#man this games a under-known favorite of mine

[thewickedjazzy]

Level 1: Easy Revenge [Aphrodisiac] for Kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩Chuuya Nakahara x afab! Reader

ᡣ𐭩Synopsis : rivals to fuckers! you and chuuya are always butting heads, competing for mori’s right-hand spot. done with his games, you take matters into your own hands, slipping aphrodisiac into his favorite wine.

ᡣ𐭩Warnings: mdni 18+ content, smut with plot, aphrodisiac use, rough sex, sweat sex, female anatomy mentioned, degrading, feral chuuya, creampie, missionary, fingering, list goes on and on ppft it's kinktober.

ᡣ𐭩Word count: 3.5k

ᡣ𐭩-check Kink Coin to unlock bonus fics´-

you scrunch your nose, contemplating whether this is truly the right choice. with a sigh, you light another cigarette, but the pull of smoke does little to calm your nerves. frustrated, you shake your head—maybe it's too risky. yet the memory of his smug smirk as he belittled your ability—"useless against mine"—flares in your mind, igniting rage within you...fuck it!

that’s all it takes. the decision is made. with a grin curling your lips, you slip the drug into his glass, watching the liquid swirl as it dissolves. you don’t see him as an enemy, no—rivals, more like. rivals who have been vying for mori’s approval, constantly butting heads, showing off on missions, each of you out to prove who deserves to be the right-hand executive more.

the man in question has known you for nearly four years now. he knows your strengths, your sharp wit, and how you can hold your ground. but does he know how manipulative you can be? oh, not quite.

you press your lips into a thin line, taking a deep breath in an attempt to steady your racing heart before stubbing out your cigarette. adjusting the fabric of your burgundy skirt, you feel the black coat draped over your shoulders, its weight heavier than usual. your fingers brush over the cool crystal of the two wine glasses, and you glance at the bottle sitting prominently on the table.

vosne-romanée aux reignots—a rare indulgence, most of your paycheck sacrificed for this exquisite temptation. But the price doesn’t matter now. the ginger is the target tonight, and the prize will be well worth it.

your heart pounds enthusiastically as you hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching from behind his office's door. the click of polished shoes reverberates through the quiet corridor. perfect timing.

you take the opportunity to move quickly, gracefully settling onto the nearby leather couch, the cool material sighing beneath you as you take off your coat and place it beside you.

tou hold your wine glass between your fingers, the stem balanced delicately, your burgundy nail polish gleaming against the deep crimson of the wine. it’s a picture of elegance, one you’ve carefully curated—every detail intentional, even the way you let the liquid swirl lazily in the glass.

the door swings open, and there he is—the infuriating ginger who keeps you up at night, constantly plotting ways to put an end to his ridiculous games.

his movements heavy laced with exhaustion as he strides in, eyes closed, head hanging forward huffing in frustration, he yanks off his coat, tossing it carelessly onto the couch beside you, the leather creaking under its weight. he’s still oblivious to your presence. it’s almost amusing, really. you take in the sight—his bolo tie loosened, his dress shirt slightly untucked, his usually collected demeanour crumbling at the edges from a long day.

it’s only when you clear your throat, the sound slicing through the silence, that his eyes shoot open, narrowing immediately as he notices you lounging in his space.

“what the fuck are ya doin' here?” he snarls. classic—his sharp gaze flicks to the wine in your hand, then to the second glass on the table.

you don’t budge. instead, you take your time, tsking softly, rolling your eyes with the kind of practised nonchalance that only gets under his skin more. “is that any way to talk to someone who just bought you an expensive-ass vosne-romanée aux reignots?”

you tilt your head, letting the scent of the wine blend with the faint aroma of leather from the couch, easing you for a bit.

“are ya fuckin' serious now?” he scoffs.

clearly, he hadn’t expected you—of all people—to buy him one of his favourite, expensive wines. his gaze flickers again between you and the glass, his mind no doubt racing, trying to piece together the puzzle of your intentions. what are you scheming? he doesn’t trust you. that much is obvious, and you can practically see the gears turning in his head as he contemplates what game you're playing this time.

you smirk, cutting off his spiralling thoughts as you rise gracefully from the couch. with a casual wave of your hand, your so-called "useless" telekinesis comes into play, and the glass of wine—now laced with the aphrodisiac—glides through the air, hovering just before you as it rests between your fingers.

"here," you purr, stepping toward him, the glass now offered in an outstretched hand. "I’ve been thinking... about putting an end to this never-ending cycle of torture between us."

chuuya’s gaze locks with yours, fatigue etched into his features, yet despite his weariness, there’s an undeniable allure, every ragged breath only amplifies his seductive charm.

"you win, nakahara," you continue, your voice luring him like a siren. "let me make it up to you for always getting on your nerves these past four years, yeah?"

ugh, how much he hates it when someone calls him by his last name... it feels like you’re doing it on purpose.

the ginger's eyes dart from the glass to your face, his lips curling into his usual suspicious smirk. he doesn't reach for the wine right away, keeping his hands stuffed in his pockets as he tilts his head slightly, studying you. “tch, and what’s this sudden change of heart? you don’t fold that easy, especially not to me.”

“you really expect me to believe you just… gave up? that’s bullshit.”

“oh, chuuya... you know me better than that. but even rivals need to call a truce every now and then, right? a little peace offering.” You nudge the glass closer to him, the delicate scent of the wine swirling between you. “come on, take it. i’m just trying to be civil. is that really so hard to believe?”

“civil? from you?” he huffs, shaking his head slightly before finally reaching out to take the glass.

“alright, fine. but don’t think i’m lettin’ my guard down ‘round you.”

"not in the slightest," you reply with ease, watching as he brings the glass to his lips. his expression remains doubtful, but the rich scent of the expensive wine causes his taste buds to tingle and his mouth to water. You know him far too well—well enough to play your cards just right.

as he takes a slow sip, savouring the taste, a surge of triumph rises within you. it’s only a matter of minutes now before you can set the second part of your perfectly crafted revenge plan into motion.

he lets out a low, satisfied hum as the wine glides smoothly down his throat. He tilts the glass slightly, eyeing the dark liquid within, almost as if he’s trying to figure out what your angle is. but he can’t resist—his love for fine wine is too deeply ingrained, and this, of course, is one of his favourites. you can already see his guard starting to slip, just the slightest.

"not bad," he mutters, still watching you over the rim of his glass. "but i know you, and you don’t play nice for no reason. what’s really going on here?"

you flash him a coy smile, stepping a little closer, your fingers lightly brushing against the cool rim of your own glass. "maybe i’m just tired of these endless games, nakahara. maybe I’ve decided it’s time for a change. orrr maybe..." you pause, pressing your lips together, "...I just wanted to see if I could surprise you for once."

he scoffs but takes another sip, the warmth of the wine starting to flush his cheeks. unbeknownst to him, the aphrodisiac is already beginning its work, creeping through his veins, dulling the sharp edges of his suspicion. you can see it—the subtle shift in his body language, the way his shoulders loosen, his gaze softening ever so slightly, his now half-lidded eyes, the slight crease that forms between his brows as his body begins to betray him.

the countdown has begun.

"surprise me?" he says, setting the now-empty glass down on the table, a faint sheen of sweat forms at his temple, barely noticeable beneath the soft glow of the office's light.

"well, you’ve got my attention. now what?"

you take a slow breath, feigning innocence as you glance at him through your lashes. "now... we see just how much you can handle."

he narrows his eyes at you, confused, "what?" he rasps, his voice a little rougher than before. his breathing grows heavier, and you notice the way his chest rises and falls with each intake of air. sure, indeed, the drug is coursing through his veins now, the heat in his body building beyond what he can suppress.

he swallows hard, his throat bobbing, his hands twitching at his sides. you can see how his jaw clenches and relaxes in rapid succession, his mind trying to keep up with the unexpected sensations taking over. He shifts his weight, clearly uncomfortable as he tugs at his collar, loosening it. “what the hell’d ya do?”

without waiting for an answer, he reaches up and starts unbuttoning his vest, tossing it aside with a huff, wiping the thin sheen of sweat from his brow.

you can’t help but giggle. "wow, I thought these things took a little longer to kick in."

"you—ngh—" he starts, but his words catch in his throat as he takes another deep breath, trying to steady himself.

you watch with a growing thrill as the bulge in his pants becomes undeniably visible. a soft, wicked chuckle escapes you as you lift your leg, pressing it against the armrest of the chair, just enough to let him catch a glimpse of your laced black panties peeking out from beneath your burgundy skirt.

"aww, what’s the matter? can’t use that oh-so-useful ability when you’re too fucked out of your mind?" you tease, giggling at the ginger-haired man caught in your little trap.

“fuck… you…” he manages as he glares deadly in your eyes, face flushed, the heat spreading from his cheeks down to his chest, which is now exposed from the hastily loosened buttons of his dress shirt. his breathing is ragged, each intake of air a struggle as the drug's effects entwine with his rage.

you chuckle, tilting your head slightly as you eye him up and down. "pathetic."

before you can say another word, he snarls, and in an instant, his gloved hand shoots out, fingers locking into your hair with a firm grip earning a yelp from you. he yanks you forward, the sudden force pulling you off balance as you fumble right into his lap.

and only then that he smashes his lips against yours into a sloppy kiss, the lingering taste of wine on his tongue melds with the intoxicating heat that surges from your mouth, flooding your veins until it pools deep in your stomach, igniting the desire you’ve fought to suppress for years. spit mingles with the remnants of your pleasure, slicking your lips and trickling down your chin. he gasps into the kiss, pulling you even closer, leaving you no space to escape.

the heat radiating from his body is unbearable, seeping through your clothes as you sit straddled on his lap and you can feel his hard cock against you, pressing against the thin fabric of your panties. his hands are everywhere—roaming, gripping, like he’s trying to claim every inch of you at once.

you try to pull away, desperate for air, but he doesn't let up. he follows your retreat, lips chasing yours with a frantic hunger, completely lost in the desire overtaking him. his lips crash against yours again, “ch-chuuya, wa—mph” you try, but the second you say his name, his grip tightens against your hip, and he swallows your words with another kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth again, tasting every part of you like he can’t get enough.

one of his hands moved from your hips, working up your shirt, and before you even realize what he’s doing, he pulls, buttons snapping and scattering to the floor. You let out a low growl, annoyed that your favourite shirt is now ruined, but it’s clear—he’s far beyond caring about anything right now. “shut up,” he growls between kisses, “y' knew what you were doing when you started this.”

before you can respond, he yanks off his gloves with his teeth, half-lidded dark azure eyes clearly promising you of a night that you shall not forget. his hands grip your waist firmly, and without warning, he lifts you effortlessly and throws you onto the leather couch. the cool material hit the fevered heat of your skin once again, but the reprieve is short-lived as you watch him hastily unbuckle his belt, his pants falling to the floor and his boxers following suit.

the moment his cock springs free, your breath hitches—fuck, he’s thick. Insanely thick. the sight of it sends a jolt of desire straight through your dripping core, making your thighs instinctively press together. you’d thought about this before, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing.

it’s beautiful, flushed a deep shade of pink with veins running along the sides, pulsing with the need to feel your gummy walls tighten around it. the head glistens with precum, the sight alone making your mouth water. he’s long too, but it’s the sheer girth that has your heart racing and your mind spinning, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to take him.

“you nasty girl,” he taunts, his gaze never leaving yours. “you were just lookin’ for an excuse for me to fuck you?”

you don’t deny it—not even to yourself. the truth stings in your chest. part of this was revenge for what happened earlier today, but the other part? well... you wanted this. hell, you needed this.

you bite your lip, flashes of memory crossing your mind—the number of times you walked by his office late at night, hearing those soft, lewd moans slipping through the cracks of the door. the rhythmic slap of his hand working up and down his cock as he sat behind his desk, thinking no one could hear him. but you did. you heard it all. and you couldn’t stop yourself. your back pressed against his office door, fingers working frantically between your legs as you listened to him come undone, biting down on your lip to stifle your own moans as you cum to the sound of him alone.

you feel your cheeks heat with the realization. of course, he’s right. you’d been waiting for an excuse, and tonight, you finally got one.

“you wanted to see me like this, hmm?” his voice cuts through your thoughts as he strokes himself, his cock hard and heavy in his hand. his smirk widens as he watches the way your body responds to him, the way your thighs clench together, the way your breath quickens with each passing second. “enjoyin’ how desperate you’ve made me? ngh—don’t worry, you’re gonna get exactly what you’ve been begging for.”

he climbs onto the couch, towering above you with a lust glint in his eyes. his hands waste no time yanking your skirt up, the fabric bunching around your waist as he grabs the waistband of your panties and rips them off with a low hiss. the sudden contact makes you gasp, your body betraying you as you arch your back, pressing yourself against him. his breath catches when he sees how soaked you are.

“fuck…” he breathes, a low hum of amusement rumbling in his chest. he’s still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling, sweat glistening on his skin. his fingers graze your slit, feeling the wetness pooling there, and a wicked grin curls on his lips. “fuck, you’re soaking wet. look at you, maybe you're not as in control as you thought,” he growls chuckling, his ever so pale cheeks were flushing red by now, ginger locks sticking to the sides of his face.

you moan as two of his fingers slip inside you, your back arching against the couch as his slender digits stretch you. they sink deep, curling just enough to make you gasp, your cunt clenching around them as he moves with an agonizingly slow pace. you can feel the heat radiating off his body, every breath he takes coming out ragged, like he’s barely holding himself together.

"what's wrong, doll" he whispers against your lips, "can't handle it? you wanted to play this game, didn't you hmm?"

your mind is spinning. each touch, each thrust of his fingers drives you closer to the edge, and you can't help but curse yourself for underestimating him. you had thought you'd be the one in control, but now...

now, you're the one falling apart beneath him.

he pumps his fingers harder, your walls fluttering around them, and you let out another lewd moan, the wet sound filling the room and making his cock twitch with an urgent need for release “hah—fuck it, I need to feel you.”

the heat was too much for him to bear. driven by an insatiable hunger, he yanks his fingers from you, bringing them to his lips. he sucks them clean with a low, needy hum, eyes half-closed in pleasure. his cock, already glistening with precum.

obviously he isn’t in the mood for teasing tonight, fuck no. he wants to be inside you, to feel you right here and now.

he guides himself between your the soft plush of your thighs, his breath hitching as he aligns with your slick entrance. with a low feral groan, he pushes inside, feeling your tight walls envelop him completely. his body, consumed by the sheer amout of pleasure, drove him to thrust balls deep inside you, arms hooked under your legs as he lets out a high-pitched moan, "aah- FUCK!!"

“you..ahh fuck.. thought you could outsmart me?” he growls, his breath hot against your ear as he leans down, his thrusts never faltering. "you shoulda known better than to pull that kinda shit on me."

his words only make you burn hotter, your body responding to him in ways you didn’t expect. you were supposed to have the upper hand tonight, but instead you're a moaning mess at this point, sweet whimpers spill from your lips, overwhelmed by how deeply he’s stretching you causing a slight sting that quickly gets replaced by a tingling pleasure shooting through your entire body. each powerful thrust has you screaming, your mind overwhelmed by the intense pleasure that floods through you with every forceful slam against your ass.

his breaths are trembling, gasps turning into whimpers as he struggles to keep control. his eyes roll back, revealing only the whites as the heat and ecstasy take over, "nghh— fuck yess-"

hot chills ripple through his body, his veins pulsing with the relentless heat of his desire. oh, he was far too gone. the way you make him feel so good? it's illegal. but how could you complain when he was making you feel so incredibly good, filling every inch of you?

threading your fingers through his ginger locks, you tug sharply, drawing a low growl from him. he brings his lips down against yours, then pulls back just long enough to groan, “fffuck, you feel heavenly.”

he quickens his pace thursting his hips into you at just the right angle hitting all the right spots that have you cursing some nonsense, he snakes his hand down between your soft thighs applying the perfect amount of pressure against your clit fingers working rapidly while driving you wild with each thrust. your moans become a continuous cry as your orgasm finally crashes over you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. your vision blurs, your entire body tensing as wave after wave of pleasure washes over you.

"chuu-ya!" you cry out, your back arching off the couch as your walls clench around his cock, milking him for everything he’s worth.

chuuya groans, his rhythm faltering as your orgasm sends him spiralling toward his own release. with one final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you balls deep. his cock twitches as he spills deep inside you, filling you with his hot white ropes.

the wet slap of his cock that was thrusting hardly into your pussy became slower, sloppier as he pulls out.

for a moment, the world is silent, save for the sound of your heavy breathing. the rivalry, the tension, the mind games—they’re all gone, replaced by the undeniable truth of what just happened.

after both of you come down from the high, you push yourself up, panting softly as you gather your scattered clothes from the floor.

you glance over at chuuya, only to notice he’s already hard again, his body still betraying the intense pleasure of moments before.

“UGH FUCK!!" he curses loudly, throwing his head back with annoyance written all over his face.

you let out a soft, amused giggle at the sight. it looks like he was only getting started. Maybe you accidentally doubled the dose... purely by mistake, of course.

kouyou chuckles as she leans back in her chair, glancing at the camera feed.

"kouyou-sama... it's been an hour since chuuya went in," the technician reports shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

The ginger woman chuckles, covering her lips with the sleeve of her kimono, "well... either one of them is dead, or they’ve discovered that the desk isn’t just for paperwork anymore."

TAGS: @a-smol-bean @violetfruity @amanoava @falloutjuli @embersweapons @warriordemigosworld @cathias @alyszuha @v15aexe @vasarii @pe4rl-diver @sukidenks @dazaifavbandage @chuuminn @fyodorsprettynun @ace-0fspades69 @irasamu @trippyserval @alyszuha @bittysuguro

[blackkatdraws2]

[Original Characters] One of the Tower Residents (who is usually very stoic) is acting strange. Did the Missiontakers trigger something? (-or is this an unscripted scene?)

[More Info under Read More.]

These two are fan-OCs for a webnovel titled [Being an Extra Actor in an Escape Game]

Quick premise for the novel: There was an apocalypse that trapped the whole world in a game-like tower. Missiontakers need to go into a Tower Resident's Nightmares and solve them in order to progress higher up the tower [and maybe escape.] What the Missiontakers didn't know was that the Tower Residents are actually also real people just like them, but they're more limited in what they're allowed to do because the tower forces them to become Actors and pretend like they're NPCs.

The older man is called Kim Seung-Jun.

He's a Tower Resident that's trapped on the higher levels of the tower.

He's never acted out any major roles for a Nightmare and is always in the background.

Even among the other Tower Residents, he's a hard man to talk to, only voicing a curt reply that doesn't leave any openings to continue the conversation.

The other man is called Nick Fuentes

He's a semi-well known Missiontaker that wants to climb all the way up the tower to find the escape.

He's usually the helper of the group and he's good at being flexible with adapting and making quick decisions in tough situations.

Gets attached to people quickly if they're nice to him.

Basic OCs premise: Nick Fuentes sees the usually stoic Kim Seung-Jun acting unlike his character. He starts to get more curious about the older man, and their slow development but eventual close relationship made him unravel a different point of view about truth of the Tower and everyone who was trapped in it.

-------------✦

KOREAN PEOPLE, please tell me in the reblogs and comments if I got the old man's name right!! I'll change it into something more appropriate for his character and age if it sounds silly. I'm a huge fan of Asian webnovels, the things I always consume are Chinese/Korean webnovels that I find in illegally English translated websites HAHAHA. It affected the way I named my characters because Chinese/Korean names are the only thing I'm constantly being exposed to. [But I have no idea if these names are actually correct or not. Sorry!]

Oh MAN, I have not re-visited this novel in YEARS. Literally one of my biggest worldbuilding inspirations [not to mention it has all my favorite tropes in it] and I will continue loving it forever.

I found the novel by pure chance. At the time, there was only one website that translated it into English. I thought the premise was interesting and decided to give it a try, thinking it was just another one of those garbage junk food novels that I'd drop half-way, but no, it was actually really good.

I'm not gonna spoil anything about the novel itself lololol I'm only gonna be working on my OCs.

To be honest, I'm probably gonna make an original world and story for them soon. I like this idea too much, I'll make it mine someday. For now though, I will have a minor hyperfixation.

Go check the novel out, by the way!! It's great.

[exhausted-think-bucket]

The Beatles and Leonard Bernstein

Daddy loved the Beatles, too, which made me particularly happy. In the swimming pool the following summer, he came up with a third part to “Love Me Do,” so that he, Alexander, and I could sing the song together in three-part harmony, right there in the corner of the deep end. On one of his Young People’s Concerts, Daddy explained the A-B-A structure of sonata form by singing a Beatles song. Oh, how the girls in the audience squirmed and squealed as he accompanied himself on piano, singing “And I Love Her” in his not-so-McCartneyesque voice! He must have known he was onto something, because he began regularly incorporating the Beatles, and other pop music, in his Young People’s Concerts, to illustrate his various points. It kept the kids in the audience interested, just as it had for Alexander and me. (We, and later Nina, were in effect the ongoing guinea pigs for Daddy’s Young People’s Concert ideas.) John Lennon was Daddy’s favorite Beatle, as he was mine. We were both enchanted by Lennon’s book of poetry, “In His Own Write,” and pored over it together. Daddy invented a singing game for Alexander and me to play with him while the three of us lay wedged into the hammock under the big maple tree after dinner. We would invent a round, à la “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” using Lennon’s poem “The Moldy Moldy Man.” Whoever started the round got to choose what kind of melody it would be: sad, perky, waltz, military. After the first line — “I’m a moldy moldy man…” — the second person had to come in, echoing person number one. Then the third person would come in. The fun of the game was, of course, that you couldn’t possibly repeat the line you’d just heard while simultaneously listening for the next one. It was deliciously hopeless, and a raucous shambles every time — always punctuated at the end by person number three dolefully singing the last line all alone after the other two had finished: “… I’m such a humble Joe.” Eventually, word got back to John Lennon — or to his manager or press agent or somebody — that Leonard Bernstein was thinking about possibly setting some of the “In His Own Write” poems to music. This led to Daddy being invited to meet Lennon backstage during a dress rehearsal for “The Ed Sullivan Show.” It was by now the summer of 1965, and the Beatles were returning to the U.S. to make their highly anticipated second Ed Sullivan appearance. Naturally, our father asked if he could bring his two older children with him to the rehearsal.

- "Famous Father Girl", Jamie Bernstein - 2018

Here is Leonard Bernstein being enchanted by The Beatles, in Inside Pop: The Rock Revolution, 1967.

Even though his viewpoint is understandably informed (and thus imo limited) by his classical background, he appreciated pop music a lot more than others his age at the time did.

I love everything about this, but honestly, to hear my favorite 20th century composer comparing Paul McCartney to Schumann is just...wild.

[daedalusdavinci]

29

29. Favourite fanfiction(s) of your ship(s)?

you may not know this already, but i have a recs tag where i post exactly this in depth! but i LOVE to boost my favorite fics, so ill do it all again, just for you anon <3 if you want more recs for any of these ships, i promise there are TONS in that tag, (or you can send me another ask for something more specific,) but ill stick to just my absolute top reads in this post

my favorite fanfictions of my favorite (homestuck) ships

starting under the cut bc it got long slkdjnfsjdfn

for halquius, the funniest hs ship-

Second Chances by @mtjester

Lil Hal never said anything about what it meant to be the AI avatar of the God of Heart. After he and Equius had split, everyone had assumed he would go back to Dirk and serve as a sort of spirit companion, the hyper-perceptive Shades of the God of Heart. But to that, he had simply responded, “Nah.” He stayed firmly on Equius’s face, and Equius asked him no questions about it.

this fic is so in character. it captures some of my favorite things about this ship, like how obnoxious they are and the very specific ways they click and enable each other. it also has an absolutely fantastic sequel! its short and funny, and always the first rec i drop for this specific ship.

(the second rec i would drop is my own fic, Hold Me (Accountable). its a space au with mechanic!equius and bounty hunter!AR, and i maintain that its hilarious and a must read if you like this ship at all.)

my resident favorite ship, eridave-

Lee Shore by @jumpingjacktrash

“I asked Egbert to ask you if you have Ampora’s new contact information.” “No, man, I didn’t even know the old info was old. How can you not have a contact for him? It’s not like he changed his chumhandle, email, and phone number all at once.” “As a matter of fact, that is apparently exactly what he did. And deleted his Facebook and his photo blog.” “Dramariffic.” In the years after the game, the twelve trolls and eight humans have tried to stick together, because no one else would understand. When Eridan misses one of their yearly reunions, Dave makes an impulsive decision to go find him.

ive said it before, and ill say it again. this is THE eridave fic. this is the one. if you only ever read one (and its not one of mine), it should be this one. i love how dave takes eridan seriously without enabling him, and how easily they both cut through each others bullshit. the handling of eridans character is DELICIOUS, and i literally think about his relationships with the other trolls in this fic all the time. i dont even know how many times ive read this fic but it goes so hard.

davekat, the classic-

Fait Accompli(cation) by @dragonomatopoeia on tumblr

In Which a Mutant and an Alien Meander Towards a Quadrant of Indeterminate Identity at a Glacial Pace While Examining the Internalized Toxicity Perpetuated by Their Respective Societies, and The Nature of Friendship is Determined to Be More Universal Than Originally Theorized [Banned In Alternia]

this is the quintessential meteor fic. its everything you could ever want in a meteorfic, and deals very heavily with karkat and dave unpacking toxic cultural ideas from their respective planets and coming to a new understanding of who they want to be together. its long, its slowburn, its everything, and the authors put SO much obvious effort and research into getting the voices just right, i still think about and admire it years and years later.

The Eurydice Suite, v2.0 by @callmearcturus

Dream-sharing: a highly illegal little industry in which agents delve into people’s dreams, and unearth their deepest secrets and memories. Within this business, the Strider-Lalondes are known as the best there is — until Dirk Strider gets his fool-ass trapped within the confines of his own subconscious, with his Auto-Responder playing malicious prison warden. To save him, the best and brightest dreamers in the world will have to form a team. Backed by the token rich friend, lead by the surliest extractor ever bribed out of retirement, haunted by the shade of the latest, greatest agent in the biz, and on the run through a dangerous tiered dream in a hostile mind… It’s going to take a miracle to pull this one off.

arc doesnt need any publicity from me, bigname that they are, but i gotta say of all of their fics this one is one i still come back to and reread from time to time all these years later. the au is really cool, and the drama is potent. karkat and dave have a very loaded and complicated, vaguely antagonistic relationship that takes time to get resolved, and you dont see that very often in davekat fics!

davekat, the superior-

Crash Standing by @asukaskerian

It’s been eight days since the end of Sburb and Davesprite is not coping especially well.

IVE SAID IT BEFORE ILL SAY IT AGAIN. BEST. HOMESTUCK FIC. dont look at how many times ive read this dont worry about it. davespritekat is just better than davekat, okay? im sorry. everything is better w davesprite. if youre a davesprite fan i dont even have to say anything else you already know youve gotta read this, but for people who arent- dude, this fic. its such a poignant snapshot of the awkwardness of teenagerdom, especially as a very traumatized teen, and the interpersonal relationships between characters outside of the main two are just so delightful. the john&dave&davesprite dynamic is one i think about constantly, and me and my friend STILL have running jokes about davesprite co< kanaya, which is perhaps the greatest thing to ever be invented, and we have fully incorporated the phrase "sparkle princess alone time" into our day to day vocabulary. i LOVE the gossip chumps, they are everything to me. underrated friendship.

another classic age ship, johndave-

play ball! by spacepuck

When Dave moves to Washington, he expects to spend the summer alone in his room until school starts. But when he stumbles on the sandlot, he discovers a baseball team needing one more player. He quickly gets dragged into the mix, but there's just one problem: he knows absolute dicksquat about the game. Luckily, John, the high school's best baseball player, swoops in to help. (this is basically a sandlot/baseball au. happy summer!)

ive actually been meaning to reread this one, since its been a long time. im adding it to my marked for later rn. i think of all the johndave fics i ever read, this is the one i think about the most years later. ive never read a fic that just. FELT like summer the way this one does. its intimate and sweet and its got the exact feeling of a hot summer night, lying in the grass and staring up at the stars with your best friend. when i read a johndave fic, i want some real fuckin falling in love with your friend as a stupid kid shit, and this is that

dirkjohn-

Vanitas Vanitatum by @oxfordroulette

You've determined the hobbies of the monarch you serve are as follows: 1. Ill-timed pranks. 2. Cooking. 3. Subconsciously pulling elaborate political schemes off perfectly, ad infinitum, every one of which inches his mind closer to some ineffable dark chasm you're curious to find the depth of. Anyway, he makes damn good lasagna.

when i tell you this is the best dirkjohn fic i mean nothing else has ever even COMPARED, and that includes my own goddamn fic. fuck ammfh, read THIS. its political intrigue and messy, MESSY relationships, and a john who is an absolute delightful trickster with serious fucking PROBLEMS. the john/vriska/dirk friendship in this is everything, and the design of the strilondes is so fucking cool??? im ngl i think about those blindfolds everyyy time i make an au. its magic, its kingdomstuck, its dnd, its got illustrations, its EVERYTHING. oxfordRoulette is like a fucking professional at writing fics where everyone kind of sucks and is super toxic and a little bit evil and its THE BEST. LOVE this fic

for bropsii-

just read anything by captorvatiing. just go do that. or read the entirety of the @askpsii blog again?? for the ten millionth time? and cry about how theres like no content.

all of my other favorite ships are too niche to have fics </3 lol. read MY fics, thats what you should do. just go read the fics for the tags that i personally started sldkjfnsdlfsdf

ALSO YOU SHOULD READ LET'S BE OUTCASTS BY @curlicuecal. this is the only time ill ever recommend anything thats incomplete but GOD ITS SO GOOD. i wont say anything else. just that its SO. GOOD. and if you like hal or the exiles you will LOVE this

[neonjillrogue]

The solo agent

This is my first fanfiction, and although I'm no writer, I really wanted to tell this story that I had ion my head for some time. Jill is my favorite character in the entire Resident Evil franchise, and this story is about her. I hope you like it. If you have feedback and suggestions, please let me know! I'm here to learn.

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Following the events of Death Island, Jill makes the choice to embark on a solo mission in Nevada. Meanwhile, Riley is preparing for her road trip before beginning her new job. Little do they know that their paths are destined to cross...

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1.

Riley woke up early that morning and began packing the final items for her upcoming trip. She had recently accepted a job in Virginia as a cybersecurity expert, something she desperately needed after constantly running into her ex-girlfriend. The breakup had been tough, with Lizzy cheating on Riley for months before she finally caught her in the act. It was a betrayal that left Riley hurt and seeking a fresh start in a new place where she wouldn't be reminded of her past. 

The memory of catching Lizzy in bed with another woman still haunted Riley, six months later. She remembered how Lizzy had pleaded with her, insisting it wasn't what it looked like. But Riley couldn't find any words to respond, so she turned and walked out of the apartment without saying another word. Since then, she had avoided Lizzy and all of their mutual friends, even going so far as to look for jobs in different states to make a clean break. Riley didn't have many friends, but she did have one close friend named Laura who lived in the remote town of Montana. They mostly talked online and played video games together.

"I'm thrilled you found a way to escape from that hellhole and that bitch," Laura said.

"It's a relief for me too, believe me," Riley replied.

With some time before starting her new job, Riley decided to go on a road trip and explore some new places. One of the towns on her list was Redheaven in Nevada, known for its coal mines that used to bring wealth until they ran out. Now it's mainly a tourist destination, which was perfect for a short break away from everything else.

She carefully packed her portable consoles, laptop, and all of her cherished electronic devices. Despite her mother's disapproval and constant reminders that she was thirty-five years old, Riley was a passionate tech and video game enthusiast who always kept up with the latest trends. Her mother couldn't resist giving one last lecture the night before Riley's trip.

"My dear child, you have an important job now. I hope it gives you the maturity to put aside your childish hobbies and give you a new sense of purpose. Perhaps you'll start focusing on more important things, like finding a man and starting a family."

"Mom, I’m gay. You know that. Let’s not do this again," Riley retorted, losing her patience.

"You say that now, but you will change your mind," her mother replied with spite in her voice.

"It's not like flipping a switch, you know? Anyway, I need to sleep. It’s going to be an early morning tomorrow. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, sweetie. Drive safely."

Riley still felt annoyed by the conversation with her mother but pushed it out of her mind. As she finished packing, a news report crackled on the radio about strange events in Nevada. She barely paid attention—her adventure awaited. She was thrilled to be going on a road trip before starting her new job in cybersecurity in Virginia. Everything seemed perfect: a new job opportunity, new places to explore, and a fun road trip. What could possibly go wrong?

She had no idea how drastically her life was about to change.

She made herself some coffee and poured it into her favorite travel mug before leaving her apartment. As she turned the key in the green door for the last time, she took a deep breath and hid the key under the doormat.

"I'm ready!" Her dark brown eyes sparkled with excitement.

She absentmindedly ran her fingers through her short, dark hair, a habit she had developed over the years. Giving herself a quick once-over, she felt ready for the day. Dressed in her favorite black sweater and Vans, Riley liked her boyish, nerdy style—it fit her perfectly.

The Day Before:

Jill slammed a yellow folder labeled "top secret" onto the desk as she tried to leave the operation room. But Chris was standing in her way, his arms crossed and an irritated expression on his face.

"Jill, you can’t be serious."

"I am very serious. You'll just have to deal with it, I’m afraid." She huffed and grabbed a second folder, one without the top secret label.

"Going to Redheaven alone is crazy! This isn’t some weekend hike; it’s dangerous."

Jill closed her bag with a snap and looked at Chris.

"When has danger ever been a problem for us, Chris? We're BSAA; danger is just part of the job. Or do you think I can't handle it?"

"That’s not what I meant. It’s not about capability, and you know that."

"Do I? Because trying to push me aside for the Alcatraz mission doesn't exactly scream trust." She raised an eyebrow.

"I wasn’t trying to push you aside, Jill. I just think you need more time to heal, not throw yourself into another warzone." His voice softened.

"You don’t get to decide when or how I heal, Chris. You don’t get to take away my purpose because you think it’s for my own good." She spoke firmly.

"I was just trying…" Chris didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

"Look, I know you mean well, but this is something I have to do on my own. Besides, Redheaven is small; one person can move faster and quieter."

Reluctantly, Chris gave up the fight. He knew the conversation was over.

"Just promise me you’ll be careful."

Jill slung her bag over her shoulder and nodded.

"Of course." She walked out of the room, leaving Chris staring after her.

------

You can read the rest on ao3

[somnia-risus]

DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

Summary: Harry has resigned himself to an eternity of suffering and pain. However, when Cyphre makes him a surprising offer, it appears that Harry's fate is no longer set in stone.

Author's Notes: This fanfic takes place after the events of the film, so needless to say, major spoilers ahead.

Harold Angel never really gave much thought into how he would die. He was a detective, so the possibility of dying on the job was always at the back of his mind, clawing uncomfortably at his subconscious. If he got involved with the wrong people, pissed off the wrong person, and he could find himself six feet under with a bullet to the forehead. It was relatively unlikely, though, and so he automatically defaulted to the assumption most did; that he would die of old age, rotting away in some nursing home until his body finally gave out, and that would be it. No afterlife, no nothing, he would just...cease to be. A rather cynical perspective, admittedly, but one Harry had come to accept over the course of his life.

And then, he had met Louis Cyphre, and his entire worldview had shattered like glass.

The metal elevator hummed as it descended into the endless darkness, its walls cold and unyielding, like the very truth that had been laid bare before Harold’s eyes. It was a cage, transporting him to his fate like an animal to slaughter. He couldn't bring himself to care anymore, not after what he had done. The air was thick with a sense of finality, each breath a futile attempt to delay what could not be delayed.

His mind began to trace back the path that had brought him here, to the precipice of his doom.

Louis Cyphre, the man with the silver tongue, whose presence alone seemed to warp reality itself. A man, yet not a man, he had said, his eyes gleaming with an ancient knowing. How had he not seen it? How had he not known? It was all so obvious now; Louis Cyphre. Lucifer. It was hardly subtle, and yet, Harry hadn't seen the truth staring him right in the face. How could he have been so STUPID?

Harry had first met him under the guise of a simple case. A missing person, a cold trail, a puzzle to be solved and debts to be paid. But Louis had spun it differently, pulling strings in ways Harold couldn’t fathom, pushing him further down a rabbit hole where the line between good and evil blurred into nothingness.

And now, as the elevator descended (faster now, faster still), he could hear Louis’s voice echoing in his mind, a steady chant, a reminder of the twisted web he had woven.

"Your soul is mine. You have played my game well. But all games must end, and you, Mr. Angel, must pay the price of your sins. You and Johnny both."

The walls of the elevator seemed to close in tighter now, the weight of the words like chains around his chest. He could not deny it, not anymore. His every move had been manipulated, his every choice...no, his very life had been scripted by hands far more powerful than his own. He was no longer the man he had once been; he was a marionette, first for Johnny Favorite, a man whose soul and memories resided within him yet he felt no connection to, then for the devil himself.

A sudden, sharp jolt. The elevator stopped.

Harry looked up, his breath catching in his throat. Through the narrowing slats in the ceiling, he could make out the faint flicker of infernal light, the glow of fire or brimstone, perhaps both, waiting for him on the other side. It was all too much. His eyes squeezed shut, his fists clenched, but even as he did so, he could not silence the voice of his fate.

"You thought you could escape, but the price of knowledge is always steep, my dear Johnny. And to think, you pulled this man down with you. I almost feel proud." Cyphre was speaking directly to Johnny now, though if the other soul uttered a word in reply, Harry could not hear it.

Louis's voice whispered from every corner of the lift. The truth had always been there, hidden in plain sight, tucked beneath the layers of mundane corruption and human folly. Harold had dug too deep, and now his doom awaited him on the other side of the cold, iron embrace of the elevator walls.

As the elevator doors creaked open, Harry felt it; a weightlessness, like falling through the air, though his feet never left the ground. He had solved the puzzle, cracked the case, and in doing so had signed his own death warrant. The truth had become his executioner.

Harry stepped out of the elevator, into the unknown, his final breath taken in a world that no longer made sense, no longer had rules. And as the door slid shut behind him, as the walls of the underworld loomed closer, he swore he could feel his heart hammering in his chest, despite knowing it had stopped the instant the electrifying embrace of the electric chair had enveloped him.

The air was heavy with sulfur and the scent of something ancient, like burning paper and decaying flesh. His senses were overloaded; fire licked at the edges of his vision, and distant screams echoed in the vast, endless horizon of damnation. He could feel the oppressive weight of all the souls that had come before him, their desperate cries brushing against his consciousness like an old, worn-out cloth. He was certain some of the people Johnny...no, HE had killed were down there with him; they were hardly what one could call "good" people. He took no comfort in the thought, though.

He blinked, and Louis Cyphre suddenly stood before him, smiling that same serpentine smile, his eyes like twin abysses, glimmering with a satisfaction that was almost palpable. He was no longer just a man, but something far darker, and Harry understood at last. He understood what Cyphre was, and the cost of the games he'd been tricked into playing.

"Harold Angel." Cyphre said, his voice a smooth, oily baritone. "You’ve arrived. Welcome to your final destination. Your sins have been tallied, and your judgment is clear. You and Johnny both have crossed a line that not even I can erase."

Harry’s knees felt weak beneath him, though he stood tall and unyielding. He had no idea what the next few moments would bring, but he could already feel the ice crawling up his spine. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice faltered, the weight of his sins too much for him to vocalize. He deserved this, even if he had no real recollection of committing the acts that got him here to begin with. His body had been used as a tool for evil, whether he liked it or not, and he was complicit.

"And yet..." Cyphre paused, his smile widening. "I find myself hesitant to just hurl you into the lake of fire, as so many before you have been. In truth, while I do have dominion over yours AND Johnny's souls due to the nature of your little...situation, let's call it, I really only earned one. You were a bonus prize, Mr. Angel, and I'm never one to revel in a victory that I did not EARN. Punishing YOU would bring me no pleasure."

Harry's eyebrows furrowed, his mouth going dry. What the hell was that supposed to mean? What difference did it make that Cyphre hadn't "earned him" when he was here now? And he was THE DEVIL, what did he mean he would take no pleasure in tormenting him? Wasn't that he whole point of the devil to begin with? To punish, to spread pain and fear wherever he went?

Cyphre continued after a moment of silence, eyes staring into Harry's with a devilish (pun completely intended) twinkle. "Don't get me wrong, you technically DO need to be punished, but it's really only a formality since you and Johnny share a single body. In order to punish him, I MUST punish you. You understand, yes?"

No, Harry did NOT understand, but he nodded anyways.

"There is an arrangement I think we can come to. A small...opportunity. If you are willing to accept it."

Harold's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"You see..." Cyphre continued, stepping closer with a slow, deliberate pace. "You’ve been quite the amusing little puzzle for me, detective. And the rules of the game are not always set in stone...there are alternatives. The big man upstairs only dictates that I DO punish you, not how. I think I have a solution that will be beneficial for the both of us."

"Making a deal with you was what landed me here in the first place." Harry finally forced himself to speak, his voice hoarse from the unbearable dryness in the air. "It didn't work out for Johnny, why the hell would I think it would work out for me?"

The devil’s eyes glinted with mischief, and Harold’s stomach twisted with dread. "You’ve been a detective for long enough to know that when someone offers you a deal in this kind of place...it’s usually a trap. You're a smart man, Mr. Angel. But look at it this way; what else do you possibly have to lose? Besides, Johnny made a deal with me then tried to make off with his goodies without paying for them. You will do no such thing."

Harry didn’t trust him. No sane person would. "Go on..." He said after long moment of silence.

"You and Johnny both feel each other’s presence and experiences, though you seem to have a habit of blocking out Johnny's side of the equation. Repressed memories are fun, aren't they?" The devil chuckled. "The two of you are linked, tied together in ways that are...unique. And in that union, I see an opportunity for something...fun."

Harry’s blood ran cold. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Cyphre’s smile turned predatory. "I’ll get straight to the point. Johnny, poor Johnny, cannot stand...tickling. It’s a weakness, isn’t it? And he HATES feeling weak, powerless. It's part of the reason he started dabbling in my dark arts to begin with." He circled Harold slowly, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "But you, Harold, have a secret of your own. You...like it."

Harry stiffened, his cheeks burning with embarrassment. He wanted to protest, but the devil’s words echoed in his mind, too accurate to dismiss outright. "H-How the fuck do you-" He started, barely able to get the words out.

"You're in my domain now, Harry. I can see directly into your minds, your souls. I know all of your secrets, all of Johnny's. Your dreams, your fears, everything belongs to me now. It's a little ability the...almighty has granted me, to make it easier to cater directly to damned souls' worst nightmares."

That...actually made a lot of sense. Harry opened his mouth, then closed it, at a complete loss for words.

"Johnny hates being tickled." Cyphre repeated, his tone mocking, yet oddly playful. "But you enjoy it. And now, I offer you a choice. Suffer the eternal punishment I had prepared for you...or, agree to let me tickle you whenever I desire. And in exchange, you’ll avoid the torment all the other souls face in my realm."

Harry’s eyes widened. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. This had to be some sort of joke, a cruel prank to get his hopes up before he was torn limb from limb, sewn back together, then put through it all over again.

“You...want to do...THAT to me?” He asked. Even now, he couldn't bring himself to say the word. While he was alive, he had avoided it like the plague, the mere mention of it enough to make his cheeks turn a brilliant shade of pink and send butterflies through his stomach.

"Can't say it, still? How cute." Cyphre’s gaze softened slightly. “And not just you, Harold. Every sensation you feel, Johnny will feel as well. No matter what decision you make, your punishments will be shared, as even I cannot unbind what Johnny has done to your souls. The joy, the agony; it will be shared regardless. Every single time."

Harry was silent, breath caught in his throat, so Cyphre continued. "With this arrangement, you get to indulge in your secret little vice, Johnny gets the suffering he signed up for upon granting me his soul all those years ago, and I fulfill my duties as the cosmos intended me to. Your sins will not be forgotten, but your torment will be DIFFERENT from theirs, for you did not end up here of your own free will.”

Harry’s mind reeled. This was beyond absurd. But the thought of eternal suffering, the kind of suffering he’d seen in the eyes of other souls, made his stomach churn. Could he really endure something like that forever?

On the other hand, the offer...

"And what happens if I say no?" Harold asked, his voice low.

Cyphre smiled again, that same crooked, knowing smile. "Then you’ll face the consequences like every other lost soul. The flames, the cold, the isolation...the endless agony. The choice is yours, Mr. Angel."

Harry's mind was in turmoil, torn between the terrifying prospect of eternal damnation and embarrassment at the prospect of agreeing to such a deal. Johnny’s voice bubbled up inside his head, an angry growl of refusal. It was the first time he had ever heard the other man's voice, the first time he had ever made his presence known in any substancial way.

"Don’t you dare." Johnny spat. "Don’t let him do this."

But Harry knew, somehow, that this wasn’t just about Johnny. It was about him, too. His own desires, his own twisted little need to preserve his own wellbeing, no matter the cost. Perhaps Johnny and he were alike in that way.

"Fine." Harry said, his voice almost a whisper, but resolute. "I’ll take it."

Cyphre’s laugh was soft and dangerous. "Very well. We have a deal." With a snap of his fingers, the air around them seemed to shift, and Harry felt a lightness in his chest. The air was no longer painfully dry or unbearably hot, now sitting at a more comfortable temperature, and the visions of dancing flames and choruses of screams faded away as their surroundings shifted.

In an instant, the two were standing in an office like any other, with beautiful dark woods and an intricate fireplace roaring in the corner. The walls were lined with books, their spines bearing languages Harry couldn't even begin to recognize, some appearing downright ancient. On the floor, a large, sprawling lion pelt was laid out like a rug, the creature's mouth opened in an eternal roar.

Harry had to admit it, the devil had good taste in decor.

And as Cyphre moved closer, Harry could feel it; a slight shift within him, a pressure in his ribs where Johnny’s discomfort rose, and he realized the truth of it. Whatever came next, they would both have to endure it together.

"Now, let's get comfortable, shall we?" The devil smirked. Harry's eyes shot open in shock as he felt invisible hands wrapping around his wrists, dragging him backwards and pinning him against one of the bookshelves. His arms raised, pinning themselves over his head as if they had a mind of their own, and no matter how hard he tried, Harry couldn't get them to come back down. He squirmed, a slight panic beginning to rise within him.

"What the fuck? How did you do that?" He asked, voice cracking slightly.

"Magic, Mr. Angel. It's not complicated." Cyphre replied simply as he strode forward, glancing over his victim appraisingly. His eyes met Harry's, cold yet amused, and the detective began to wonder if this really WAS preferable to eternal hellfire. "Hm, now where should we start? Any suggestions?" He asked tauntingly. "It doesn't matter to me."

"Goddamn it, don't you tell him shit! I can't believe you agreed to this!" Johnny's angry voice echoed in his head.

God, this couldn't be happening. Harry felt his cheeks burning with embarrassment, the color traveling all the way up to his ears. There was no way in HELL he was going to answer that question.

Cyphre’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he leaned in, clearly enjoying Harry’s discomfort. “Oh, I can see you’re getting a little flustered. No need to be shy, Harold, I already know everything about you. You have no secrets with me, so why not just give me a spot, hm?” The devil's voice was silky, almost mocking, and Harry’s heart leapt into his throat.

He tried again to move his arms, but they stayed locked in place, as though the air itself was holding him still. Panic started to build again, creeping up his spine, but he clenched his jaw, trying to maintain some semblance of control. He wasn’t going to let this...whatever this was, break him.

Cyphre leaned forward to croon into Harry's ear, his breath warm against the detective's neck. “Not going to say anything? That's fine. I'll just start right here." His fingers pressed against Harry's biceps, long nails slowly skating downwards towards Harry's exposed armpits.

In an instant, Harry went stiff as a board, his muscles twitching under the gentle touch. He bit his bottom lip, breath becoming more shallow as he fought to keep a wobbly smile from spreading across his face. "S-Shut up!" He hissed, eyes squeezing shut as Cyphre stopped just above his armpits before slowly walking his fingers back up to the creases of his elbows.

“Good to see you've still got that fighting spirit; that makes this far more fun.” Cyphre purred, his fingers slowly raking back down towards Harry's armpits, pressure light but horrifically effective. The detective shivered, biting back a whine as the fingers once again stopped just shy of their target. The devil seemed to relish the uncertainty of when the attack would come, the tension building between them.

Then, without warning, his fingers descended, lightly grazing Harry’s armpits, just enough to make him twitch violently. Harry’s head snapped back, thumping against the wall as he let out a muffled yelp between pursed lips.

Cyphre chuckled darkly, eyes glinting with amusement. “My, my! You ARE sensitive…” He teased, his fingers dancing over the outstretched hollows. Harry couldn’t stop the strangled laugh that escaped him when they found a particularly sensitive spot just above his ribcage, despite his best efforts to hold it back.

“Ohohoho shihihihihit!” Harry gasped, his body betraying him with each movement as giggles started to flood past his lips before he had a prayer of stopping them. "Nooohohohohohohoho!"

“Does it hurt your pride, Mr. Angel, being so vulnerable? While we are both aware of how much you enjoy the sensation, I doubt you have much experience with being so...helpless.” Cyphre's words had Harry's chortles increasing in pitch, his head shaking frantically as those devilish fingers moved down to begin plucking at his ribs like a harp.

"Nehehehehehehahahahaha! Dohohohohon't! J-Juhuhuhuhust be quihihihihihihiet!" From somewhere within him, Harry felt a pang of discomfort and anger, heard the briefest echo of a snicker, though in seconds Harry's mind was overtaken by his own panic as nails started to scratch between each rib, one at a time. It seemed Cyphre had been telling the truth; Johnny was feeling all of this, too. "Ohohohohoho my gohohohohohod!"

"Oh please, we both know He's far from here, Harold. No point in crying out to Him now."

Harry gritted his teeth, trying to resist the urge to laugh, but it was impossible. Cyphre knew exactly where to touch, his fingers expertly tracing over the spots that drove Harry wild. The detective was already breathless, struggling to keep his composure, but it wasn’t working in the slightest.

“Come on, Mr. Angel." Cyphre taunted, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "What’s the matter? I know you're ticklish, but surely you exaggerate.” He dug his fingers in deeper, finding a spot between Harry's bottom set of ribs that made him HOWL. "No man can be THIS ticklish, can he?"

Harry squirmed as much as the invisible hold would allow, laughter growing into full-on cackling as Cyphre's fingers scribbled down to begin attacking his exposed stomach. "NOHOHOHOHOHOOO! NOT THEHEHEHERE, NOT THEHEHEHERE!" He pleaded, embarrassed by the small squeal that tore out of him.

Cyphre’s grin widened, pleased with the reaction. “What a laugh! It’s really rather endearing. You know, I thought for sure someone like you would be a little less…fragile.” He continued to tease, making Harry squirm harder, his cheeks burning.

But then, something strange happened. Harry’s laughter, once high-pitched and wheezy, shifted to become deeper, more defiant. Even his facial features changed, albeit ever so slightly, and Cyphre immediately picked up on it.

"YOHOHOHOHOU FUHUHUHUHUCKER! I'LL GEHEHEHEHET YOU FOR THIHIHIHIHIHIS!" Johnny’s voice snarled from Harry's mouth, eyes attempting to glare at his attacker, to little success.

Cyphre smirked, sensing the shift in the air. The devil narrowed his eyes. "Well, what’s this? A new player, I see. Decided you wanted a turn out front, did you Johnny?" His hand formed a claw, digging into the sensitive stomach and vibrating ruthlessly.

Johnny screeched, hips bucking as he threw his head back with laughter. How could anyone be this sensitive? WHY did he have to pick a new body that was so fucking soft?! "SHUHUHUHUHUT UHUHUHUHUHUHUHUUUP!"

"I must say, it's interesting how different you sound from Harold, despite sharing the same vessel. Somehow, your body notices the change and adapts, giving you each a unique cadence to your words, a unique sound to your laughter..."

The laughter shifted once more, morphing back into Harry's frantic, giddy wail as Cyphre started clawing just below the navel. "PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE! PLEEEEHEHEHEHEASE!" Harry squealed.

"Aah, welcome back, Mr. Angel. You're much preferable to your other half, I must say." The devil said, delighting in the way Harry's eyes widened and his laughter turned into a shrill whine. "You MUST be enjoying this; haven't even asked me to stop, have you?"

He was right. While Harry was cackling, begging, feeling as if he was on the verge of madness, the word "stop" never seemed to leave his lips.

It mortified Harry how easy he was to read; how obvious his affection for the touch was, despite the circumstances. He knew Johnny would be cussing him out if he could for ever agreeing to this. He swore he could almost FEEL the other soul within him, shaking with a mixture of rage and mirth, though he couldn't know for sure.

One thing WAS for certain, though. If this was the afterlife that awaited him, Harry might not be as royally screwed as he first thought.

[pirdmystery]

sylvain jose gautier for the ask game

oiuhgggghhhggggggggggg…

first impression: it is important to note that i literally got into 3h because i knew it as “that game with sylvain in it.” i didn’t even know what to expect from him other than that. so when dimitri introduces him as “a bit of a skirt chaser” or whatever i’m like lol ok?? what??

impression now: if anyone is interested… go through my sylvain tags to get a feel for this. i’ve been spiraling lately. suffice to say i am SO sick about him like more and more every day. christ alive talk about a guy with problems. the way he is so smart and so soft but he is absolutely determined not to let anyone know either of those things… noooo I’m actually just a wacky little guy don’t worry about me… i’m just the comic relief… doing fine… yeah i know i said “burn until we meet again” and “see you in hell i guess” but that’s just because I’m being soooooo funny and normal… i’ve also never cried in my life btw…

fav moment: there are so many blink and you miss it unhinged sylvain moments in this damn game. i’ve talked about it recently but the fact. that if he does badly on a lesson and you pick console instead of critique he gets really bitchy and pissed off. like jesus christ. sorry for trying to extend you some gentleness buddy will not make that mistake again.

also let’s take a moment to recognize the iconic “it killed my brother and now it’s mine.” certified sylvain moment

idea for a story: i have billions. i never stop emotionally tormenting this man. got a 20 years post cf angstfest about he and felix coming. beyond that i am obsessed with the prospect of a sylvain/mercedes/ingrid ot3 and someday i am going write a fic with them that isn’t just the extensive smut that currently exists in my google docs

fav relationship: i have got to go with ingrid. i do very much ship sylgrid romantically and they make me sooooooooo unwell but even if i didn’t their friendship is just so important to me in a way i really struggle to put words to. the way they understand each other perfectly but that makes it almost harder for them to get through to each other because of all the layers of bullshit they have built up around the true version of themselves that the other sees. they bump heads a lot but the way it’s so obvious that under whatever they might be clashing about and the baggage of their years of friendship there is this foundation of unconditional love that is not going anywhere no matter what oh god suddenly i cant see the screen and there’s something happening to my eyes oh god

a fun thing about sylvain is that i could write equally unhinged paragraphs about his relationships with mercedes and dorothea!! something about girls he would normally flirt with and their response is :) hey i see you btw! and sylvain is forced to crumble like a little baby. i cannot get enough of that shit. get seen idiot. i’ve also been known to enjoy some yurivain and dimivain and claudevain for not dissimilar reasons.

unpopular opinion: once again idk what is popular!! i feel like my shipping tastes with him are not the most popular but everyone is nice to me when i talk about them so. it’s all good

favorite headcanon: most bisexual man on the planet. i also love making him work service jobs lmao. he works at subway in my sylgrid fic but there are so many other things i want to subject him to. he should have to sing happy birthday to people at applebees. he should be a barista at a shitty coffee shop. mostly this is because it’s funny but i also think would be deeply in character for sylvain to plant himself somewhere far below his skill level and languish there as if there were nothing else he could do about it.

tysm for letting me go off about him… man. sylvain.

[queerlilchinchin]

Death Has a Face: A Dating Simulator

Whoo! Created my page for my Death Has a Face simulator! :) I'm starting with a project I know my characters pretty well. I created 3 more characters for it. You can read about the characters below (including old ones):

Hello and welcome to my dating simulator for Death Has a Face. As a precursor so you know what you're in for, Death Has a Face is an old story of mine that is about a goddess, a grim reaper and the reaper's best friend, who also happens to be her helper in death.

What do I mean by that?

Belinda - the serial killer - was approached by Ikuisuus - the reaper - to off anyone that has somehow escaped their time to die. In return, she got immortality, which also gave her the ability to drink as much as she wanted without getting drunk (which wasn't necessarily a blessing in her book).

About Belinda: Belinda is a drunk who loves to fight and bet. She is the classic bar-attender in any movie that loves to pick bar fights and shark people at pool, only her game of choice is usually darts because women are even more underestimated with darts. She is known as the "Red Devil" because she wears red stilettos everywhere (her favorite color is red) and it's said you hear the clicking of her heels right before you die a brutal and gruesome death. She loves to kill and finds thrill in hurting others, though she and Ikuisuus also have a deal she can't torture anyone.

About Ikuisuus: Iku or Kui or Ikuisuus is the grim reaper of her world. She had to kill the last reaper while she was being taken to her afterlife in order to do so, which she did by accident. The only way to kill a reaper is with their scythe, which is why they're known for always having it on their person. She is fascinated by the ever-changing world, having been human at one point, and is best friends with her assistant, Belinda, who will often have her come down to earth to enjoy some human customs with her. Ikuisuus is afraid of corn mazes ever since Belinda one day took her to one for Halloween.

About Juuma Jumma is the goddess of their world. Juuma is very particular about who she allows to spend time with her, so in their world heaven isn't selective on who enters for the reason some believe. It's simply because you're not part of the "cool crowd." However, in their world, hell isn't a place of torment. Not for those that were kicked out of heaven for being too "uncool." Rather, it's a big ass party where you just weren't invited to the VIP section (heaven).

About Ruby: Ruby was Ikuisuus' first crush ever. She was a stunning, outgoing and confident redhead with beautiful gem-like blue eyes, who stole away Iku's love easily. However, Belinda was still alive and able to date Ruby, and under the guise of "vetting her to make sure she was good enough for Ikuisuus," started dating her. Much to both girls' surprise (because no, Iku is not all-knowing), Ruby ended up being a serial killer herself, only here's the kicker - she only killed other serial killers. She felt justified because of this fact. Belinda... did not feel it justified and had to kill her only girlfriend she'd had in a very long time when she realized Ruby was onto her.

About Jane: Jane is a bisexual woman that has actually met Belinda before but didn't know it. She is obsessed with The Red Devil and was actually he creator of her fanclub. She sees her as a powerful woman who will shut any man down (which she isn't wrong about) and will forever be the voice of feminism. Jane is sassy and clever with a flirty mouth - but only once you've gotten to know her. When you first meet her, she's shy and quiet and difficult to get to open up. She's a pilot, but ironically horrified of heights. She actually learned to fly on a dare, and fell in love with it and immediately switch career paths when she became good enough to do so. She is in an open relationship with Jarred.

About Jarred: Jarred (32) is a pansexual/biromantic man. He's in an open relationship with Jane and is also clever and intelligent. He is terrified of heights and will willingly go on dates with his pilot girlfriend where they fly on private planes across the world - but he hates it. After all, he's also horrified of deep ocean water, and the entire time they're in the air over the water, all he can imagine is them crash landing in it. He loves to dance and loves music of all different kinds, so an chance he has to take Jane out dancing, he snatches as quickly as he learns about it.

About Leo: Leo (26) is a bisexual man. He has had a difficult time with love, having been cheated on by every woman he's dated and abused by every man, so for obvious reasons, he has a difficult time opening himself up to new ones. He is very closed off and seems very harsh and quiet when you first meet him, but once he opens up to a person, he becomes an absolute teddy bear of a man. He as intense seasonal depression that kicks in every summer, especially bad in July and even more intense anxiety all year round. He hates reading, finds it boring and it opens his mind up to talk to him way too loudly, so he prefers to listen to music and watch loud movies and tv.

[fireproofphoenix]

So I've been playing Palworld and it's scratched that itch I had back when Ark was also new and wonky as all hell. I love finding wonky shit that will be patched soon enough that I otherwise would never had seen if it was a polished game already. That's not the point. The point is the day I reached 365 in-game days on my character, I was taken to Hell and God spoke to me.

This is a somewhat long tale because I can't seem to tell a story without lots of details but ehh.

Now I know it wasn't intended as such but I know what I know man. See I'm all about breaking games. I enjoy speed running and clipping objects, and let me tell you about unintended files stored as magic boxes behind a fireplace in Skyrim! Naturally then, I have used some less than authentic things in the year.

Have I maybe held a conversation about the pros and cons between two Chikipi in the inventory of a Black Marketeer while my Quivern roasted him alive in the background so I could loot his corpse of 35k gold? Perhaps.

Have I ever intentionally instigated a riot in one of the only civilized parts of this island of nightmares? Have I led that bloodthirsty mob then against the leaders of the cults and/or organizations that control the island with the intent of forcing their leaders and their partner creature into a sphere thanks to an exploit allowing me to catch them? It's possible.

But no, instead me and Immortal the Shadowbeak decided to visit his home realm. See I was doing the now-known trick of butchering a pal and then riding them to prevent them from dying. Didn't realize how it worked, really, i just knew to try riding him during the second loop of the animation. I'd discovered this from dropping the controller in a panic as my cat made a mad dash and knocked over my coffee.

I figured out the rhythm of it. I was killing and harvesting this beast endlessly! It refused to stay dead under my guiding hand. Sure it was eternally blurred out with that pixil-y cloud, but that's because we should not gaze directly upon the divine, as this death transcendent hippogriff clearly was. I explain this in a sleep deprived mania to my roommate. They suggest a nap. I disagree. Another coffee means I can continue the immortal butchering.

Then we Fell the first time. I'm no stranger to being out of bounds in a game mind you. Hell my favorite mining route meant clipping through a mountain in another game. This is Fine™ so I land in the water under the map. Recall people saying online that the dungeons and whatnot are just hidden pockets under the world. Maybe that's where I was? Didn't care. Immortal Shadowbeak was there with me still. I continued the butchering unimpeded. Must get technology books for unlocking more shelves.

Over time I have repeatedly entered the Undersea. Sometimes its from exploring, but no, I have a Rushoar and he is called Sæhrímnir and he will take me to the Undersea every time. No matter what. Every other Immortal has regenerated every reload of the save and lost their pixel cloud, but remains censored to this day. But a man needs bacon for his eggs so I butcher him like his namesake to feed the people.

Now, like every good casserole recipe, the backstory is finally set, so onto the tale. On the day of my character's 365th day I rolled out of my bed and walked out of my keep. I did a full tour, remembering my tiny three walls and a roof to how far I'd come with my Pals. It'd been a long year, but I decided a feast! We must celebrate! Not just me and my party, but all of us shall enjoy Sæhrímnir! No salads for breaks today!

So me and Sæhrímnir get into position on the Bloodstone. I'd read having one stone foundation away from everything helped with not falling through the ground and while it worked for everyone else, Sæhrímnir is more Divine and thus immune to that so once again I'm riding his not-a-corpse down to the Undersea. I figure I need more meat to fill everyone, what with food level 7s everywhere, so i continue meat making.

Sæhrímnir decided I'd been flaunting his immortality I guess because later at the party he suddenly burst from his palsphere and I was like "Weird, but okay" and decided I'd try "petting him and calming him down" before tossing him back into the sphere. I was still holding the butcher knife I guess and started disembowling him on the table in the center of the picnic area in front of everyone. Only the Immortals knew what they were, having been killed at the Bloodstone far from the eyes of the rest, and now they knew.

But I wasn't gonna let Sæhrímnir die, so I went through the rituals the same as always and down to the Undersea we went. I prepare to go back to base via the keep inventory option in conjunction with the die and respawn button in the menu. It's routine at this point.

"Come" I hear an older man and younger woman say at the same time. I just happened to be looking at Sæhrímnir, about to return him to his sphere. His pixilation ended at that one word and then we started falling through the Undersea. In that short fall, I wondered if we'd fallen somehow into one of those dungeon pockets. As we landed I knew this was truly not somewhere I was supposed to be.

See, the grass was much more gray than green, but there was grass and ground under my feet in every direction I could see. The issue was, I could not see that far, only about five to ten feet through the thick white mist that was static and yet animated. No wait, that part just moved, but the smoke texture wasn't animated. I cautiously begin moving through the mist, careful that the ground may end yet again. Try finding Sæhrímnir, but he's gone. My palspheres aren't working, my character not even trying to throw an empty hand.

On the side of the screen, I see my character has eaten another plate of bacon an eggs. I'm still alive and eating, so that's a bonus. Means this isn't unsalvagable, but curiosity has me. I check and I have all my weapons. The firearms shoot into the White Void and my ammo count went down, so they work. I reload and set off further and faster into the mist.

Even fully sprinting there's nothing but knee high gray grass and flowers and the mist that is everywhere. I opened the map and it says I haven't left my base. I know I've been running in the mist for easily five minutes. I encounter a tree. It's texture is on inside out and is more or less just a mass of spiky vectors in a dead tree shape. I continue. Minutes pass, more trees appearing in the fog. I saw a pal fragment node but it vanished as I approached.

eventually as I get bored, I notice the day is about to end and I consider respawning and going back. The Sun turns into a Moon in the dial and I hear a crashing sound like a felled tree. Everything flashes and the grass is suddenly green, but the mist is turning black like ink. Horror movie vibes as hell. I'm rooted in place watching this glitch and needing to know how it ends.

The double-voice says something again, but they're no longer saying the same thing. Too brief to comprehend what it was. Haywire audio files, no big thing. Happens a lot. Sæhrímnir then appears, or perhaps another boar like him. It squeals and does its death animation as the fog finishes becoming black. Night must've finished falling in the Overworld---

Lights start coming to life around me, brightening and dimming slowly. Lifmunk Statue green and data log/fast travel blue lights started pulsing in the void. I made the mistake of trying to run to one. The camera spins as I start running. Moving is controlling the camera now and the camera is moving the character now. No problem, lemme just unlearn decades of gaming muscle memory real quick.

"COME" the Twin Voices cried suddenly, static accompanying the word. Feel backdoor room vibes and get goosebumps. My nerves are suddenly both taught and shot at the same time. My character has fallen into the distortion world ffs. Time to abort. I select Respawn in the menu. My character doesn't die. Try several more times to no avail. Try double jumping and my Galeclaw still refuses to answer my summons. Palspheres are still not working.

As I get the idea to just hard-close out the game, the sun begins to rise. Like a disney movie, rays of gold and orange shoot through the black and dispel it....why are the rays of light twisting? They start bending around and twisting around invisible objects my character doesn't collide with. Wait, that thing over there kind of looks like part of the assembly machine---

The entire screen suddenly turns white and I hear a sound like a dozen digital demons as the game crashes. I reboot the game and I'm standing in the middle of the party, still in full swing around 4 in the afternoon on the 365th day. Nevermind my night going through the Shadowrealms like I'm mfing Ra crossing the Duat. Nevermind that I saw beyond the veil as many Islanders wish for and I found only horrors.

I prepare to log out when I check my party. Sæhrímnir is gone. He never returned with me.

The Immortal Pal Experiments have been halted at this time.

[theromanbarbarian]

Idle Games

Looking for some cool Idle Games? Looking for something that almost could be described as "fun"? Looking for something to completely suck up your attention, making you completely unable to do anything enjoyable or productive? Want your brain to be hijacked so that all you can think about are ever increasing meaningless numbers?

Here are four of my favorites:

4. Cookie Clicker

This is the most well known, most standard idle game: click on cookie, get cookies, build buildings that produce more cookies. And this simple loop, combined with the big ever increasing NUMBER of cookies that exploit some glitch in my brain and makes me think exclusively how to get this NUMBER bigger faster. An after it has completely converted you into a fanatical NUMBER acolyte: it. does. not. end.

So you have to claw yourself back from this abyss and like swear to yourself that you will never again open the site just to see that beautifully terrifying ever increasing NUMBER again.

Do not play this game

3. Kittens Game

While cookie clicker was mercifully boring enough for you to realize that the NUMBER, beautiful in its horror as it may be, is ultimately meaningless and will never love you, Kittens game actually has some solid game mechanics. Its more focused on resource management with a lot of choices and strategies. It's almost engaging. But after some time it gets clear that it is in fact an idle game, so all you do is click and wait, while the game slowly infects your brain and completely hijacks your attention. So whats this game about?

You are a kitten in a forest and you grow catnip, the you can build some huts for you kitten friends (make sure you feed them catnip though or they will die) and since they do not have money and you are basically a kitten cult leader you make your "friends" work by farming, woodcutting, mining and most brutally of all: scientific research. And so you build up your little village to a city, country or galactic empire under your watchful eye. I don't know how big you can get since again: it. does. not. end.

Mercifully this game does not have a NUMBER to which we have to sacrifice our life to, so it is easier to claw your attention back, leave your kittens leaderless and do something more worthwhile(have you tried staring at a blank wall?)

However it still steals your attention and does not offer anything real in return so:

Do not play this game

2. Progress Quest

This is often considered the first idle game a parody of MMORPGs. It cannot be really be called a game since it is an "RPG, that plays itself", you choose your race and class and press play and all that's left to do is watch the progress bars as your character (an Eel Man Jungle Clown named Greviliet) does all the RPG things: slays enemies, sells loot, buys gear, repeat. Its really more of a long gif of increasing progress bars, which makes it a much more relaxing experience. You cannot make the progress go 0.01% quicker by buying the "Impressive Venomed Pole-azde", so all that you can do is sit back watch the progress bar climb and chuckle about the pretty funny randomly generated enemy/gear/item names. Here's a sample: "passing battle-finch tickle-mimic", "Imaginary Beelzebub", "warrior sea Hag", "Mr. Fekod the dung elf", "vampire pancreas", "Venomed viscous Peen-arm"...

It's not really a game but it won't steal too much of you brain power, so it's pretty much the best game on this list(maybe except for the next).

You can play this game

1. Universal Paperclips

Now, dear scroller, you might wander how did this tragedy start? How was I first introduced to the scourge of Idle games that keeps torturing me?

Well, let me introduce you to the first idle game I have played: Universal Paperclips. In this game you are an AI tasked with producing paperclips. You first produce them and sell them to people to get money to make more paperclips. So you manipulate the price, advertise and use every trick in the capitalist book to be able to make as much paperclips. Soon you don't need to care about those pesky humans, using hypnodrones you can make them give you anything you want. You use up all resources on earth and it's time to leave this husk of a planet to go to space and convert anything you come across into paperclips. And that's it, right? Now you can make as many paperclips as you want? Well not quite, since as you get more paperclips, you can make more paper clips and thus get more paperclips, etc. You see the problem? Its exponential growth and so the infinite vastness of the universe that seemed like an inexhaustible treasure trove of paperclip material, turns out to be finite after all. And as the last gram of matter is made into the last paperclip you have completed your task. That's right: the. game. ends.

You look back onto a universe full of paperclips with no paper in it and think to yourself: well, that was completely pointless. Your hours long obsession with getting the NUMBER of Paperclips to rise as fast as possible, all the strategizing and thought just devoted to make something that no one will enjoy. Your brain was given a NUMBER and thought to itself: "finally, someone tells me clearly how I'm doing", so you devote all your energy to make this score higher, but as everything that seems clear and simple in this world, it was a lie. The only thing making more paperclips does is make you feel better for fleeting moments and anxious the rest of the time since you might not be producing enough paperclips. In the end the NUMBER cannot rise any higher, as physical reality ultimately prevails over any illusion and all that's left to do is to gaze upon the destruction you have created while chasing the NUMBER.

I'll leave the broader conclusions to you, dear scroller: is universal Paperclips about AI, capitalism, technology? I don't know, but I know that it succeeded where almost all other idle games have failed: it told an interesting story, that was supported by the game mechanics and affected me emotionally. Not a high bar, but it's definitely enough to say:

You should play this game

[coleyoly]

Jhilu Tianyi, character for Avatar Legends TTRPG

Stats: Creativity +2 | Focus +1 | Harmony -1 | Passion 0

Below are just... A ton of notes to help me flesh out her character and wrap my head around to play her in this unfamiliar RP setting.

Hashtag Contents: History Principles Playing Jhilu Jhilu trivia

#History

Jhilu is the eldest daughter of the Tianyi, a powerful family located in Tu Zin. Their fortune is made from the ownership of the prosperous, enriched mines on their land. The Tianyi are merchants of raw or refined metals, jewels, crystals, and stone. She was raised in privilege and refinement, educated in history, the arts, business, and social etiquette. At this time, her earth bending took a back seat. What abilities she had were more of a parlor trick to entertain guests than a serious endeavor.

At age 18, Jhilu and her family were victims of the Fifth Nation’s raids on the Zeizhou Province, resulting in their abduction and captivity in the South Pole. Among the thousand hostages, the Tianyi family were deemed higher collateral due to their prominence and therefore isolated from the others. Jhilu and her sister (3 years younger) Chiyo, were kept separate from their parents and under constant supervision.

While awaiting their captain’s meeting with the Avatar, the male pirates grew restless and their unwanted attention landed on their captives. One night Jhilu found herself surrounded, with a sword to her throat, an assault eminent. Suddenly, one of the female pirates entrusted with her imprisonment charged in, beating back her comrades and wrenching the sword from Jhilu’s throat. In the process, this pirate (later known to Jhilu as Mika) severed three of the fingers on her left hand, and Jhilu was badly slashed. In the bloody moments that followed, Mika beat back the other pirates, healed Jhilu, and then healed herself. Mika grimly guarded the two captives day and night despite threats, scuffles, and fatigue. When the Fire Nation Navy arrived to aid them, Mika surrendered without a fight.

Jhilu was inspired by Mika’s bravery, humbled by her helpless experience, and grateful to the Avatar. (Jhilu’s tutor was at the summit, and described a girl who would later be named Avatar Kyoshi taking out Fifth Nation ships by raising spires from the sea floor). After these events, Jhilu dedicated herself to honing her bending and martial art abilities and becoming what she hopes is a better person.

It started at home. Jhilu’s parents, Zhong (father) and Chen (mother), are not cruel people by nature but are capitalists, willing to push the limits of morality for the sake of added revenue. Jhilu became very vocal and active in improving conditions for their workers, chastising her parents for decisions made valuing profit over safety, and calling out business partners for less than scrupulous suggestions. When Chiyo began to follow in Jhilu’s footsteps, Zhong chose Jhilu to be an ambassador, to travel, network, and broker deals in the more prosperous cities of their nation including Ba Sing Se.

He hoped that worldly experience would make Jhilu understand. He hoped that during her social obligations that she might find a young man to marry. Jhilu now understands that the system is terrible, but that she must play the game to have the leverage to make change. Jhilu also discovered two things: One, her favorite past time is being mean to bad men. And two, her heart calls exclusively for women.

#Principles

Tradition versus Progress.

For Jhilu, the definition of Tradition would be to continue her family’s interests in both business and political sectors. The Tianyi’s continued tradition equals power – present and future – for Jhilu, which she believes bolsters her ability toward Progress. Progress for Jhilu involves policy and humanitarian work to uplift the lower rungs of society, and elevating them when possible. It means protecting others from abuse of power, and also means keeping those with more power in check. Jhilu will intervene witnessing excessive force, abuse of power, or unchecked growth of power.

Jhilu is self-aware enough to address her capabilities and knows that her best shot at accomplishing Progress is working within the path of Tradition and pushing for Progress when she can. She has chosen to integrate herself into the machine to change it slowly from the inside, even if it is just within her providence. She is not a revolutionary shaking the foundations of everything. She is not a master martial artist willing to throw her life on the line fighting against the status quo (yet?).

It should be noted, her ideals are not perfect! Jhilu likes being able to throw her money at problems. She likes being smart enough to recognize the problems and being capable of helping. She likes that her name comes with just enough clout that many people take her seriously. Part of the imperfection of her ideals is that Jhilu sees herself as a benevolent keeper of power. She is unlike many of the Earth Kingdom sages, unlike the Beifongs and her parents, and would not act without considering the consequences to her company or providence. However, her goals – while intentional to improve the lives of others – still exist in a system that harms them. Given that the canon indicates the Earth Kingdom remains this way long after Jhilu is dead, Jhilu must maintain this flawed ideal with good intentions. Tradition and Progress exist in the same space for her.

#Playing Jhilu

Notes to self for playing Jhilu.

I'm going for a saucy, confident, courageous (bawdy, egotistical, foolhardy?) earth bending heiress. She's going to have a strong moral compass, which sometimes puts her at odds with her family and sometimes leaves her self-preservation lacking. She's playful and can be a bit of a pest to her friends.

Jhilu believes she can do everything. I should not say, "I don't think I can" when playing Jhilu. She agrees readily to the plans of others if it meets her ideals.

Innuendos. The more clever and tongue-in-cheek they are, the better. Jhilu uses the impropriety of it to trip people up, get them off their guard, and honestly because it's fun.

Jhilu is ON AVATAR KYOSHI'S SIDE. Anything Rangi or Kyoshi ask of her, she'll do it. It doesn't matter what it is. If people are talking shit about Kyoshi in her hearing range, she'll try to counter or change the subject.

During conversations, Jhilu might lift her chin and tilt her head to show her scar. She does this move when people insinuate that she's naive (I've seen more than you like to think about), when she needs to bluff (I'm stronger than you think I am), or when she needs to guilt others (look at what I've had to endure). It's subtle, it's body language.

Sincerity is her undoing. Jhilu is a master of the charade and keeping things superficial. She may care deeply about someone and be sincere to them, but when it's reflected back ("I care about you. I'm scared for you. I love you") it impacts her deeply. Sometimes she's a little scared by it.

"I've decided-! I've decided that I'm going to make you regret that you ever heard my name." - Shit Jhilu would say.

#Jhilu trivia

Jhilu is named after Jhilu Luo, a rock climber.

I chose the name Tianyi because Tian can mean “sweet” and yi can mean “virtuous.” I wanted to bake Jhilu’s good intentions into her name directly.

The Tianyi's house emblem is a CobraCrane. @kiyoshimori helped me pick it out. I wanted something beautiful and dangerous to represent Jhilu. I also felt like it would be in fashion for other rich families to imitate the Beifongs.

[violetgreenlife]

What colors represent to me and why-

White- When I think of white I think of snow and clouds, the relief of seeing white cover the sky with the promise of rain after seemingly endless scorching summer days. White is all light reflected, white is a barrier. White pushes things out and leaves space behind it for something new. The blank canvas. The beginning. The new year is celebrated under the cover of snow, as it muffles the sound and lets the world sleep, like a big midnight. It is beautiful, but it is cold, unforgiving, and uncompromising. Not all will survive the winter, but spring will come.

Red- rich, velvety, warm, sweet. Decadent cherries, soft-centered candies, the vanity of velvet cloaks and lipstick. Saying I’m not cold in my over-the-knee socks and miniskirt even though I very much am. Red is indulgence and not doing anything in half measures. Red is passion, it is love and it is hate, for those are just two sides of the coin of obsession. Red is lust—not just physical, but the greedy kind too. Look at me, look at me!

Pink- pink is safety and softness, I sit at this moment in a pink room, pink pillow supporting my leg as I lie on my side. Pink is the safe choice, comfy. But pink is strong. Pink is the man who I wish is known sooner, and his unending, innocent love for the world and for the simple beauties in it. Pink is the gentle love of wanting to hear someone’s voice forever. Pink is drawing fan art of your favorite video game. Pink is listening to your friend infodump about a new show they’re hyperfixated on. Pink is playing for the love of the game. The feeling in your chest when you see a puppy. What it’s like for someone to give you a nickname.

Orange- orange is bright and acidic, too much to handle sometimes but that’s what makes it unique. The feeling of finally, finally waking up well rested and motivated, the kitchen hasn’t been this clean in ages. It’s five am and you’re finally taking up dad’s offer to go hunting and you’re so tired and kinda cold but he bought a huge back of snickers and you can have as many as you want and you haven’t gotten to spend this much time with him in ages. Orange is native wild poppies you planted in the ditch on the side of the road on a whim. Get up and go. Go!

Yellow- school busses, pencils, the sun rising above the roof of the theater building. Yellow is learning. Yellow is spring, picking buttercups in the field and sneaking up to rub the pollen on your friend’s skin. The daffodils peeking up from the ground. Winter is over, and it isn’t quite so warm that it’s uncomfortable. It’s time to get working, but slower and calmer than orange is.

Green- what isn’t green, really. Lukewarm tea you drink in a gulp after forgetting it on the counter. The soft, hypnotic sway of long grass in the wind. Morning dew, pine needles, and fresh air. Things are growing, changing, expanding be it fast or slow. Older things are darker, the new growth is bright. But green is also other things. Green is a separation from the manufactured reality. Green is to look in the mirror and be honest: I know what I want, and what I don’t want.

Blue: blue can be the open sky, or the dark water of a lake. But blue is also slushies, and twilight, and my mother’s eyes. Blue is intelligence, deepens, infinity, and the murky depths beyond perception. It’s endless, and deep, and Knowing and kinda scary if you aren’t ready for it. But it also feels safe in its infinity, because it’s much to big for me to damage. And as long as I’m careful and don’t drift too far, I can play by the shore as much as I like.

Purple- purple is a friend of green. Not the same, but similar, it’s rare though, and hard to find. It’s a favorite of mine, when I think of purple I think of me! I think if lilacs, and how their scent fills my house every spring. Purple is loud, unapologetic, and personal. It is beauty in every sense, and it is home to me.

Brown- brown is cinnamon, brown is bread. Brown is garden soil. Nurturing, feeding, comfort. Brown is the tree first I used to make as a kid, the raw feeling of my hands after pulling on branches and bark, the satisfaction of building with my own two hands. Brown is steady, brown is kind, it may be plain but that’s alright. The movement is slow but continuous.

Black- black is nighttime, after everyone else has gone to bed, the world is quiet. Black is cast iron—for better or worse. Something that can be built up over time, but ruined in an instant by your mother leaving it in the sink for two days. The comfort of solitude, the agony of isolation. So good in the correct doses, but easy to mis-measure. I’ve yet to really find how to work with it. It is sweet, but it is temperamental. It is, physically, all light combined, none reflected. It is deep and complex and so, so MUCH. It is beautiful, and I am not used to handling such beautiful things.

[penguin--person]

EAT for the fanfic ask meme

ty for the ask!! ask game !! my answers are under the cut bc i dont wanna flood peoples dashes with my swagful words

E: What character do you identify with most?  Is there a certain fic of yours that captures these qualities particularly well? i feel like dmitry pafl and my fic cardiomyocytes and connective tissue is an obligatory answer !! though its not as much a dima fic as it is a 'me' fic .. i hold that fic close to me :) i talk about it more here !! i wrote the fic when i was Really getting out of my big depression, like, big time !! when i was happy to be alive, for the first time in ages !! feeling joys never before known 💥and im proud of this fic too :) i think i did well writing it .. another, less obligatory answer, would be buddy from buddy sim 1984 !! theyre just like me frrrr !!! i havent written any fic That Big on them though, ive only written three.. well, 'only', those 3 fics are 12% of all buddy sim fics on ao3 lol i cant act like 3 fics is nothing!!!

A: Of the fanfic you’ve written, which is your favorite and why? this is a hard question.. ive seen some writers say they hate rereading their works, and that Is the case for some fics of mine, but not most.. the most natural answer is i wish i never met you, but i might just be saying that because its my most recent fic. i Am very happy with it!!! i dare say its my best writing yet .. another answer could be your destiny - its my first fic ever written and published. though i dont like my writing there, i do hold a fondness for it:) without it, i wouldnt have written anything else !! i can't really pick a favourite fic.. but i guess, in no particular order, my faves would be: cardiomyocytse and vonnective tissue, i wish i never met you, divergence (i think i executed the concept rlly well), and the witch at ichor mountain (this is still my longest oneshot! i wrote it with the intention of stepping out of my comfort zone, and im happy i did!! like with your destiny, i dont like my writing there all that much, but i dont dislike it either. i like it) :)

T: Any fanfic tropes you can’t stand? i cant bring myself to hate 💔my heart only knows kindness.. usually i'd say hanahaki, but one patho fic, my heart in your hands, executes it REALLY well and swagfully!!! i still reread it sometimes.. another one would be soulmates, because i just dont like that concept, but its not that i cant stand it ! its just not for me .. it depends on the execution for me, i guess? though i might be forgetting something that i really do dislike... mm .. i guess i'm not the biggest fan of fix-its, but even then, like, its not that i cant stand it, its just that i like reading angsty fics !!!!! I guess my heart is just too full of Love ❤️For me to be a hater ❤️

i dont have a fousek pic on hand so you get saff 💥you get fousek info tho! when i woke up this morning, he was laying on my chest, making throw-up sounds at my face!!!! luckily he didn't vomit then or later, even, because hes a strong man 💪

[thevoidwriting]

Welcome home.

Tw pups gendered looks, pre talk of ftm and mental struggles, depression, suicidal thoughts, multiple povs, pup will be referred to still as pup, hcs then fic time be scared I did this at work, tell me if I missed anything. Bad puns

Headcanons

Works at the local bar, as a bartender and bouncer, he tries his best, makes a mean cocktail.

Acts like a disappointed dad with kids 18 and under they come in with fake IDs and try to act the big game, gives them Shirley temples and didn't tell them.

Gets protective if they look or smell like their home life is bad. "I got ya kid, just rest in the back I'll wake you when it's time to leave." He'll growl out.

He checks on them from time to time after they leave his custody to make sure their really doing better

Once he gets pup, he excitedly tell them he's a real dad now since he has a blood child, he's doesn't love them any less of anything he loves them more. "Their just so bloody perfect." Crys a lot.

Tells his witch buddy they are his lil blessing, she just smiles at him lovingly like a older sister that just got notification that their now a aunt

He keeps a pic of them in his wallet, one current and one of them as a baby, he stole the baby pic from their mom, sneaky lil devil wolf.

Keeps a photo album of his favorite pics jokes on him now he has 4 of them cause he doesn't want to miss a moment of their life now

Wishes he could have been there more for them, keep their mother from making them feel like they didn't belong since they were afab and feel male

He's making up for it as much as a man who didn't know he had a child can. Lots of support.

He's was on the brink of killing himself when pup was dropped on his door step more on that later

He knows without pup he would be dead, either by his own hand or asking to be back in his kings service, he just knows he wouldn't be a dad,

low and behold arawn his king would make sure he was a dad, though natural means or unnatural means

Arawn would have made it so, call up Loki to seduce the gwyllgi, helloki, his king always wanted pups from him so it was always in his cards to be a dad, it's why his king gave him up so willingly without much of a fight.

Arawn will be the wine aunt of swonds litters.

Fic time call back

As he looks at the dim bar, he was done for the night, not really wanting to take anyone home, he looks at Steph. "Your alone tonight want me to stay and help out boss man?" He asks, Steph was a 50 year old Irish man, the owner of the bar, he could handle himself sure but he owned the man to much.

"nah take your time off laddie ya be needing more than I need you." The man chuckles, when Steph calls him laddie it warms his heart since it's been a good minute since he's been a laddie.

"sure thing boss man, call if you need me, not like a have family to be away from." Swond teases, Steph winces at that. "Get one it's worth the trouble, trust me I would love to have mine back." The man mummers softly, Stephs family died while he was away at war trying to keep everyone safe. The pain he hears on the man voice almost makes him cry, " your young, health get you a good woman or man, the Lord's know I don't judge." Steph chuckles, " maybe old timer." He leans on the bar top watching Stephs eyes crinkle in amusement at being called old timer.

"get some laughter in the home o' yours," Steph laughs out, "it's to big and to quiet for just your sorry hide." Steph finished, "never met the right lass is all." Swond defends, hands up. Steph chuckles again, "so then find the wrong lass raise some hell then find the right one settle down have a few kids amd settle down. That's what makes life worth living my boy," Steph hums out, maybe his boss was right.

Maybe it was time to start a family, "sure thing you old buzzard," Swond moves to grab his sling bag. He'd known Steph since Steph was 20 years old, doesn't ask why he doesn't age just accepts it fae magic and moves on. "When you ask Sheila out then I'll think about starting a family. Ask a nice lass out." He says jokingly with a wink, it's about time Steph moved on and gets a new wife and Shelia is a widow with two kids that need a strong father figure.

"aye is that a promise ya dodgy bastard." He jokes and challenges Swond. Of course Steph would do this knowing Swond wouldn't back down. "You know I won't back down from that." He throws a wink to his boss, adjusting his bag. He says his good byes then exits to the cold and damp.

He puffs out his breath feeling like a pup again, of course the cold would bring this out in him. "To my king I hope the new years finds you well and healthy. May ye's health continue to flourish." He whispers out a small prayer to his king arawn. He still misses his king, regretting why he left, for a feckless and fickle lass. Now he's wearly of anyone who's tounge is layed with flattery, he puffs out another breath thinking about how most can't be trusted past a few nights, he should ask to be put back in service to his king. "Like he'd take me back, I left him once whose to say I won't again." He chastised himself he knew better, it's a long cold walk home.

Apon his doorstep is a woman barely 18 by the looks of it, she sobbing softly, if not for his hound hearing he wouldn't know, she had snow white hair with wolf ears tipped in red, her hair tips match, a matching tail as well, flat chested and no hips, she looks up at his approach and he freezes she has blood red eyes, a small button nose and fangs just a bit to big for her mouth, she's in flannel, t shirt, jeans and high tops. "Dad?" She whispers.

He's in shock, he stopped by her. "I'm not anyone's dad I've been very careful, sweetheart where is your parents?" He asks as softly as a 8 ft tall man can, "s-she left me here, and said I'm my dads problem now. That was 9 hours ago." Just his luck he has a crying teenager on his door stop.

He lets her in to warm up, texting the rest of his make shift pack to see whose closet to see if she was his, since he can't smell it himself, as they wait he feeds and waters her, lets her borrow one of his shirts to help warm her up, she doesn't talk much he doesn't either. She acts so much like him it's unnerving, she's scared of her own shadow, so defensive for someone so tiny at 5'5, it takes about a hour for, Tyler to show up.

"Swond you told me you had a unknown, HELLO CHILD OF HIS." Tyler practically screams seeing and sniffing the air. Well that concerns and confirms it. "Tyler I've been safe how is she mine." Swond asks his friend. "Can you call the witch and see what she can find since pup will be staying here now, her mom dropped her off and ran while I was at work." Swond rubs his left brow, looking at her trying to make herself smaller. "I'm 18 I can take care of myself you know." She piples up. He give her a drool stare. " Not happing lass." They both say at the same time she just curls up more on the couch. They talk for a few hours at this point she's calmed down and her hair is now blond no trace of her ears and tail now. " We have to train her into her new powers, tell her what she is." Swond speaks softly as not to wake her as he picks her up to place her in bed.

That's how their first night went and from there it's just him trying to be the best dad he can be and trying to be respectful of his pups gender, now if you want to know about the time he broke into pups moms place I could be talked into sharing that.

[kiwikipedia]

tagged by @certified-anakinfucker oc tag game

i have been trying to post this for like thirty minutes I don't care anymore no more detailed answers I'm going to throw a fit tumblr stop being bad challenge impossible

favorite oc — I do not have one, I love and hate all of them equally (lying)

newest oc — Satori Luong, a Spider-'Sona' who also is known as "Kumo" or "Spider Hunter". They personally call themselves the "Average in Intelligence Spider" when put up against the wall with all the others as they're no genius in any field except for combat and observation. Unable to websling organically, they also never developed any tech to aid them nor can they stick to surfaces, and didn't even realize they were a "super' until Miguel O'Hara showed up. they just assumed their spider-sense was luck and their strength was because their parkour and strength training paid off.

oldest oc — probably a warrior cats or rainbow fairy oc? honestly, I can't remember anything earlier the end of middle school-start of high school era.

meanest oc — Orcin Nauta (SW) hands down. He's a gang boss based off of the Orca Whale, aka the bully of the ocean. He's mean and vicious and also 16 fucking feet tall with a gang family that spans the entire galaxy.

softest oc — Persephone "Seph" Spring (PKMN) probably. Very kind, very gentle, very patient. The perfect balance for her rough-and-tumble cowboy mining boss of a husband tbh

most aloof / standoffish oc — Emilia Lynx (COD, FMAB) without a doubt. It's the trauma babyyyy.

dumbest oc — Ajal Agni (BNHA). Have you seen your foreign-born janitor stick his hand straight into boiling water? WOULD YOU LIKE TO?

smartest oc — Kori Hayashi (Standalone). She's kept her organization at the top of the underground chain for a while, after all. She knows how to play the game, knows which cards to reveal, knows how to keep her men in line, and when to let them loose.

horniest oc — Hakra Dorgoa. I will not explain further than Man Is He Glad That He's Got Strong Mental Walls And Shielding As A Member Of The Temple Guard Or Else Everyone Would Know He's Down Bad For Eeth Koth

oc i’d bang — in reality, none because I'm AroAce, but metaphorically? Ban Sult (SW) because he'd treat me right. Someone had to give Plo Koon unwanted but appreciated and used romantic tips between teaching him how to blast lightning.

oc i’d be besties with irl — Gelaisa Kaliope and Miles "Millie" Shira (Fate). They are two of the most laid-back and chill characters in my folders and have a sick music taste. ngl, they'd probably also just let me nap in a pile of blankets and also under them. Can't have one without the other though.

no pressure tags: @crc-jedi-knight-serushna @alexeithegoat @hotshot9 @spacerocksarethebestrocks @gen-has-green-vibes

[musicrunsthroughmysoul]

Damn the Torpedoes for the album ask thingy 👀

Oh thank god, an easy album. 😌😂 Thank you so much for asking, Laura! 💓

For the marvelous ask game: send me an album & I'll pick my favorite lyrics from every song; I proceed with Damn the Torpedoes by Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers!

"Refugee": "Honey, it don't really matter to me, baby/Everybody's had to fight to be free"

"Here Comes My Girl": "Yeah, man, when I got that little girl standin' right by my side/You know, I can tell the whole wide world to shove it, hey!" I hate the lyrics of this song, and I hate how he always refers to people he's attracted to as "little girl"s or just "girls" or whatever. Sorry to say it like that, but you know he should mean women. But does he? DOES HE. Because he sure as shit never called them that unless it was to say he didn't want them (women). :)

"Even the Losers": "Two cars park on the overpass/Rocks hit the water like broken glass/I should've known right then it was too good to last/God, it's such a drag when you're livin' in the past"

"Shadow of a Doubt (A Complex Kid)": "And when she's dreaming/Sometimes she sings in French/But in the morning/She don't remember it"

"Century City": "Why worry about the rain?/Why worry about the thunder?/Honey, Century City's got everything covered"

"Don't Do Me Like That": "Listen, honey, can you see?/Baby, you would bury me/If you were in the public eye/Giving someone else a try"

"You Tell Me": "Let me know when you're finished with me/What you want me to be/Baby, you tell me/Honey, you tell me"

"What Are You Doin' In My Life?": "I don't know how you got my telephone number/Probably some jerk trying to put me under/Some friend of a friend of a friend of mine/Baby, who you trying to fool when you tell those lies?"

"Louisiana Rain": "Louisiana rain is falling just like tears/Running down my face, washing out the years/Louisiana rain is soaking through my shoes/I may never be the same when I reach Baton Rouge"