#that doesn't mean that choosing not to interact with it is a good idea

[dedalvs]

The problem with art is that it's a subjective medium that, through its very nature, invites comparison. You listen to one song and think it's pretty good then listen to another and like that one even better. Then you find someone who thinks the opposite. Then you find someone who thinks both songs are trash. All the while the ones who wrote those songs may never have even heard of each other—may never have even been alive at the same time. Neither would have ever imagined they'd be in competition, yet, years later, there they are, as a result of conversation between people they've never met.

As subjective as art is, consider J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis—specifically, The Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia. If one of these is better, it's going to be The Lord of the Rings. Lewis would've said so—even Tolkien, if pressed. Lewis and Tolkien were friends, they encouraged each other as writers, they shared ideas, their works have similar themes—you can see the influence in both works—but if you had to choose one, it's The Lord of the Rings, hands down.

But does that mean The Chronicles of Narnia is worthless?

There are tons of people who've read and enjoyed the Narnia books over the years, and I'd say a sizeable portion (myself included) who never knew until much, much later that Tolkien and Lewis knew each other—that the two series had anything to do with one another. Something which seems terribly relevant at one time may be all but forgotten at a later date. (For example, did you know the Beatles and the Beach Boys had an intense rivalry in the 60s? I didn't. I'd heard about the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, but the Beatles and the Beach Boys...? I doubt if I ever realized they'd even heard of each other.)

It's a difficult thing to do, I know, but if you have an idea—a drive that pushes you toward some artistic goal—you have to follow it while you feel it and then evaluate/revise/edit it later. You have to let the thing be what it's going to be. When something is new, the unfamiliar are going to see it as strange, and may offer you suggestions on how to make it look more like something they're familiar with. That may, indeed, help it be more recognizable and more acceptable to a current audience, but it may be robbing the work of an opportunity to be unique and original.

Going back to Narnia, consider the world building in the first book examined through the lens of Tolkien. My, but it looks sloppy! I mean, there's a random ass lamppost in a fantasy world? Fauns are there, as well as talking animals, and then…Santa Claus?! Santa Claus?! And the Tolkienite is asking how all these things tie together, what exactly the nature of magic is, what land Santa Claus hails from, how he interacts with the "real" world, etc. From the perspective of hard world building, you can imagine someone saying to Lewis, "Hey, maybe consider pruning literal Santa Claus from the book. It doesn't make sense." And if he didn't hold fast to his vision, maybe he does that. Maybe he also tightens up some of the other looser aspects of the world building. And maybe the end result is something a little more Tolkienesque—and, essentially, not at all The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.

I took a course on Samuel Beckett (author of the play Waiting for Godot) and we read almost all of his work. He started with novels. He actually served as transcriptionist for James Joyce's Finnegans Wake when Joyce lost his sight. His first novel, Murphy, reads like someone who's trying to sound like James Joyce. There's definitely Beckett in there, but it's like he's trying to take his vision and push it through a Joycean mold. Now, there's nothing wrong with James Joyce, of course—he's one of the greats—but he's not Samuel Beckett. And it wasn't until Beckett loosed himself from these shackles that we saw what it was he could do. And, truly, he went on to produce some stuff that no one else could ever have produced (cf. Worstward Ho!). It's not necessarily better than Joyce, but also, Joyce isn't necessarily better than Beckett. Truly, it does not matter. Each of them produced something truly unique—true to themselves—and the world is better off for it, whether you like one or the other better, both, or neither. (Incidentally, this is another of those pairings that may surprise. Did you know Samuel Beckett literally transcribed Finnegans Wake for Joyce late in Joyce's life? I didn't, until that class I took.)

Back to the point of the post, there are two things I'd say:

Yes, your work may not be as good as someone else's. Chances are your work now isn't as good as your work five years from now. So? If you don't do what you're doing now your work five years from now won't be better. You can look at my early language work. It's not as good as what I do now. If I didn't do it, though, I wouldn't be where am I now. Oh, and you know what? At the time, I thought my work was fucking incredible. I was wrong, but sometimes if you don't have fans, you have to be your own fan to get you to where you need to be.

Yes, your work may not be as good as someone else's, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have value—and not because you're going to get better later because of it. There's someone out there that may like the work you're producing right this second just because. They may love the sound of it. They may love your unique twist on a case system. You may look back on the work you're doing now ten years from now and say that it is objectively shit, but then ten years after that someone on the internet will find it and say they love it, despite what you think. That's art. That's audience.

Most importantly, you can't let the voice inside you cut you down before you've had a chance to do what you're doing or else you'll do nothing. When negative thoughts come, you acknowledge that they're there, and then you tell yourself that it's just talk. Don't ignore the negative thoughts: shine a spotlight on them. Recognize that they are thoughts, and as thoughts, they can be pushed aside by something as insignificant as a damn commercial jingle you can't get out of your head. Some of the vilest thoughts I've ever had—crippling self-doubt, negative self-talk—can't even go ten seconds in the ring against the fucking "You won't get a lemon at Toyota of Orange" jingle that's come back to me at odd moments every day since I first heard it in 1987. Some musical hack that I hope to beat to death one day created a five second jingle that has spent more time in my brain than some actual humans I love and adore, and, believe you me, that stupid jingle is way more powerful than any voice in my head that says, "You're worthless trash"—and if that's true, how pathetic is that negative self-talk? What power does it really have over you?

Sometimes comparison helps. Sometimes it helps you grow; sometimes it gives you new ideas. But it has its time and place, and that time and place is not amidst creation. That time is your time, and I'd encourage you to let it be just that: your time to create.

Do you ever get nervous bc your conlang isn't as naturalistic or as well-thought-out as those of the literal masters of the craft and so that must mean it's Literally Garbage

[stormandmoonlight]

two common talking points about non-voting from the left:

1. depriving the Democrats of your vote will show that you will not empower genocide and punish them for doing so

2. the Democrats will not be affected if the Republicans win power because they are the same class

does anyone else see a contradiction in terms here?

[arminsumi]

ADULT STORE

↳ GETO すぐる + fem!reader

"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense."

1.5k words

Pt. 2

Summary : product testing with the helpful employee at the adult store!

Warnings : minors do not read/interact : smut/explicit content : using toys, stranger/hookup sex, softdom!Geto, praise, cunnilingus, fingering, dirty talk, squirting, multiple orgasms, sex fantasy trope (sex with the adult store employee)

Note : i haven't made a trip to the adult store in ages bc... everything i want is so expensive lol (the struggle) 😭 i have some rlly funny adult store stories i could ramble about but i will refrain ✋ anyways, indulge yourselves in this fantasy, angels! 😈

Playme : wanna know what it's like?

The gate of the store buzzes, the employee watches you open it with a clink and enter the adult store. Your eyes flood with the overwhelming sight of wall-to-wall toys.

The smooth voice of the employee comes from behind the cash register.

"Yo."

Long hair. Dark, brooding look — almost gothic. Attractive hands with pronounced veins running over the back of them, poised on the countertop which he's lazing over.

He sees you and slowly straightens out his back out to impress you with his height.

"Ah, h-hello..."

He hears you stutter, and assumes it must be your first time in an adult store.

"First time? I mean, in an adult store, that is." he breaks the ice.

"Haha, y-yeah... yeah, it's my first time."

Yeah, that's what I thought.

He holds hard and deep eye contact with you. Yes, he's aware of how intensely he stares. He's doing it on purpose.

"Would you like some assistance, or do you just want to leisurely browse by yourself?"

His tone is so friendly, it doesn't let on to how heated his abdomen is getting at the sight of you.

"Yes, please, I'd appreciate your assistance."

Aw, of course.

"M'kay... then let me assist you."

He smoothly comes out from behind the counter and the two of you stand in front of a wall of toys.

"Overwhelmed?" he chuckles, noting how your eyes widen while looking at all the products. "I know there's a lot to choose from. But just focus on your needs. What do you need?"

"What do I need? Honestly, I have no idea what I need." you laugh nervously.

I know exactly what she needs...

"Well, why don't we carefully go through the products together? I'm sure I can figure out what you need. Promise I know my stuff. I've been working here for three years."

His nonchalance and professionalism puts you at ease. It's something he prides himself on: making customers feel relaxed.

Your eye catches on a pink dildo, so he takes it off the rack to show you up close.

"This one's good, it's got a ribbed design." he shows it off. "Are you looking for just penetration or clitoral stimulation?"

Aw, she's flustered.

"Uh, both I guess? Yeah. I'd love both."

Of course you'd love both. That's what you need, pretty girl.

"Both? Come over here. Let me show you something you might like."

There's a flirty tension between the two of you that just keeps getting more and more... intense.

He plucks a curvy vibrator. It looks expensive. Because it is expensive.

"This one's got ten functions—"

"—ten?! Sounds a bit extra."

"Nothing's too extra when it comes to your personal pleasure."

The two of you share a long look, then laugh.

"But it really is an excellent product."

"Are you advertising?" you joke teasingly.

"Absolutely." he jokes, "Kidding. I'm not trying to come across as a preachy marketer or something. I've used it with partners in the past, that's why I'm recommending it; I know it's good. It's a pretty intense toy. Helps girls squirt even if they think they can't."

I could make her squirt.

He's running his eyes up and down your body.

"Is that so...?" you mumble flirtatiously, eyeing out the product in his veiny, manly hands.

"Hm, still a skeptic? Because I'm sure I could please you."

He hopes that you note his deliberate use of 'I' and not 'it' there.

"Yeah. I'm sure you could please me, too." you flirt.

A heat erupts in his abdomen and stomach.

Oh wow... now she's really flirting, huh? Why'd I wear tight pants today of all days...

He has an unwavering gaze on you. You've captivated him. Put him in some kinda horny trance.

"Did I say me? Sorry. Slip of the tongue." he murmurs, voice dropping lower, "I meant the vibrator." he obviously lies.

You and him exchange a suggestive, longing look. You can feel your pussy clench around nothing, begging to get stuffed up and pleasured.

He hesitates before speaking again, as if he's scared of crossing a line and making you uncomfortable.

"If you want to... we could test it out together?" he suggests. His nonchalance is an act, really he's so nervous when he asks this.

"I'd love to..." you consent, and he doesn't miss the erotic excitement in your tone.

He nods towards the backdoor, eyes keeping on you and your cute little body that he just wants to feel and squeeze like a toy itself.

"Promise to keep your lips sealed about this? I don't wanna get fired for uh... you know... demonstrating products... to my pretty customer."

"Only if you promise to help me squirt for the first time."

Oh wow. Fuck. I'm hard.

His lips widen into a devilish grin. "Sure thing."

After a sloppy, desperate make out with this stranger, you find yourself sat on the couch in the breakroom. Door locked. Blinds shuttered closed. Legs spread wide to his liking, as he cushions the vibrator into your plush slit.

He's rubbing it slowly up and down your folds. He watches your reactions intently, breathing heavier at the sight of your pussy squishing under the pink dildo. The buzzing sound fills the room, but your moans are louder.

He clutches the toy gently, massaging the bulbous head into your clit with sweeping circular motions.

"F-fuck... that pretty clit feels good, doesn't it? Yeah? Let's get it feeling even better."

He turns it up a notch. It buzzes harder against your sensitive nub.

"How's that? Haha, yeah, intense, isn't it?

"Yeahhh — Fuck! Ohhh that's so good, that's so — oh my goddd fuckkk. S-sorry I think... I'm gonna cummm — !!"

"It's okay. Cum as hard as you can, yeah? I want you to get a good idea of how well this toy can pleasure you before you buy it, after all. Oh there we go... just let go and... f-fuck... wow... j-just cum like that. Fuck... that pretty clit feels so good now, huh? Gonna cum? Gonna cum for me, with a vibrator on your cunt?"

He takes note of your reaction to his dirty talk and smirks. Then he slyly turns the toy's setting higher and it buzzes more intensely, and in one... two... three... seconds, you're squirting like crazy all over the pink vibrator and his hand.

Holy shit, look at that pretty pussy gushing... she could drench my dick. I wanna be inside her so fucking baddd...

"Oh, see I told you... this product's a bit intense." he regains his professional tone after you cum.

He turns the toy off and watches you come down from your shaking orgasm, smug look on his face. He keeps it clutched in his veiny hand, and brings it up to his lips to suck and lick up all your juices from it.

She tastes so fucking good... I feel dizzy.

You watch him with wide eyes as he tastes your slick off the toy.

"F-fuck... wh-what did you s-s-say your name was again?" you stutter, starstruck by this stranger.

You're so fucking dizzy, your pussy is buzzing like it still feels the intensity of the toy against it.

"Hm, wanna know my name?" he smiles teasingly, "How about you cum on my face and then I'll tell you."

"Fuck, okay."

And then as soon as you give him permission, he's hungrily diving between your thighs.

"Oh my god..." he loves how you gasp and writhe under the influence of his mouth.

Let's see how fucked-out I can get her. Wanna see her lose her mind 'cause of me.

His lips latch onto your labia and suckle, then onto your clit. He points his tongue at your clit, then oh my god flattens it and laps at your bud while suckling. His softness shows a hint to tenderness in his personality; he really knows how to treat a woman well.

This stranger spoils your pussy with his tongue and lips. He seems to be in his own little world while nosing between your thighs. He carelessly gets your juices smeared across his cheek and lets the rest dribble down his chin.

"Fuck fuck fuck — like that, like that. Don't stop don't stop — !! 'm gonna cum! G-gonna — fffffffucking cummmm ahhhhh — !!"

He flicks the tip of his tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves, eager to make your pussy freak out on his mouth. Just before you cum he slips two fingers into your hole, middle and ring, and pumps them into a sweet spot hard. He just wants to get an idea of the feeling of your pussy when it cums.

Suckling at your clit, fingering you with nice hard rough strokes, closing his eyes like he's the one enjoying it meanwhile he's silent and you're moaning like you're going insane. He can tell you're close and speeds it up.

"Cum cum cum, cum for me. Just let go and cum." he sounds so desperate, and that professional tone of his is finally cracking. "Cum on my fucking face, please."

And he dives his tongue right back into your hole, wriggling his tongue around, resulting in the nastiest wet squelching sound. His lips press flat against your pussy, he draws in a deep breath and your heat is all he smells.

Please cum on my face. Please please please.

"Ah! Fuck! Fuckkkk!"

You gush right on his lips, which are plump and swollen and red and glistening with your slick.

He pulls away and licks his lips and tells you his name.

"Suguru, by the way. My name's Suguru. Hey... can I give you my number?"

Oh he's so smooth. But he's even smoother at the checkout, when he asks if you're free this Friday for a date. At his apartment. With the company of some of his favorite toys.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[slttygeto]

I'd love to see me from your pov — GOJO S.

synopsis: Gojo Satoru seems to struggle with the idea of love and doesn't quite know where to stand. Luckily for him, you're there to soothe his worries every time.

word count: 2,1k

content warning: a tiny bit of angst, but you know me and my love for this man.

note: hi hello there :)! it's October which means it's the 4th year anniversary since the release of ariana's album positions! I adore that album with all of my being, and what better way to show my love than to dedicate some of my favorite songs to my favorite anime men? enjoy reading!

Satoru has never known what love is. His parents’ marriage was an arranged one, his mother’s good looks and her status along with his father’s powerful technique is what brought them together. And nine months later, the wielder of the six eyes was born. Raised in an environment where his father was barely around, the only warmth he’s ever felt was his mother’s hand holding his smaller one as she walks him around the Gojo estate, showing off the boy whose birth altered the balance of the world. 

Then she was off to do her duties as Madame Gojo. 

Satoru remembers his childhood as being extremely dull. He was forbidden from social interactions, was told that they are useless unless the person was of any benefit to him or his powers—which at the time, six year old Satoru didn’t understand but he had no choice but to comply with his father’s words. 

Bright pair of blue eyes would then follow his father’s figure as he made his way towards the sliding paper door, but before he could leave, the tall man turned towards his wife whose eyes remained glued to her lap before announcing. 

“I’ll be off.” Whether that meant for hours, days or weeks, Satoru never knew. 

Logically, that led to the creation of his image on love and marriage. He avoided the two concepts like the plague. Love was always meant to find others before it could even glance his way, and Satoru was okay with that. 

He was okay with spending the rest of his time alone, maybe he would buy a house on the top of a hill and own a nice border collie dog. Perhaps, that dog would show him a little bit of loyalty and love because Satoru feeds it and takes it on walks, but when the sun goes down and the dog goes to sleep, it would be just Satoru and his thoughts. Dying alone sounded scary, but it was better than ending up like his parents.

“Are you okay?” The tall man feels a gentle squeeze on his large hand. Suddenly, he’s pulled back into the present. 

The smell of fresh roses and the cold breeze overwhelm his senses. He blinks and realizes that he must’ve taken off his blindfold somewhere—Satoru can’t remember where, or why he got so lost in his thoughts.

“Satoru?” That voice. That sweet, warm and honeyed voice, barely above a whisper as it calls out his name and he gets another whiff of something—perfume.

Your perfume.

You’re standing next to him, smaller frame and smaller hand squeezing his own and he remembers why he was pulled back into his childhood. 

You had squeezed his hand the same way his mother did. Except this time, you don’t pull away like she does. In fact, you haven't pulled away in years. 

When Suguru left, Satoru was trying to piece himself back together within the confines of his own place. Quiet, cold and unwelcoming. He despised the feeling, it made him feel like shit and Satoru was usually the type to ignore his feelings—so when they come crashing against him in strong waves, the strongest can’t duck down and avoid them, he can’t swim away and find refuge. He chooses to believe that he is his own refuge, even if he’s messy and selfish and quite literally just a jerk. The strongest was unable to save his own best friend from a fate that is so horrible, one that could’ve easily been avoided had he looked harder. 

Had he not been raised that way. 

“Satoru?” 

On a cold October night in 2007, you show up at Satoru’s apartment with food and homemade sweets. You’re sweaty, clearly having climbed up the stairs since you had no access to the elevator. He sees you, he cannot process the reason for your sudden visit until he sees your lip quiver and your eyes fill with tears.

“I’m sorry.” You say with so much emotion that the teenager can only try to stop himself from digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands. 

Although he only realizes it years later, the only person who had shown Satoru that he was worth a bit of love was Suguru. He had been your classmate too, your friend. You’re grieving his absence too, but you choose to stay with Satoru that night. He doesn’t say much, you don’t press him about it. 

He doesn’t understand why. 

A couple of months pass, your visits become more regular. He buys you a mattress and even suggests you move in with him in the guest room of his apartment. And after much consideration, you agree and the two of you become roommates.

What had once been a cold, uncomfortable apartment slowly turns into a refuge for Satoru, a place he looks forward to coming back to after a long day of missions. Was it because of the smell of food that fills the hallway as he approaches the door, or the thought of finding you in there when he inserts the key? Satoru isn’t sure yet.

He’s still a bit confused as to why you want to be around him.

Months turn into years, your presence remains a constant in his and Megumi’s lives when he takes him in. You have your own room that you choose to share with Tsumiki and you treat the two children like your own. The strongest believes that your heart is as big as the oceans combined.

For someone whose youth was stolen away by the Jujutsu society, Satoru tries to make sure that his students don’t meet the same fate. So he takes on countless missions, protects students like they’re his own children and promises them a bright future. Even if it’s at the expense of his own. 

You hate that, and you make it clear to him the day he takes in Yuuta.

“That’s such bullshit.”

“Hey, watch it.”

“No, you listen to me!” This is the most emotion you’ve shown since that one night you came to visit him. Satoru looks up from his phone where he’s sitting, and is a bit taken aback when he sees your eyes fill up with tears. “Do you realize how dangerous it is to be going around and doing shit like that?” 

“What–saving them?”

“Ruining your future!” You raise your hands in the air. 

“I don’t have a future.” 

The room falls silent. Suddenly, you’re glad that Megumi and Tsumiki weren’t home. Your eyes meet his, and the white haired male watches as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There’s a thousand expressions on your face—betrayal? Hurt? Worry? He can’t decipher them.

He is overwhelmed. His six eyes are screaming at him that your cursed energy was elevating, your body temperature was rising and he can see that your chest is heaving. 

He still doesn’t realize what he had just said. 

To him, it was the truth. There was nothing morbid about his words. If he couldn’t see himself marrying or falling in love, then Satoru simply did not have a future. Those children do, and that’s what he should prioritize.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t–”

“Satoru–” you lose your breath as you utter his name, broken and weak. You gulp harshly, heart pounding loudly in your ears. “You can’t say that.”

It’s selfish, you’re aware of that, but it can’t be helped. You watch as the light of the man you had been clinging onto like a lifeline for years starts to dim, and you scramble to find the source of the problem. 

And while Satoru’s six eyes are screaming at him to walk away, his heart pins him to the ground of his living room. Overwhelmed and emotional, it reminds him of that one lonely night. He can’t tell you how he feels, he can’t pinpoint to you that it’s because of his parents that his heart refuses to let him accept the idea of love. He sees the waves coming, large and tall and ready to destroy him years later—as he scrambles to find refuge, his heart finally feels at ease.

Your arms wrap tightly around his middle, chin resting on his shoulder and your hands digging into his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. You want to stop your chest from stuttering, but your quivering lip gives away your strong emotions. 

“I’ll stay.” 

Why would you stay? 

His arms feel heavy as he lifts them up and finally rests them on your warm body, pulling you so close to him you feel yourself suffocate. It doesn’t matter. Satoru hugs you so tightly that you hear your heart break. 

You don’t comment on the wet feeling on your shoulder, or the way his hands tremble as they grip the back of your shirt. You let him cling onto you as though you were the air he needed to breathe, the warmth he sought in the middle of the coldest nights. 

—

“Thank you.” 

“Hm?” You look to your side, a bit confused. The white haired man thinks you look very adorable when you’re clueless, trying to understand his words. 

“Thank you? What for?” Satoru isn’t one to get nervous, but your stare has him feeling a little hot. He hopes he isn’t blushing, it doesn’t suit his brand. 

“For saying yes.” This time, he is the one who squeezes your hand and you hold back a chuckle at how he avoids eye contact. You squeeze his hand back and lean your head against his shoulder.

“I would be crazy not to marry you.” 

“But you know… given my line of work, and Suguru—”

“Satoru,” you stop the man before he can carry on with his small ramble. You appreciate how vocal he is, it is one of the major changes to his personality ever since the two of you made it official. “I am a sorcerer as well. I understand.”

“You hate the missions I take.”

“I hate the way the higher ups view you, not the missions you take.”

Silence engulfs the two of you. 

You fidget with your hands, feeling as though you might’ve crossed a line your husband wasn’t ready to let you cross yet—

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“How do you view me?” He asks, voice low and small. He still doesn’t look at you, nor does he look anywhere really. Despite being 28 years old, Satoru feels the same way he felt at 6 years old. Vulnerable, worthless and in need of a reminder of what he brought to this world other than his powers–

“You’re handsome.” You break his chain of thoughts with a lot of ease, and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “A handsome, caring young man with a big,” a finger traces his heart over his shirt, “big heart. You have a child-like spirit, and a boy-ish smile that could make anyone fall for you very easily. I don’t want to focus too much on your looks, but they’re unfortunately a huge part of who you are,”

“You’re selfless.” You lean against the balcony railings, staring down at the city. “People take you for granted and either you don’t seem to notice, or you try not to.”

“And last, you’re too good for this world.” 

Your eyes sparkle as you describe every small detail about the man. You pour all of your emotions into your tiny monologue, so you fail to notice that Satoru had removed his hands off the railings. Until you feel something warm on your sides and something heavy on your shoulder. 

“Satoru?”

“I’m fine,” his broken voice would beg to differ, but you don’t push him. You rest your hands on top of his and let him pull you back against his chest in a warm, tight hug. 

He had always wanted to see himself through your eyes, filled with so much adoration and trust that it made his heart burst in his chest. He was riddled with confusion and something he couldn’t quite decipher anytime you had told him ‘of course it was you’ when he would do something nice, or ‘you’re not like that’ when you heard Nanami mumble something about Satoru’s playful behavior. 

You wish you could give him your eyes, take away some of that overwhelming feeling of being the wielder of the six eyes and allow him to rest—see himself as the selfless, kind-hearted man that he was to you. 

Since that was physically impossible, you’ll stick to loving him as though he held the universe between his palms.

You make loving him seem as easy as breathing, and the inner child living deep within him is forever grateful for that. 

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[rensylph]

Hihi! I'm not sure if you do nsfw or not, but if you do..PLEASE. IM BEGGING U TO MAKE A NSFW VER OF THE GENSHIN HIGH SCHOOL AU😭😭🙏🙏

Sure I guess, you guys consider whenever it's canon or not canon to the au. I'm sorry if it's bad It's my first time writing nsfw stuff

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍 ( 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐀𝐔 ) 𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐅 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍

<< yandere genshin ( school au ) NSFW version >>

⚠️ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ⚠️

You are a student at teyvat high, a prestigious highschool only for the wealthy and the elite has managed to get in due to one of your family members managed for you to be a student in the school, little did you know your presence will catch the hearts of many students. Characters: Diluc, kaeya, thoma, ayato, alhaitham, kaveh, childe, scaramouche, xiao, kazuha, albedo, vent

⚠️ Warning : this may have NSFW content ⚠️

(English is not my first language)

𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐄

NAME: (name) (last name)

CLASS: 2A

CLUB: music club

FAVORITE SUBJECT: (your choosing)

(Name) A second year student, a member of the music club, born from a middle class family has become an object of many students desires.

Diluc

A complete virgin, I mean he was saving for marriage but if you want to do it now he wouldn't mind he was having fantasies about you guys wedding night. I mean if you're planning on going to college why don't you move in with him and get married with him after college. Your life would be set.

Every time he thinks of you he couldn't stop popping a boner, even the slightest touch of your hand causes him to go crazy and go to the bathroom.

But the good thing is that the new arrangements with the student council president ayato, you and him will cross that border.

Kaeya

He has his fair share of sleeping around with the population of the school, so he's very experienced compared to his brother's diluc who is a virgin. He doesn't understand his brother's saving his virginity for the right one, until he meets you.

I mean he uses his charms to enchant the school to get everything he wants now he's regretting his choice because his reputation as a playboy is well known, causing you to avoid him entirely .

And every time he tries to flirt with you or try to indicate action, you would just look at him with a confusion. You're impossible to flirt with and so oblivious but that's a cute trait he could fix if you let him show you a good time

Thoma

Another virgin, unfortunately he has to witness you and student council arrangements and deal to keep funding incoming for your club

He's not allowed to do anything but Just watch you in the hands of predators that are willing to rip your flesh apart and feast on you.

But he also carries fantasy of himself and wishes for you and him to be together so he just needs time to strike. So you and him would be together without anyone disrupting your time.

Ayato

There are new arrangements with you and the student council, when Ayato called you and told you he had no choice but to cut the funding for the music club, and when you begged ayato saying you're willing to do anything, this gave him an idea.

So once a week or month, after school you would go to the student council meeting room and let your body be devoured by them, you allowed them to do anything with you.

Even tho the arrangement is with the entire student council, you and him would sometimes book a hotel room to spend the night together. And will use toys on you during school if you do not behave

Alhaitham

Of course accidentally witnessesing one of your rondavous with the student council, he decided to use it to his advantage. He used it to blackmail you and the student council president ayato.

So every time you do something wrong on a test you will get punished, and if you did well on a test you will be rewarded. As well every time you or him visits each other's house there will be some in course with each other

Plus every time he is stressed or overworked you have no choice but to follow him and distress him no matter the location. In school, bathroom, literally anywhere and you have to keep quiet if you guys don't get caught.

Kaveh

Poor kaveh seeing the love of your life having intercourses with your rival and roommate that gotta hurt. One time when you were with alhaitham. In exchange of keeping his mouth silent he also wants to have the same deal as alhaitham.

So every time when you finish with alhaitham you have to go towards kaveh. Heck maybe he will join you with alhaitham.

On the bright side, he's not been as stressed as before as well and he get a better view of biology and how does your body works

Childe

He's very pent up and everytime he win a game he will always expect you to reward him for doing good In the game.

Every time he's invited to a party, he will ask you to be his plus one and will not let you leave his side. If you're bored here don't worry he will take you somewhere more fun

He will take you to a hill, and you guys will make out in his car or just drive you back home so you and him could make out there. And he gets verbally jealous whenever someone tries to flirt with you

Scaramouche

Whenever he feels jealous or he feels like it, you will have to expect being pulled to the side drag into an empty broom closet and make out there

He doesn't even help you put your clothes back in or do after care just smash and go.

But sometimes he is gentle or whenever he's feeling a little nicer he's more gentler with you and gives you after care sometimes

Xiao

Also a virgin, he's very shy during his first time but gets the hang of it when you guys started to do it more often when he's not busy

He's very shy and nervous during his first time as well every time when you guys decided to have intercourses but he does have impressive stamina he can last for hours

He gets jealous when other students manage to get you before him, he once saw you walk out of the broom closet with scaramouche with a sweety body and disheveled clothing, so every time when he's jealous he's rought

Kazuha

The most gentlest and sweetest out of all of them, he can be rough but if you want to and ask him politely.

He always gives you the best after care after doing it, as well as gives you milk tea or any drink you want after doing it.

Will write poetry about your time with him In detail and will read it to you in the middle of it, it describes how he was feeling and what he wants to do with you and the things he's gonna do with you in extreme detail and find it amusing you blushing.

Albedo

He's very curious on how the human anatomy works during intercourse, so he asked you to do it with him so he could study how the body works

He calls your hook ups an experiment of the human body, he will write down every reaction thru every position or toys he uses on you.

He will say "how interesting" after managing to get a reaction from your body. And every time you guys do it, you will wear his lab coat.

Venti

The most open about your hook ups to make your other admirers jealous. And every time you try to shut him, he will reply with you " I thought you were enjoying it"

Likes to tease you a lot and grind against you when you are playing your music, same as Kazuha will write poetry about your time together.

Will always try to convince you to hook up or go another round even tho class is about in 5 minutes other wise you guys gonna be late I mean he doesn't care when ever he's late or not

[alchemistc]

You never let me in, Buck sends, two of three sheets fully winded, and when he kicks his leg over the coffee table he nearly knocks over three empties.

They do this thing, right? Buck gets upset and before the tears can fall, because he's cried too many fucking times already, he makes himself angry. Picks at something that has come up every time he's done a post-mortem on the last six months.

And then he sends that shit to Tommy. Because - because who the fuck else is he supposed to talk to about it? The guy who'd sucked him off in the hallway of a nightclub two weeks ago? The woman who'd spent an hour quietly helping Buck understand that yeah, he was very much bi, and yeah, some people did not like that shit? Maddie, or Chim, or Hen or Eddie, who still might interact with him on the job? Bobby? Fuck, not Bobby.

Bobby who'd blinked at Buck and offered platitudes and apologized to Buck like it was somehow his fault Tommy was good people but he was the kind of good people who just walked out on something that could have been something.

I should have pushed more. I know I should have. I just thought since I was trying to share everything, you were too.

My mistake.

Three months and Buck isn't over it. He's far enough into the mourning process that he thinks this one is always gonna sting, and not for the reasons Tommy thinks.

That's not fair. I'm sorry.

The texts get delivered. Tommy reads them. Buck's had read receipts on since the first time Tommy went quiet on a call and Buck freaked out a little - but back then they were still working towards something. Back then, sometimes Tommy would pull out his phone and open the thread just to give Buck sign of life.

He was always doing that. Heading shit off at the pass.

Buck had just never realized he'd be able to do it to hurt him, just as well as take care of him.

Every four weeks like clockwork Buck gets a response. He has no fucking idea why it's four weeks, what the third Thursday of the month has to do with Tommy feeling gracious enough to give Buck some clarity. He'd never known enough about Tommy, is the thing he's coming around to. He'd done everything he could to bring Tommy in, make him a part, and Tommy had let him. Tommy had distracted him with quippy words and a clever tongue and with being so fucking willing to be integrated into Buck's life that Buck just - hadn't noticed.

No one will say it, but he Bucked It Up in the worst kind of way.

He's waited until Third Thursday to send these texts. He actually hasn't sent anything at all, until this moment, and he wonders if Tommy noticed. If he cared. Tommy picks and chooses from Buck's random thoughts, parses out details like he's reading from a manual and Buck is off topic two thirds of the time. Buck doesn't actually know why he's been answering, all this time. He wonders if, in the last four weeks of silence, he thought he was finally done with Buck.

He wonders if it had hurt.

Buck sets his phone down to stand, skating across to the kitchen in his socks for the pizza rolls in the oven.

His diet is shit. His body feels like crap. He's one more drunken nights sleep on the couch away from emptying the rack in his fridge down the drain and giving sobriety a try. The last person he'd slept with had hinted that they'd prefer not to use condoms and Buck had almost let them.

Buck has worth. He knows he does. It's just sometimes when he remembers that every person he's ever loved has either walked out on him or let him walk away when he needed them, he struggles to find that worth.

His life has meaning, and all that jazz.

Buck sort of wonders if Tommy hasn't finally blocked his number, as he tosses a too-hot pizza roll in his mouth and huffs on the lava cheese burning his tongue. After the last message Buck had sent, three weeks ago, he wouldn't exactly be surprised.

(This is basically just an unhinged grief journal with an unreliable second narrator. Do you know what it's like to realize you're still in love with someone who never let you know them?)

There's been no response to that. Fair. Buck hadn't even actually said the words. No, he'd jumped right into the sharing a life part, cart before the horse as always when emotions were high.

The pizza rolls get tipped onto a plate and are immediately swimming in the heavy pour of ranch he'd prepared after he set the oven to preheat.

It cools them off a lot quicker than popping a hole in each seam and waiting.

It's been eight years since Buck has really even thought about that little trick.

When he opens his phone there's no response. No receipt. Just stark words waiting to be acknowledged.

I gave you my family, Tommy. You didn't even introduce me to your team at Harbor.

It's startling to realize after the fact. He doubts Tommy had meant it that way, but he'd basically spent six months being love bombed only to have the rug ripped right out from under his feet.

And yet. Months later and he still wants to know. Know why. Know how he could have done it, with tears in his eyes, with full awareness that it was already gonna hurt. Know Tommy - anything he'd part with, really, that wasn't something every random acquaintance also knew.

Cool, he'd been jealous of what Buck and the 118 had. (Buck had tried to give him that. Or at least he thought he had.)

Great, he didn't talk to his dad and Gerrard was a shitty captain. (Buck had spent an hour once explaining the first time he and his dad had spoken about Daniel without screaming at each other. Tommy had listened to the rants about Gerrard and offered physical comfort and a 'sounds like him' and Buck had just been so relieved to have an ally amongst the 'life is just like this sometimes' crowd that he'd never examined that.)

He was a Kinsey six who'd been engaged to the first woman Buck had ever really loved and they'd never dug deeper than that.

And Buck had apparently interpreted some of the shit he'd said that night wrong, but he still doesn't think it's fucking fair that Tommy can't trust him to know his own fucking mind well enough to know he hates sleeping around and he'd found the sort of connection he was looking for. He'd found it. Even with the lack of reciprocation. Even with the quiet behind Tommy's eyes that he'd never let Buck in on. Even with the -

His phone buzzes on the coffee table.

Can we talk?

Buck kinda hates those words in that order now. They'd been the start of something twice, but they'd always been leading to an end, if Tommy had his way.

Once every four weeks, apparently, Buck sends back and takes a vicious bite.

His phone chimes with an incoming call.

Buck stares at the name he hasn't had the stomach to remove the little heart from. Lets it ring through to voicemail and then shoves three more pizza rolls into his mouth and doesn't care if they burn off his taste buds.

His phone rings again.

"What?"

"I'm outside your building. Didn't want to make any assumptions that I'd be welcome without asking first."

Buck can feel his ribs cracking under the lurch of angry laughter. "What the hell?"

"Well the parking around here is miserable again, so I figure that's a sign."

"Are you driving right now?"

"Hands off. I'm on Bluetooth. So. Should I circle the building a fifth time or call it now and go home?"

Buck gets stuck on fifth time.

There's no way he hadn't been driving since at least before Buck sent that first text.

Buck sighs. There's absolutely no reason to be hopeful about that. For all he knows, Tommy has just decided dousing any residual flames is just another thing he has to do in person.

"My Jeep's in the shop. I'll buzz you into the garage."

Tommy's silent for a long, long moment. The quip comes anyway. "I keep telling you that thing is a money pit."

"I'm not really feeling the flirty banter, right now, Tommy, so maybe just let me know when you're at the gate."

He does. He hangs up the phone twenty seconds later with a plain "See you soon."

Buck doesn't have time to change. Fix his hair. Hide the sheet pan with half a dozen pizza rolls still laying on it, because he'd cooked way too many again.

(He could absolutely do one of these things but if Tommy's gonna throw this at him, he's getting every little slovenly habit Bucks's picked up since he walked out that door.)

The knock comes while Buck's shoving the last two rolls on his plate into his mouth.

He's still chewing with his mouth open to blow out the steam when he swings the door open, and Buck feels the first inklings of pleasure ripple through him at the sight of Tommy.

He looks like shit.

"You look like shit."

Tommy's brow ticks up. He stares pointedly at the glob of not-cheese that's going to absolutely ruin this sweatshirt.

"That tends to happen when you spend an hour in an armchair two sizes too small picking at trauma you've been hiding from your therapist for six years."

Buck opens the door wider. Holy crap. Tommy might legitimately be more fucked up than Buck.

Tommy's smile is strained. "Can I come in?"

Buck holds his gaze. His eyes are a little red. He's got a red spot along the side of his neck, like he's been rubbing at it. Buck only recognizes it as a comforting motion because he's replayed him doing it half a million times right before he ended things.

"Depends. Is this the last time you respond to my mean, rude, asshole texts for an hour after therapy rubs you raw?" Third Thursday Therapy, is apparently what does it. Buck is - god. He just wants -

"God, I hope not," Tommy says, and Buck takes a step to the side to let Tommy in.

[sparrowlucero]

would life as a larrow suck? like if you could choose to be isekai'd as a larrow rn would you take it up? what about the other way around, would a larrow want to be us

It doesn't really suck anymore than life as a human does, but a lot of humans would see it as bad or stressful in certain ways:

Larrow imago usually only live about 30 years, and it's not super abnormal for them to die before 20. They're also very tiny (like on average the size of a button quail or a smallish parrot) so compared to humans they seem pretty fragile.

Their society doesn't consistently exist; eggs are produced, hatched and grow up at roughly the same time, and all the larrow of a single generation usually die off entirely before new ones emerge from the ocean (with an occasional outlier). That next generation isn't exactly the same culture as before, just formed through similar needs and off of the technology left behind by the last. their whole 'rome falls every few decades' set up would probably be very offputting to most alien cultures

They have next to no health care; larrow learn medical care by themselves, for themselves, and they practice surgery and similarly extreme procedures on themselves quite regularly.

Larrow are basically fine not socializing and will sometimes go years without talking to one another; it's to a degree where even anti social humans may be stressed and lonely. They also don't really show a ton of concern for other people and animals, empathy is more of a philosophical idea than this totally innate thing.

The world they live has very extreme storms; their average low winds would be difficult for a human to walk around in. They don't have houses but public access "storm shelters" which, from a human perspective, look woefully incompetent as they're full of holes and look more like animal nests than a "real" building

On the other hand:

Larrow are adapted to live in an environment with constantly moving air and are instinctively adverse to areas with stagnant air, as they struggle to breathe in it and it can make them really sick. Human buildings seem really gross to them in the same way rot or mold does to us

The way humans are constantly trailing each other and actively trying to initiate touching and interaction all the time feels both animal-like and weird/scammy/aggressive to them, our social behavior is their "about to get mugged" behavior

complex nest building in constant storms was like their main evolutionary pressure to Get Good with the brain power, so they're very technologically minded in a way humans just aren't. They could open up a human car or computer (or indeed a body) for the first time and understand how it worked back to front. This is all just architecture to their lizard brains. Which means humans needing to go to school to study this stuff sounds like, really stupid to a larrow.

the whole idea that humans will bribe other humans to knock them out and operate on them sounds like a horror show. What if the doctors got bored and left? What if it turned out they wanted to hurt you while you were asleep? If letting other people chop you up is a normal cultural quirk why do they keep making scary movies about it

the way humans have all these complex daily networks of giving things up and gaining them is confusing and stressful. they're kind of like that boar in this tumblr post

This is all to say many humans would see larrow as living short lonely survivalist lives in ramshackle houses in a dying culture too selfish to care about each other, where many larrow would see humans as spending most of their lives in gross little prisons being so incompetent at everything that they'll die of minor ailments like "tumors" and "internal bleeding" if other humans don't randomly take pity on them.

Not to say some people wouldn't be interested or jealous about aspects of each other's lives... "what if you could just fly alone for weeks at a time and work on the first draft of your novel" would obviously be appealing to a lot of humans, and getting to root through a world of completely alien tech and biology would make a larrow feel like it was one of these caddisflies

[krems-chair]

Something Something Yeah It's Still Solavellan Hours (Mythal is kind of here, too)

I've seen a few very beautifully articulated posts talking about the conflicted responses players are finding themselves having in regards to the decision by writers* to have Solas' atonement route possible because of his conversation with one of the remaining fragments of Mythal.

(*honestly I hesitate to put the weight of bigger game events on their shoulders because of how much I know bigger players in the company were involved, so when you read 'writers' know I just mean whoever had final say on plot)

I love reading where people are at on this, and having now breathed, re-played the scene, cried, read some more theories, and then played the scene again enough times I think I'm now able to figure out where I'm at.

TLDR: in my humble opinion, the conversation Solas has with Mythal doesn't bring him any actual closure at all. It is only the version of the atonement ending that has Lavellan in which he is actually set upon a road to redemption.

This, like everything else where I lose my mind, will be long. I tried to restrain myself and here we are, unhinged as ever.

I was unhappy at first that Mythal's incredibly brief conversation with Solas where she releases him from her service seemed to be what finally allowed him to make a decision based on his wants and not hers. My concern stemmed mostly from the fact that a lot of us are trying to be active participants in a society that recognizes patterns of abuse and seeks to establish channels through which individuals can pursue healing without the approval, consent, or demise of their abuser.

But the more I look at the scene, the more I wonder what would have happened in a world where Veilguard got just a little more time in development. Could we have gotten a scene that more elegantly conveys the theme that we cannot heal every part of our loved ones, much as we might like to?

In an imperfect world it isn't always up to us how someone finds closure, which really sucks when you'd like to ensure a loved one finds it in a way that preserves their dignity and limits exposure to the individuals who have harmed them.

And while it could be left there, I'd like to actually push back on the idea that Mythal is in any way responsible for "healing" Solas in this moment.

I went on a different tirade a few days ago about how at the end of Inquisition, Mythal says words to Solas that on their surface seem well-intentioned or placating, but they actually just serve to further bind him in guilt and a position of servitude. In Veilguard's finale, she still does not take accountability for exactly how much of a role she played in the pain that Solas, a man others have revered and feared as a god, has gone through as he cowers, actually cowers before her.

Mythal's interaction with Solas conveys exactly two things to him as far as I am concerned (I'm going to botch these quotes but my laptop is dying so please accept some paraphrase as I rush to finish this before I go cry about this analysis to my uncaring dog):

"The terrible things we did, we did together." You are forever tied to me.

"I release you from my service." But what am I releasing you to?

Because up until Lavellan joins the fray here, all I take away from the physical and unwilling emotional cues Solas gives in this scene (he is a master in trickery, for goodness' sake, the thought of so many witnesses seeing him unable to hide behind a mask has to leave him feeling anguished on top of everything else) is that Mythal has once again reminded him of everything he did in her name and telling him that all that's left for him is to go back to the fade prison and, as he as always done, endure the crushing weight of his failures alone.

To me, in my interpretation, the Solas that hears this from Mythal with no Lavellan intervention may choose to willingly step down from his original plan (and yeah, that's gonna do some damage) but he is certainly not free of his past. He's going to be reminded of it every time he turns a corner and finds more blight to try and soothe, and even the moments that he rests will be filled with more manifestations of his regret. He says it himself: where he's going? It's terrible.

Enter Lavellan. Yeah, he couldn't bring himself to listen to her at her first plea (but like damn how many times are we going to have to watch her give a heartfelt speech only for him to be like 'something something beautiful elven rejection'). But I know that you know that our clever icon knows better than to take what Solas says at face value. She tells Rook plainly that he's absolute dogshit at lies of the heart, and she says it with her whole chest.

Lavellan sees the way his shoulders slump (in resignation yes, but you can't convince me there's not a little bit of relief there, too), she hears the agony in the "vhenan" that escapes his lips (which, don't even get me started on the fact that it's been like nine years and he has no hesitation at all calling her his heart, it just spills out of him). It is not the sound of a man delighting in the steps he's about to take. They're certainly not steps he does not dislike that lead to a destination he enjoys.

And then she watches Mythal (who I can't imagine she feels any sort of fondness or respect for) pull some weird nonsense on her love one final time, and she knows it's her moment to shine.

Mythal, I would argue, pushes Solas down one more time, shames him into seeking atonement, into once again being alone.

It is the romanced Lavellan that kneels so that he cannot fail to meet her eyes. It is she who invokes their connection, not to remind him of his failures but to reaffirm his greatest strength: their love and their love alone is inevitable. Not the consequences of his past, not the regret he thinks will consume him as he seeks to mend what has been broken. It has only ever been them.

"There is no fate but the love we share". We are forever tied together.

"There is no fate but the love we share." *I* am releasing you from everything else save for this love.

Put colloquially: get absolutely fucking wrecked, Mythal.

Body language comparison to chase up the dialogue one, anyone? The way Solas shrinks before Mythal as opposed to him walking off into the fade with Lavellan at his side and standing tall, and he does not flinch when she lifts a hand to his shoulder?

Ultimately, Mythal is a part of the atonement endings no matter what. But it is only Lavellan that refuses to let him walk alone. It is only Lavellan that guarantees that his dinan'shiral ends not in a prison of regret, but a place of promise.

Mythal bends Solas until he breaks one last time. Lavellan takes each piece, claims it as hers, and uses them to build the beginnings of a future.

[lynaferns]

I'm seeing a lot of people saying stuff like

"it makes me sad that he's mean :(" "I'm scared that my au is not accurate anymore" or "I got my interpretation of him wrong"

And I think you should put this new information about the DCA at a side for a moment, go talk to friends and info dump about your original AUs and ideas, brighten up a little bit that spark that makes you create your art and just have fun talking about it. Because the fact that he's sassy in one game doesn't mean that that's the only trait to his personality now.

He can be mean, he can be anxious, short tempered, good intended, caring, dramatic, a little bitch, a cinnamon roll... He can be all the things you can come up with, in this fandom he's always been all of the above and more in different ways, in different stories. And you can still write him the way you want, people can still interpret him the way they want, don't let canon or other people or your own thoughts stop you from creating your AUs.

Instead use it to get inspired, get new ideas and create new stories. They turned the tables, you can turn them back up. He can be mean because of the virus but get softer to you with time, you can make a story about self-confidence and worth, he can hate and love his job simultaneously for different reasons.

The AUs where he's soft and caring are still going to be there, the fics where he's good with kids and patient are still going to get written. Keep writing those fics, don't stop just because canon says otherwise. I stopped writing my steampunk AU when the mimic was revealed to be burntrap and not Afton because "it wasn't canon anymore so my AU is not accurate anymore" and I'm still with that thorn stuck in the back of my head for not continuing writing even if it wasn't canon accurate anymore. Because I actually got excited about writing that AU but for the way my brain see things "if it wasn't canon accurate it wasn't worth it" and let me tell you that's a shit of mentality.

So please

Please please please please

Don't give up on your stories and creativity like that.

The immense variety of characterizations and AUs is one of the pillars of this community and one of the coolest things. The fact that you can come up with any concept for these two dorks and make it an investing story and you have a whole catalog to choose from what you're going to see next. Don't let that stop.

I love this community even if I don't understand it sometimes and I barely interact, I love seeing people having fun making their AUs, going nuts making fanarts and gifting art to each other just because it makes them happy.

Don't let this limit you.

Now I don't care how you share this, if rebloging, or reposting it, or rewriting the whole thing but shorter in your own post but just share this feeling with the community. It would be so sad if all the things that makes this place special crumbled because people aren't confident anymore in how they write the DCA because of a game that came out yesterday.

[lunaralight09]

Hey! based on the recent 096 thing,, what if you were immortal/immune to abnormal affects/effects? How would SCPs (such as 096, 106, 173, 049, and 035) react?

035

They both like and hate it. I mean if something happens to the host when they're near you, you'll just straight up put them on your face which WILL(probably) result to your death. And they do not want that to happen. And the bad thing... they can't read your mind properly(I mean they're probably interested and invested about what's happening in others life. It's the only good entertainment they can get in here).

Other than that, it's going to just adore you and your immunity to it. Like there weren't anyone who could look at it and not fall for their charm(manipulations), but look at you. Standing there alive and it's not even mad at you! Because it cares about you.

049

Oh it's not really a surprise to him, since there were and are some people that aren't afflicted with the pestilence(aren't dead from his touch). And he doesn't even need to lecture his cured patients about hurting you. They are always so docile with you, not getting rowdy. How convenient.

Before anything he does NOT want you to interact with many people(at all), since... what if they infect you? He won't like to see that, knowing that you're suffering from that wretched disease. But he can't exactly make you stay with him forever. He will hint and/or outright say that you need to stay away from certain people, however it's you decision to listen or not listen. You can make your own decisions. Even if that makes Doctor uncomfortable... with those 'intrusive' thoughts.

096

They are the calmest they have been in their entire existence, while someone looks at their face that is. And that does bring them some sort of comfort knowing that YOU of all creatures aren't going to die from their hands(unless some sort of accident happenS- WHO SAID THAT). The hands that killed too many.

And from those thoughts, the clinging begins. Knowing that you're 100% safe from being mutilated and turned into chunks of meat, they would want to spend a bit more time with you. Following, sitting or laying near you, anything. They are going to love it. The idea of listening to your heartbeat as a comfort thing is perfect for them. Whether they lay on you or you lay or rest on them(just don't forget to breathe).

106

Well That's not interesting(for him). His sadistic side fucking hates it. On one hand he can just grab you and squeeze your neck until you stop moving. But on other hand he (likes)tolerates you enough to not do it. Even if everything in his body tells him to fucking do it. Watch as your little life is slowly taken away from your desperate hands.

He'll more often than not will mostly ignore your presence. Especially if in a room/hallway there's a person(really hurt, showing it or 10-25 year old) and YOU, he'll always choose to go after the first option. And there's a possibility that he bumps into you, it's probably not intentional(i mean do you expect this corpse to walk straight and not bump and hit into things/people?)

173

(173 doesn't really have anomalous effects somewhat similar to other 4. But the best i can go is this):

Having 173 practically ignoring your existence and still moving while you look is.. good? Well for you, that is. You can't help anyone else, it's just a cold lie that you can look while they try to get away or clean the cell.

If you want to know it's thoughts about it. Well I mean it's not often that it has any thoughts(Literally head empty). Thoughts that usually appear are how it's next target's face going to look like as they're getting closer and closer. Oh and how their 'resting' face is going to look like.

Going back to your immunity, it knows, kinda acknowledge your existence in it's own weird way. Like it won't push you and just go a different path if you're blocking- let's say a door way. Or if you want to help some poor soul from dying, by just standing in the corner and that person being behind you. And surprise, surprise 173 looses it's interest entirely. How thoughtful of it.

[siggiedraws]

Hello! i absolutely adore your art and agree with your sonic opinions, you're overall one of the best sonic blogs out there. May i ask how do you plan out and draw your comics? How do you choose the formatting of panels themselves, the composition, the dialogue and so on? From A to Z, please! I apologize if this ask might be inconvenient, but i'm curious because i love your comics and have attempted to draw a sonic comic myself that failed miserably.

Typically the first step I will take is to just rough it out in a sketchbook, because I find it much faster and when working digitally I feel more pressure to make things look nice. This is where I start thinking about paneling and composition. It doesn't look perfect or cohesive at this stage, but at least now I have a rough idea presented with barely legible scribbles that don't make sense to anyone but me.

For paneling, large panels linger more, and small panels indicate quick succession. This is the most important rule I personally follow when making panels. It affects things like comedic/dramatic timing and how the reader will be guided through your comic.

It's important to vary up the composition when it comes to dialogue scenes where not that much is happening. The shot-reverse-shot format works, but remember that once you have an establishing shot and the reader knows where the characters are, you can get creative. I like to do close-ups where not everything is shown to create a sense of vagueness around what emotion the character is feeling.

Don't do this too excessively unless you're trying to create a claustrophobic feeling - let it breathe with a medium shot or long shot after!

In film-making, there's a rule called the 180-degree rule that basically states that in a two-character interaction, there is an invisible line drawn between them. The camera does not cross this line and stays on one side. This basically keeps the characters on one respective side of the frame at all times to avoid confusing the viewer.

This is by no means something you have to follow for comics, but if you want to create something that is easier to follow, it's a good rule of thumb that I consider when drafting! It can also be broken depending on the effect you're going for.

Once I have a draft, I'll typically go into editing and changing things that don't work quite as well as I'd like. This can be done by yourself or you can get it revised by a friend, like I do!

After the draft is finished, I'll get to lining and colouring. To be honest, it's not something I can teach so easily, but rather something that takes a lot of time and practice to learn. I typically draw the backgrounds with thinner lineart so that the characters stand out. Same deal with colouring - the characters stand out from the background colour-wise. There are multiple ways to do this, but for example, here I made the background have less colour contrast than the characters and stick to an orange-ish tone, while the characters are different colours from the background.

For speech bubbles, generally the words should fit the shape of the bubble to the best of your ability. The line spacing should be as close and compact as possible without touching the lines above or below. This is to save space on the page so that speech bubbles don't take up a majority. The tail of the bubble should point towards the character's mouth.

Avoid tangenting! This is when the very edges of two different things touch each other. It creates a flatter effect so you want to avoid it as much as possible.

That's about all I can think of right now. Hope this helped!

[jinuaei]

Dare

I saw a vid on twitter where the dude came while tattooing his own dick. Couldn't get out of my mind so now I have to write it about Leon because he's my muse. RE2r Leon in my mind but with a lil bit RE4r body. NO OUTBREAK HERE.

I also don't have any experience in tattoos in general so pardon me for getting stuff wrong.

Update: Put the vid in question, unsafe twitter link underneath the fic

Warning: NSFW MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Multiple orgasms(Leon), tattooing, needles, dacryphilia, UNSAFE LINK BELOW

Word count: 2.2k

Leon S. Kennedy x Tattoo artist! Reader

This was a bad idea.

Leon feels stupid standing outside the studio, he can't believe he's actually going to do a stupid dare that Chris forced him to do. He's going to get his dick tattooed. Thankfully, Chris was gracious enough to give him the freedom to choose his own tattoo.

I'll just get a small one and go.

But once he steps in and is greeted by the tattoo artist, he realizes that maybe he might get a bigger one after all.

You stood there with a smile, the tattoos on your body proudly shown to the world-- and holy fuck it was hot. He stammers a hello and nervously looks around, feeling awkward being in a place that he clearly doesn't belong in. There were a few people inside, 2 customers and another tattooist doing work on one of them, and of course there was you.

Chuckling at him, you guide this bumbling blond to your chair, showing him a catalogue of the designs that you do. He was overwhelmed with the choices so ultimately he just looked at you with his big blue eyes.

"Uh.. could...could you choose one for me? Something that you think would look good on me..."

...

I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO CHOOSE ONE FOR YOURSELF???

He mentally punched the air when your relaxed eyes clashes with his wide ones, berating himself for probably annoying you with his indecision.

I-I mean, I don't really know much about tattoos so it would be a good idea to ask them right? I-it's not because I think they're gorgeous and want their approval or something right?? Yeah..

Expecting irritation crossing your face, he braced himself to get screamed at but instead he was met with giddiness. He relaxes under your eyes, finally keeping his nervousness under control.

"I'd love that! I was meaning to do a design I came up with recently, so if you don't mind I can do that to you?"

He nods eagerly, like a happy puppy getting asked to go on a walk.

"Great! Where do you want to get tattooed so I can modify it based on the area."

Leon's blood runs cold as the nerves came back ten fold. He forgot that he was going to get a tattoo, on his dick.

"...my dick." He tries to tell you but it only comes out as a whisper.

"Pardon?"

"My dick...!"

"Sorry could you repeat tha-"

"My dick!!! I'm gonna get my dick tattooed...!" He finally shouts, panting, exasperated.

The studio is quiet except for the buzzing of the machines, everyone's eyes was on him. He feels his face flush and tried to hide himself, scrunching into a ball, or close to it at least without looking like a pathetic baby in front of you. But being the angel that you are, only laughed and waved those staring at him as if to say 'this is normal'. Your assistant also laughed but directed the costumers attention to himself, explaining how newbies get nervous like that.

The blond unfurls himself, looking at you with sad eyes. You pat his head and he won't lie to himself that he didn't enjoy that.

"Don't worry dude, we don't judge here. Luckily for you, I have experience in that regard, but you don't look like you have any. Fresh meat?"

"Yeah... This is my first time."

"Bold of you to choose a sensitive part of your body. Really brave bud."

A smile creeps onto his face, delighted at being complimented by you. Yet his mind wanders back to your words earlier, you tattooed other peoples dick before? Internally shaking his head, he then asks when they'll start, which you promptly answered with a right now if you're ready, in which he agreed excited to get done by you... The tattoo he means.

You lead him to a different part of the studio, a more private area to be exact, its smaller with only one chair for the client. Due to him being too excitable he forgot how embarrassing it would be for people to see his dick in general. But if it's you... Of course it's fine! You're tattooing him after all, this is professional work, be professional Leon.

He sits on the chair after you instructed him to, you then proceed to tell him to strip his pants and underwear and roll up his shirt. Before he did that though he had to ask something important.

"Does it matter if I'm hard or not...?"

"Nah, it'll still look the same whether it's flaccid or erected."

Nodding shyly he starts to strip off slowly, almost teasing, which embarrasses him further since he imagines himself looking like he's giving you a strip dance. You wait there patiently, head lowered, arms crossed, eyes switching between his pants to his own. Eventually he lowers his pants and underwear to his ankles, shirt blocking his dick, but when he raises his shirt your eyebrows raise when you see how hard he is. Red angry tip, twitching under your scrutiny.

"Do you like it...?"

"Hm. You're bigger than I expected. Great abs too."

That made him more confident, puffing his chest out in response. He laid down on the chair, readying himself with what's going to happen. On the side he can see you prepare a piece of paper with your design on it. Staring at you, he admires the tattoos that litter your whole body, your arms filled with dark ink, one half filled with intricate details of crosses and angels, he can also see some weird sigils, rings with what looks like Latin on it and stars. He can only assume that underneath your clothes there are more than what he is allowed to see.

The young mans imagination is cut of with a jerk of his hips, startled he looks at you wide eyed and scared. He tried to apologize profusely but you only shook your head and explained that you needed to put the stencil on his dick. Luckily he survived the stenciling as it was done faster than he expected, he can't say the same for the actual tattooing part though.

You we're thankfully very patient with him, caressing his thigh before starting, which his body reacted with a jerk that he somewhat kept to a minimum.

The first thing he noticed was the loud buzzing of the machine, the next is the vibration, finally-- the pain. It was bearable, but that was not the horrific part of this situation, no, it was the fact that he was enjoying the constant stabbing, combined with the vibrations it felt so good on his cock. Leon wouldn't say that he's a masochist, but damnit whatever the fuck is happening turns him on so fucking much.

Shaky breaths start to come out of his mouth, it was getting harder to breathe with the constant stimulation and if he focus hard enough he could actually feel your breath on his thigh. God you were so close to his dick.

"O-oh! Oh God...huff... shit. I like it, why the fuck do I like it???" He mumbles to himself, biting his cheek to suppress the moans that's bubbling up from his throat.

He tries so hard to focus on something else, the paperwork left on the station-- the vibrations... Chris' smug face when he told him the dare-- feels so good..! His best friend at home, his good ol' dog-- FUCK!!!

"STOP!! Stop...! Fuck. Ah...sorry, it's just hahh... Feels too good."

He pants harshly, fingers holding on the smooth leather for dear life. He feels humiliated under your stare, tears starting to prick at his eyes, making it hard to decipher the expression on your face but he can feel the heat in your eyes.

Your eyes hungrily take in his body, appreciating his muscles as well as his pudge in certain areas. With such a sensitive man in front of you, you get to see all of his reactions. The way his eyes are tightly closed, eyebrows furrowed, his lashes accentuated by the heavy blush spreading from his face. Every flinch causes his body to flex and it is truly a sight for sore eyes.

However, since this is a professional setting, you as the professional doing your job, and him, the client just getting a tattoo on his weeping cock. The same cock that you have to wipe over and over as it drips pre-cum over your work. You tried your best to hold back, managing to stop yourself from ravaging this delectable hunk in front of you. But it was soooo hard to do so.

God... What a cute little thing he is. Makes me want to eat him up.

You tried to wait patiently for him to calm down, you waited 5 minutes, 10 minutes, 20 minutes for it to stop twitching but it just wouldn't. stop. dripping. Ultimately you gave him a choice, either you stop here and work on it another time or you keep going regardless of how currently sensitive he his.

A whimper came out of his mouth when he sensed you getting more and more impatient with him. Wanting to please you he chose the 2nd option. The faster he's done the better right?

"If you're gonna cum, tell me."

"Wha- Hngggh...!"

The needles start up again and Leon really held himself back, gripping on the leather beneath his fingers. It worked for a moment but the sensation proves too much when his body jerks forward from a particularly more painful-- but delicious, jab of the needle. His hips was then forced down by your hand slamming itself on his pelvis. Your touch almost made him fall off the edge of the cliff but at that exact moment he had a brilliant idea to stop himself from cumming on the spot.

"Hahh...hng! Fuck!! I'm gonna cum! Pleasepleaseplease...!"

And then immediately proceeding to cum all over his chest and your hand that is still pining him down. Even then you were not strong enough to fully hold him down, his hips almost flying from the chair. Tears stream down his face, a mix of humiliation and pleasure dripping to the leather below. As he calms down from his high, he hears shuffling before suddenly, a weight plops down onto his lap. You didn't even warn him before starting again.

"Wait...! I'm still hnggg... I'm still sensitive!" Not knowing if you heard him or not, he tries again but is cut off with a moan.

"Don't move too much because I'm not stopping until it's done."

You're gonna be the death of him.

Finally after so so so so long you were done with his tattoo. Leon is spent, lying there chest covered with his fluids, t-shirt soaked with a mix of tears, drool, and probably semen. He was still twitching, eyes rolled back, overstimulated to hell and back. He doesn't know how much he came, thrice? Four times? Maybe even more than that but God was it amazing. Nothing could prepare him from the tenderness that you exude as you wipe the tears from his cheeks. You leaned in, face hovering over his as you look him in the eye, cooing at how much of a good boy he is for handling everything so well.

"Thank you... hahh hah..."

You hopped off his lap and went to get a mirror for him. He feels a little loopy with the dopamine rushing through his brain but that didn't stop him from thanking you. Blinking sluggishly, his eyes look at the mirror, showing his cock being held by you. Focusing on the design he can tell how much love you put on it.

It starts from just below the head, the whole thing wrapping around his whole dick. It was something akin to an insect, maybe a scorpion with 4 sharp legs, the head of the creature sprouting tentacles. The tail of it was long, twisting around until it stops, the sharpened end on the base, close to his balls. It was honestly really good, the shading makes it look realistic, almost like it will jump at him and bury itself into his skin. He's kind of sad that it's not similar to any of your tattoos. Still, he's happy to have been marked by you.

"Did you bring extra clothes?"

"What?"

"You can't walk around the streets with a cum stained shirt, and you need to wear looser pants so it won't irritate tattoo."

Chris you better fucking pick up.

I should've called Luis instead.

Chris brought him clothes, probably from his own closet and Leon knew when Chris arrived because he could hear his boisterous laughter right outside the private room. SHIT! If I could hear him, people definitely heard me earlier.

After dressing up and doing the walk of shame towards the main studio, he sees Chris and your assistant laughing their guts out. Yeah they definitely heard me, and he's probably telling Chris everything.

You went over to them and smacked the tanned guy upside the head, introducing him as Carlos. Leon strains a smile, regardless of how much he wants to curl up into a ball and die. But Carlos reassures him that it actually happens and how he also cummed from you tattooing his dick, although he was not as loud as him. After that he was informed how to do aftercare for the tattoo and both him and Chris were off to go home.

Sitting on the passengers seat, Leon tuned out Chris' teasing and how 'I can't believe you actually did it!' and 'Imagine cumming while getting a tattoo LMAO'. On his hand is a piece of paper, written inside is your number and a note that read; 'See you when it heals ;)'.

Hey, maybe it wasn't a bad idea after all.

The vid in question:

[e-vay]

Heyo! Do you have any tips for making comics? :)

I've been meaning to get back into the swing of it, but concentrating on such a commitment that takes so much time is tough sometimes haha.

How do you make it work? Are there things you avoid/make easier for yourself just to make the process more fun and do-able?

First of all, I’m very happy for you! I think it’s very exciting whenever we return to a craft we were once passionate about. I wish you the best of luck!

This is a big question and I don’t think there’s really one simple answer since all artists are different and have their own strengths and weaknesses.

One of the biggest issues I face is that I have a million ideas but I simply don’t have the time to do them all. I want to share all these ideas but if I gave each and every idea the same amount of attention and detail, I’d hardly get anything done. So here are some things I've learned through my own comic-making experience, but keep in mind it may not be what you're looking for. Also remember this is NOT career advice. I make comics for fun, not for a living. If you’re looking for professional advice I would suggest looking elsewhere 👍

1 - A comic doesn't have to be fully rendered to be entertaining. Although I love to draw and line and color my work, it’s not always necessary. If I feel a punchline is strong enough to stand on its own, I’ll just make it into a doodle comic. In fact, I’ve found that some of my doodle comics perform better than the fully rendered ones! The doodle comics are still very fun for me to draw and they also serve as gestural drawing practice, so in the end it doesn’t feel like I'm making a sacrifice. I'm still getting my ideas out there and I'm still drawing, I'm just prioritizing what gets more attention so I can better manage my time.

2 - Not every panel needs an illustrated background. You definitely need to show backgrounds for establishing shots and when characters are interacting with the scene. But sometimes the focus needs to be entirely on the character and/or what they’re saying. You can choose to have a solid color background and maybe add a few textures to keep it visually interesting. You're still putting in the effort to make your art pop, but you aren’t losing a ton of time by drawing dozens of backgrounds. Color is also a good way to convey mood. I do that a lot in my comics, like this bit from “My Gal”:

^ I was trying to show a progression in excitement here, so having the colors change from cool to warm does a better job portraying that than if I just had a standard, scenic forest background for all the panels.

3 - Use resources: That's what they're there for! Because I make all these comics by myself, I have had to find resources to help me get through some of the steps faster so I can focus more on the story writing and the artwork. For example, to help me save time on lettering, I use the Onomatopedia font and the Manero Panels, SFX and Bubbles brush set for Procreate. I’m still selecting the sound effects and choosing the appropriate bubbles and tails to suit the mood and scale of the text, but this has saved me a ton of time because I’m not drawing each individual element by hand over and over again. Personally, I purchased these resources but I'm sure there are plenty of free tools out there that you can use.

As far as making it more fun... Honestly, I just love comics as an art form so much that learning about all the 'rules' and techniques and 'SOP's behind comics makes it more fun for me to make them. I recommend checking out tutorials and tips (even if you think you already know it all) and you might be surprised at how much it might ignite more of your comic-making passion. For example, I've spent hours on Blambot's "How-To" page and on ComicDevices.com just to try and soak up as much as I can. They're full of fascinating reads that make me want to try out different things!

I hope this helps! Good luck with your comics!

[eyesxxyou]

Just Talkin'

{★} .. hobie brown x black!reader

rating. mature

word count. 3.1k

synopsis. you broke up with hobie for reasons out of your control and it seems as if he's intent on making you regret it.

・．❕ warning. you are a mess, oral (f receiving), smut is short cuz it's not the focus, body shots cuz why not, a LOT of angst

You can't believe you're here…with him.

Your eyes shift across the room, always somehow landing upon his tall, lanky figure sitting on a pillow with a joint between his fingers and a perpetual chuckle in his throat. Nothing ever funny enough to elicit a full laugh, always a breezy chuckle.

You sip on your drink, barely listening to your friend telling you about how her partner was being an asshole as always and how she thinks she should break up with him (she never does). Your gaze doesn't linger on Hobie or you'd give yourself away.

You agreed to be friends, you agreed to keep his secret being Spider-Man. You made up lies for him on a dime just to protect him to which he'd always thank you with a wink and one of those smiles he knows you used to swoon over. "Thanks, luv." He'd whisper in your ear, tossing his arm over your shoulders to pull you in close. Then he'd disappear all together.

Why did you two have to have the same friend group? Why did every outing have to mean being forced to be in close proximity to him? It was your decision haunting you, whispering in your ear that you should have never broken up with him because it seemed he was now intent on making every interaction hell for you.

Did you know that every time you look away, he looks at you, stealing glances far more discreet than yours? His gaze caresses your face, your lips, the curve of your body. He takes a drag of his joint and smiles to himself because he sees that you're still wearing that necklace he gifted you. Your fingers fiddled with it subconsciously, twisting at the small tube that contained a single, preserved rose petal within it.

It was another one of your shared friend's ideas to do body shots. Everyone was in enthusiastic agreement besides you and Hobie. He didn't say anything about it, went along with it anyway because that's just who he was. You on the other hand sat where you were while everyone else got into a circle on the floor. You didn't want to play, didn't want to see Hobie with his lips and tongue all over someone else's body or see one of your friends do the same to him.

"I'll sit this one ou', mates." Hobie saw your reluctance to play and instantly knew why. "Y/N don' wanna play so I'll stay ou' to make i' even." He's a good liar like that, convincing with his nonchalant manner of going about things. That's why he was able to keep being Spider-Man a secret for so long. You would have never found out if not for him straight up telling you a few months into your relationship. It's also how you two were able to keep your relationship a secret from your friends for as long as it lasted. Now it was a matter of keeping your breakup a secret as well.

He stood up and came over to the couch where you sat. You wished he wouldn't as he sat down beside you and tossed an arm across the back of the couch behind your head. He leaned into you, smelling of weed, natural musk, and cologne that made you want to lean into him and press your face into the side of his neck.

Instead you shuffle away from him slightly so your bodies weren’t pressed so snuggly together. “You don’t have to sit out for me.” You murmur under your breath just loud enough for only him to hear. “You don’t own me anything.”

“I know, dove.” He took another drag before reaching over your body to tap off the excess ashes into the ashtray beside you. “Jus’ don’ gotta partna play wit’ now do I?” His fingers played with your hair like he always used to do. It’s like nothing changed for him. Why didn’t he hate you for breaking up with him? Why didn’t he despise you for trying to make him choose between you and being Spider-Man?

“I’ll play if you do.” He whispers in your ear with one of those wicked smiles across his pretty, dark lips. You turn to look at him, looking into those eyes you still adored that dare you to commit. He’s in it if you are. And oh, how you’re still so weak to him. Even after months of being separated.

“Fine.” You looked to your friends, already pouring a shot on one of them. “We’re joining.” You got up and slid down on the floor with Hobie in pursuit, sitting across from you.

It was getting rowdy quickly, everyone cheering and coaxing each other on as you played. Lips on bodies, tongues and laughter, smacking when someone got too frisky, more laughter. You were all drunk and or high. It was all fun and games for you.

Until it was your turn. That’s when you sobered up. You had already agreed to be the human shot glass and there was no turning back now. Hobie was already putting out his joint in a nearby ashtray while your friend coaxed you into taking off your shirt. You did, wringing it in your hands as you laid back and a shot of tequila was poured out on the flat of your naval. It's cold, makes you shiver softly. But nothing will make you shiver more than Hobie climbing up between your legs, his hands on your waist as he looks at you. 'You okay?' His gaze asks and you nod just subtly enough to give him the okay to continue.

You have no idea why you put yourself in a situation like this, with Hobie's lips latching to your naval, slurping up the tequila from your frame, his hot tongue lavishing over your heated skin. Were you desperate for pain? Were you craving that lingering feeling of regret over breaking up your relationship?

His eyes looked up into yours, hands stroking sides, pulling you a little closer. His teeth graze your flesh, tongue lapping up the last lingering sting of tequila off your skin. You could have moaned if not for all the people around you, pulled him up and forced your lips against his. He would have never refused it, would have welcomed it like the old lover you are.

You were overwhelmed by it all, all the eyes on you, laughing and cheering the two of you on. Hobie's hands, his teeth, his lips, his tongue. Every movement sending tremors through you that you know he can feel. His hot gaze looks through you like glass and you can't stand the way he reads you so thoroughly because you're an open book for him.

You sit up abruptly, pushing Hobie back as you stand and swiftly march away with your shirt in your hands. You couldn't bear it. It was too much. Your friends probably thought you had lost it, murmuring amongst themselves asking what your deal was.

You shut yourself off in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror. Your belly was still wet with his saliva, a firm frown etched itself across your lips. You looked disappointed in yourself, for causing such a scene, for letting anything like that happen in the first place, for even agreeing to remain friends with Hobie knowing that feelings were still running high and would for a very long time.

There was a knock on the door and you quickly began to put your shirt back on. "Hold on!"

"Ya need help there?"

God, why did they have to send him to check up on you? Why him?

"No, fuck off, Hobie." You could hear the door click closed behind him as you pulled your shirt over your head and slid your arms through the sleeves. "That shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have played that game with you. Why are you even here?" You turn back and see him all leaned up against the door with that nonchalant demeanor that instantly makes anyone and everyone feel non-judged and seen, seen as much as they want to be. He doesn't pry or pick, it's whatever you want and it irritates the hell out of you because it makes it so hard not to want to kiss him.

"T' check on ya." He shrugged as if it were obvious. "You kinda freaked out there. Jus' wan'ed t' make sure you were okay… Here as a frien' or whateva."

"I'm fine, you can leave now."

"Are you?"

Your eyes shoot daggers at him and he takes it with a smile, arms crossed over his chest. He looks so pretty, with his crop top that shows off his firm naval and happy trail, those lips, those hips, those pretty eyes.

Sometimes you wonder why you broke up with him in the first place. He's never done you wrong, never cheated, never lied beyond hiding he was Spider-Man, never made you feel unloved. Then you remember the anxiety you’d get every time he went out, the debilitating sort, the fear that he might not come back from saving the day. There was the pain of having to clean up his wounds after a fight, clean bloody noses, haphazardly stitch up the deeper gashes with your sewing needle, kissing bruises. Watching him ache for days after the more grueling fights. It was too much for you to handle. You couldn’t do it anymore.

“Why don’t you hate me?” Your voice was soft, hushed as your gaze softened with something bordering on sorrow. “I mean– I ruined something that was perfectly good. Why don’t you hate me for leaving you?” He should want nothing to do with you and yet, he was still here, still in your ear, in your gaze, in your heart.

Hobie shrugged again. His smile faded slowly, fingers picking and peeling at the chipped, black nail polish glossy on his fingertips. “You had ya reasons, luv. Valid reasons. I could neva be mad at you f’ tha’. Plus… I could neva hate’cha. No matter what’cha do, dove.” He stood up straight, came in close, and gently reached out to caress the side of your cheek with his fingertips.

You leaned into his touch. The warmth of his hands contrasting the cool of his rings made you sigh. You looked up at him and he looked down at you and all you could think was how much you missed him.

You got up on your toes and pulled Hobie down to ease your lips onto his. He did not resist you just as you anticipated, he leaned into you, pressed you against the sink counter until your ass was on the surface of it and he was standing between your knees. His lips sought after yours, tongue begging for entrance into you mouth which you grant him without so much as a second thought.

Your hand finds his and your fingers laced together as he sunk his tongue into your mouth and strokes it against yours. He made you moan softly against his lips, your fingers wringing at his, your other hand on his waist as pulling him all the closer.

"Hobie." You whisper, pulling away just enough that your lips hover over his. He smells so good, so much like him that it makes you delirious. Hobie's still stealing pecks from you, humming softly like something of a purr against your lips. "We shouldn't–"

"'m still in love wit' you."

There's a beat of silence after he lets it slip. It's no surprise, he makes it so very clear that he's not over you. And he knows so vividly that you're not over him either. He can feel it. "I know ya couldn't handle i'. 'M no' askin' ya to come back to me. But please, don' tell me you're over me tha' quickly." He chuckled softly, almost sorrowfully as he kissed you again. His hands were under your shirt, heavy and warm against your skin as he strokes circles with his thumbs into your flesh. "Don't tell me tha'."

He pulls you to the edge of the counter, presses you against him. You moan softly with your back arching towards him. A familiar warmth began to grow between your thighs where he pressed himself. Hobie slid his tongue back into your mouth agape and loved you the way he always did, with tongue and teeth and soft, soft lips.

When you parted – panting – a soft whine escaping you, Hobie got down on his knees and lifted your shirt just enough to reveal the soft flesh of your belly. His lips placed tender, wet kisses against your heated skin. His fingertips traced the waist of your pants, his way of tenderly asking permission to continue.

You nodded, swaying, dizzy and drunk on love. You watch him swiftly undo the button and work down the zipper of your fly. You help him lazily, lifting yourself up to help him as he pulled down your pants and underwear in one motion and let them fall to the floor in front of him.

He was swift, tongue against your aching cunt before you even knew what was happening. You slapped your hand over your mouth before you could moan too loudly as his mouth explored what was always his to keep. His hands massaged your inner thighs, keeping them open and not clamping down on his head as you always seemed to do.

He was always so good with his tongue, stroking your clit with the tip of it before finding his way lower to your soaked entrance. He moaned into your cunt, whispering soft praises against your swollen bud. "Fuck– I missed you, baby. Miss this cunt too."

You missed this, you missed him, everything about him. Was it worth it? Was he worth all the uncertainty he caused? He told you himself that he wasn’t asking for you back. He’d never try to pressure you back into a relationship if that’s not what you wanted because he’s just a good person like that. And now you’re wondering even more why you ever wanted to break up in the first place.

He tongue fucked you nice and slow, his nose nudging your clit while his eyes fluttered at the taste of you. He missed your taste on his tongue, the way you struggled to stifle your moans so your friends around the corner wouldn't hear.

Your heavy-lidded eyes fluttered with pleasure. "Hobie please." You whispered out a soft whine, desperately attempting to rut your hips against his face. His large hands pressed your hips down, kept you still and placid for him. He looked up at you behind dark, low lids and hummed against your wanting cunt with something akin to pleasure.

Your hands grasped his shirt as you began to pull him up and away from your wanton pussy. He stood back between your legs, the pads of his fingers finding your clit to stroke while his lips returned to yours. You could taste yourself on his lips and tongue, your arousal, how much you missed him.

He rubbed your clit messily, fingers wet with your slick dripping on the counter. "My pretty girl, my pretty, pretty girl." Hobie cooed against your lips as you moaned against his. Your body rolled and shivered with each pinch and flick of his skilled fingers and Hobie adored every moment of it.

"Still so sensitive." He played your clit like he'd play with the strings of his guitar, with swift skill and intimate knowledge of all your parts. He knew just how to move to make you lose your mind.

Your arms were around his neck, pulling him in, holding him close, adoring his scent and the small scars on his otherwise smooth skin. Hobie pressed his body against yours with his hand between you, fingers teasing at your entrance but never going all the way. He knew the anticipation alone was enough, combined with the pad of his thumb against your tender rosebud.

Your breath quickened with the beginnings of your orgasm. It's been months since you've felt his touch. It was no surprise that you'd cum quick. Hobie chuckled softly at you, at how cute you were when you were about to cum. The way you'd whine so needily for him to make it quick or take his time. He could feel the ache of your pussy and knew you were so close, just on the cusp of relief.

"I love you, Hobie. I love you so, so much." Your cried against his mouth. "'m sorry I left you. I'm so sorry." You were on the cusp of tears, kissing him feverishly as he coaxed your through your orgasm, fingers circling your entrance and his thumb weighing on your pulsing clit. You babbled on and on about how much you missed him and how you wished you never left, how it was a mistake between breathless pants.

"Luv, luv, calm down. I love ya too." He helped you down from the counter and grabbed up your clothes as you attempted to keep yourself stable on your own two feet. He helped you get dressed, make yourself decent again all while chuckling at your humiliation, the way you couldn't even bear to look at him.

You were thinking hard – thinking loudly. He could see the gears turning behind your eyes with something of uncertainty. "Hobie–"

"Before ya make a rash decision, jus'… think 'bout it." Hobie held you by the waist and kissed you once again because he simply couldn't help himself. "Ion want you doin' somethin you'll regret, like gettin' back together wit' me."

You wanted to tell him that you'd never regret something like that. You never regretted him in the first place despite what he may think. It just that…things were complicated for so many fucked up reasons. You looked up at him with wide, desperate eyes begging him to simply see and understand you. "I love you." That's all you could think to say.

Hobie cracked something of a playful smile. "I know." And it meant so much more than just surface level. He saw just what you needed him to see and accepted it for what it was. He knew you, maybe more than you knew yourself and you were grateful for it.

Returning back out to the living room meant having to deal with questions from your friends. "What were you two in there so long for?" It seemed they hadn't heard anything from where they sat and your secret, with a little side-stepping, could remain just that – a secret.

Hobie, being the better liar, was quick to shrug carelessly and plop down on the couch. He glanced at you, grabbing your drink from where you left it and taking a sip.

"Jus' talkin'."

[the-kingshound]

I loved the update just because it exists. I loved the bit with the mounts (especially Arthur's trying to ground MC) but my tiny bit of concrit is the "I know you're a mage" convo feels...shoehorned? Like we get the panic attack and Arthur just says he doesn't think the same way as Uther and it's just...It feels (imo) that the Hound once more just accepts Arthur at face value again? I loved the rewrite making the Hound more wary of Arthur, and this kinda felt like a slip? Idk it just feels like there could be...more there. Or perhaps Arthur will try to revisit the topic? Cause like idk about you but if I was just told "I don't want to do anything to you buuuuuut people in my court might," I'd feel threatened and like...I wouldn't believe a single word prior to the "my court might" part. Cause like the Hound is a political prisoner, the nobles (Our sister in law is amazing) made that clear, so it's just another chain Arthur is adding, a little "Be careful love, you don't know what SOMEONE might do if they found out you're a mage :) :)", you know?

And as someone who played as a Hound who is absolutely dreading this marriage (they literally feel like a prisoner) that whole thing kinda felt as if that wasn't an option? Like for example, the walking into the church thingy you have: I feel better, I'm not alone, and the "I am strong and proud" options, but no real option for...just numb? I personally just headcanoned the Hound was disassociated to the point they won't remember the day at all. (I kinda hope we might just get to breakdown with our brothers, or idk alone in the dark)

Also I forget, but is this a game where we have to rack up romance points to lock in? Or one we choose the route? Because I honestly didn't feel that my Hound would want to talk to anyone during what is (to them) a celebration of their collaring/house's defeat.

BUUUUT I truly do hope you take this as constructive. You won't please all of us, and you shouldn't try to. I love that you gave us even this and you are incredibly strong and lovely for pushing through everything. If I am out of line, feel free to ignore or tell me off and I'll just smash my Hound into a better mold for the story lol. After all, it is your story, tell it how you want.

I would really like to give you a long response to your very helpful feedback, but I fear I am lacking the energy to do so. I just want you to know that I hear you, and in truth you make really good points.

1) yeah I do admit I was getting close to burnout with writing in this update, and that scene in particular might have suffered for it. I'll revise it, and hopefully try to not make the interaction feel so jarring. (Note: did you try to pick the more... aggressive option? It goes in a different way, maybe it is less weird?)

2) you are totally right on the options for the marriage - especially because you can play a very numb MC. I'll either edit or add that option. Ohh and the breakdown with the siblings is peak idea. I'm writing that down.

3) as for the romance points: this game is focused strongly on MC. You can choose the pace of the relationship your Hound develops, and for romance, you need to first have some platonic points with said RO. Platonic means in this case that MC wants to spend time with them, and doesn't have to go further than what will become a lifelong friendship.

You do have to pick at least an option to have platonic points with a RO, but you won't get locked out of anything in this game. Every choice shapes your personal Hound's story, this is not a game that punishes you, or that is focused solely on romance.

Thank you for sending this in! This kind of feedback, especially if worded clearly and kindly lik you did, can be so helpful and I love getting it even if it makes me pause and rethink some things.

[scoriarose]

How hognoses ask to be friends!

(The Hognose Twitch aka ScootScootScoot!)

If Sakura's body language is friendly, but she is partially in a hide, I'll drape my hand over her substrate barrier (which is a piece of plastic that keeps her substrate from spilling out when I open the door) and let her choose if she'd like to socialize. Sometimes she'll feel bold and take this as an invitation to come out, other times she'll rub up against me and caress my hand. I think she gets lonely when her sister goes to sleep before her, and if I offer her socialization time many times she'll lay with her body caressing part of my hand.

Each time she's done this, she's cuddled me a bit longer. Today, after cuddling, she had a surprise!

She did the hognose twitch for me! (Timestamp 0:37 & 3:35)The first time she did it, it was much bigger, but I had no idea she was going to do it so I grabbed my camera and filmed the one after. Usually she will twitch while scooting forward, but the substrate barrier prevented most of that-otherwise she probably would have had much bigger motions and scooted into my finger XD

If you are not familiar with "the hognose twitch" this is a way some snakes (including hognoses and rattlesnakes) will communicate to each other they are friendly please be nice too?, and the other snake will do the same motion back to show they are. Some folks think it has to do with mating, but it really doesn't anymore than waving hello is exclusive to dating- which I suppose snakes might do instead if they had arms.

Usually they only use this means of communication with other snakes, but babygirl was scoot scoot scooting specifically to communicate with me! So perhaps Sakura and I are now good friends, and I am an honorary snake. :3

Sometimes they will also twitch when startled, it seems to say a similar message, "I'm friendly! Don't shoot!" so to speak, which is why near the end you'll hear me talk about how I don't think she was scared/startled and doing this out of fear. Sometimes snakes will hide they are afraid, and you can tell if a snake is frozen in fear by stepping away a moment as scared snakes frozen in fear will take that moment to flee and hide.

I left her alone to be sure this interaction was not stressing her out or a startle response, and she just adjusted herself into her usual relaxed pose that she often takes at night to watch me from her little den before bed.