#just a novice trying to learn a thing or two

[pengtheplush]

[leonkennedybreedingkink]

EVERYBODY KNOWS

drug dealer!leon kennedy x reader

tags: dubcon (reader is a little high when y’all fuck), toxic relationship, drugs, implied/referenced cheating. frankly it’s inconsistent but this has been burning a hole thru my drafts. sorry for the discourse btw. title from everybody knows by leonard cohen.

Stay away from him, everyone said. He’s bad news, he spends more time counting money and sniffing and smoking than he does fucking or answering your texts.

Unlike him, you’re a good dog, you come when he calls (most times). He learned the hard way that you like to keep a normal bedtime after having to fuck his fist two months in a row, poor man.

We’ll get one thing straight: he’s not yours, you’re not his.

Frankly, Leon pisses you off most times. He doesn’t do shit, he just goes to the mall to hang out when he’s not selling drugs, not that those two intersect.

He learned that you’re not easily cowed the hard way too, after you called him a stupid fuck because he didn’t like that you came over wearing sweatpants all the time. He’s not yours, you’re not his, and Leon’s smarter than he portrays himself because he toned it down after that.

You think that if you two ever got in a fight, you’d win because he’d let you and he’d told you he doesn’t hit girls.

It’s not like he has a bridge in New York to sell you, just weed or coke or whatever benzos he can get his hands on, so you generally trust that he says what he means.

He’s not slick either, not with the way you sometimes catch him looking at you or how he seeks you out in a crowd, but neither of you are looking for commitment, at least, that’s what he says.

Leon’s not so bad when he’s high, but it depends on what he’s on, in his opinion. Coke makes him too hyper, weed makes him feel too sluggish, why not mix it and get the best of the both worlds? He thinks you’re uptight, just a little, that’s why he invites you to do a little speedball with him.

You’re always down to try anything twice, so you shrug, watching slim and clumsy fingers put together the weed and coke before he passes it to you and you try it.

It’s not half bad, actually. You’re calm, but alert. You see why he mixes the two—up until you feel like you’re melting through the couch, slumping against it and groaning softly.

Leon built up a tolerance, watching you try to get your bearings as he sits straight on the couch, thick thighs spread and rubbing your ankle. “Poor baby.” He muses, tracing a thumbnail on the notch of your ankle bone.

You say nothing in response, scrubbing a palm over your face and checking your pulse because you can be a little paranoid at the end of the day.

Leon tuts, reaching over and pulling your hand away from your neck. “Jesus, you’re fine. I got narcan on me, anyway.”

Not like he’d call the cops, he has more than enough product to be thrown under the jail without a trial or anything.

You swipe at his hand irritatedly, brows furrowing like an angry kitten. Leon rolls his eyes, tugging you closer with the hand on your ankle and rubbing your shin. You groan as the room swims, shutting your eyes to fight the vertigo. “Stay with me, babydoll. You’re fine.”

You scoff. ��Excuse me for being a novice to speedballing. Only time I’ve seen it is Breaking Bad.”

Of course. Leon finds himself smiling anyway, patting your knee. Your cotton shorts rode up when he pulled you over, exposing the dark green and white stripes of your underwear, Leon’s eyes stick to the sight and he swallows, mouth feeling dry and too wet at the same time.

You don’t protest when he gently maneuvers you into all fours, knees digging divots into the upholstery and shaky elbows holding you up. Leon shoves one hand up your shirt and pushes down his sweatpants with the other.

What a lucky day to be commando.

Leon sighs when he pushes in, pulling a pink lower lip between his teeth to muffle himself. It’s not like he has roommates, but he’s still shy about being noisy, especially around you. You seem to like it, but still.

You shudder, perky ass tucking in and back rounding out. Jesus, he’s not even all the way in yet and you’re acting up. He tuts, gently coaxing your back to straighten out with a hand on the curve of it pressing down. He thinks he hears your back crack. “That’s it, that’s my baby.”

You seem to dislike that, because you make a displeased groan. Doesn’t matter, your cunt speaks for you with the way you squeeze around him.

Leon counts to ten so this doesn’t end too early, God, that’s lame. He presses down again when your back fights to round up, his other hand on the nape of your neck pushing your top half down a little more.

You fight to stay upright, but the coke and weed made you a little too uncoordinated, your hand slipping off the couch and your other braced beneath you, left arm bent at an awkward angle.

Leon draws back with a soft hiss, the hand on your nape shifting to the curve of your waist. “Sorry, baby.”

He chortles quietly when you smack him in the thigh with a flail of your hand, rolling his hips to hear your muffled moan into the upholstery.

When your head turns, he sees a thin string of drool connecting your mouth to his couch, a little puddle beneath the corner.

He’s sure you’re a little too high to enjoy this as he thrusts steadily, an orgasm licking up his spine slowly. All the times you two have fucked, it’s been bombs, fireworks. Coke refined into crack. Head high, versus the little body high of right now.

He pushes up your baggy shirt, hands roaming slowly up and down the shape of you. He doesn’t even realize he’s speaking until he watches your eyes blink open. “You’re so—fuck, shit—you’re so fuckin’ sexy.”

You, in the speedball haze, recognize that he’s just blabbering because he’s pussy drunk. Again, common occurrence. Even so, you’re a little flattered.

He reaches down, fumbling with your slick clit and kissing the nape of your neck. Painted toes curl into the upholstery as your brows furrow, groaning gutturally, almost inaudible as you squeeze around him.

Leon curses and bites your shoulder as he comes, whimpering into your shirt and skin. He pulls out and lays back, catching his breath as you roll to the side.

See? He can be sweet, he gets up and cleans you gently, then the stain on the couch.

God, Leon’s pissing you off lately. He should have some damn respect for the woman he empties his balls into, and yet. You’re this close to just cutting and running as you angrily put on makeup in his bathroom.

Seriously, he forgets himself. Asking you who that man is in your phone (none of his fucking business), telling you not to wear that see-through top he first met you in, telling you what you can and can’t do, who you can’t and can’t fuck.

“It’s not like we’re together, Leon.” You tell him as you lean into the mirror, winging up your eyeliner pen. Fuck, you did that wrong. You grab a q-tip, stick it in your mouth, and use that to clean up the line.

You watch through the mirror as Leon rolls his eyes. “You know that we are, though. The only one I’m fucking lately is you.”

You scoff, cleaning up one eye and doing the other. “Maybe you should find some other bitches to put in your roster. Shit, maybe you should have a roster.”

Leon’s shoulders straighten, that little barb making its mark. “Don’t fucking say that.” Leon snaps, stepping a little closer and leaning against the wall, corded arms folding across his chest.

You snort and say nothing, focusing on getting your eyeliner even. Sisters, not twins.

“Don’t snort as if something’s fucking funny. It’s not.” Leon comes a little closer, arms unfolding.

“And what are you gonna do about it?” You goad, straightening up and capping the eyeliner pen. “Pussy.”

Your temple smacks into the wall and your vision wavers. You groan, one hand moving to clutch your head before Leon shoves you down, elbow and hip smacking on the tile. “You fucking bitch.” He hisses, crouching down. “See what you do to me?”

God, doesn’t that sound familiar, that’s his favorite line when you’re flirting with him in public and he puts your hand over his nonexistent bulge.

“Look at what you make me into.” He smacks you across the face hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. Leon grabs your jaw, hands shaking with rage. “Is this what you wanted? Happy, now?” He shakes you a little bit after the first question, pupils blown wide as he sneers down at you.

When you shake your head, your eyeliner and mascara smeared, he lets go, getting up and hauling you to your feet.

Leon sits you on the closed toilet lid, leaving and grabbing you an ice pack from the fridge. He holds it to your temple and watches a bruise bloom on your shoulder, sickeningly satisfied when you lean into him, one hand clutching his wrist.

“You ever put your fucking hands on me again, I’ll put you in the ground.”

Leon chuckles quietly, patting your cheek a little harder than usual. “Not if I do it first.”

You think he loves you the way a bruise loves a peach.

[animentality]

I've been learning to code at my new job and I work with a senior software engineer, who's a genius at this sort of thing.

But like an hour ago, he was in my office angrily murmuring, "what?! what?! what the hell?" over and over again as he furiously typed on my keyboard, trying to fix something in git.

and it's honestly very reassuring to know.

that whether you're a novice or an expert at coding... sometimes you just find yourself angrily swearing at the program for showing you the same error message a dozen times, asking why are you doing that, almost begging, really.

it was actually kinda funny, he sounded like he was about to start crying, which was literally me, two hours ago, when I initially asked him for help.

it's part of the human condition, I think, wrestling with computer programs and furiously typing in commands, only to be met with defiance.

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

Platonic Yandere DIO and daughter reader (who was abandoned at his house as a baby)

Hi thank you for the request, this is my first platonic request so I hope it's alright.

Familial Yandere Dio

At first Dio simply wanted to leave the child where they were but something compelled him to take the child. Maybe a small part of him thinks back on his childhood and takes pity. However he has no need for the weak so he uses a fragment of the stand arrow on the baby to prove their worthiness. The child doesn't die so he decides to keep them. They'd serve him well as a stand user in due time.

He has his servants raise her, luckily she had her name embroidered on the blanket she was wrapped in, (Y/n). However she still finds a way to get his attention. At first he simply passes her back off to the servants, agitated that this child will disrupt him. However over time he softened to her, she became less of a tool to him.

Soon he would allow (Y/n) into his bedroom and read to her whatever he was absorbed in at the time. He begrudgingly accepts the child calling him "dada". As soon as she develops proper talking skills he insists on being called father instead.

Around the age of 4 to 5 (Y/n) already quite independent. Already learning stuff more advanced then what her age range would. A model child by all accounts, however despite showing an ability to see stands hers hasn't quite manifested yet. She has been put through strenuous training yet still no results. She's also spoilt, she eats extravagantly, dresses in the nicest clothes a child could wear and is given almost anything she asks for.

As she grew up, she became aware of her lack of a stand. Trying to make up for her failure but Dio assures her it will come in due time and that she does not need to make up for such a thing.

But she also becomes aware of life outside the mansion. Asking at first to accompany servants during errands which he allows but when she asks to play with other children he tells her that she shouldn't bother with such a thing, those children are beneath her. Those children would bow before them when the time came.

Eventually her stand manifests. The moment it's know, a victim is choosen for her to test her stand on. When the victim isn't harmed Dio is let down, but his initial plans of using her as another servant are far gone.

That's when she goes to the piano, something she was still a novice in but now could play it like a professional.

She is able to figure out she has the power to absorb information and skills from others. Not a powerful stand but a useful one nevertheless. A stand dubbed Gates of Babylon, a physical manifestation of her desire of knowledge.

So it becomes a regular occurrence that Dio will let her use her stand on his victims before he drinks them dry. An odd form of father daughter bonding (of course away from (Y/n)).

Still (Y/n) never quite lost interest in the outside world. One day she manages to sneak out by herself. Of course when he discovers this he's mortified, but hides it the best he can from his servants as he tells them to find her.

Of course she's found and brought back. If she has injury, even just a scrape he'll use it as justification. She's only mortal compared to him. All manner of things could happen to her. The moment that it is just the two of them he scolds her. Even goes on about how vulnerable she is and what compelled her to leave with everything she has.

Everything is a lot more tightly run. Constantly monitored, constantly given more and more things to entertain her. He's also taking more time to spend with her directly.

Telling them always that he's the only one that she should trust 100%, that people will try to harm or take advantage of her. God forbid he brings up his childhood as an example, that he actually acknowledge his prior humanity to another soul.

[yannig]

I love the color coding in Koisenu Futari

Let it be said that I am a complete novice on anything regarding colors coding; but I've learned a few things from @respectthepetty and I have opinion on colors in Koisenu Futari.

Quick context just in case: Koisenu Futari is a Japanese show about two AroAce characters, Sakuko and Takahashi, trying to make a life together and navigate society's expectations.

First off: the contrasts between Sakuko and Takahashi

Takahashi is a blue boy (loyal, steady, and reliable but a bit passive and depressive) who also likes green a lot ; it's almost the only two colors he wears, beside neutrals.

The only warm color he wears is the store’s red apron, which is notably a uniform that he doesn’t choose to wear.

Sakuko is less strict about her colors. I’d argue the first thing you’re supposed to get from her clothing is that she's expressive and a bit eccentric: she wears patterns, bright colors, colorful jewelry, that kind of things.

Overall though, she’s a red rascal. She definitely is spontaneous (if not straight out impulsive), energetic and passionate, and she gets this beautiful red coat at the end of ep 3 that she wears every time she’s out afterwards.

It serves really well to contrast them with each other; it makes sens, they certainly have contrasting personalities. Sakuko is impulsive and demonstrative where Takahashi is more reserved and steady.

But it also makes them a perfect Purple Pair, which I'd argue is another romantic trope they float right through (just like they couldn't care less about the meet-cute they had in the first episode).

Kazu-kun

The first bit of color coding I actually noticed in this show was about Kazu-kun, and how he spends almost the entirety of ep 4 completely standing out in the decor.

Since they spent almost the whole episode in the house, neither Sakuko nor Takahashi wear their signature coat, and Takahashi being on bed rest means he can't wear his green apron either. They are striped of their colors like Kazu-kun is stripping them of their privacy and agency by imposing himself in their home.

And imposing he is. Beyond the fact that I want to punch him every time I watch this episode, even the camera doesn't like him being there. While Sakuko and Takahashi spends most of the ep in neutral colors, Kazu-kun never once loses his signature orange.

(Kazu-kun is, of course, a Yellow/Orange Oddity, optimistic and creative but impatient and careless with other's feelings.)

Which means he completely stands out in the decor.

He begins to stand out a bit less as the episode progress and he starts to learn; when he cooks diner, the decor warms up to him a bit, but Sakuko and Takahashi are still wearing neutrals.

And once he's learned his lesson and accepted Sakuko is AroAce and is never going to love him, that's when he stops standing out.

Here he is in ep 5 in neutral colors to match Sakuko and Takahashi inside of their home:

And then all 3 of them out on vacation a bit later in the same ep, this time all wearing their respective color:

Now that Kazu-kun has learnt his lesson, now that he understand them, he fits. He's stopped being an intruder.

I had other things to say, but this is long enough as is, and I need to go to sleep. So the rest will need to wait for another post!

In the mean-time, I've got other posts about this show!

[cadejos]

ON NANAMI'S POWER LEVEL, DOMAIN EXPANSIONS, DOMAIN COUNTERS, AND HOW JUJUTSU SOCIETY PLAYS A ROLE.

This analysis originally turned viral on twitter. I'm posting it here for archival.

Nanami treated sorcery like a job and Gojo treated sorcery like a lifestyle. I've thought long and hard about why Nanami does not have certain skills (DE, Simple Domain, etc) that'd easily bump him up in terms of power, as he's already very strong. The reason is two-fold:

He never set out to do more than what he absolutely had to do. ("Moderate effort where moderate effort suffices," etc)

Information about sorcery is very gatekept and compartmentalized, because Jujutsu society sucks.

For point number 1, we are to keep in mind that Nanami is a grade one sorcerer, very much the peak of what sorcery is supposed to be outside of Special Grade work. The purpose of sorcery, up until very recently, has been about killing curses, most of which are not special grade or intelligent. The disaster curses are anomalies, and battles with Domain users were very rare until they showed up. They vastly skewed the power system. Remember that not even Naobito Zenin, the head of one of the great clans, had a Domain expansion either, and it took the work of a Domain user (Megumi) and an experienced sorcerer killer (Toji) to properly counter Dagon in his domain.

If domain battles are truly so rare, I don't really blame Nanami for not going out of his way to work on developing one, especially since Domains require an element of self-assurance that Nanami, due to trauma and disposition, was never geared toward developing.

His soul was strong enough to protect against a novice Mahito subconsciously, which is a promising start, but once Mahito grew too strong he was way out of Nanami's scope (not to mention Gege deliberately tired him over the course of Shibuya) and Nanami was more inclined to take his loss gracefully than to force himself to craft an spontaneous Domain Expansion. It's not like he really had the energy to try, either.

Overall, developing a DE for the off chance that he stumbled upon a Domain user just doesn't sound like his style. And he wouldn't do it for fun, either, because jujutsu is not fun for him, and it never has been. It's just work.

Let's say he would want to at least develop a domain counter, though. That's where point number 2 steps in. The whole reason something as fundamental as a domain counter is so rare in jujutsu is purely because jujutsu society is inherently selfish and self-serving.

If I recall correctly, SD is not something you can teach due to a binding vow tied to the technique. It has to be something you learn on your own through observation and intuition, or by joining New Shadow Style. Up until UiUi's soul swapping, there wasn't a reliable work around for this conundrum. And the other domain counters? Old, not very well known, and gatekept by the clans.

Sometimes I'm inclined to believe jujutsu sorcerers learn sorcery not because of the school system but in spite of it. Unless you're already a genius, born gifted, or willing to go an extra -- ambiguously illicit -- mile (like Kusakabe), there's not much the average sorcerer can do, and not many tools for them to learn to begin with. Nanami is presented as the baseline of what modern day good sorcery looks like; what you can achieve if you're competent, and don't have the privilege of relying on very good mentors, obscure knowledge, or ancient techniques. Even then he had an expansion technique, not something every sorcerer has, and he was capable of achieving one of the pinnacles of Jujutsu, which is the black flash; precisely because of his attitude toward jujutsu and his ability to focus when things get serious.

Maybe if given enough time to heal from his psychological wounds, and given opportunities for more black flashes, as well as a strong enough incentive, he could have circumvented a lot of problems and enlightened his way toward a DE or other such jujutsu-relevelations.

But that's speculation and not really the point of his character.

Had he been a villain though? Gege probably would've made him stronger, if his Culling Games score in JJK's draft Jujutsu Sousen is anything to go by, which is amusing.

Supplementary reading:

In regards to black flashes: a post where I go over why I think Yuuji and Nanami are especially good at them, and why I think they require conditions that are in opposition to Domain expansions.

Measuring Nanami's critical hit power: where I use a statement to further analyze and evaluate the capabilities of the Ratio Technique.

[howtofightwrite]

Just a casual question: What lightsaber style do you prefer out of one-handed, two-handed, double-bladed or dual wielding?

We’ll leave out the Lightsaber Forms from the EU, because they are inconsistently defined between sources.

No, no, no. You ask me what my favorite lightsaber is, you get the answer whether you want it or not. The answer may surprise you. It’s (probably) considered the second dumbest lightsaber weapon ever invented in the extended universe with the exception of the lightsaber nunchaku.

Are you ready? Do you have your guesses?

The Lightwhip.

The chosen weapon of Dark Ladies of the Sith and the Nightsisters of Dathomir back when the Sisters weren’t all dark side practitioners and rode rancors.

(This is my favorite. For reference, Starke’s favorite is single blade Form IV: Ataru. He’s boring.)

Now, I agree with the general fandom that the lightwhip is a dumb, impractical weapon that’s more likely to dismember its wielder than it is their opponent. Only someone with a high level of skill, prescience, and telekinesis could make effective use of a lightwhip’s dismemberment murder frenzy without killing themselves. Fortunately, that’s exactly the base level of skills most Force sensitives possess. Probably most important, the lightwhip is the exact sort of dumb we see with real weapons in the real world. This includes the more wild examples like the urumi, the chain whip, and the three-section staff. And, it should be said, I have watched living black belts concuss themselves with the three-section staff while trying to figure out how to use it. All for the Rule of Cool. So, while I accept its impracticality, I refuse the argument that the lightwhip being any more unrealistic in use or invention than the rest of the lightsaber weapon family. Does it have a high skill floor? Absolutely. Is it a safe weapon compared to the rest of its very dangerous family? Absolutely not. Would a student potentially dismember or murder themselves learning to use it? Yes, and that’s why it’s fun. (I’ll add a small caveat that the average student could also dismember themselves with a normal lightsaber, so this isn’t just a danger posed by the lightwhip.)

The lightwhip is a weapon of the Dark Side. Its battle style would be (and should be) wild, chaotic, and nigh uncontrollable. There’s no way to use it safely and it belongs in the hands of a wielder who is straight up thrilled to cut down both their allies and enemies in equal measure. This is the weapon of a murderous lunatic in black leather, and gets even more wild when it switches to a Cat o’ Nine to bring on nine weaving laser tendrils instead of just one. The lightwhip is the sexy Catwoman reference that transcends its genre when we really start to think about how intimidating it’d be to see that thing on the battlefield in the hands of a novice and, especially, an expert.

The standard use for a whip in the real world is as a support tool for your primary weapon, such as a rapier. The whip doesn’t do much damage on its own, leaving only small, painful cuts and lacerations so it transitions into a means of harassment. The advantage of the whip is that it attacks at odd, circular angles which are difficult (if not impossible) to block and will curve into a strike around the opposing weapon. The rippling movement makes it difficult to see and even more difficult to predict. If kept in constant motion, this difficulty triples because the disparate movements blend together.

Now, take this setup and add the lightshow. Instead of a weapon that does light lacerations, we have a weapon that deals massive burns if it doesn’t straight up dismember. It will cut through everything and everyone. Conventional fighting styles fall apart against it. More importantly, because it is a burning plasma ribbon, it doesn’t need to follow the standard rules of physics. The lightwhip is beautiful in its raw, chaotic brutality, it’s high risk, high reward nature, and I love the way it hard counters the standard philosophy of lightsaber combat with a literal curveball. Any opponent who faces it is forced into new, creative approaches for their very survival.

Lastly, I love what the lightwhip says about its wielder as an expression of their vicious, ferocious, highly aggressive personality. This weapon requires commitment and dedication. It’s absolutely fair to say the person who wields a lightwhip has a fanatical, if not suicidal, bent. After all, they’d willingly risk death to master it. They love destruction. They don’t care about outside consequences or property destruction. They go it alone.

I’ll admit the lightwhip’s true potential is too violent for most of Star Wars and, like most Star Wars weapons, it very much lives on the Rule of Cool. One of the sadder aspects with the lightwhip is that, while I love the weapon and its potential, any discussion of it gets mired in sexism. Every appearance of the lightwhip comes with the sexy NSFW Dark Side Dominatrix bent and leads to the lightwhip not being given the consideration it’s potential deserves.

My favorite saber is Darth Maul’s saber staff from The Phantom Menace, because versatility allows for use of both one and two. My favorite lightsaber form (which should now surprise no one) is Form VII: Vaapad.

All that said, I do enjoy a good Dark Side Dominatrix as much as I enjoy a moody and hooded Dark Side Goth. And I genuinely love dumb and, seemingly, impractical weapons when the reward justifies their risk. If there’s a general writing advice takeaway here, always consider the practicality of an impractical but cool weapon, address i’s rewards as well as its risks, and pair it with a suitable personality. The lightwhip is not a weapon that belongs in the hands of a Jedi or, really, any individual who possesses any degree of restraint. It’s for a character who merrily expresses raw, raging power at every opportunity and willing to risk destroying themselves along with everyone else for victory.

There’s a weird angle with the Star Wars EU where they tried to establish the lightwhip as weaker than the lightsaber (*cough* woman’s weapon *cough*) with less cutting power even when it doesn’t use a physical cord, which makes absolutely no sense. The lightsaber is the more versatile weapon, while the lightwhip is more specialized and circumstantial. Which fits with the patterns of real world weapons technology.

This a long circle round to saying that the weapons we choose for our characters act as personality tells. Which is why it’s important to give a lot of thought and consideration to any weapon’s historic use and purpose before attaching it. Weapons communicate more than we might expect, both via their situational viability and associated cultural myths. It’s important to choose whether you’ll address this, especially if you’re not planning to intentionally communicate that message or make those personality traits part of the character’s identity. Weapons are tools and, like with all tools, different tools attract different personalities. In fiction, we the authors often decide this from an external perspective. Once a choice has been made, always give yourself a chance to think about it from a character’s internal perspective. Why did Character X choose this weapon? Why do they want to use it? What does this weapon do for them that another weapon doesn’t? Or, what makes that other weapon less attractive?

You might find yourself with an answer or story beat you hadn’t previously considered.

Food for thought.

-Michi

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[profoundbondfanfic]

Hello there!

Can you please recommend some of the angstiest, filled-with-pining, slowest burning destiel fics (91w-esque sort of)? I want to feel the pain and pining (and eventual happiness).

Thank you! Have a lovely day <3

Hey there! Here are a few:

I Wanna Get Outside (Of Me) by emwebb17 (Explicit, 142k words)

Dean is a novice in the dom/sub world asked by his employer as a desperate last resort to be a sub for his recluse of a brother, Castiel. Castiel is a diagnosed OCD suffering from PTSD and agoraphobia, mysophobia, and dystychiphobia. Needless to say—he’s a mess who hasn’t stepped out of his home in literally seven years. The only times Gabriel can see traces of the way his brother used to be is when he feels in control—specifically when he has control over a sub. However, due to his idiosyncrasies and paranoia, keeping a sub around has been impossible. Enter Dean, who’s not a very traditional submissive, to try his hand at subbing for the hermit.

For Evermore by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 110k words)

There's no place like home. This was a line Castiel used to know by heart when he was a kid, watching The Wizard of Oz and believing fairytales were real. At thirty-one years old, he isn't a kid anymore, and it has been twelve years since he has known what home feels like. Twelve years. That's when his world had come crashing down and he had left his hometown, Holly Springs, with the broken pieces of what he once was to build a new life in San Francisco. But as circumstances force him to come back to the only place he swore he would never return to, Castiel is finally forced to face everything he once knew and loved. Especially when said everything is made of spring-green eyes and a stardust of freckles, wrapped in all the memories Castiel was not able to erase from his heart. After twelve years, Dean is as mesmerizing as Castiel remembers, but the scars of what was broken still run as deeply as the marrow of his bones, and Castiel will do everything he can to protect himself. After all, his favorite movie also taught him that 'until hearts can be made unbreakable,' he can’t listen to his own.

Memories Bring Back Memories (Bring Back You) by sobsicles (Explicit, 66k words)

When he wakes, he has no idea who he is. Not his name, what he looks like, or why he’s flat on his back, staring up at the stars littering the night sky. The first thing he learns about himself is that he has shitty instincts, especially if his first one is to protect the blue-eyed man currently stabbing someone in the face. Or, the story where two strangers can’t agree on much and know even less, but they’re both fairly certain that they’re in love.

On The Other Side by crowleyhasfeels, QuillsAndInk (Explicit, 63k words)

While deployed in Afghanistan, Dean Winchester writes letters to a girl who he's certain isn't listening. By chance, they are found by Professor Castiel Novak who takes the time to reply. Thus begins the tale of a man dragged back from the brink of destruction by the shattered pieces of one person he doesn't know how to love. This is a story of brokenness, love and triumph. This is the story of Dean and Cas.

Out of the Deep by riseofthefallenone (Explicit, 488k words)

Stay away from the light-beds. Stay in the deep. It is the first thing hatchlings are taught the moment their fans unfurl and they can swim without their parents to buoy them along. It is the first rule, the first law. It is the beginning of every boogey-monster bedtime story told when they settle against the cliffs to sleep. Castiel should have listened better.

Pick It All Up by thepinupchemist (Explicit, 126k words)

Army veteran Castiel Novak is a wreck after his tour in Afghanistan, brought home to his brother’s apartment in Lawrence, Kansas with scars both mental and physical. He copes poorly, and during one night of bad decision making, meets somebody just as much of a disaster as he is – a prostitute named Dean Winchester. And suddenly, two damaged men might not be as irreparable as they believed.

Quarantension by everandanon (Explicit, 293k words)

In which Dean and Cas weather quarantine together like any Good Friends would — by developing outstanding skills in self-deception and providing all the casual affection and strictly platonic* orgasms the other could possibly need to make it through.**  *Really not platonic **Spoiler: They need a lot.

Redemption Road by Various (Explicit, 652k words)

With Castiel having set himself up as the new God, drunk on power and volatile as a nuclear reactor, Dean, Sam, and Bobby find themselves on the run from the jealous, capricious monster wearing the face of their friend. Desperate for protection and wary of his brother’s mental state since Castiel unlocked Sam’s memories of Hell, Dean knows Castiel must be defused before he can wreak further havoc in Heaven or on Earth. Although Bobby advocates for destroying Castiel by whatever means necessary, Dean is convinced the Cas he once knew still remains, buried somewhere beneath the mass of poisonous souls and calling out for help. Determined to save the angel who once rescued him from Hell and redefined his purpose in life, Dean himself must resist the allure of the false deity vying for his obedience, and come to terms with the knowledge, long-suppressed, that his feelings for Castiel run much deeper than brotherhood. It is this bond, and the dubious distinction of the Righteous Man, that will ultimately grant Dean access to where Castiel’s grace languishes in Purgatory. However, what Dean brings back with him is broken, angry, and only half-angel, certainly not the Castiel he remembers—and nor is it the only thing that returns to Earth with them…

So Says The Sword by komodobits (Explicit, 85k words)

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’ Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

Stay With Me, Sweetheart by MandalaRose (Explicit, 142k words)

“Alright Cas, here comes the hard part. We’re gonna get you out of here, but we’ve gotta take the roof off and while we do that, we’re gonna have to cover you with a sheet to protect you from the glass. I’ll be right here though. I’m not going anywhere.” As he starts to drift away, he suddenly feels the press of Dean’s forehead against his own through the rough fabric and hears that warm, sunlit voice murmer quietly in his ear, too low to be overheard by the firefighters currently working to remove the SUV’s roof, “Stay with me, Sweetheart.” A single moment’s distraction ends with a serious car accident that leaves Castiel trapped in his vehicle. Fortunately for him, fire fighter Dean Winchester is there, never leaving Castiel’s side as the rest of his company work to free him from the mangled remains of his SUV. When the two meet again in the ICU, Castiel finds himself just as drawn to and comforted by the handsome fireman as he was during his accident. Dean is certainly attractive, but single father Castiel doesn’t have time or space in his life for a romantic relationship. Then again, there’s no harm in making a new friend, is there?

The Sawdust Men by linoresearch (Explicit, 123k words)

Castiel Novak is an inmate at a labour camp. Life is brutal and no one ever gets out. Castiel’s only goal is to go unnoticed by the barbaric guards, and the violent inmates. Dean Winchester is a soldier without a purpose since the civil war ended. Dean accepts an assignment at a labour-camp, under the mentorship of Alistair, the Commander. From the start, Dean and Castiel are drawn to each other, and their relationship develops in a way that changes their lives. But Alistair has his own plans for Dean, and Castiel is a complication. When Alistair fails to separate them through threats and violence, he turns to manipulation; feeding Dean’s confusion about his feelings for Castiel, and goading him into a terrible act in order to break him. As Dean and Castiel try to fight back, they uncover secrets that are more far-reaching than they ever imagined. In such a dangerous world, can they ever be together? Can they even survive?

[howtotrainabraincell]

I was curious if you had any head canons pertaining to Malik Al-Sayf and him as a person? Let's forget that he is an assassin for a second and focus on him as an individual. Like is he comfortable with the loss of his left arm or is he embarrassed by it? What sparked his interest in maps and making them? Why was he so close with Kadar his baby brother? The more humanizing elements.

INDEED, I DO HAVE HEADCANNONS ABOUT THE DAI OF JERUSALEM! Ahem... But fr tho I do have a lot of head cannons about Malik as a person.

I don't know why...but he gives major "I'm abusive and angry toward the idiot novice but I'm actually really sweet" vibes. I think he's a total sweetie bear behind constantly humbling Altair lol

I think we ALL know that Altair's redemption arc wouldn't have been the same without Malik's verbal bashings and occasional scroll throwing.

About the loss of his left arm...

He was angry at first. Very angry. He had plans of how he wanted to help the Brotherhood and further their cause he so believes in, and then suddenly it was all taken away. He was told that he could no longer be in the field lest he be unnecessarily slain and then sent to Jerusalem. (This winds up fueling his spite and he became obsessed with mastering one armed swordsmanship...to the point where he could put two armed Altair on his ass lol)

Now he did go of his own free will, but he knew they put him in charge to soothe any battered ego he had. The man felt that it was a form of pity and emotional smothering. He had felt that Al Mualim had "requested" him to depart from Masyaf as a way to keep him from killing Altair... because he wanted to. He had felt...betrayed by what he believed in after it took so much from him and then it just swept him to the side like an old sandal. But being away and trying to focus on his responsibilities helped. Being alone also gave him time to cool down from his anger and focus on mourning his baby brother which he needed a lot of time to do.

He's not necessarily embarrassed by losing his arm, but he does feel inconvenienced by it from time to time. Forgetting that he no longer has a left hand to multitask and reach for things with. He was mad when he discovered that he couldn't carry as many books as he used to be able to, but he's smart so he found ways to get by (one of them including making a certain novice carry them lest he refuse and get bonked on his hooded coconut)

Malik can handle himself and you just KNOW that he mastered his f- you glare by giving the death stare to anyone who looked for too long ahaha. He does not appreciate staring AT ALL. He has eyes to make eye contact with hello. He also gets tired of explaining his sudden missing limb and of people expressing sympathy at the beginning because it just refreshes everything - plus he's Malik Al-Sayf OKAY he doesn't need BOTH ARMS to be a BADASSARINO.

He also feels vulnerable from time to time, and he doesn't like that one bit. He already lives a high alert lifestyle so losing his arm put him on peak "don't touch me or I won't hesitate" mode. The vulnerability wore on him for a while but eventually he became confident enough in his skills to protect himself again and his love helped too.

Though in a way he does appreciate the new awareness that losing his arm has brought him. It made him more reactions quicker and he became more responsive - such as a catching a falling book in the blink of an eye or blocking the cat from bapping his quill in the inkwell and knocking it over lol. (He has a cat in there with him and you CAN'T TELL ME OTHERWISE)

As for his interest in maps and making them...

We know that Malik was jealous of the way that Altair from a young age was "the favorite" of Al Mualim - so we can assume that he does in fact feel jealousy and it affects him on different levels. Whether it consists of the manifestation of saltiness toward the one he's jealous of, or it results in him learning a new skill. SO -

Malik was jealous of the eagles. Yes, the bird. He was always jealous of how they could fly so high up into the sky and see everything, everywhere, far and wide from multiple angles, and it made him wonder if such a thing was possible for him. When he could, he loved climbing up to high places - not to perform the Leap of Faith - to see the view from above. He loved it. And it made him think about other ways he could see everything from different perspectives.

Then he discovered Cartography. Needless to say, he was ecstatic lol. Map making for him was the perfect way to achieve what he wanted. He could have an Eagle Eye view of a large area from multiple perspectives and see everything just like he wanted. He could even make multiple versions of it from different angles! He could make a map of Masyaf from his POV in the mountains OR from the top of the Bureau.

I also think that him being so into cartography is a bit of a traumatic response. If he has a map and he knows the place intimately or can study it to see what it holds, he feels better about sending someone there or going himself. He didn't know what the Temple of Solomon held that day...and if he had he would have made Kadar stay home.

I even have a head cannon that Malik makes multiple versions of maps not just from different perspectives and to have backup copies, but to troll people haha. You telling me that this man wouldn't make a fake as hell map to fool Templars in case they stole them? I just KNOW he gave Altair multiple maps and told him to keep the true one on his person so if the enemy was successful in snatching the maps they'd get BAMBOOZLED ACK-

Finally, you wanted to know why I think he was so close with his baby brother Kadar...

I believe that he was so close with his baby brother Kadar because he's a family man, he's loyal, and he loves hard. They didn't really have their parents growing up so more oft than not he felt alone in the world. But no matter how alone he felt Kadar was always there for him, whether it was annoying him, joking with him, or just sitting with him. He fell into the role of big brother easily and got used to being the protective provider. Without Kadar he no longer had someone to care and look out for and Malik didn't know what to do with himself besides bury himself in his work.

It felt like a knife to heart when he lost the only family he had ever truly had because he knew that the Brotherhood was merely a figment of family - not the true family that he wanted. He had always dreamed of Kadar and him having their own families and bringing them both together to be one big happy family. But when Kadar was killed the reality of that dream never coming true...hit him hard.

Malik was also incredibly angry by the slaughtering of his brother Kadar because he was so young. He had so much potential and so much life to live - and it was taken like it had never even existed. He had imagined teasing Kadar about falling in love when the time came, the pride he would feel watching his baby brother one day become a Master Assassin as he had always dreamed of, the happiness he would feel on behalf of his little brother when he became a father. He had imagined what it would've been like to grow old and have Kadar crack jokes about aching bones and greying hair. Malik had imagined watching his little brother grow up the same way parents would anticipate watching their child grow.

Now, for the rest of his life he'll be tortured by "what ifs" and possibilities that will never happen. Malik felt robbed of the one true gift he had ever received in his life - especially as most people in his position don't get what he had. Family.

[anim-ttrpgs]

Annoucning the A.N.I.M. TTRPG Book Club!

The original idea was from @thydungeonguy, but he let us take care of it provided we do most of the heavy lifting to make it run smoothly.

Message either @anim-ttrpgs or @thydungeonguy and just ask to get an invite! It’s free, you just have to ask! Or, you can visit our website and find the discord link there.

Here’s the short version.

We’re running a club that treats (indie) TTRPG-playing like a book club. There’s a nomination period for RPGs, then a vote to decide which RPG we play, then scheduling discussion, then everyone who can make it(we may split up among multiple groups depending on the number of sign-ups) plays the same adventure with the same RPG(usually a 1-2 session adventure, 3 sessions if it has to go on longer), then we discuss it.

Then, repeat.

The purpose of the club is to play indie tabletop role-playing games that aren't D&D5e, bringing new games to people’s attention and getting to experience how those games work in practice. It’s an encouragement to step out of your comfort zone and try new games with enthusiastic people who love them, and even step out of your comfort zone and learn how to GM a game if you’ve never done it. The way we set up the structure of the club makes it very easy, forgiving, and supportive for GMs even when playing a game they’ve never played before—it’s really not as hard as it seems, especially since we use adventure modules, the greatest GM tool ever devised.

Join up by sending us or @thydungeonguy a message or ask, and maybe you’ll even get to play the full version of Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy for free! That is, if it gets nominated and wins the vote. Even though we’re running the club, our own games aren’t gonna get special treatment.

Despite, and perhaps especially since, our games aren’t getting special priority in the club, and because the A.N.I.M. team is doing everything to organize and support novice GMs and fellow indie TTRPG authors, organizing and running this club is a good amount of extra work for our very small team for no direct profit. We ask that if you enjoy this club, you kindly leave a tip for us on kofi or support us on patreon. It'll keep this server running smoothly and keep us creating TTRPGs, plus with a patreon subscription of at least $5, you get the prerelease rulebook as well as future updates, two horror adventure modules, and two short stories and a novella taking place in the Eureka world!

Join up by messaging either us or @thydungeonguy, or finding the discord invite link on our website!

Even if that’s not your thing, visit our website anyway to pick up a free copy of the Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy demo, complete with a free starter adventure module and pregen character sheets!

This is gonna be a blast.

[sarejima]

i am a starving child and am requesting kyman fanfics to soothe my hunger (PLS recommend ME SOME)

OMG YAY SOMEBODY ASKED ME SMTH IM SO HAPPY AMSBSDB

Unfortunately I'm a green and inexperienced mother but I'll do my best!! (thisll be long as i cant keep from waxing poetic about fics i like)-

The love of my life and one of the best things I've had the pleasure of reading period is “Know your Enemy” by Elsen. It's beyond perfect to me enough so that even though it may never be finished I'm sort of satisfied. Eric's characterisation is beautiful and literally just as hilarious as in the show itself with the way he schemes and jumps over nonsensical hoops in his head in order to satisfy his self image in processing his feelings for Kyle and unwitting desires to submit to him. The plot and setting in and of themselves also somehow complement his absurdity. Also has just the right amount of perversion. (Okay I'm done sorry)

Another genius Cartman channelfic that I was audibly giggling at due to the insanity of his mental gymnastics is "I crush everything" by Rainbow_Convection which is quite short and mainly deals with him "processing" his feelings

(The above person is really good at writing compellingly about manic impulses and emotions so check out their other fics too)

On a similar note and also exploring implications of Cartmans outright deluded conscious, this time through Kyle's perspective, is 'Imaginationland 4: a tale of two Kyles' by Sinshipsahoy where it's revealed to Kyle (in increasingly horrifying ways) that Cartman's mind is (literally) swarming with him.

(This guy also has a worryingly well written corpse desecration fic so if that's your cup of tea)

In the 'I'm with Stupid' series by numbknee Eric gets together with Kyle and is annoying and fiercely loveable and everything's great until Kyle realises that sadly Cartman's views on relationships/love in general- but especially with Kyle, his 'enemy'- had been significantly skewed from the start due to an aversion to vulnerability, stunting their progress. I especially like the fourth and last fic/chapter.

Kinda depressing but in 'Sharing Last Names' by serpenrzbreath an adult Cartman's Kyle obsession is partly due to lamenting, while in the depths of denial, his own collosal wasted potential as over the years wasted rotting and room-bound due to severe mental instability but also just lack of trying, one of the only things grounding his shame is Kyle's comparative success, and when a time of reckoning comes an unwilling(?) Kyle is all he feels like turning to. However he soon learns that pity and concern is much more confusing and enraging than ire.

Some more Kyle focused fics are

'Love and the other thing' by Gumdroppy where we get an equal amount of Kyle and Eric perspective- Kyle who revealed his love for Eric as a kid first and loves Eric WAY too much for his own good(to the point where his friends feel the need to take measures to ensure his best interests) and Eric who perhaps fell harder- worships the ground Kyle walks on- but can't seem to help the kneejerk hurt and abuse that flows from his hands. Bonus points for jealous Stan and Kenny being an angel.

Ans also by Elsen 'How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Let My Mortal Enemy Eat My Ass' which is really hot with a compelling theme of overcoming Kyle's past trama what can I say

'It's basically a weird cat, right?' By Verimakea is a adorable fic about adult Kyle who by chance meets Eric in raccoon form(and then not-so-raccoon form) in which Cartman has separation issues and Kyle is forced to battle loneliness and incteasing mildly worrying feelings for this addition to his life.

Some other concepts:

'Baby, Just Say Yes' by shortstackedcheesecake96- a beautiful wonderful fic where the palpable chemistry between a (surprisingly earnest about the subject and a talented actor) Cartman and (quite good novice) Kyle get cast as Juliet and Romeo respectively. There's so much compelling teenage awkwardness where they both appear to be unwillingly drawn to each other despite everything in ways they feel they really shouldn't- Kyle especially is almost embarrassingly captivated by an Eric in his element- and it's such a pleasure to read; just thinking about some scenes has me wanting to reread it lmao.

(This writer also has a lot of enticing and well-written smut too)

'Fake it 'till you make it' by mewtwos is another fic I hold so so close to my heart in which Kyle and Eric have to fake date for a bit, until they realise that these fake displays of affection draw them in a little bit too hard; make them a bit too lightheaded, and by that point the reel has already been cast. It's insanely well written.

'Expertise' by Mewtwos where Eric is a little too eager to practice kissing with kyle and they have a little awakening

'To Be Wanted' by Verimakea- a Cowboy au where Kyle takes it upon himself to capture Wanted Sheriff Cartman, but things quickly gp array and they and up stuck together in one place for an indeterminate amount of time, with Kyle put in a position where he often has bo choice but to rely on the other. This writer is seriously skilled at painting subtly erotic/suggestive imagery, and writing complex emotions into characters through their actions so its quite the fun leg-kicking read lol.

'Copacabana' by Senkenwoo is a bittersweet fic about jaded middle aged retired performer Kyle recalling how he lost his charming and endearingly annoying bartender lover

Some unconventional smut cus y not:

'Laid To Rest' by gosh_zillah in which Kyle has a deep seated desire to be a cocksleeve and subsequently gets watched in his sleep by an enthralled little audience for a bit(among other things as he proves to be quite perceptive lol)

"You're in his DMs? i'm in his walls, we are not the same" by ratherblue - Eric watches Kyle have smexy times thru a hidden camera; implied mutual pining. Also Kyle's trans

'Cause I'm a free bitch, baby' by knumbknee where Kyle sees an Eric in proper drag for the first time and is transfixed

'sleep tight' by bloodylamb is a quirky little sleepover somnophillia fic where Kyle's mildly vocal about his Eric-disposition in his sleep if you're good with dubcon.

I'm sure you weren't expecting to be waterboarded by text and for this I apologise

[teecupangel]

How would the assassins react to meeting the Teenage Mutant Ninja turtles?

Since you didn’t specify which TMNT we’re going for, we’ll make this a bit generalized and twist it a little bit.

The Assassins of old (with Layla and Desmond) get sent into New York. They hide in an abandoned warehouse while trying to get everyone up to speed.

The weirdest thing is that everyone is speaking English.

To be more exact…

Layla feels like most of them are getting ‘dubbed’ to English.

Desmond has no idea what this means because they sound fine to him. They sound like they’re speaking in English.

Even the people who should not be speaking English (like Arno, Bayek, etc) know they’re speaking in English and are confused by it.

They’re able to talk long enough to figure out some things, Ezio recognized Desmond and figured that backing him up would be for the best. There was no need for Desmond to lie to them, after all.

Desmond gets Altaïr on board by making him believe that he saw his memories and wrote something in Arabic on his palm that none of the others saw. Altaïr’s on board for now but Desmond knew that the man would find some way to get more information in the outside world soon so Desmond better start setting up a computer with internet connection and enough firewall to not get them pinged by Abstergo once Altaïr learned how to google.

The Kenway duo, Ratonhnhaké:ton and Edward get roped into his side last. Desmond talked to Ratonhnhaké:ton about how he’s also his ancestor but Ratonhnhaké:ton is a bit wary, considering the last time he believed someone with ‘knowledge of the future’ but he agreed to go along with it because Desmond sounded sincere. Edward joins them because he learned Ratonhnhaké:ton is his grandson.

… they kept the whole Haytham Kenway thing a secret for now because…

All of them were taken from certain ‘ends’. Altaïr’s last memory was planning to join Maria in her journey. Ezio’s last memory was returning to Monteriggioni and sleeping with Caterina Sforza. Ratonhnhaké:ton’s last memory was a peaceful day in the homestead a week after Achilles’ death. Edward’s last memory is docking to England, holding Jenny’s hand (and he also assumed Ratonhnhaké:ton is Jenny’s son).

And it’s not just them.

Layla talked to the other Assassins because she was given brief summaries about their lives as well as the Brotherhood’s Animus missions concerning their memories.

The problem was Basim.

Basim’s last memories is arriving in Baghdad as a novice.

But Layla knows that Basim is a Sage of Loki. She also realized that Basim doesn’t know Loki or his memories of Loki aren’t… ‘awakened’ yet.

So Layla isn’t sure how to act around him.

Desmond decides that they need a phone to call the Brotherhood and asked Layla what her ‘secret’ number and code phrase is to contact Erudito.

That was easy to do considering Desmond is good at pickpocketing (Edward absolutely believes he got it from him, Desmond isn’t going to tell him that it’s actually Ratonhnhaké:ton’s Bleed).

They learn two things.

The number Erudito gave Layla doesn’t exist. The number Desmond also received as an emergency call number from Erudito doesn’t exist.

And…

There is no such thing as Abstergo in this ‘world’.

No Abstergo.

No Animus consoles (and Desmond is disgusted by how greedy Abstergo has become, profiting over his genetic memories???)

Nothing.

And because they were snooping around in a New York that was both familiar and unfamiliar to Desmond, he gets ambushed.

Or so they thought they were ambushing Desmond.

Instead, Desmond leads them to the abandoned warehouse the others were staying and began to whistle the same tune Ezio would use when he was getting guards to a trap that his recruits could spring on as part of their training.

So it becomes an all out brawl that gets stopped midfight because they realized they’re fighting… uuhhh… turtles.

What.

And a lot of their names sound familiar to Ezio.

It was official.

They were in another world getting attacked by… teenage mutant ninja turtles?

[somepsychopomp]

Vampire Gojo/Getou/Nanami AU!

I got a commission to write a saucy AU featuring Vampire!stsg & Vampire Hunter!Nanami. This was a ton of fun to write and a much needed breather between the bigger fics I'm actively writing right now. Thank you for the commission, anon! ♥️

Word Count: 2,300

TW: blood

Link to read this fic on Ao3

(BTW my commissions are still open. See the details here!)

+++

Nanami couldn’t say he ever envisioned himself hunting vampires for a living, especially after trying to give it up, but he kept trying to tell himself it was somehow superior to wasting his life at an office job. 

Yes, sleeping at odd hours of the day and working from sunset to sunrise most nights, embodying a cruel parody of his prey’s nocturnal lifestyle, was better than toiling away at a perpetual stream of emails and phone calls. Yes, nearly having his throat ripped out on a near-daily basis was preferable to having an overbearing boss that loved to ask Nanami to work overtime while he himself left early every Friday. No, he did not regret his change in careers, even if the pay was laughably low considering he could die on the job at any time. 

Until now. 

The higher-ups sent him to clean out a vampire nest that had established itself in an abandoned warehouse outside of Tokyo. It was the perfect location, isolated but still bearing easy access to human populations. The vampires he found were rather weak, bearing deadly fangs and preternatural strength but no additional abilities. They were more like mindless animals than the people they once were, but he’d learned not to pity the things he was sent to exterminate. Nanami made quick work of the nest once he arrived, killing the few dozen vampires in just one night. It would’ve gone by quicker, but the old warehouse was full of discarded industrial machinery, making up a labyrinth of steel.

By the end of the job, he’d run through nearly his entire supply of wooden stakes, blunting all but one in his messy, bloody endeavors. The scent of rot and gore hung in the air, though to be fair, it did already smell like that when he arrived. Nanami twirled his last stake in his hand as he did a final sweep of the warehouse. The holes in the ceiling let in the very faintest trace of gray light, hinting that dawn was soon to come. But until then, it was still too dark to see. Nanami had to navigate by his narrow flashlight beam and his own eyes, long accustomed to scanning for movement in the shadows. 

He was on the far side of the warehouse, as far from the only known exit as he could be, when he shivered. His only warning was the way the hair on the back of his neck rose as if lightning was about to strike. 

Then it was as if something did hit him, his flashlight shattering in his hand and plunging him into darkness. Nanami raised his stake without hesitation, keeping his other arm up to guard his throat. 

“Who’s there?” he called, hoping to lure the straggler to him. How annoying, that the surviving vampire had some kind of additional power. Nanami waited, but nothing burst from the shadows. However, he could tell he was being watched. He shouted, “Come out! I know you’re there!”

He expected a shriek or a low hiss. Not a coherent human voice. 

“Hey, Nanami.”

His stomach coiled into a tight knot. That playful tone… he’d heard it only once before, back when he was a young student and a novice hunter. But he could never forget it; that voice belonged to one of the two beings in their profession that spelled certain death. 

A light turned on in front of him, almost making him step back. No, it wasn’t a light. It was the glowing blue eyes of the strongest vampire lord in the entire world, Gojou Satoru. 

He appeared in front of Nanami out of thin air, just out of reach and hovering a few inches over the ground as if to add to his already staggering height. Gojou was canted forward, hands behind his back in a strangely childish pose. 

The only reason he’d ever let a hunter live was to play with and kill them another day. Nanami thought about the tedious office job and long life he willingly gave up just to wind up here, about to be bled dry like an animal for slaughter. 

Those blinding, sapphire eyes looked past Nanami’s stake and bore right into him, as easily as a fang would sever an artery. 

He refused to give up his steady composure even in the face of the greatest vampire. 

Gojou smiled, flashing his sharpened canines. “Aw, do you really think you’re going to hurt us?”

Nanami’s blood ran cold. “Us?”

To his credit, he didn’t flinch or cry out in alarm as two arms wrapped around his waist and a broad chest pressed against his back. A purring voice in his ear asked, “Oh, mister vampire hunter, please show us mercy.”

Getou Suguru, the second strongest vampire. And Gojou’s beloved. 

It was a trap, Nanami realized too late. The vampires he slayed before were just underlings, meant to die and deplete his supplies until he was all but defenseless. But why plan anything at all?

Alone or together, Gojou and Getou would be strong enough to kill him without lifting a finger. Getou was said to have an army of demons at his disposal, in addition to whatever poor humans he turned into thralls. And Gojou… he could kill with the barest effort.

“You should know…” Nanami said, keeping his voice even as much as possible, “...my guild’s higher-ups refuse to divulge their most valuable knowledge to those below them; I don’t know anything about their future plans. And another hunter will eventually rise up to take my place. You will gain no advantage in my death tonight.”

“Death?” Gojou asked, tilting his head to the side. He suddenly appeared right in front of Nanami, taking hold of his stake and crushing it to splinters, “Who ever said anything about death?”

Then they wanted to turn him. What a useless idea, they should know that most vampire hunters regularly consumed a potion that would conflict with the influence of vampirism and cause one’s demise rather than transformation. It was a rather unpleasant drink, one of its main ingredients being a copious quantity of onions, but Nanami believed death was preferable to eternal servitude. 

The voice behind him asked, “You think we’d bother to establish a nest here, and watch you slaughter our kin, only to kill you now?”

So they were watching. 

Nanami finally did flinch as he felt lips ghosting over the side of his neck. He tried to free himself, but the arms around his waist held fast. And one of his hands was now trapped in Gojou��s clutches. 

“Silly Na-na-mi,” Gojou said, drawing out his name. The corners of his eyes creased as his smile widened, “What do you think we want to do to you, hm?”

“With you, would be more accurate.” Getou said. 

Too close, Nanami thought. They were both far too close. Not just because they were his greatest enemies -arguably humanity’s greatest enemies- but because their hands on his body felt hauntingly intimate. 

He’d had an occasional fling, most of them when he was younger, but Nanami hadn’t been intimate with another person in years. He never wanted to endanger potential partners, but also never felt the urge or any kind of spark. Nothing like the burning handprints he felt on his waist and now his chest. Gojou pressed his palm flat against Nanami’s chest and hummed in curiosity 

“I can feel how fast your heart is beating, are you that excited to see us?”

Getou added, “We’ve seen how hard you work. We see the way you care for your juniors. But when was the last time anyone has ever taken care of you, Nanami?”

A creeping fog was starting to enter his mind, making it hard to think. It was vampiric compulsion, that much he knew. But he surprised even himself when he said, “I dislike off-topic questions.”

For a stifling moment, no one spoke. 

Then Gojou threw his head back and laughed. Nanami felt the chest pressed against his back tremble with the effort to not join in. 

“Satoru,” Getou said, almost admonishing but with a grinning lilt to his voice. 

“Nanami!” Gojou said, his voice teetering toward a childish whine, “Does everything have to be work-related with you? What do you like to do for fun, huh?”

“I drink,” he said. Startled, he clapped his free hand over his mouth.

Gojou Satoru’s compulsion was that strong, even with all his training?

Nanami supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. 

Getou’s soft, mellow, sugary voice filled his head, “Is that so? We love to drink, too. Maybe you’d like to join us? You must be thirsty after such hard work.”

Against Nanami’s will, his shoulders started to relax as his hand fell away from his mouth. This was part of what made the two lords so dangerous; their hypnotic sway was beyond that of any other vampire. Gojou had his eyes that pulled the truth out of his victims and Getou’s gentle voice could sway anyone to do his bidding. 

Being in both their presence for this long… Nanami had no idea what he might say or do. If he still had his stake, he would’ve contemplated using it on himself to escape whatever dreadful fate awaited him. 

Gojou laughed softly, lowering himself until his feet touched the ground. Even then, he was still so tall that Nanami had to crane his head back to keep track of those long, sharp fangs. His head fell back against a shoulder, as if Getou was just waiting for it. 

Gojou smirked and said, “Don’t be so worried, Nanami. Here, why don’t we just show you what we're planning.”

Nanami braced himself, fully prepared to lose his jugular and return from whence he came. But Gojou reached over his shoulder, pulling Getou closer. Though Getou kept one hand on Nanami’s waist and Gojou did the same, it might’ve been possible for him to break free and run. However far he got, he could at least die knowing he tried.

But how could he leave? How could he ever look away when Gojou cradled Getou’s pale face with more tenderness than had ever graced Nanami in his life? 

He watched, starstruck, as the two vampire lords shared a kiss. Getou tilted his head back, those violet eyes fluttering shut. That intense blue light dimmed as even Gojou’s own eyes fluttered and closed into half-moons. Vampires did not need to breathe, but one of them let out the softest moan. 

Nanami saw a flash of white and watched as Gojou’s fang sliced Getou’s lower lip open. A thick trail of blackened blood snaked its way down his chin. Vampires, being undead things, needed the blood and lifeforce of others to sustain themselves. Nanami always thought of it as a sad existence. But here and now, he couldn’t deny how enticing it all looked. 

Another flash of white. Getou bit Gojou’s lip hard enough to draw blood. 

It was the sway of their compulsion that compelled him to stay and watch, surely. And not the sound of Getou moaning as Gojou lapped up his blood and made a mess between their lips. 

Nanami shuddered. He felt his whole body start to heat up despite the chill in the air. He suddenly wished he was free of his jacket and tie. 

The two vampires parted. The sight of a thin trail of viscous blood connecting their lips made Nanami swallow. His throat was suddenly very dry. He was so parched, so thirsty. 

A hand took his chin and forced him to look Getou Suguru in the eye. Those half-lidded violet irises and plump, parted lips took whatever embers of resistance he still held and blew them away. 

“Come here, hunter.”

Nanami felt his whole body flood with an aching, hungry heat, his head going fuzzy as the vampire lord kissed him. He felt the glide of those fangs but no bite. He parted his lips as a faint gasp escaped him, Getou taking that as an invitation to slip his tongue past Nanami’s teeth and force him to taste vampire blood for the first time in his life. 

It was cloying and heavy on his tongue. And so very sweet. 

It felt like pure bliss. Nanami swayed where he stood, supported by both of the arms cradling him close. Seemingly from far away, he heard Gojou chuckle and say, “My turn.”

And he was met with another set of lips, and another taste of vampire blood. Despite how much it felt like he was burning up, Nanami also felt as though he were sinking into some dark lake. His thoughts and concerns drained out of him as he was unable to imagine the sight of the sky nor the bottom of the depths. He simply was, floating yet still somehow standing. Blissed out yet still hoping for more. 

He reached out to steady himself and unknowingly leaned against Gojou’s side. 

Getou spoke, voice low and sweet, “Poor thing, must be awfully tired to fall so fast. Why don’t you take the rest of the night off and come home with us, Nanami?”

“Yes, come home with us. We’ll let you stay for as long as you like. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Nanami opened his eyes. When did they close? Did it even concern him anymore that he’d let his guard down so easily?

No, not really. At that moment, he couldn’t imagine a life without this taste on his tongue, this heat curling low in his belly. He never wanted this moment to end. 

Only one word escaped his lips.

“Please.”

[scumashling]

Welcome newcomers! You can call me Ash (they/she).

About this account

•i made this account after realizing I've been into whump for years without knowing it and discovering that I'm not alone in finding comfort in fiction about characters being put through emotional and or physical hell. I've often struggled with intense shame related to my interest in whump, especially as it's tied to my own trauma, so learning about this community has felt like a huge weight off my chest.

•fan of: defiant whumpee, intimate whumper, Lady whump, living weapon, non con body modification, drugged Whumpee, revenge whump, dehumanization, fantasy whump,Bastard whumpee, religious whump, Whumpee turned Whumper, Bad Caretaker and nsfwhump,

•I'm fairly new to tumblr and am still trying to get a feel for how things work around here, both in terms of the people and the site itself, so I apologize in advance for any possible future faux pas. I'm also a novice writer and still building my confidence in it, but I do I intend to post some of my own fiction, art, and memes.

•I'm in too many fandoms to count but currently you can expect stuff related to Chainsaw Man, Berserk, Slay the Princess, The Boys, and Delicious in Dungeon

•DNIs: I don't intend for this to be an overtly political account, and i'm not into policing people's behavior so giving a list of opinions/positions I find morally objectionable and demanding you keep away from my account if you hold them isn't my style. If I think something you posted is wack then I will simply unfollow or block you, because I am an adult who knows and enforces their own boundaries. That being said, I am a leftist (socially, economically, foreign policy wise) and related themes are more then likely to show up in my fiction, so if you have a problem with that my account probably isn't for you. The one exception to the DNI is Zionists (including "progressive" two staters) in which case, fuck Israel, fuck genocide, fuck you for supporting it, you're a N@zi, Long Live a Free Palestine 🇵🇸

•WARNING: there will be non con stuff posted on this account, as well as general content related to abuse, kink, trauma and addiction, as well as the occasional gore post. I will use appropriate tags/cws but if that is not something you can handle, or just not something you're into hearing about, please take care of yourself and disengage. I use fiction to cope with my own history and truly do not want anyone else to be harmed by it

•I do not consider myself proship or antiship and as far as I'm concerned yall both have some weird people on your side. Basically as long as you aren't being creepy or harassing anyone, have common sense around media literacy/ engaging with fiction as fiction, but don't use the fact that it's fiction to avoid thinking about real world implications/themes, you are welcome on my page.

some facts about me:

•im a nonbinary femme lesbian who's currently studying fine arts.

•I'm mixed (Asian and white)

•I'm a 23 years old

•I was diagnosed with autism at age 18. Some of my special interests include manga, horror, feminist theory, animation, media analysis, mycology, vampires and cooking.

•i adore poetry, my favorites are Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath, Ozymandias by Percy Shelley, and She Had Some Horses by Joy Harjo (specifically the canto Drowning Horses)

•I have been drawing for 7 years

[thecreaturecodex]

got any advice for new DMs? I've been playing as a PC for quite a while but I am nervous about running my first campaign

First order of business: don't panic.

Being a GM can be stressful. But at the end of the day, everyone around the table is there for the same reason; to have a good time playing pretend with their buddies.

I started GMing in a completely different age. Literally 25 years ago this year. So I imagine that some of the stresses and expectations that are on GMs now are different than they when I started. Like, I started running the Dungeons and Dragons in the 3.0 era for power hungry teenagers, who were often trying to see what mechanical tricks they could get away with to deal 500 damage in a round by level 10. Nowadays, for running D&D at least, one of the biggest worries I see from novice DMs is that their game won't live up to the expectations set by Let's Play series like The Adventure Zone, Dimension 20 and Critical Role.

Your game is not Critical Role. And that's okay. The high profile Let's Plays are scripted series made by entertainment professionals to appeal to a wide audience. Your game just has to make the 4-7 people around your table happy, including you.

So my first piece of concrete advice? Manage your expectations. My second piece of advice? Stick to 6 players max.

My third piece of advice is to figure out what you want from your game. Figure out what the overall tone of your game is, and what you want to accomplish with it. Do you want your game to be combat heavy? RP heavy? Lots of exploration and puzzles? A story with specific narrative beats? A more casual hang-out vibe sort of game? Should the characters come to the table with goals and backstories, or is this the sort of game where "Carric the Cleric; they heal people" is enough?

And then let your players know. One of my least pleasant recent GMing experiences was for a Pathfinder game where none of the players really knew what they were getting into. It was Ironfang Invasion, and the players voted to go for it, when I told them that it was going to be combat heavy, exploration medium, RP light. And then they proceeded to be unhappy with how much combat there was compared to RP. I tried to rebalance things, to some success, but that game fell apart anyway. In large part due to a player who refused to learn the Pathfinder 1e rules and resented that they weren't those of their preferred gaming system.

Some people just like to complain. So try to screen for those folks ahead of time. Personally, I prefer to be friends with someone first before running a game for them, because the vast majority of the player/GM conflicts I have had have occurred with people who I only sort of knew.

Also, on a related note, check for specific triggers, especially if you're running a published Pathfinder AP, because those tend to be Hard R content. One of the players in that Ironfang game I had been playing with for like two years at that point, he loved violent combat... but had a very specific trigger about skinning that I didn't know about. Running a module where the main villain's gimmick is that he skins his enemies. Whoops.

My last piece of advice is don't go into every game expecting it to be a long running story, especially if you're a brand new GM. Start with a one or two shot. If the players like it, figure out what they especially liked and lean into it. If they didn't, pivot.

GMing is absolutely a skill that develops with practice. So don't be afraid to practice! Have fun, and good luck.

[mocolococoffeesimp]

Aba asks her s.o to teach her how to dance

-A.B.A had seen some videos of people dancing, so she wanted to try it with you. Unfortunately she was bit sluggish with her moves, she wasn't used to move so effortlessly and weightless. If, you knew how the basics went with dancing, A.B.A would trust you to lead. But, if both of you were complete novices with dancing, you two followed a video tutorial trying it out. You two managed to learn the basics of waltz, despite both of you stomping each others toes. She wanted to do this more often you, as to her it was excellent way to spend time with you and get to hold you.

-She started to watch the tutorials when you weren't around. She wanted to impress you with some of the moves. Thanks, to her homunculus body, she is far more flexible than average person. So, some moves where the teacher is showing clear limits of human body, A.B.A goes beyond it. She doesn't realize it herself, so she just keeps practising.

-When she finally shows the dances she has been practicing, she looks like she came straight from a horror movie. Her back bending way too much with certain moves, her moves being fluid, yet stiff on some parts. When she finishes the dance, she smiles at you. She takes couple steps towards you, grabbing your hands. "Well, dear? How was my expression of love and admiration to you?" You weren't sure how to reply. You didn't want to tell her, she danced like she was in a horror movie. Her self-esteem was low enough as it was. But, there was some beauty on how she danced. "You danced wonderfully, A.B.A. But, like with most things there's room for improvement. As hard as it is for me to believe." A toothy smile appeared on her, as she heard you praising.

"I was certain my love would recognize the effort. And, those improvements.. We can work out together...." She grabs tightly onto your hand. You chuckled at her. "Of course, A.B.A. We'll be best dance duo in no time."