meekly.

His presence is truly all consuming as he lords above you. You’re trapped between his large frame and the tattered old desk that resides in this seedy office. He could afford something nicer. But what would be the point if the place gets raided?

“We wanted the same thing earlier,” he starts. His voice quiet but commanding, still. You look between his lips and his pressuring gaze. He smiles, at that, he can see the way your mind is running rampant with thoughts of him. The dirty criminal who wants to fuck you on his desk. “Bet ya want it even more now.”

“N-No.”

“Yes.” he argues, placing a bloody hand on your pristine coat and making a mess of it. His hand snakes around to your waist, eventually. You gasp when you feel him tug your body closer to his by your belt loops, grinning as the little noise you make hits his ears. “Stutterin’ over yours words and making pretty sounds for me, sweetheart. Did you get all excited from seeing the blood? Bet ya did… bet you’re wet from seein’ daddy get violent.”

You gulp, heartily, your breathing gets heavier the more he speaks. His words rush straight to your cunt and you can barely ground yourself. The only thing keeping you from floating is your fingers curling around the edge of the desk as he continues to tease you.

“You’re fucking frigid.” he continues. Your eyes begin to water as he undoes the button on your pants and goes to pull down the zipper. You grab his hands to stop him, though it’s in vain. “Why are you so frigid, huh? When was the last time you had a good, hard, fuck?” he asks you, each word dripping like venom in a bid to make you squirm.

“That’s none of your—”

“Stop being such a bitch.” he tells you, slight laughter leaving him as he speaks. “Let me guess… got too occupied with your career, right? Bet you had a long term boyfriend who wouldn’t know how to fuck you properly if his life depended on it. ‘n then you got saddled with the kid… bought a vibrator and a plastic cock ‘n thought that would make do… you’ve never been fucked before.”

“Stop it.” you tell him. You turn your head away but he quickly forces it back with one heavy, dominating hand. “I have to go.”

“Sure.” he agrees, not letting go or moving aside for you to leave.

Nothing is said, not another word. Several beats of silence pass by as you stare at each other. The hypnotic music continues to play outside, though it’s muffled slightly by the locked office door. It isn’t enough to mask how hard either of you are breathing. Panting. Unable to break your stare from each other as the silence, that cogent fucking silence gets louder and louder.

Not another word is spoken as his lips press roughly against your own. You kick off your shoes and he kicks them aside as you continue to kiss him. Your hands are all over his body, grabbing and squeezing his skin as you lose yourself to the feeling of his lips. He forces down your trousers so that they’re resting around your thighs before lifting you onto the desk. You moan, desperately, as he breaks the kiss to fully remove them from your legs.

He lets them fall and kicks them away in the opposite direction of your shoes. The kiss breaks once more as he laughs lightly as your hips begin to rock eagerly for him.

“Knew you were wet for me earlier, y’know.” he tells you, kissing you briefly before deciding to tease you further. “Felt how your cunt was droolin’ when I lifted you on here before.”

“You’re vile.” you tell him, not caring that much as you lock your lips with his again. His attitude, the way he talks, the way he is. It’s all so nauseatingly macho and you thought you were better than this. You thought you knew better and wanted better for yourself. But having it presented so perfectly for you… you were always going to succumb.

“You like it, you like me.” he continues, forcing your snow-white coat down your arms and off your body. The way his knuckles continue to gush blood, you expect the liquid to seep and stain the white material and paint it the same red as his eyes. “Mmmm, I’m right. Why else would you be so wet?”

The air is snatched from your lungs as he pushes your legs apart from each other one at a time. You don’t dare close them as you watch him pull his vest over his head and reveal his perfectly chiselled body in all of its glory. It’s pervasive. It’s gorgeous. You aren’t even sure it’s humanly possible to look this good.

A soft ‘unf’ sound leaves you and you feel him sink his bloody knuckles inside of your panties. Deft fingers swirl and tease around your firm clit, and your mouth seals shut.

“Tell the truth, princess.” he swipes two fingers over your clit at a heightened pace, desperate to coax another utterance of admittance from your soft lips. “You wanna get fingered by a dirty old man. Go on, let me be your bit of rough, sweetheart.”

“Fuck.” you breathe, unable to withstand his filthy mouth. You’re truly powerless to being spoken to like this. Maybe you’re tired of people speaking to you so politely day in day out.

He doesn’t respect you, though.

Right now you’re nothing but a wet, desperate hole, with a pretty face attached.

“Let daddy finger you, yeah?” he asks, and you can’t stop your eyes from filling with water. He thinks it’s adorable. How the mighty hath fallen for nothing more than a few little rubs on your neglected clit. It makes him sick, truthfully, how many precious little things like you go without being touched properly. You’re about to learn, now, just how quickly you can become addicted to a person and the way they touch you.

“I should- I r-really have to go!” you tell him, still so desperate to remain defiant to the bitter end. He knows you’re bound to crumble any second. You’re biting your lip to keep quiet, but it will do you little good. Not when you are instinctively widening your legs for him. Wider than you knew they could go.

He pushes a single finger into you, hissing when he feels just how tight you really are. If he didn’t know better, he’d assume you were a virgin. He presses the heel of his palm against your clit, constantly adding pressure to the needy nub as he continuously pumps and curls his finger in and out of your sopping hole.

“Sukuna! I can’t d-do this, I shouldn’t be here.” you tell him as you wrestle with your guilt.

“This is exactly where you should be,” he tells you. “You’ll feel better when you cum f’me. Maybe you’ll stop being such a stuck up bitch.” he laughs, again, because you don’t dispute it.

No, instead, you lean back and rest your hands on the desk. Your hips roll urgently against his hand, chasing the stimulation to your clit. He looks down between you, tugging at your panties with one hand until you take the hint. You stop rutting against him, closing your legs so he can pull them down without stopping his rough touches.

They come down enough, the white lace dangling on one ankle as he forces your legs apart again. His vision meets your cunt. The way you’re swallowing one finger with ease now calls him to add another.

And you hiss from the stretch, but your humping doesn’t relent. You’re taking his fingers all of the way to the bloody knuckle until your eyes cross from the pleasure. And he grunts, at that, an attempt to conceal the moan lodged in his throat.

He revels in the way your cunt clenches as he allows a glob of spit to drip to your clit. His jaw hangs low as he massages the heel of his palm into it harder. The way you wriggle from his touch is better than any drug he can imagine existing. It’s addictive, seeing a once so proud woman regress to a needy little pet from the touch of a common man.

“D-Don’t stop.” you whisper, unsure of where that even came from. It was entirely involuntary. Your brain begins to fog as he repeatedly batters your g-spot again and again until your vision turns white. “Fuck, fuck! ‘m cumming, Sukuna! Ah- aaah~!” you cry out.

And just as it was getting good. Just as you were about to topple over the edge, he withdraws his fingers.

“You’re a real slut when you get going, aren’t you?” he smiles, landing a wet slap on your twitching pussy. You yelp, but don’t speak. “Barking orders at me like you’re in charge. Remember who’s office you’re in, now. It ain’t yours, princess. You’re spread open on daddy’s desk. Know your place.”

“I’m s-sorry.” you whimper, trying to focus and ignore the aching pulse you feel between your thighs. You need to cum, now. You need him to make you. It’s not fair, you can’t comprehend how close you were before he stopped you from reaching your high. “I’ll be good, d-daddy, just don’t… please don’t stop.” you beg, the title feels foreign on your tongue. But you don’t hate it.

He tuts, slapping your cunt again and again, repeatedly striking until tears spill from your pathetic, wet eyes.

“Fuckin’ love it when you look at me like that. Needy little whore.” he chortles, moving away from you entirely as he goes to grab something. “I’m gonna do something no one else will ever be able to do for you, jus’ because you look so pretty.”

“Wha—?”

“Lose the sweater, now. Wanna see your pretty tits,” he commands, lifting up the bag he grabbed from his locker earlier. “Hurry up. You need to be naked for this, you’ll enjoy it more.”

You do as you’re told, hurrying to strip yourself of the restricting material that has been suffocating you all night. And you toss it God knows where, breathing a sigh of relief as you feel cooler despite the sweaty heat that is trapped in the office with you.

“Good, good girl.” he smirks, unzipping the bag. You brace yourself for whatever he’s about to pull out. Some kind of sex toy, you assume. Knowing his ego, it’s probably a mould of his cock, hoping he can double stuff you.

But he doesn’t pull anything out.

Instead, he tips the bag upside down. There’s no time to think about what horrible things he could be pouring onto you. Because it doesn’t happen. Instead, you’re showered in bank notes. You laugh, excitedly, as you feel a never-ending stream over hundred-dollar bills pour over your body and onto the desk.

Sukuna laughs, too, admiring the sight of you dressed in nothing but money.

His money.

And it’s everywhere.

You writhe around on the desk before looking at him. He pulls down his sweats, hungrily, just enough to free his length. And, fuck, he’s huge. You knew he would be just by looking at the rest of him. It’s a scary sight, but you don’t care. He was right, no one else will ever be able to do this for you.

“Fuck me.” you request, opening your legs for him again. “Want daddy to fuck me stupid.” you finish.

And he doesn’t need to be asked twice. His fingers are shoved between your lips for you to suck as he lines his threatening cockhead up with your throbbing cunt. You’re too distracted by the taste of his fingers to properly react to how he stretches your hole.

The taste of copper stains your tastebuds along with the flavour of your essence. He watches you, intently, as he bullies his cock all of the way to the hilt without remorse. Though he hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath while examining you, panting desperately when he’s fully sunken into your restricting walls.

“Took that like a champ,” he praises you, withdrawing his fingers from your lips and opting to squeeze the sides of your neck instead. “Fuckin’ gorgeous, swallowing me like this.” he smirks, thrusting his hips shallowly to help you adjust. But the composure is lost when he feels how tight you’re wrapped around him. Like you’re claiming what yours as if he belongs inside, buried deep in your cunt to depths no one has been before.

He's yours.

“Fuuuu—” you start, cutting yourself off as you pout and groan through every pummel of his hips against yours. “Daddy! D-aaddy!” you wince, unable to believe how perfectly each vein adorning his cock stimulates you so beautifully. His leaking tip serves as a painful reminder to how irresponsible you’re being to fuck a literal stranger raw.

But you don’t care.

You honestly don’t care as you think about the desperate desire you feel burning between your thighs for him to fill you up like you’re his. To be claimed in such a disgustingly primal way by this behemoth of a man while you just lie there and take it is the only thing higher on your list of priorities than actually getting to cum yourself.

“No one will fuck you like this again, hear me? No one.” he reminds you. And all you can do is nod dumbly as you can’t even find it in you to formulate one word on your tongue to say in response. “Not a doctor, not a lawyer. No one will fuck you in the money they earn like this. And you look so pretty, princess. Knew you’d like it, can act high ‘n mighty all you like, but you like the blood money, don’tcha?”

“Y-Yes.” you barely managed to squeak out.

“Yes what?” he repeats.

“Y-es, daddy,” you pant, forcing yourself to fix your eyes on him as you speak in a feeble attempt to ground yourself. “I l-like the money.”

“Little money slut.” he chuckles, the angle he fucks in you seeming to hit deeper and deeper the longer it goes on. “I should fuck you up against the window, let everyone see how fucked out you are. Hah? Show everyone you’re not such a stuck up princess after all.”

“N-No, please, don’t.” you beg, gasping as he pulls his cock out of you and drags you away from the desk. He pushes your face against the window and you instinctively close your eyes. Your back arches as he slots himself into you from behind, powerless to his body as he starts fucking into you again. And you’re so thankful for the blinds, despite the fact the ridges dig into your skin as he ploughs you. “Fuuuuck, ‘Kuna, fuck, s’big!” you tell him, feeling him deeper still as he hits you from behind.

“I should let them all see what a whore you are.” he laughs, fingers gripping deeply into your sides as he uses you for leverage to pull you down on his length whilst battering into you. “Pretty mouth is droolin’ for me, look like you’re gonna break.”

Your heart begins to race as he reaches for the cord to open the blinds. There’s no doubt in your mind that it’s something he’d do. You brace yourself, preparing to be put on show for all of the lecherous men below to see.

But instead, he picks you up and forces you to bend over the table again. Your feet don’t even touch the ground as rams his cock into you again and again and again.

“Megumi wouldn’t be able to live it down if everyone knew how much of a slut his sister is,” he tells you. “He’d get the shit kicked out of him every time someone described what your face looks like when you cum.”

Fuck, Megumi.

You’d forgotten all about him, waiting in the freezing cold car for you while his pseudo-boss fucks your brains out.

“Don’t,” you huff, “tell him, about this.”

“Of course not, I’ll be your dirty little secret.” he laughs. “You are a vessel for my cum and nothing more.”

You’ve never felt such self-hatred for yourself as those final, scathing words have you cumming violently around his cock. You tremor and shake as you finish, collapsing entirely onto the desk as he continues to plough into you.

“Fuck, fuck!” you cry, feeling even more embarrassment wash over you as you think you might have pissed yourself. But he gasps, amazed, admiring the stream of clear liquid gushing from your cunt drenching him and his money on the floor.

“Awe, baby just squirted. What that your first time?” he laughs, fucking into you harder so that he can follow you along in your bliss. He bends over, his mouth lining up with your ear so he can whisper more of his rendition of sweet nothings into your ear. “You’re shaking ‘cause of me. A-And now, you’re gonna have to drive your little brother home with every drop of my cum in your cunt.”

“Please, please fill me up. Need it s’bad. Wanna be full of you…” you babble, reality still not fully resonating with you as he carries on fucking into you at a brutal pace.

He grunts and moans as he cums deep inside of you. You’ve made some mistakes in your life but this has to be one of the better ones. Despite your healthcare knowledge telling you that you should know better, you’ve never felt so content as you feel him shoot rope after rope of searing hot cum into your womb.

He pulls out, wiping his dick off on your ass cheek before fingering you slowly.

“Keep my mark inside of you.” he utters, forcing you to squeeze your thighs together so you don’t waste a drop while he gathers your clothes for you.

He hands you your underwear first while he keeps looking, and you pull them up quickly. It feels so revolting and lewd as his cum leaks into the seat of your panties. You sigh as you feel the cold letter M on your chest before you can dress yourself.

“I don’t have a first aid kit here.” Sukuna speaks, not looking at you as he hands you the rest of your belongings.

“I’m fine.” you tell him, quickly pulling on your sweater and instantly feeling sick as the warm material meets with your hot, clammy skin.

“I’m not.” he tells you, watching as you pull up your trousers and fasten them in a hurry before slipping into your high heels again. “Bet you have one at home. You’re a doctor, you’ve gotta look after people.”

You eye him up, cautiously, before your expression changes to a smile. “You’re asking to come home with me?” you wonder, pulling on your coat and making sure you still have two phones in your pockets as well as your purse and Megumi’s wad of cash. “But Megumi will—”

“I’ll drive behind you. C’mon, princess, don’t want my cuts do get infected, do ya?” he asks.

You cannot believe you allowed his dirty fingers inside of you. As good as they felt, it was so stupid. You’re sure there’s probably blood stains on your inner thighs because of him.

Though the thought of him all over you makes your cheeks fill with warmth.

You just nod, opting not to speak as you head towards the office door. You walk ahead of him, finding confidence in your strides again. He puts his vest back on and makes sure he’s decent before leaving the office. He watches you leave ahead of him and stops to talk to his favourite subordinate.

“Clean the mess up there. And I’ve counted the money so don’t get cute.” he says, handing the key to the office over before following your path out.

He’s a little surprised how far ahead you’d gotten. Long gone from the building as you approach your car.

The guilt of leaving Megumi alone for so long got to you, he thinks.

“Hi.” you say, simply, sitting behind the wheel of your car and hoping not to have to talk much for the ride home. He’s a moody teenager who rarely has a word to say to you. And for once, you’re hoping it’ll stay that way. You adjust yourself and quickly put on your seatbelt so that you can drive off without another word.

“What took you so long?” Megumi asks, huffing as he looks at you. His eyebrows knit as he sees his bossapproach with a confident swagger. He wonders if he forgot something or he didn’t pay him the right amount.

Sukuna leans into his open window with a shit eating grin on his face. He wants to question it, to question you. But his eyes meet your not so pristine white coat as he turns to look at you again. “Is that blood?” he asks, eyes looking up at you as he waits for an answer.

You look down at your jacket, holding your eyes closed with a sigh as you realise what a nightmare it’s going to be to remove the stains. Megumi leans in closer to you, moving your hair out of the way as he examines you.

“Um…” you mutter, too frozen to even continue starting up the car.

“It’s on your face and neck too. What did you—?” he stops, turning around to look at Sukuna and see if he can fill in the blanks in his mind with any form of answer. But they’re filled, instantly, as his eyes fall to see Sukuna’s bloody knuckles. “For fuck sake.” he speaks, quietly, covering his face with both hands as the revelation dawns on him.

“I’ll be right behind you, lead the way.” Sukuna winks as he walks away from your car and heads towards his own.

You don’t say anything, copying your brother’s action as you both sit in silence and absorb the never-ending supply of cringe filling the atmosphere. Until eventually you decide, this won’t do. Sukuna honks the horn of his Mercedes to signify that he’s ready.

So you start to drive, fleeing the scene while your partner in crime follows behind.

“Fucking good role model you are.” Megumi speaks sarcastically. “I can’t show my face there again. Why do you ruin everything?”

“Nothing happened!” you lie, earning a scoff from him.

“Let me get this straight. You came here to tell me to stop fighting, and then you fucked the man who pays me to do it. So, am I allowed to fight or not?”

“Obviously not, Megumi.”

“You’re a fucking hypocrite.” he scathes, turning his head to face away from you while he sulks. “You can’t tell me what to do after this. Some fucking moral compass you got there.”

“Oh shut up.” you respond, trying to keep a cool head as you continue. “Nothing. Happened. I watched him fight and I hated it, we talked it out and here we are. Stop being so pissy.”

“Why’s he following us home, then?” he wonders, turning to face you and see if he can detect an honest answer or a lie from you.

“He doesn’t have a first aid kit.” you tell him, which is true though it isn’t really an answer. And you feel his green eyes burn into the side of your face as he waits for you to elaborate. “I’m a doctor, he needs his wounds tending to.”

“… Oh my God.” he starts. “Oh my God you actually fucking like him. You’re so embarrassing.” he huffs, pulling a cigarette out of his jeans. He closes the window to light it and opens it again just as quickly. You’ve never liked that he smokes, but you know nothing you say or do will stop him.

Just like the fighting.

And then, you find yourself laughing. Unable to stop yourself as you think about what a stereotypical angsty teen your little brother is. And, God, you’ve made yourself into his biggest enemy just because you care about him. But now… Christ, you’ve gone above and beyond.

“I lied. We fucked. And it was great.” you laugh harder when you see Megumi’s horrified expression the longer the conversation goes on.

“I can’t stand you.” he sighs. “He’s never gonna let me forget this. What is wrong with you?”

“Serves you right, you little shit. Lie to me again and see what happens.” you warn him, your laughter lets up a little as you try and focus on being serious.

You’re never going to be his mother, and you’d never want to be. But what you can be is his big sister. You can be an annoying pain and embarrass him whenever he acts up. But you’ll always be here to take care of him and keep him on the right track when needs be.

“I love you, shit head.” you smile, and he sighs.

“… love you too… bitch.”

© 2023 rinhaler

m.list | chapter two

[roach-works]

i feel like there's a rich vein of SOME kind of ore to mine with regards to the romantic woes of visibly "freakish" and inhuman superheros, especially in silver age comics. like, because of the comics code, the writers could not in-universe admit that some people are really kinky and would absolutely nut in an instant if a gigantic alligator man or a living rock monster or a ten foot tall woman who's on fire gave them a little smooch on the head. like maybe most people in the 70s and 80s had no idea this was the case, either!

but so you end up with these romantic plot lines where some poor freakish superhero with a heart of gold and the skin of, i don't know, a bunch of octopi, is miserable because they'll never find true love, except for a totally normal woman has the power to see their inner heart (which is normal) and fall in love with them for that (normally). villains can sometimes be like 'yeah this chick is super into the fact that i'm an eight foot tall deathbot, we're both evil like that' but ben grimm can't get a date! even blind women are a little concerned that he's literally made out of rocks. it never works out because the writers either can't imagine or can't admit that no matter the freak, there's a bigger, hornier freak who's praying for a chance to shoot their shot.

i don't know. it's just interesting. obviously modern comics can acknowledge a lot more sexual variance than the stuff from fifty years ago, but it's just kinda neat to consider the bizarre limitations a heteronormative paradigm enforces on a population of very strange characters.

and also i feel like in real life ben grimm's DMs would be full of incredibly horny geologists going PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE all day long.

[astralnymphh]

ct; fat fluff warning you might shrivel up and die. no warnings tbh. mentions of previous nsfw activity. ellie being cheesy again someone needs to control her. kinda loser!els coded idk. dinosaur figurines feature.

��� ellie is the goofiest girl during aftersex. past the exhilaration and the exhaust, a small trace of the sun is still left to dance in her veins. reborn and perked up as a puppy prancing in the yard. you could be near knocked out, dazed from your high, and ellie would still unearth ways to make you fall impossibly into love even more. a catastrophic, love-bomb supernova—as ellie might name it.

“—'nd that's when dr. daniela star swooped down and beat the shit out of 'em!” she triumphs in a low voice, her fingers pinched around the plastic body of a tiny, old triceratops figure. smashing it into a still-standing figurine of an astronaut, kindly waving hello. “or.. into them.. hm, been a while since i read those comics..” contemplation tugs her brows.

the scene was beyond loveable; your redheaded angel laid supine at your side, half-bare and half-sweaty, using various action figures from large tupperware time-capsules to demonstrate various scenes from her head. apparently explaining the action of each showdown didn't gain enough recognition from you, so, this is the next best thing—and ellie fucking loves it. a lot. “y'seem to know enough if you're giving a rendition right on my stomach.” the little feet of the figures poke your skin, leaving delicate phantom-marks. “how are you not tired babe?”

“well..” ellie begins a muted 'doot doot doot' sound as the triceratops creeps up the open valley of your sternum, softly stopping at the top. hand stilling. “you keep me awake, honestly.” then, she ditches the tiny plastic figures and wipes them from your belly. the scars of her palm scratch you lightly as it drifts down your chest and settles atop the pouch of your navel, holding you dear. “can't sleep when there's someone so fuckin' pretty..” caressing you with her eyes. rising your pulse with her whispers. “right next to me.”

[exhausted-archivist]

Taash (and by extention Vashoth/the Qunari in general) theory I've been yelling about since 9am when the lore dropped and I'm just now moving all my yelling here...

So Taash breathes fire.

Bull talks about how it is a theory within the Ben'Hassrath that the Tamassrans mixed in dragon blood.

Corypheus tells Adaar that their race isn't even a race but a failed experiment.

Old God Baby Keiran mentions that the blood in Adaar isn't their own.

In the comic Until We Sleep, Magister Titus says that dragonfire might be the Vashoth/Qunari's birthright. He is able to use it due to being powered by the blood of Maric Theirin, which the Theirin bloodline has Great Dragon blood in their veins.

Taash isn't a mage, but just an individual who got access to a lost ability that was previously the birthright of her people. Something that was standard.

My big question is how Taash gained this ability?

Is it a rune?

Is she born from a line that was created using specifically great dragon blood?

Is she a reaver and drinking the dragon blood had the side effect of unlocking the ability?

Or did she just eat enough dragon meat?

As far as the Vashoth/Qunari in general, this implies they are a manufactured race, likely one from Tevinter as they captured the Kossith that landed in Thedas and then proceeded to change them. We see in the murals we find in Inquisition that the horned race was in Thedas long before the Storm Age when the Qunari (those of the Qun) landed in Par Vollen.

Koslun speaks of leaving his homeland, and it is a generic description that easily fits Tevinter in its prime, and would explain why the Qunari came from the north when they sailed into Thedas. And why they continued until recently to keep sending ships back there.

A quick aside I have very nervous feelings on this last part, and it will depend on how they write this reveal. Considering the coding and just the general implications of this. Context and execution are definitely going to impact the landing of this.

[karmathehalflander]

Why both Eddie and Venom are autistic and how the movies are actually a metaphor for neurodivergence

Includes some of my personal headcanons and concepts that I’ve been thinking about and need to share.

BE WARNED!!! This post is a bit long (and also a cringy, rambling, nonsensical mess) full thing under cut.

Some quick notes before we begin: when I have one of their names at the beginning of a section it means anything in that section only applies to one of them. (Idk, I couldn’t figure out how to organize this, you’ll see what I mean)

I don’t know much comic lore, all of this is based off of the movies. Though the movies are a different universe so I don’t think it will matter too much.

Also I use He/They/It pronouns for Venom.

In the end, Im just one guy with a hyper fixation please take everything I say with a grain of salt and feel free to add on or correct me about stuff. Especially if I say anything stereotypical or offensive about nurodivergance/autism a lot of this is based on some personal experience and I absolutely make mistakes and generalizations.

Alright enough of my yapping let’s get to it.

Overall big picture stuff

Applies to Both of them

the whole concept of them being “losers” together is kind of autistic coded. Autistic people are often viewed as incompetent or childish or useless. And I like to think they are connecting over that shared experience.

Noise sensitivity!!! Both of them have noise sensitivity! I probably don’t need to elaborate that much but that one scene in their apartment was some of the best overstimulation representation I’ve ever seen overstimulation guitar scene

Venom

Venom comes across as unfeeling because they don’t emote in a “normal” way.

They’re very blunt and literal.

Venom sometimes has a slightly higher-pitched voice when excited or angry. Which I’m going to attribute to him masking. He wants to appear tougher and scarier. This is important to its species and Venom, who is already perceived as weak by their peers, intentionally deepens his voice a bit to blend in. (This is definitely a headcanon but I love this concept so I don’t care that the real reason is that the voice modifier they use does silly things)

This is also why I think it’s so concerned about Eddie and him “looking bad” Looking weak was dangerous and they trained themself to hide “weakness”

It’s always “How does Venom affect people” and never “What does Venom need and how do other people’s actions affect them”

Venom prefers to express its thoughts and feelings through mental connection with its host and then have that person relay the information to whomever they are “speaking” to. Nonverbal communication!

Venom not understanding humans (social interaction, conventions, etc.) is kind of autistic coded.

Eddie

Edie kind of disregards a lot of social conventions. Still hangs out with his ex-fiancé AND her boyfriend. He also doesn’t seem to mind talking to Venom out loud.

Eddies is just kind of anxious in general.

Eddie struggles to find full time employment.

On that vein, he also struggles to maintain relationships.

Eddie's sense of justice. Eddie has a strong sense of justice and morals that often don’t align with generally accepted values and he follows this view of justice and morality to an absurd degree and it often gets him in trouble. Aka, the entire plot of the first movie is because Eddie has autism.

He wears the same clothes all the time.

Specific moments that I think about

Venom

Venom chewing on the tire swing (they both have oral stims btw)

Sand between his toes. Idk I just thought it was cute and chose to believe they like the sensation.

Say it with me. Tater tots are a safe food!!!

Venom rocks back and forth a lot.

This is a stretch but when Venom is like “look at all these weirdos, my kind of people” it’s a metaphor for him being queer but I’d argue it also kind of fits with neurodivergence. Neurodivergent people often connect with “weirdos” (other neurodivergent people)

Likes organization “Pile of bodies, pile of heads”

Eddie

I’ve been told Eddie chews on his necklace at the beginning of the movie but I can’t find the clip and can’t do a rewatch right now so take that with a grain of salt… (I chose to believe this happened though. Also his bracelets are stim heaven)

When he says “Oh, I have a parasite” to Mrs. Chen he had no clue what to say here. He just said the first thing that came to mind and panicked instead of explaining.

Also the way he says things funny. Ex: “✨It’s a treeeee✨” supa, supa, fhasstt” “Heee…. has. one. up. hi’s. Ass toooooo” “ET. Phone home. Aliens? 😃” I chose to believe they are vocal stims (I also attempted to find a compilation but I couldn’t find any. Maybe I’ll make one sometime)

Eddie also makes sound effects a lot.

Eddie writes notes on pen and paper instead of digitally.

He apologizes an excessive amount. Like he says “I’m sorry” to people actively trying to kill him. Which is so real.

“I just bit that guys head off” “I, uhhh, yea I’ve been there it’s not fun” 😕

Eddie also rocks back and forth. Which can be seen in this scene

Quick segment into why I think Venom was rejected by other Klyntar (it’s because he has autism)

Venom doesn’t adapt as quickly or as efficiently as other Klyntar. It doesn’t handle change well.

All of the normal Klyntar weaknesses are turned up to 1000 with them. Instead of just certain frequencies, the range that hurts him is larger and is also affected by loud noises. As shown by: “Venom” car alarm scene

instead of just fire, heat also bothers it. Also doesn’t adapt to light well. (Just a headcanon)

Can’t create weapons out of their body like other Klyntar. struggles with “simple” skills.

Much more emotional than other Klyntar and develop attachments (also purely a headcanon)

Just overall didn’t fit well into their society.

Just headcanons

Venom and Eddie are so compatible because their brains work the same way.

“I wish I could just mentally project my thoughts and feelings directly into your brain. Oh wait, we can do that!”

Venom also has temperature sensitivities. He gets hot.

Venom likes to stim to low key music, mainly jazz and lo-fi. Does the one song on repeat for three hours to wring all the happy chemicals out of it like a dish rag thing.

Venom also absolutely loves cheesy pop music (unrelated to anything here but I’m right and I needed to include it)

Venom functions as a weighted blanket for Eddie when he’s anxious. Maybe even hides under his shirt and stuff and becomes an extra weight.

Eddie stims with his jewelry.

Venom likes to sit in the freezer. Sometimes they visit Mrs. Chen's walk in just to chill (lol)

Purely my opinion but I think Venom also has some light sensitivity for a bit because it’s not used to being in such a bright environment. He gets used to it eventually but every once in awhile he finds the city lights overstimulating.

They are both very tactile. Touching things. Love a good texture.

Venom is super particular about food for someone who eats out the garbage but certain textures and flavors drive them crazy.

Venom hates vegetables. (Except for celery because it likes the crunchy and stringyness of it)

How all of this makes for a great metaphor!

Feeling like an alien in the world is probably the most relatable thing for a lot of nurodivergent people. Like there’s a manual for being human you don’t have. And just the concept of a literal alien showing up and struggling to navigate in a world not made for it is so relatable!

The way they both immediately connect to each other because they have the same weird brain stuff and weren’t accepted by their respective societies is so adorable and wholesome.

“We’re not so different, you and I” This line lives rent-free in my mind at all times. It’s my favorite quote. I think it perfectly encapsulates their relationship and why it’s special. They have autism and are bonding because the other is the first person who truly understands them! (Cries, screams, throws up)

In conclusion

They are in love and have autism. And they cling to each other because they are the first people to truly understand each other. Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

Also I listened to UFO by Smith and Thell on loop while writing this. It’s very autistic symbrock coded so give it a listen if you’re a fan of inde-pop.

[jasontoddenthusiastt]

I think fans want Jason to be a good person or be becoming one. To have a character that is well meaning and compassionate but decided murder is ok and to stand against main heroes who’s beliefs and actions go against the people he cares about and wants in his life. It’s confusing for people. People want their fav characters to be happy. But Jason can’t have his family’s support and follow his moral code. He’s cares about people and Gotham, and he’s an asshole who kills. It’s messy. It’s not black and white. I don’t even think Jason cares about being a good person or in the right anymore. I think he cares about what will save the most people instead.

Oh my goodness gracious I’ve been bamboozled

Batman’s definition of Good is not synonymous with absolute good/right no matter how much dc insists it is. Torture, battery/assault, surveillance, those are all condemnable actions too. I won’t get into the exhausting and frankly dumb debate of comic book morality wrt killing because I’ve already reblogged plenty of posts from other people who explained my thoughts on the matter far better than I ever have the patience to sit down and articulate. I also just think the notion that there’s something to be done about fictional characters who kill nazis and senseless murderers is stupid. Jason’s point is that the “main” heroes’ sanitized definition of right has its unaddressed holes and flaws which ultimately result in more preventable fatalities, and that he’ll work to correct those missing spots.

He doesn’t not care about doing what’s right. What he doesn’t care about (at least during his Winick characterization) is whether Batman thinks he’s right or wrong, because he sees the flaws in Batman’s methodology (and since he has a mind of his own). Batman’s methods alone cannot address Arkham’s revolving door and the rogues that come and go through those doors who have no intention (or capability from the doylist pov) of ever changing or undergoing redemption. Jason knows that he’s minimizing the number of preventable deaths by killing his targets, typically Characters Who Simply Do Fucked Up Shit Just Because, Why The Fuck Not?

Secondly, Jason is compassionate … to a fault. That was his fatal flaw. If he wasn’t so hell-bent on saving his potential birth mother he just met from that bomb despite everything she did to him prior, he could have protected himself instead, however slim his odds of survival were. What about his relationship with his other parents? He was a caregiver during his early childhood years for Catherine, until her death. Even mature adults who are financially stable find being a caregiver to a dying parent to be extremely burdensome on their bodies and minds, but he never complained about it or resented Catherine for being unable to care for him. Despite how none of his parents have really been what he needed them to be, he doesn’t blame them for their failings, and even continues to think highly of them (Bruce included).

And post-death? Enter Lost Days. Despite being dead set on plotting his revenge on Bruce, he constantly sidelines this in order to save other victims who are helpless like he once was. His own anger, trauma, and mission don’t remain his priority. (Sound familiar? Something something my own trauma above my son’s, mission above all else, etc.). Why would he waste precious time and risk his own life to do this if he wasn’t empathetic towards these victims or didn’t care about doing the right thing. He is simultaneously horribly traumatized and full of rage, and also incapable of ignoring what’s happening to victims around him (even as he claims that it’s indeed not his priority). And in that same vein, the entire premise of his rebirth outlaws run was that he doesn’t care if the public views him as a villain, an outlaw, so long as he can protect Gotham. And anyway where is this portrayal of him not caring about being in the right anymore. Almost every modern Jason story is about him grappling with where he stands with Bruce/Batman. During the early 2000s was probably the last time he did not care (hello, tentatodd??).

Jason has very evidently been portrayed as a kind and compassionate character. He is also simultaneously a calculated killer who doesn’t hesitate to kill when he deems necessary, and does so without remorse. It’s called being a Complex Character With An Edge™ that as you said, people so often claim to love. However when he fulfills that latter part, that seems to upset people because “killing bad”, and they then try to shave off and round out all his edges and claim he shouldn’t be that angry. In that case I guess you should just stick to liking traditional one-dimensional characters instead of claiming to like Jason but then encouraging his character assassination attempt by dc. Lol.

Lastly, who said anything about the batfam making Jason happy? Just because he’s written nowadays to want acceptance from Bruce (a shoddy attempt at forcing a non-existent nuclear batfamily), doesn’t mean that it’s a sound decision or that it does his character justice. I certainly don’t empathize with the idea that Jason needs the family’s approval or acceptance to be happy. (And anyway he has enough outlets for angst and pain aside from the batfam hello explore his other sources of trauma and do more deep dives into how he thinks when he’s alone). I don’t want them to magically make up and become one big happy family. This is not disney Lol. Besides, there are plenty of stories from dc that have that type of “wholesome” (hate that word utilization) characterization for Jason (Li’l Gotham, Tiny Titans, wfa, and even new stuff like the brave and the bold mini) and that is sufficient imo. Jason fans who are invested in the character deserve accurate, nuanced characterization and well-written stories, whether they be from his robin days (e.g., Batman: The Cult) or as red hood.

[doveissummerstuck]

PAGE 1-10 ACT 1

we here chat

Ok this begins now,,,

The iconic a young man stands in his bedroom he really do be standing tho

but thats literally his name guys!!! and I got insulted,,, so sad literally cries

yeah ok pal,,, im still gonna call you zoosmell pooplord,, :/ anyways first character of the comic he's really silly guys look at that goofy smile bro is literally 8D

ok so first the room,, we sharin a bday ,, pretty cool next the fucking cake on the drawer..for what purpose john,, ok next the bed,, banger I love his sheets next the hot male above his bed,, smash /hj next the hammer and nails on the floor??? PICK THAT UP JOHN!!!!!!!!!!!!!! chest go hard tho but why there a cake on it

yeah i can tell about the cakes,, I can tell johnny boy,, o em gee programmaer u nerd (i code for a living) I <3 paranormal lore yall,, and good for u as a magician but fuck dat have to do with the nails and on the floor and the cake on drawer,,,wait bars

i didnt even notice he didnt have his arms what (homestuck brainrot)

dumbass pooplord antics /lh

yea do that remove that oddly placed cake

WHY THE FUCK DID IT TURN BLUEBERRY ....

i would NOT do that ( i would absolutely do that) but I wouldn't put it on his bed,, I've eaten cake in bed to many crumbs :/

get yo arms my manz you you you armless

what the fuck,, WHY ARE YOU HOKDLING UR OWN ARMS,, also why the photo in the chest look like his dad

and they disapereadd with the captachalogeu

oh they fake ik that ( no I didnt) now get up to some silly antics my boy ,,, bruh is a captachaloguemaxxing syalldex sigma 😹 (sorry) anwyas look at the other items

first we got arms

next we got beans???

next we got ultimate silly antics disguise

a book titled Colonel Sasacare's Daunting text and Magicl Rivorioli and Practical Japripory

next we have a book titled wise guy

next we have a sword that looks like its made of white bamboo

a wizard hat that matches the chest

handcuffs

and more beans???????????????????

oh,, ik that tottally, :3 i mean i got most of them right ,, but tf is a beagle puss is that what its called,,, anyways

bro only got 4 lilttle logue thingies bruhh

isnt vernaclaur a vein or something what

yeah bro and u have 2 cakes pls put 2 AND 2 TOGETHER

this is finna be good!!!

ion think bro can equip it

knew he couldnt equpi it,, call me vriska cause I'm pyshcic (that joke made no sense sorry) ,, bro got the worst fecth modus every bro cant access shit,,, bros room finna be looking like he just got passed the blunt,, STACK DATA STRUTCTURE??? nerdy ass fetch modus bruh,, (I love the name) bro I find it puzzling and mildly irritating too bruh oml,,, "but with any hope" but with any hope.. but wwith any hope? but wvith any hope? but wvwith any hope?

sorry yrall ampora moment [the last 1 is my ampora oc guys :::::::;) ]

ok imma shut up now good night or good morning ,, imma contiunwe this later,,

[sevensoulmates]

A bit bummed buddie is going canon on such a short season but the writers are doing an awesome job (and you guys have waited long enough I just got here lol) so I’m stoked!!! There’s some much potential for fun storylines here I’m so excited!! What are some storylines you’d like to see once they are together? Could be comical or more series

Well, I mean I guess it depends on what your definition of "canon" is. To me, based on the last episode alone, they're already canon (meaning it's basically irrefutable to me that they're going to eventually be in a relationship or be endgame). If by canon you mean "starting a relationship" I actually don't think that's going to happen this season. I think it'll be next season at the earliest. I do have faith that now that the writers/creators are getting a bit more freedom, they're first going to put Buck and Eddie through the personal arcs they need to go through first. For Buck, realizing he's bi and feeling more secure in who he is as a person. For Eddie, realizing he's lived with comphet his entire life and finally accepting who he is and finally living his life in a way that will actually make him happy.

Once they've done that then they'll be able to get them together.

Some things I'd like to see:

-(This might be unpopular but) I want the sperm donor stuff/ Connor/Kameron to come back up. I want Buck to reckon with that choice he made, and truly recognize that he's been a father figure to Chris this whole time. I don't need the baby to be in his life, but just a reference or even a run-in with Connor/Kameron. Something to put a bookend on that storyline now that Buck is settled with Eddie/Chris.

-Chris wants to learn to drive/get a license, and Eddie + Buck have to navigate that worry together

-My heart's biggest desire is for them to just work side by side like normal but just have more small moments that very obviously are indicators that they're together (something along the lines of the scene where Eddie suddenly knew a bunch of fun facts about Goat Yoga, or the scene where they're just chatting while they patched up the dude who broke his leg in the fire at dispatch). Scenes where they work in sync together, but maybe before something dangerous, they share looks or have a private code that means be safe.

-in the same vein MY KINGDOM for Buck and Eddie to have a scene like Bathena had in 2x01 where they meet up between the firetrucks and one of them pushes the other up against the side of the truck and kisses him. My entire life would be made.

-I would like a storyline where Buck gets to meet Eddie's family from Texas a little better. I don't believe that there wouldn't be conflict with them (maybe not straight-up homophobic but I just can't imagine Helena accepting it all so easily. I just know she'd be a queen of microaggressions). I DESPERATELY need Eddie to stand up for himself to his mom in particular.

-(this would be very far in the future) but I want Buck to eventually go out for fire captain. I think he would be a great fit and I think it'd be very interesting for them to have to adjust to such a big change in their work dynamic after X amount of years.

-a motherfucking WEDDING. And I don't want it to be a small thing like a backyard wedding, or a courtroom wedding, or an elopement in the hospital or something. It doesn't necessarily need to be HUGE but I would like a semi-traditional wedding. Idk why but I have a MIGHTY NEED to hear Buck and Eddie's personalized vows to each other and I NEED to see them have their first dance. Honestly, I take back the traditional wedding thing. As long as I get to hear every word of their vows and see them slow dance, they could do it at the firehouse or a dumpster for all I care.

-I'd be interested if Shannon's relatives show up and want to be a part of Christopher's life or something. Or even like, just want to visit him but Eddie's unsure because it brings up bad memories and stuff. I'd be interested to see Shannon's relative's reaction to Eddie with a man.

-OOHOOHOOH EDDIE CHILDHOOD SCENES a la Buck Begins. I want to see what he was like when he was younger to see how much of him has changed since he had Chris, since he went to the military, etc. Dear God I want an Eddie Begins Again.

That's all for now! I gotta make my drive home!

[system-of-a-feather]

At this point in our recovery, I'm comfortable listing this, but the fictional sources we have introjected from at any point:

Riku (Kingdom Hearts)

Dark Riku (Kingdom Hearts)

Repliku (Kingdom Hearts)

Data Riku (Kingdom Hearts)

Riku Again, but Generalized and to the Left (Kingdom Hearts)

Riku AGAIN, but Generlized and to the Right (Kingdom Hearts)

Hollow Ichigo (Bleach)

Redacted (OC)

Redacted (OC)

Yut Lung (Banana Fish)

Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer)

Eva Roux (Code Vein)

Redacted (OC)

Redacted (OC)

Ray (Our System, not fictional but has to be added in here for lels)

I feel like I'm missing one - probably from the branch of XIV's fused parts cause dude has so fucking much, and I guess a hypothetical short lived Nero (DMC5) introject.

But I just really had to make this post cause its fucking funny how our brain just kept printing Rikus

Redacted (OC) are just because I prefer to lean on keeping those more on the private end since two of them are from a story I plan to turn into a comic and the other two I'm keeping with consistency.

This post is more than ok to make light hearted jokes about, this post in itself is a light hearted joke.

[skaruresonic]

Hey! I just read your post about creating visual novels (this one: https://www.tumblr.com/tartrazeen/759072677603524608?source=share)

I'm trying to make one right now. I'm not too sure which tool I should use - I was thinking RPG Maker so I could use the little sprites - but I figured I could do stick people or something as placeholders for actual artwork.

No matter what tools I use, how exactly did you go about "writing" it? Did you script your story out first and then learn how to program it after, or did you need to know how the program worked to tailor your story to that?

I learned to code in tandem with writing the story. It's moreso the case that the writing evolved in the process of learning how to code, began to mold itself to the medium, if that makes sense. Personally, if I had to do it over again, I would take the time to acquaint myself with RenPy's particular scripting language, as it might have made the process a lot faster and less... growing pains-y. I would recommend learning to code first, but again, it doesn't make much sense to make a test VN without a story to support it, so maybe make something small for your first test project where you get to grind for XP commit mistakes in a space where your art isn't riding on it. People make silly test VNs that never see the light of day for the specific purpose of teaching themselves coding, so don't feel afraid to do that. Writing VNs differs from writing other stories in a way that's difficult for me to explain. You have extra tools in which to deliver the story, and it takes time to learn those tools - telling stories not just with words, but with timing, animation, audio, and images as well. You'll find that it isn't enough to simply have images pop up onscreen; you'll want to make them appear with a flourish, and those flourishes also tell a story. The UI tells a story. How you make elements appear and disappear contribute to the overall story. When you think of everything as a potential contributor to the story, that opens up a lot of possibilities and gets you thinking with portals creatively. In that vein, I'd say depending on your angle (because some VNs are just straight-up text, which is valid too), VNs can function somewhat more like movies. They can benefit greatly from an understanding of cinematography.

This might sound weird, given how we naturally tend to think of writing as the most important element - and it is important, just maybe not the only important element - but I think one of the most important things you need to establish right away, even before setting down any words, is a strong aesthetic. As one half of the medium, the visual part of a visual novel cannot be neglected.

What angle are you shooting for? Romance anime? Comic book? Gritty film noir? What are your visual motifs? In addition to helping you decide how to market your VN, the aesthetics will inform your storytelling, give you some concrete image or symbol to latch on, and can serve to subtly reinforce both theme and narrative. For Doki Doki Literature Club, it was the heart and a pen. You'll notice its motif of writing is reflected in the way in which the title resembles a scrapbook:

You and Me and Her has a cell phone as its main McGuffin and so technology becomes one of its motifs. Its textbox resembles a cloud; the text also moves rather slowly, to make you stop and soak in its story. The dreamlike interface later changes into something that resembles an old-school computer UI when a character decides to manipulate your route, reflecting the artifice of the game:

Worldend Syndrome had the pinwheel as a recurring symbol for narrative purposes and is color-coded to represent each of its characters. In addition, it bears a feel-good early summer vibe that I absolutely adore.

The novel I've been reading sporadically on and off over the past year, Hashihime of the Old Book Town, reflects a 1930s Japanese aesthetic, blending traditional Japanese art and literature with Western influences. Note the juxtaposition of traditional and modern elements, like the film reel beside an ink drawing of a koi fish:

It's also brilliant imagery because the game's plot centers around the MC's frequent breaks from reality; the film reel represents exaggerated realities, while the fish reflects how he "jumps" through various parallel worlds through puddles of water.

Everything sort of "trickles down" from there. It doesn't make sense to have a UI befitting a Resident Evil game if you're writing a cutesy otome game, for instance, unless you're aiming for cognitive dissonance.

For OaS I decided early on that, because it was going to be a slapstick comedy in places, the sprites should be more cutesy and cartoonish than the subdued way Sonic characters are usually drawn:

The goofy exaggeration only served to heighten the story's comedy. A "bounce" animation I found and later tweaked served as the basis for a running gag where Sonic gets hurt and "boings" like a rubber ball.

I also liked the Advance series' checkered tiles and wanted to go for a watercolor manga-cover-esque flavor... which, in turn, fed the ridiculousness of the story:

That's a far cry from this current project's aesthetic, which is slower, moodier, more somber, and more, I guess, "erudite," as it's based on Welsh literature and a little on history. So the aesthetic has to match.

Not to say aesthetics should be the only thing going for your story, of course, but because this is a visual medium, it is significant enough to warrant my huge wall of text about it lol. If you're just starting out, I'd recommend grabbing placeholder sprites and backgrounds until you can procure ones of your own. It's perfectly fine to use stick figures, although eventually you will have to start working with finalized pieces since the individual dimensions of your pieces will impact how your code functions.

If it wasn't clear already lol, I work with RenPy. Despite my frequent moaning and complaining, it's probably the easiest program to learn for coding, as it uses its own framework built atop Python. Once you go through the process of learning the syntax, you can pretty much do anything you want with it, as it's infinitely customizable.

Some auxiliary programs I use are FireAlpaca (a free art program that works just as well as MediBang or Photoshop, and even supports animation), Audacity (free audio mixing; can also convert mp3 files to OGG, which is a must since RenPy only recognizes OGG file format) and Notepad for coding.

Btw, all of this stuff you can do for free. Anybody who tells you that you need to pay for fancy programs is trying to sell you something. Don't fall for it lol. As for actually making the thing... My creative process is messy and probably shouldn't be emulated. For lack of a better term, I call it the "dumping everything out on the table" method. First (and note that this step isn't always "completed", it's an ongoing process) I gather all the "raw materials," and then sift through them and play with them until the final product becomes something coherent. The material-gathering includes art, music, and sound effects, which will take some time. I count writing as a "raw material" as well since it can be edited.

From there, the writing and the coding sort of feed into each other. I have to be able to experience the story as the player will experience it, as it's a different experience than when you're staring at a word processor. What will the player feel at this juncture? Does it Hit Different(tm) when I use different wording, or change the song that's playing in the background, or employ a different sprite, or tweak the timing, or use a different animation?

The general rule I try to abide by in this regard is that if it isn't working for me, it probably won't work for the player, either. Put yourself in their shoes, because they're the ones going to be playing it.

Even something as simple as the way you present choices to the player conveys information. Should I offer a choice during this particular scene, or let the moment play out linearly? How many choices should I offer? Do I stick them in a false choice? An infinite loop? Do I hide choices, making the player feel clever for finding them or powerless to stop the narrative? Do I assign variables to choices? Do I disable rollback for choices so the player has to stick with their decisions? If I do have rollback enabled, will I do something with that? What are the consequences of making choice A first, then choice B, if at all? Many things to consider. Sometimes the sheer volume of work can overwhelm you as a solo dev and make it difficult to maintain motivation. Especially since you can't really show off a buggy game the way you would a story excerpt or a rough sketch. Making to-do lists, especially towards the end of the development process when it seems like a million things are screaming for attention, helped me stay on task and break them down into smaller, more manageable chunks. I might not be able to bang out a 20,000-word route in a week, but I can certainly fix a bug that duplicates a character sprite. This is a medium where you have a lot to keep track of, and small details do add up in the end. Crossing tasks off your to-do list provides small wins that add up over time. That's why I decide that certain days are dedicated to specific kinds of work. Some days are for writing, others coding, etc. (Also, RenPy comes built in with its own list function called TODO, although I haven't personally played around with it yet.)

Although OaS technically features choices, thus making it not a kinetic novel in the strictest sense, it's still a very linear novel with only one branching path. There weren't any persistent variables other than the flag which determined your route placement, and it functioned much like an on/off switch. Which is why I have no idea how Random managed to bypass it. xP

This new project, on the other hand, is much less binary in its structure. It tracks seven variables for three different characters and calculates ending eligibility based on the accumulation of those variables. Which, just in terms of sheer coding, is A Lot(tm) to keep track of. I struggle to scale back the scope creep out of fears that a more standard visual novel experience will bore the player. It's likely that if you're playing a visual novel, you're not expecting a hack-and-slash, but ofc that won't prevent the monkey brain from clapping its hands at you like "Your game NEEDS more interactivity or you're gonna lose them!" That's the devil talking. Ignore him.

So then you're gonna be weeks into implementing a QTE, only to realize that the version of RenPy you downloaded bears a glitch that forces repeat interactions at inconvenient times and you might have to scrap that and do something else entirely.

Based on a true story. xP

[somerandomcryptid]

I did a little continuation to my recentiest comic for Dreaming of Death in writing c:

-

“So what, you just let them stay alone, when you knew Quackity and Sam were around?” Dream spits out as he brings the phone back to his ear, though not before pulling a good chunk of his hair out (it's fine, he can hide it).

“I- I didn't know! I promise Dream I- I didn't see them and- god fuck we can't do this! We can't- I know it's my fault but… we need to figure out how to get them back not all the ways I fucked up!” Wren rambles over the line, her voice clearly choked with tears and fear. “Who knows what they could be doing to them!” That makes all the anger freeze in his veins as he’s reminded of all the ways his little sibling could be getting hurt.

God knows Quackity wouldn't give a shit they're a fucking teenager (in all fairness, he didn't have any qualms about such things with, a certain blond springs to his mind at that). But his past actions aren't the fucking point! The point is that they could, and probably are being hurt right now.

Maybe Sam still had some semblance of a moral code, he did always emphasize Tommy’s age after all. Dream can only hope that's the case, though at this point he wouldn't put anything past the creeper hybrid.

“Your- your right. We need to get them back. Where are you? Actually no fuck that, just come and get me, drive me to where they last were, I’ll search.” Dream’s voice is as un-scared as he can manage. He’ll get them back. He will. And when he does he is going to give Quackity and Sam a fate so so so much worse than just death.

“I already searched. There's no trace of them.” Wren mumbles out.

“Well as we have already proven today, clearly you're not the best at noticing things huh?�� It's a cruel remark, he knows it, he can practically feel her flinch across the phone. But he's too angry, he’s too scared, overall his emotions are just too all over the place to be at all considerate or comforting.

-

Yeah they're doing great :)

(obligitory Dreaming of Death is an au of the fic PenPal by @calamari-minecraft-corner)

[plasmometer]

Hi this is possibly gonna sound weird but I think your art may just be the most relatable one (to me personally, of course) I've ever seen. I'm a child of two STEM folk (machines and computers, respectively) so seeing the way you draw machines, with wires like veins and metal armature as bones is rather comforting - probably because I was raised on the stories of how the mechanical innards of factories work, and how computers sunder our complicated human processes into simpler code-based ones. It feels a little like being understood, somehow. That, and I find that your /work, pain and me/ comic and the /carpal tunnel syndrome art/ resonate with me immensely. I do not have carpal tunnel syndrome but I have, for the past 4 or so years (longer, perhaps, but before I do not remember my life from before that well. It's rather strange, how I don't know when it began but suddenly, one day, my body just started failing me) been in basically constant pain. I've done check-ups, hospital visits, and an awful amount of humiliating tests, all to prove nothing. No matter what I do, it always comes out that I'm as healthy as one can be. At least on paper, because physically I'm still in pain. Seeing the frustration, the anger at your body breaking apart before it's supposed to, before anyone else you know experiences it - the hurt and betrayal of not being able to trust your own self any more, because at any given point it might just stop working is very... Cathartic, I suppose. It's good to know I'm not the only one. It's good to know that people like me exists, and that people like me can still do great things. thank you

that ask kinda resurrected me. thank you! my father is an engineer, but i fell in love with industrial when i visited chemical factory/oil refinery. oh how my eyes opened when i saw all that. that moment, my whole life has changed. i believe that i made a contact with something big, and it continues to support me, in exchange for my eternal work. i hate gods and prayers, but mutual support sounds good for me. about pain, i am really sorry you feel that way. human body is fucked up and we don't know all about it. i have to deal with constant headaches in addition to carpal tunnel issues, and sometimes the only way is to move despite it. most of my life have been 'despite' everything, really. lastly, i am really glat that my art makes people think and feel, it is the only way for me to speak, after all. i am glad that somebody hears that

[thowawayuntilfurthernotice]

I love the Livewire redesign. I really do. But isn’t it kind of weird that they’re just basically playing into the trope of ‘Black character with electric powers’ with her racelift? I can’t tell if she’s black or just dark skinned.

Her voice actress Zehra Fazal is a Muslim-American of South Asian descent.

And how can you “Not tell” if she’s black or dark skinned?

Do you just assume that every person of color in animated shows is black or black coded by default?

Also, the "Black character with electric powers" trope hasn't been prevalent in media for a while now. The last two major examples I can think of are Miles Morales and The Amazing Spider Man's Electro.

So I don't think the showrunners were intentionally playing into a trope, they most likely wanted a diverse cast for this interpretation of Superman.

I also wanna point out that the second episode hints at her becoming more like her comic book counterpart.

Notice how her skin turns fully blue for a brief second when Deathstroke sabotages her tech.

And in the end we see that she has blue veins, which indicate that she's starting to develop organic electrical powers.

So she'll most likely end up having blue skin permanently or when she's at full power.

[ihatethiswebsite77]

So I was wondering if you could talk about the Kyle/cartman and batman/joker parallels because there is a LOT. Im considering doing my own analysis but I wanted to hear another perspective, if possible?

This is an Interesting topic.

I think it would be an understatement to call Cartman anything but an agent of chaos. The Joker believes that everyone around him is no different than himself, and he seeks to expose that. While Cartman doesn't really want to expose everyone for being just as bad as he is, as that would require admitting he is bad in the first place, that is still definitely a belief he holds deep down. With Joker this belief culminates into an obsession with Batman, someone who operates by a strict moral code, someone Joker believes is SO similar to him, whose attention he is constantly seeking while trying to get him to basically "admit" that they are the same by killing him. The Joker finds great amusement in his altercations with Batman. In a very similar way, which I'm sure you've already picked up, Cartman feels and behaves when it comes to Kyle. If there is on person in south park Cartman truly considers on his level it is Kyle. And in a similar vein to the Joker he find great amusement in his and Kyle's arguments.

Neither Batman nor the Joker can ever truly win against eachother tho. Due to their unchanging nature and beliefs they can never cross that bridge. The only way for Batman to truly beat the Joker is to kill him (aka become him), which goes against all his morals, and the Joker could never kill Batman.

“You just couldn’t let me go, could you? This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. You truly are incorruptible, aren’t you? You won’t kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness, and I won’t kill you because you’re just too much fun. I think you and I are destined to do this forever”, a quote of Jokers from the Dark Knight.

(This quote is literally such a good description for Cartman and Kyle overall)

Just like these two Kyle and Cartman can never truly win against eachother. Kyle could never let himself stoop down to Cartman's level, and Cartman even tho he has attempted to "kill Kyle" many times, could never truly do it for the fact that his life would just be dull without him around to fight with.

There is a good chunk of works that depict that relationship between Joker and Batman as "friendly" (take that with like a grain of salt) in a way. The very fact that Batman refuses to kill him, even going so far as continually saving The Joker. Essentially allowing him to roam free again and again, simply because he believes that there is something worth saving there.

“Do you understand? I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want either of us to end up killing the other. But we’re running out of alternatives and we both know it”, Batman in The Killing Joke.

In a similar manner Kyle is continuously trying to see something good in Cartman, even against his better judgement. Constantly saving him from trouble, from a sense of moral obligation and maybe even one of genuine friendships. There is a part of Kyle that genuinely believes that Cartman can change.

The same comic ends with the two characters realizing that they can never truly trust eachother (told to us through a metaphor in a joke The Joker tells to Batman). They both start cackling at the ridiculousness of their situation, almost as if they were two friends having a laugh.

We are shown so many times in this show that Cartman and Kyle could be genuinely good friends, there are multiple instances of them acting so. But their antagonistic relationship towards eachother is something Kyle and Cartman can never manage to escape, even after 40 years they seem to regress at the first look they have of eachother. In a way that's similar to the Joker and Batman they need eachother. Their characters linger on each other. They justify eachothers existence by being eachothers narrative foils. Which kinda dooms them to a life of fighting.

[tallsc]

Ghosts, the Void, & Cold Thoughts

So while the Cold Thoughts story has come to a conclusion, there are some ramifications to those events that will affect future Aftermath AU content. And I believe, to best explain those, I should also explain how ghosts and the void work in this AU.

If you haven't read my comic Cold Thoughts, read it here! A lot of this is explanation for that.

The Void is the natural homeplace for sticks or similar digital beings after their deaths. It can be considered similar to a maze - if you know your way around, or you entered of your own will and can just backtrack, you can navigate perfectly fine, but often if you're sent to a random spot it takes a lot of time and trial and error to find your way out.

Many never leave the Void, and eventually just disappear. However, with enough motivation, a few sticks may take the time to find their way out. This can take up to a few months the first time, if they don't have anyone who knows their way around to guide them. If they do find the exit, they appear where they died as a ghost.

That area is where they are most connected to the world and as such is the only place they can choose to become visible and audible to living creatures. For example, the desktop is Vic's connection point, while the room with the Minecraft simulator is Gold's. They can both go wherever they want, but they can only be seen by living people if they're in their respective areas.

Ghosts cannot be harmed in a traditional sense, but certain events that happen both during and after their death can cause damage and make their forms unstable to a degree. Being in the Void can cure most of those instabilities, and if something too harmful occurs then they may be forced back into the Void. That happened to Vic once when their original connecting point was destroyed by Dark and Chosen and they had to reset to a new connection point, and that happened to Gold in Cold Thoughts.

The method of death may also lead to some unstable aspects at the start - for example, Orchid started very stable since she died from a natural sickness. Vic and Gold, however, got their code deleted and scattered respectively, so that also had some ill effects.

While going to the Void can mostly heal these instabilities, they often leave some sort of scar on the soul. Not a physical, visible scar like harm to a living stick may cause, but an effect nonetheless. The nature of this effect can change drastically depending on the cause, but they generally are inconvenient but not too harmful.

For example, some of Vic's instabilities from their code being deleted and them losing their original connecting spot is their powers being messed up and that they cannot quite feel comfortable in the physical world. Both were likely worse when those instabilities were first developed, but Vic has spent so long in the Void that those have mostly healed.

As for Gold, their code was scattered between their connecting spot and the Minecraft world on their death, so they tend to get a little glitchy when they're in Minecraft. And, after the events of Cold Thoughts, when Gold gets too upset or agitated...

Dark veins start to form on their body, particularly on the side they were burned.

The veins aren't comfortable when they appear, and they make Gold's vision somewhat blurry on that eye, but they aren't dangerous and fade pretty easily on their own. They often don't even get as bad as they are in the picture.

However, this does mean that in any Aftermath AU art or stories that take place chronologically after Cold Thoughts, this may be in effect.

Sorry Gold :c