#unlike the core group

[respectthepetty]

Does it make you sad knowing that Sand had no friends as a child, so when he noticed Ray needed a friend, he really tried to be that for him just for Ray to treat him like an object?

Thank God for good friends.

[trexvictorysounds]

The three genders:

People who've watched Scream and like Final Girl Support Group

People who haven't watched Scream and don't like Final Girl Support Group

People who have watched Scream and are wrong

[sanstropfremir]

nct infinite expansion being after the debut of nct tokyo? 👁

i assume you meant being scrapped lmao. i'm......not really sure all my thoughts are formulated about it, mostly because SO much is up in the air right now and it's very hard to predict what's going to happen. i do still think that the infinite expansion was never really a good idea and it does a lot of disservice to the original members and it wasn't managed properly at all, so yes i think scrapping it IS a good idea, because that means they should in theory be able to actually focus on managing the existing group better. however, there are two things that this decision makes me concerned about: firstly, does this mean that they're also scrapping nct u? because let's be real here, nct u and the full group albums are the most interesting work that nct creates AND where all the creative potential in their revolving concept is. so if this means that they're only gonna prioritize promoting each of the subunits separately and not do any nct u or full group albums....... that's gonna be pretty disappointing. and the second thing i'm concerned about is the infinite expansion concept is lsm's brainchild baby, that's the one thing he's been after for like, fifteen YEARS. obvs i think he was delusional in chasing after it and frankly i'm fucking furious at him for causing this whole situation in the first place, but you can't deny that he spearheaded a lot of the creative decisions at sm that made the company into what it is. and the fact that the FIRST thing that they're getting rid of while 'under new management' is a creative decision that he was after for so long is a bit of a red flag that the artistic integrity of the company is at risk. so yea. complicated feelings.

[libraford]

I have a lot to say about the decision our BOE made about Lifewise, but I'm going to go over the useful information here first and then the shitshow in a later reblog.

Last night, the board of education in my city decided to rescind allowance of Lifewise in our public schools.

Lifewise is a non denominational Christian youth group that operates during school hours, and only during school hours. Their mission is to bring Jesus to public schools, and they are able to do this legally because the education happens off-campus. They typically do this during lunch, recess, or electives. The program is voluntary.

They were allowed in our school system through a former board member, two years ago. The program has come under some scrutiny, which I will cover in a reblog. So the topic of rescinding their decision came up this year.

This was a huge debate. I will get into it later.

But I wanted to state the reasons why our board chose to rescind the decision and end business with LifeWise, so that if they (or others of this type) come to your school system and you don't want them there, you have a model for what has worked in debate.

1. An important aspect of the decision to rescind this particular decision does not restrict religious learning before or after school, or on weekends- and only applies to religious programs during school hours.

2. Unlike accommodations made for Ramadan (an example that was brought up in debate), LifeWise is not a core observance of religion.

3. The social times of school, such as lunch or recess, are just as much part of the learning process as structured class time. Play is imperative for a growing mind, and playing with kids from other religious backgrounds is especially important.

4. While Lifewise supplies their own buses to and from locations, transition times in schools (getting children to and from lunch, recess, bathrooms, electives) are some of the most stressful times for teachers. Adding another, for which only some of the students are part of, is a strain on resources.

5. Entrusting your students to a third party who has not been vetted by the schools is an intense liability. Not just the obvious danger of a dangerous person, but- are the trained in first aid? What do they know about seizures, autism, allergies, diabetes...what are their policies on conflict resolution... there are a lot of variables to think of when you leave your students in someone else's care, even for just an hour.

That's all the notes I have for that meeting. If one of these programs is courting your school board, it's probably a good idea to have these points in mind now, rather than later.

I'll talk about the rest later.

[blissfullsvn]

between the lines

pairing. academic rival!taesan x reader genre. fluff word count. 1.3k warnings. reader is sick, reader calls taesan a prick, he is kinda a prick (but fluff triumphs all 🙏) a/n. it's necessary for their dynamic but no actual rivalry is emphasized here... (for my fellow academic rivals-to-lovers enthusiasts... ill cook up sth soon) pt.2 | masterlist

taesan is flustered.

you and taesan had never really had an amicable relationship. to put it into perspective, you'd rather spend hours editing the mess of a report your equally-messy groupmates wrote, than spend hours working together with han taesan—the student well-known for submitting flawless and only flawless pieces of work.

it wasn't always like this. of course it wasn't. who in their right mind would prefer to add 'babysitting adults' onto their plate that's already filled to the brim, instead of making their life easier by grouping with an academic weapon?

but working with han taesan is not for everyone.

actually, scratch that. working with han taesan is not for you.

you don't know what you did, but you're almost 100% sure he has a personal vendetta against you. for such a pretty face, his mouth only spits out the nastiest of things, at least to you.

actually, scratch that again. han taesan only does that to you.

because you shared all the core modules with him, you had foolishly decided to group up with him for all the assignments you had in your first semester of university. to put it simply, that was probably the worst decision you’d made in your life.

why? for every idea you gave, he'd step over with another. for every suggestion you offered, he'd pinpoint every aspect to shut it down. sure, he may have had better ideas, but you didn't think it was necessary to stomp at your input so readily. you definitely didn't think it was necessary to smirk like he'd won a battle after every instance.

you thought you'd be able to escape his belittling remarks and irritating smugness after that one semester, but why did he have to share the same plans as you as well? the day you stepped into the student council office and saw him sitting in the seat next to yours, you already felt dread clawing at you.

fast forward to the present, you're both running for student president for the next year. you had already lost the role of vice president to him this year, so you're determined to not let him pick at you again. not that he could even if he wanted to, because you practically transform into an iron shield whenever he enters your vision (which is more times than you'd liked, considering you share the same environment with him everywhere. he seems to enjoy this, though).

you've been preparing diligently for your student president pitch, but that's also on top of having 5 tight assignment deadlines and planning the biannual festival happening in the next month. for the past weeks, the student council office had turned into your place to work, eat, and even sleep, though the last was never intentional.

today, again, you're sitting at your desk, your laptop opened in front of you, but it’s unlike usual—a cup of hot-turned-lukewarm tea next to you, a pile of tissues scattered around the table, an oversized hoodie draped over your frame, your sniffles echoing across the empty room, and your body which felt heavier than usual.

you've tried your hardest fighting the urge to fall asleep, the dimness of the room not helping, but when the clock struck 3, you decide to give yourself mercy and lean forward, resting your head on your arms over the table. it's far from comfortable; your back is aching, your neck is sore, your nose is uncooperative, and the screech of the door is hurting your head.

you open your eyes briefly at the intruder by the door. they're frozen for a beat, as if surprised to see you there, then they’re tilting their head in what seems to be confusion. soon, they're taking small steps towards you. you should be alarmed, but your defenses have shut down from the fatigue, so all you can think is that if you die, you hope you die a climactic death.

the intruder, thankfully, does not appear to have any intent of killing you. they are, however, intent on disturbing you.

“y/n?” there's a soft tap on your shoulder. you squint, trying to decipher the blurry face in front of you before deciding against it. your act of protest comes out as a small whine that unintentionally escapes the back of your dry throat.

the figure stands there in shock, hand hovering your back. they blink a few times, as if trying to register what they just heard, before they decide to squat next to you, patting your shoulder again.

“y/n? don't sleep here.” the voice is familiar, but uncharacteristically soft. and fond. why is it fond?

you open your eyes again. seeing han taesan mere inches away from your face is something you'd never expect, but you're too tired to even be shocked. instead, you blink slowly, as if you're a newborn reacting to stimuli you've never experienced before.

“han taesan,” you mumble against your arm. your voice comes out nasally from your cold and as a result, more whiny than usual.

“y–yes?” he ignores the stutter and moves his hand to brush away the strands of hair covering your face. it comes so naturally that he freezes when he realises and quickly pulls his hand back to himself.

“prick.” you shut your eyes as you say this, missing the widening of his eyes. “annoying.”

he frowns, “i'm annoying?”

“very.” you don't miss a beat to reply. “why do i have to see you everywhere . . . .” you trail off, your voice decreasing in volume as you speak.

taesan is silent for a few moments, during which the only sounds that can be heard are the tick-tock of the clock and the whirs of the air conditioner. he takes one glance at your hoodie and the tissues around you before promptly turning off the AC.

“fine,” he huffs as he stands up. “i’ll be annoying for a bit more.” he taps your shoulder again. “go home. you can't sleep here. it's so late.”

the deprivation of sleep is getting to you, because your immediate response to him is to let out another whine that would immediately shatter your image of the cool senior and president-to-be if anyone heard you.

which, of course, brings us back to the first line.

taesan is flustered.

he's never seen you this… babyish before. ever since the first semester, all you would entertain him with were glares, furrowed eyebrows, and the occasional roll of your eyes if you were really salty. you had never been this defenseless around him, to which he feels something tug at his chest.

he stretches his lips into a line and squats down again. “what do you want me to do then?” his voice is soft. too soft. “i’m not letting you sleep overnight here.”

you slowly open your eyes, sniffling as you look at him in disbelief. “if you're not willing to carry me home, just go.” you shut your eyes again.

it's silent once again. at this, you dig your face deeper into your arms, having zero expectations. you furrow your eyebrows slightly when you hear shuffles above you, followed by the clash of stationeries, the crackle of the plastic bag used as your trash bin, the sudden cease of the whirring of your laptop fan, and finally the sound of a zipper.

you open your eyes in time to see taesan cupping your face in one hand and pulling your arm with the other to make you sit up. you let yourself be handled without evident resistance, though your confusion is blatant. once he sees that you're up, he quickly squats down in front of you, back facing you.

“climb up. this annoying prick will carry you home.”

a/n. this may or may not be insanely self-indulgent due to a cold i may or may not have. i also may or may not have thoughts about a pt. 2. (edit: pt. 2 is out!)

anw, first post! just fitting for it to be about han taesan bcs this man (read: bnd as a whole) has been living in my brain for the past month (case in point: me literally writing this note at 3am when my headache is killing me).

i hope this was as enjoyable to read as it was for me to write <3

© blissfullsvn 2024. All Rights Reserved.

[puppetmaster13u]

Idk I just had the intrusive idea of the JL or some hero investigating the GIW or some other group with suspicions of them keeping merfolk or similar what with the giant tanks and what's shown in their paper trails over the years.

Only for Big Ass realms naga to swim by the observation window in the water.

From top to bottom, left to right: Valerie, Sam, Tucker, Jazz, Danny, Ellie & Dan

Like I am saying 30ft (9.1m) at the least from head to tail, probably bigger in giant rooms. And like, visibly has been there for a while. Like the GIW have been studying them as the only available specimens after they hypothetically destroyed the portals.

The GIW is the ghost investigation ward after all, not extermination. Though that doesn't mean they're exactly treated the best either- more akin to something like a snake or crow, like semi-intelligent animals like dolphins, chained to make taking samples & dragging them from the ecto-infused waters easier.

And maybe they're a little feral, muzzles on save for feedings preventing them from talking, if they even remember how to make noises that aren't in the words of the Zone anymore.

Maybe they've convinced themselves that it could be worse, they could've been killed like Vlad, like an animal that had bit too much, over and over. Maybe they've convinced themselves that this isn't so bad, even if they're treated less than human, even if they've not seen the sun for who knows how long now.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Design Thoughts?

-Metal Core Valerie, her scales are literally made from it, in blacks and reds like molten gemstones. Her scales are sharp too, designed for easily cutting through stone. Lots of spikes that glow when channeling energy.

-Plant Core Sam, scales designed for plant seeds to catch hold and take root not unlike a sloth's fur, hiding the sharp thorn-like ones lining her backside. Also, acid. Blacks, greens, and flashes of bright purples & greens that hint at the poisonous nature

-Storm Core Tucker, very thick scales designed for going through the sand with side spikes that help channel electricity. Has both a rattle and a pair of stingers that could hypothetically 'plug in' to things as well. Some of the most bioluminescence of the group.

-Ocean Core Jazz, she is the most aquatically designed out of all of them, with lures all across her body that mimics the lights reflecting off water, tricking the mind from noticing her. Large carp-like scales and several rows of teeth. Lots of blues in coloration with hints of oranges & yellows like a sunrise at the sea

-Space Core Danny, with large amounts of spikes and 'vents' that cover him in an aurora if he were free. Spikes with their own miniature gravity forces, twisting the area around him as he moves. Black iridescence & swirling white-blue patterns like galaxies are painted across his body

-Moon Core Ellie, covered in fine needle-esque scales not unlike how actual moondust is. Very rough like sandpaper and a fin that mimics the tail of a comet tinted ecto-green. Mostly monotone colors otherwise.

-Sun Core Jordan, with similar vents to Danny but with flames and plasma. Thick fur at the end of his tail not unlike how Vlad's was, with thick scales that allow for swimming through molten material that could melt anything and anyone else. Blacks, whites, blues, almost like white-hot coals

[lordprettyflackotara]

double fantasy || fred weasley and draco malfoy

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+ tw: please read bdsm kinks, choking, threesome, dom!draco, dom!fred, sub!reader, overstimulation, squirting, passing out, collar/leash is used, bondage, face fucking, gagging, slapping. this is one of my more bdsm extreme fics, please do not read if it makes you uncomfy <3

“I still think Ron would be a good pick.”

Fred’s voice was crisp as you rolled your eyes, sipping whatever butter beer mixture concoction he had created. “You’re only saying that because Ron doesn’t intimidate you,” You debated. You weren’t technically wrong, but Fred didn’t know your desired choice would be someone who did intimidate him. You adored Fred and every fiber of him. It was unlike you to desire more than just him, but a craving to be filled to the brim by two men was igniting a passion through your bones. So you both attended a Slytherin party, a noisy and uncontrolled affair. You could barely hear each other, nevertheless scope out a potential match. Fred was purposefully picking those he deemed to be ‘losers’.

After all he didn’t want competition, he wanted you to realize he was ultimately better and never want to try it again. But you were aware of your lovers inflated ego. Which is why when your gaze landed on the Slytherin prince, your lips curled upwards into a smile.

“I pick Malfoy.”

Fred spat out his drink, thankful his cup hadn’t stranded too far from his lips. “Malfoy? Have you lost your mind? Was there crack in your drink or something?” Fred asked. He dramatically grabbed your cup, examining its contents for any signs of tampering. “Freddie, just go up to him and ask. Worst he could do is say no,” You replied. Draco matched Fred’s energy in a way. Tall, assertive, dominant, and mean. You couldn’t ignore the way the thought of being between the two of them sent shock waves right to your core. Fred brushed his shirt off, shoving his hands in his pockets as he headed straight towards the snakes den. Draco was surrounded by his usual group, his eyebrows darting up at the sight of Fred approaching. The old childish beef the two had was long discarded, but that didn’t take away Draco’s distain for the whole Weasley family.

The war may have mellowed out the taunting, but nothing could reverse his father’s teachings. You watched Fred pull him away from the group, the two talking amongst each other. Through the spotty lighting you could make out Draco’s face going through a whirlwind of emotions. You wondered if this was a bad idea, contemplating if all of you being mature adults cancelled out any possible ridicule. You were surprised when Draco handed his muggle grass filled blunt back to Theo, exhaling as the two of them approached you. You tried not to appearance nervous, awkwardly setting your cup on a nearby table. Draco reached you first, staring down into your soul coldly. “I think this is a more private matter. Follow me,” He said. You trailed behind him, Fred following behind you. The pair were oddly quiet, as if they could read each others minds.

You swallowed as Draco led you both into his dorm, locking the door behind you. “Strip,” He commanded dryly. He seemed unamused as he dug a small velvet box out of his wardrobe. You chuckled awkwardly, trying to override the silence. “What?” You asked. Fred casually sat down in a nearby chair, man spreading as he did so. “You heard him, strip,” He agreed. Unsurely you followed suit, unzipping your dress and allowing it to fall to the floor. You stepped out of the shimmery material, stepping out of your heels as you did so. Draco glanced at you in his mirror, before scoffing. “Ditch the undergarments, you won’t need them,” He ordered. You felt goosebumps spread across your skin as you unhooked your bra, allowing it to fall to the floor. You noted the cocky smirk that was painted across Fred’s lips, watching your every move as you kicked off your panties. “Lay on the bed darling,” Draco said flatly. He seemed to be looking for something specific as he rummaged through his box of mystery.

You did as told, your back relaxing as you laid against the velvet comforter. Draco handed Fred a handful of rope, the two exchanging a nod as your boyfriend approached you. He grabbed your ankle first, tying it to the bed frame. “What’s all this about?” You asked. You bit your bottom lip in anticipation. Fred remained eerily silent as he finished tying you up, spreading you out like a starfish. “Fredrick here decided to let me know that you are such a whore you aren’t satisfied with one cock,” Draco stated. Your eyes widened as you watched him pull out a collar, a shiny chain being pulled out right after. “So I told him that I specialize in taming whores and you need intense training,” He said, finally turning to you. He undid his emerald green tie, the collar and chain in the other hand. “So here’s how this is going to work. I’m going to play with you, as roughly as I want to. And just when you’re about to break, Fred’s gonna come join us, understand?” He asked. You nodded, embarrassed of how much your core was throbbing with desire.

Draco wadded up his tie, crawling on top of you.

“Open your mouth slut.”

Any hesitation Fred had about the whole ordeal faded at the sight of you eagerly opening your mouth. Your pupils were blown with lust, Draco roughly shoving the tie into your mouth. He then ran his hands down your body, admiring the way you melted under his touch. His fingertips were barely grazing your skin, your back arching off the bed in an attempt to get closer to him. Draco roughly grabbed your throat, shoving you back down. “Behave or I won’t let you cum,” He growled. Fred licked his lips as his cock began growing harder in his pants. Draco lowered himself in between your legs, using his index and middle finger to spread open your folds. You whimpered under his inspection, the blonde admiring your dripping cunt. “Such a pretty pussy for a cock whore,” He murmured to himself. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as he smacked your folds, your arms and legs instinctively trying to close. He chuckled darkly as you struggled under the grip of the restraints.

“Nice and red now. I say we make them puffy, hmm?”

You moaned into the tie as he abruptly shoved two fingers into you, your wrists struggling against the restraints. He curled his slender fingers with precision, watching you intently as you grinding your hips against his hand. “So pathetic,” Draco mused. He lowered his mouth to your clit, causing a whole new feeling of pleasure to crash down over you. His tongue was an expert, flicking and his mouth sucking in all the right places. You wanted to clench your thighs around his head, to feel him against your skin. But he kept his distance, reminding you who was in charge as he devoured your cunt. Fred was purposefully watching in awe, refusing to touch himself until the time was right. If he was being honest he feared he would cum too fast to the pornographic sight before him. It wasn’t long before the knot inside of you tightened, your warnings muffled by the tie. Draco grinned in sadistic satisfaction as you came, your heart pounding as he pulled away from your cunt.

Mockingly he opened your folds again, shaking his head. “Not red enough,” He concluded. As if the two were able to read each other’s minds Fred rose from his chair, rummaging through the mysterious velvet box. He pulled out a black vibrator, nonchalantly handing it to Draco. The blonde was quick to turn it on, purposefully placing it on the highest setting. Your whines were muffled as he placed it on your clit, your thighs trembling at the sensation. “Awe what’s wrong darling? Can’t handle a simple toy?” He asked mockingly. Your eyes screwed shut, shocks of pleasure running up your spine. A sharp slap to your thigh made your eyes reopen, a stern look painted across Draco’s face. “Eyes open slut. You close them again and i’ll leave you here for Mattheo and Theo’s entertainment,” He snarled. You whimpered at the thought, your hips involuntarily bucking upwards and grinding shamelessly against the vibrator.

“Cmon slut i’m getting bored,” Draco sighed. He lifted up your folds, placing the vibrator directly on top of your abused clit. Your back arched off of the mattress, your legs shaking violently as you released. Juices you weren’t familiar with squirted from your cunt, your eyes wide as you panted. Draco smirked, looking over at Fred. “I say we ruin her now, what do you think?” He asked. The same mischievous smirk crossed Fred’s lips, the two approaching you. You were dazed as they rearranged you, your elbows and knees digging into the comforter. Draco removed the gag from your mouth, your lungs instantly inhaling as much oxygen as they could. A cold leather collar was secured around your neck, the sound of the chain rattling sending a shiver down your spine. You looked up, Draco glaring down at you. “Open up your mouth,” He barked. Fred yanked on the chain, forcing you to balance yourself on your hands.

Lazily you flattened your tongue out across your bottom lip, Fred’s familiar hands massaging the mounds of your ass. “Fuckin slut, wanting to suck another mans dick?” Fred spat coldly, slapping your ass. Your gasp was the perfect opportunity for Draco to shove himself inside of your mouth, your noise muffled.

“What a dirty cumslut,” Draco sneered, grabbing a handful of your hair. You whimpered at the pain, feeling Fred slide into you with ease. “You’re this fuckin wet? Over being used and abused? Filthy,” Fred growled. Tears flooded your waterline as Fred bottomed out, the ginger not hesitating to repeatedly thrust into you. Draco grinned sadistically as he began his own fun, forcing your jaw to go slack as he face fucked you. As Draco abused your throat Fred yanked at the leash, restricting your airway. You felt light headed, drool dripping down the sides of your mouth as both boys spat degrading profanities. You couldn’t breathe, your vision becoming spotty. Unable to tell them you arched your back, fully leaning onto the collar for support. Your head began to spin, the feeling of another orgasm rising quickly. It didn’t take long for Fred’s warm cum to fill your cunt, or for the taste of Draco’s salty cum to flood your throat. Their strong hands kept you upright, your body shaking as your final orgasm sent you into an unavoidable darkness.

The unlikely duo stared down at your unconscious body, a thick bruise forming around your neck from the collar. Your cunt was red and puffy, full of Fred’s seed. It dripped down your thighs as you peacefully slept, your body spent. It was satisfying in a way, seeing you so content after destroying you. “We should do this again sometime,” Draco said, redressing himself. Fred shot him a dirty look, putting his shirt back on. “Are you suggesting you fuck my girlfriend again?” He asked.

Draco brushed stray hairs out of your face, his caring expression mirroring Fred��s.

“Maybe. But she wants me just as bad. We can make it her perfect double fantasy.”

[diejager]

could you write something for stepdad alejandro and dbf rodolfo?🩵

Cw: stepcest, praising, worshipping reader, fluff, barbecue, cheating, tell me if I missed any. Note: I stuck with the “canon” age, meaning Rudy and Alejandro are in their late 30s or early 40s.

Mexican summers were always warm - warmer than what you were used to when you were living farther up - with it’s blazing sun and vivid fauna that seemed to glow under the heat and clear blue sky. Thankfully, the air wasn’t stale, neither dry nor humid, but a equal temperament with a soft breeze that cooled the sweat that clung to your skin. You hadn’t dared wear anything other than your bikini when you stood in the busy backyard barbecue your mom and your stepdad had decorated and filled to have guests and friends alike over in the mids of a beautiful July. Unlike many of the older women who covered up in a dress or loose pants out of traditionalist convenience, their children - a cousin or a friend, young adults who were as rambunctious as you - were unabashedly prancing around in thin-strapped bikinis and low trunks, all happy to take in the warmth on their bronze skin. 

Some people you knew, others you didn’t, Alejandro often invited his ragtag group he called Los Vaqueros to every barbecue if he could, his bright and joyous smile lifting the corners of his lips while he flipped the spiced beef kebab he left marinating yesterday. You couldn’t say you knew them very well, boisterous and proud people, but you were familiar with his right-hand man, sweet Rudolf who seemed to loved pampering you as much as he adored you. A man of softness and tender praises, the rough texture of his fingers carefully holding your hips, massaging the fatty rolls and whispering compliments, affectionate confession about how pretty and perfect you were.

“Muñequita, ” Rudy mumbled, pulling you towards him by your waist in open affection, letting others see how close he was to you, arm wrapped around your back and cheek pressed to yours, a smile lighting up his face with every flustering words he let slip down his tongue, “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, lashes fluttering from how close his lips were to yours, his minty and warm musk filling your sense as much as it drowned out all your thoughts, “Why?”

He chuckled at your flustered and glazed expression, your lips pulled in a small and adorable pout while you clung to him, leaning your weight into his side as if you attempted to stand closer and closer to him despite being wrapped up in him arms:

“Ale and I were thinking of taking you out. That new restaurant you mentioned? We managed to reserve a table.”

“What?!” You turned to stare at him, gaping admiringly, “I- How’d you even do that? I’ve tried so many times and they always seem to be booked!”

“Well, Ale pulled some fa-”

“Honey!” Your mother called out to you from her side of the garden, surrounded with friends near the food table, “Could you go down and get more beers?”

“Of course, Ma!” You clambered out of the pool, water dripping down your thighs while you patted yourself dry, “Sorry, Rudy, I’ll be right back.”

You caught him smiling at you before you slipped through the kitchen door, carefully stepping down the basement-turned-man-cave’s stairs to get the beers out of the fridge. Finding the right pack, your bent down to rummage through the back to reach it when you felt hands grasp your hips. You jolted, eyes wide as you peered over your shoulder-

Only to see Alejandro’s shit eating rain, wild and blazing, smirking down at you with his crotch pressed to your ass. You swallowed thickly, watching the corded muscles of his arm flex and his swimming trunks hanging low, a bit of trimmed hair peaking out to tease you. 

“Thought I’d come down and help.”

Your body burned under his lidded gaze, thick and heavy, weighing you down with a churning in your core,

“Seems like more than just help.”

He laughed, a low bellow that rocked you forward, his shoulders shook and eyes gleamed so brightly, but mischievously. He was like the sun, hot and boisterous, and Rudy the ocean, all embracing and calm.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[koimethehorizon]

Amazing Digital Circus Theory: Gangle is an NPC

Sooo, I wasn’t expecting to talk about this show. I was perfectly content to just enjoy Digital Circus as is.

It’s a show that invites theories as to what exactly’s going on with the setting and characters, but I didn’t have much room to think too hard about it. Who’s Abel? Is Pomni really a human? Why is this VR game emulating an N64 game at the start? I like the show plenty, but it just wasn’t as interesting to go hard on any of those questions at the time.

But with this recent episode… a single, perhaps throwaway line got the brain nagging. And it’s kind of a bizarre one to waste hours analyzing.

Okay, so yeah, it’s a joke on submissive and breedable. (Don’t give them ideas) But try taking it at face value.

What does he mean by this? Sure, Jax is an asshole, and being a bullied kid is Gangle’s whole archetype… but what if it means a little more than that?

Gangle’s trapped for all eternity this asshole and she’s just letting him boss her around. Zooble can choose not to participate, so no one has to. Why does Gangle listen to Jax at all?

Let's entertain a thought: Is Gangle an NPC?

With Episode 2 bringing so much attention to the autonomy of NPCs, it seemed natural to start pointing fingers at characters being this or that. But this isn't just a random crackshot, I feel that there is a story to tell here.

Look back at Pomni’s “orientation” with the other humans. Ragatha, Zooble, and Jax ease her by saying that they’ve been trapped in this world for years and then bring attention to Kinger being the oldest.

But Gangle… she’s isolated from the peanut gallery, busy moping about the broken comedy mask instead.

Every character has been given some hints as to how they’ve been coping with the situation. Jax no longer empathizes with anything, Ragatha once had trouble adjusting but now tries to stay happy, Zooble picks and chooses her involvement, Kinger is the eldest and just exists for the hell of it, and Pomni is new to everything.

With Gangle, it’s a blank. No opinion, no hints of her human side, how long she’s been here, no thoughts on the games, nothing. She’s just Jax’s punching bag.

Even Kinger gets a potshot on Gangle in a rock-paper-scissors game…. and he likely forgot that she doesn’t have hands!

And that brings me to another detail. Doesn't Gangle look different from the others?

Unlike everyone else, Gangle's just a mask and a ribbon. No hands or legs, or just any limbs in general. She stands out as looking a bit simpler than the others.

Gangle's most interesting design trait is that she's based on comedy and tragedy masks. The ones used old Greek theater to dictate the emotions of their characters.

The first episode seems to imply that with a broken comedy mask, Gangle literally can’t stay happy. Hence why we see her sad most of the time. That's a strange limitation if Gangle's human mind is supposed to be completely intact, especially with how expressive the other characters can be.

It's not delved into too much but does Gangle actually rely on these masks to "feel" emotions?

The obvious hole is that Caine would’ve just killed her a while ago if she was an NPC, but he's not exactly omniscient.

He even admits that he has to kill them off because it’s possible for him to lose track.

Now normally I could just stop here, but I’m all about the grand statements. You know, the retroactive readings of an episode once you get a theory going. Why does Gangle being an NPC matter at all? How does Ep 2 change?

While deep diving, I realized that the thematic core of Episode 2 is Pomni and Jax’s approaches to surviving the Digital Circus.

In Pomni’s A plot, we see her connecting with Gummigoo, the NPC that Caine pitted their group against. After discovering him lamenting his new reality, she finds a strange comfort in being existentially lost together. Because in the end the NPCs and the humans are just as displaced and frightened in this meaningless world.

In Jax’s B plot, he forces Gangle to follow some insane orders. Sabotage the game to let the big chocolate turd monster destroy the Candy Kingdom. To Jax, he is the main character. Helping or displeasing this giant population of fake people doesn’t have any consequence for him, so why humor anyone but yourself?

A bit of a stretch, but what if Jax already knows Gangle is an NPC and is keeping it quiet as long as Gangle follows orders, hence the “submissive” comment? He’d be a way more unpleasant character with this reading, but it doesn’t seem off the cards with how he treats everyone anyway.

This dichotomy already plays out well within the episode, but when reframing it as Pomni and Gummigoo vs Jax and Gangle, the parallel is a lot more interesting.

Make an NPC an equal, they die. But keep an NPC under wraps as long as they continue to obey you… they live.

The episode ends with a grim conundrum that NPCs can’t be together with the humans, not because of their differences but because they're just... not allowed to be. But what if one already in the group, proving that they’re just as capable as the humans to play the games and grieve loved ones together?

PS. Despite knowing everyone else's name, I actually forgot Gangle's until I started finding evidence for this intrusive thought. Sorry Gangle.

PSS. I couldn't fit this anywhere, but Gangle's door frame doesn't work as evidence against the NPC theory, because even the mannequins have their own rooms in that hallway.

[radio-charlie]

Just try looking for a positive story on China any day of the week in any of the leading global media outlets. Apart from reports in January about the Lunar New Year, there will hardly be any, and these too are likely to have a negative spin. It would appear there is a confidential memo circulating within Western media groups that guides reporters and editors to ensure there cannot be any positive news arising from a country with 1.3 billion people.

Typically, the negative stories adhere to three core ideas, which inform the unspoken guidelines within these press rooms when it comes to reporting on China.

First is the belief that China is a threat to the world and that this belief must be relentlessly reinforced at every available opportunity. How and why China is a threat is never explored; such is the deep-rooted and almost religious nature of the belief. Sound arguments do not matter. The basic tenets of good journalism are ignored when it comes to a China story. There is no need to explain or give evidence of why China is a global threat.

Left ignored is the plentiful evidence that shows China is not a global threat – even if one can point to mistakes and overreach in certain areas. China has not invaded any country in decades, or imposed sanctions that have devasted the lives of millions in poor countries, unlike the West, led by the United States.

Second is that China must be linked to every possible global event that affects the West. This provides an opportunity for the West to bash China while simultaneously burnishing its own credentials as the supposed arbiters of what is right and wrong in international relations. From the pandemic to the Russia-Ukraine war to carbon emissions; from rising sea levels to the scramble for rare earths; from the building of infrastructure in Africa to the production of vaccines – there must be an angle to demonize the country and instill fear in Western nations (and beyond).

Indeed, media outlets are reverting to the “yellow peril” of the late 1800s. There is no subtle and nuanced approach to instilling fear like this. It is full-on and very often blatantly racist – but it is now acceptable for one to be racist about the Chinese in Western media, despite the fact that Black-White relations are very carefully described.

The third part of this phenomenon, which is surprisingly not challenged by liberal readers of mainstream media, is the sentiment that everything must be done – even illegal and unfair methods – to arrest the rise of China. Never mind the rights of hundreds of millions of Chinese to have a better life after a century of poverty and deprivation.

[sunflowerwizard]

I've seen enough people mischaracterizing Early Access Wyll, so here's the best breakdown of his original character I can give.

I'll start this off by plainly summarizing Wyll's EA backstory, some of his core personality traits, then do a bit of analysis.

BACKSTORY

EA Wyll mentions being "born and bred in the upper city" into nobility. It's unspecified what exact level of influence his family occupied.

In datamined voice lines from EA (take with a grain of salt) Wyll refers to being from House Eltan specifically. Eltan was the Grand Duke of Baldur's Gate in the first Baldur's Gate Game, and the founder of the Flaming Fist. Forgotten Realms lore states that the Eltans are no longer in charge of the Fist and have somewhat diminished in power, but again. We don't know to exactly what level.

This also means that this iteration of Wyll was not Ulder Ravengard's son. While he still spoke about his father in EA, the descriptions and characterizations do not line up with Ulder at all. Additionally, he comments about "knowing of" Ravengard during the burning inn sequence, but otherwise makes no connection.

The most damning evidence of all that Wyll being a Ravengard was not originally intended, is Wyll wanting to be like his father and thus "going thieving in the wrong shadows".

Wyll gets caught stealing, presumably as a teenager, and his father uses latent connections within the Flaming Fist to get Wyll sent there. Effectively the fantasy equivalent of sending your unruly kid to boot camp.

Wyll mentions that he didn't adjust well to life as part of the Flaming Fist, was not a very good fighter, and was generally not well liked. The goblin at the windmill calling Wyll "Captain Failure" implies he might have been given higher status despite not earning it.

The way Wyll feels about goblins is a big change between EA and full release, and is explained as part of his backstory.

We didn't get the finer details, but we can assume Wyll in his time with the Fist bore witness to a group of goblins razing a village. Horrified and enraged, he tried fighting a goblin, was overwhelmed, and had his eye torn out.

This is when Mizora showed up and offered him a pact. Considering he was left for dead and probably going to bleed out, it's pretty understandable why he took the deal.

Mizora is not nearly as present in Early Access as she is in the current game. Karlach was not involved in Wyll's story at all, there's no devil transformation.

It's also more heavily insinuated there's a sexually coercive element of Wyll and Mizora's relationship, with him speaking to how every time he wanted to leave her, she found some way to pull him back.

Additionally, Wyll wants out of that contract. Unlike full release where Mizora is randomly captured in Act 2, she starts off kidnapped, and insists she'll let Wyll go if he frees her

It kind of ended up being a plot cul de sac, but Torturer Spike was the goblin that took Wyll's eye--which was a quest item you could pickpocket/loot off his body. Wyll had commentary on it and everything.

TL;DR: -Born to a noble family with Flaming Fist connections -Caught Stealing and sent to work for the Fist as punishment -Tried to fight back during a goblin attack and was gravely injured -Mizora offers a pact -Uses his pact to become a traveling monster hunter, presumably to make up for his past failure to protect people. Antagonistic towards goblins in particular -Ultimately wants out of the pact, but Mizora won't let him go -Wyll and Mizora get abducted by Mind Flayers -Mizora agrees to let Wyll go if he frees her from the cultists

PERSONALITY

This is a bit less concrete than changed story beats, but I can say this: a lot of Wyll's core traits stayed intact between EA and full release. He's still willing to put his life on the line for the Tiefling refugees, with a whole cut line about how the kids he's training deserve to have a carefree childhood. He wants to do good in the world, probably because he spent so much time in his youth feeling like a fuck up.

There's also a much clearer divide between "Wyll" and "The Blade of Frontiers". Notably, in EA he didn't introduce himself by name. Not even a "my friends call me Wyll" quip at Shadowheart like he has currently. During his old romance scene, he has a line about being used to being the hero, and not used to needing one. He's a symbol. An emblem of something bigger than himself. The fact he's so self-aggrandizing as The Blade makes it apparent he's not confident in himself as "just Wyll"

He's also decidedly more forward and flirty in EA, with no reservations about courtship. In fact, the main obstacle to your budding relationship is Mizora herself. Wyll's trauma from her treatment interrupts your first night together. Whether you have sex or just snuggle, Wyll has a line about how he doesn't want to start a relationship until he can "give himself completely" after being freed from his pact.

THOUGHTS & COMPARISONS

I'm also not entirely sure if I'd say EA Wyll is substantially angrier than current Wyll, so much as he had more opportunities to be angry during Early Access. I can understand why the goblin stuff was cut, because it did dip into "Let's make the one black guy fantasy racist" trope. However, it did very much feel like the narrative was pointing in bright, flashing colors that this is a trait Wyll would have to grapple with, learn, and grow from. The fact EA Wyll's most glaring character flaw was scrapped and didn't get much of a replacement in full release makes his story feel less realized.

While I appreciate the overtly sexual element of Wyll and Mizora's relationship was removed, I feel like the final version is somehow even more creepy. During Early Access she existed in the background as a vague villain you only experience via Wyll. And if you do his romance scene and see the way he panics at the mere memory of her, you get the impression of oh shit. This broad is bad news and I've gotta get my boy out of there. The same principle behind not showing the big scary monster too early in the horror movie. Once you've seen it, you can't let your mind fill in the blanks. Mizora went from this intimidating figure whose motives you couldn't fully ascertain, to a mean girl that thinks she's smarter than everyone else but is really just the bumbling lackey of a bigger fish. Who pulls Wyll around with an actual metaphysical leash like a dog. And you're meant to find this sexy.

My final point, and I've said this before: current Wyll's personality seemed more suited to being a scion of house Eltan, while EA Wyll seemed more suited to being Ulder Ravengard's dissapointment son. Current Wyll speaks and carries him like someone raised in nobility despite only being elevated to such status as a teenager. Perhaps this is cynical and maybe even a bit of a conspiracy theory, but I genuinely think he's only Ravengard's son to save on time and assets. Why give Wyll a whole unique family with its own story when we can just tie him in to the "rescue the grand duke" plot, regardless of how much sense it makes!

[hopeluna]

18+ mdni. 0.4k. drunk sex? but not actually? ya'll cum in your pants basically lol

Geto Suguru is normally a composed man. He has enough self restraint unlike a certain friend of his.

Geto Suguru is also a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. You learn that in a rather interesting way during a night out with the whole friend group. Gojo is nowhere to be seen, Shoko finding comfort in a corner to smoke, Nanami is probably taking care of a nausea induced Haibara.

The music feels muffled against your ears though you feel the thumping of it echoing in your chest. You're not sure if the increased heartbeat is because of the music, the alcohol or the lips pressed up against your neck. It all felt like a blur, one second you were downing a drink and the next you were fitted on Suguru's lap. A sloppy makeout session with no real intent.

You shiver slightly as his teeth dig and drag onto the flesh of your neck, down to your collarbone.

His hum vibrates through your skin when you call out his name in a drunk haze. "Fuck"- he groans lowly in your ear when you begin to move your hips languidly over the stretch in his pants. Suguru's hips buck more and more up as if the clothes separating you would magically burn off if you two kept at your grinding.

Plush lips pressing against yours make you moan out way too loud than you should at a public bar but you can't bring yourself to care much. Slipping your tongue into his heated mouth, he tastes like cheap liquor, you decide you like it as you run your tongue over his- teeth knocking together clumsily.

"Damn it-" Suguru calls out your name in what sounds like a plea as you roll your clothed cunt faster over his bulge "wait-wait" you squeeze your eyes shut when you feel the slowly dampening fabric of his pants against your core.

It throws you over the edge, the way he anchors his hands on your hips, his own bucking up in overstimulation.

Your head falls limply on Suguru's shoulder in exhaustion. You vaguely register him getting up, with you in his arms, passing by a disgusted-looking Shoko. You nip carelessly at his neck when you realise he's led you to a more private section of the bar.

A smile curves up your lips at the sound of a belt being opened.

© hopeluna. Do not copy, translate, modify or repost any of my work in this or any other site. Do not steal or modify my ideas/concepts either.

[demoniofleur10]

Anonymous request: Hi! Would you be willing to write reader having first time with Gyomei and also a separate one for Kyojuro? I love them so much!’ Thank you!

And here it is!

Warnings: nsfw content ahead

Gyomei

Gyomei smiled softly to himself, feeling the gentle touch of the girl who had captured his heart. He had never imagined that someone could care for him in such a tender way, but she had shown him that he was deserving of love, too. The memory of their first encounter was still vivid in his mind. He had been on a mission in her town when he witnessed her stand bravely against a demon, protecting a group of children despite being just a civilian. Her courage had struck him deeply. After the battle, Gyomei had made it his priority to ensure she received proper care. During his stay in the village, he found himself drawn to her side more often than he expected. Though blind, he could sense the kindness and compassion that radiated from her, qualities that mirrored his own. She was soft-spoken, yet fiercely protective of those she loved. As he spent more time with her, he began to realize that she had become more than just someone he admired. Her presence brought him a sense of peace and connection that he hadn’t felt in years. She had a way of making him feel whole, as if the darkness he fought daily could never touch him when she was near. Gyomei had always seen himself as a protector, but with her, he discovered the warmth of being cared for, of being loved.

Gyomei's deep voice rumbled softly as he murmured, "Cum for me, love," while his thick fingers delved deeper into her slick heat. Y/n's body quivered, her breath hitching as a wave of pleasure crashed over her. She arched her back, surrendering to the intensity of her orgasm, her walls fluttering around his skilled fingers. It was overwhelming—the sensations were unlike anything she'd ever experienced. It was her first time, and she hadn’t known that something so intense could feel so exquisite, especially with a man like Gyomei bringing her to the edge.

His fingers lingered inside her, feeling the aftershocks of her climax. He gently stroked her sensitive walls a few more times, savoring the way her body responded to him before slowly withdrawing. Her juices coated his fingers, glistening in the low light, evidence of her release. Y/n felt a mix of awe and nervousness as she looked down at herself, her core still pulsing from the aftermath. The thought of taking someone as massive as Gyomei seemed daunting, yet the tenderness in his touch reassured her.

Sensing her unease, Gyomei wrapped a protective arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his broad chest. He pressed a gentle kiss to the crown of her head, his breath warm against her skin. "I’ll never hurt you," he whispered, his voice a vow of care and devotion. His words, combined with the gentleness of his touch, eased the trembling in her limbs, replacing her anxiety with a growing sense of trust and anticipation. She knew that with Gyomei, she was safe—cherished, even—and that he would guide her through this new experience with all the patience and care she needed.

He positioned himself at her entrance, teasingly brushing the tip of his length along her swollen, sensitive folds, pausing just long enough to let the anticipation build. His touch was gentle but deliberate, as he traced the slick path from her puffy lips to her aching clit, eliciting soft gasps from her. Slowly, he began to push inside, easing his way in to ensure she felt nothing but pleasure. He was well aware of his size, the way he could stretch her to her limits, but the last thing he wanted was to cause her pain.

As he gradually filled her, he felt her body tense, her walls gripping him tightly, and the soft, stifled cries that escaped her lips tugged at his heart. Immediately, he paused, leaning forward to cradle her face in his hands. His lips found her forehead, peppering it with tender kisses, while his thumb gently brushed away the tears that had begun to spill.

"I'm here, my love," he whispered, his voice soothing as he gazed into her eyes. "I won't hurt you. Just breathe with me."

He waited, giving her time to adjust, to relax around him, before moving again, each thrust slow and measured. He was attuned to every sound, every shiver that ran through her body, ensuring she felt safe and cherished. As he continued, the tension in her muscles gradually eased, and her hushed cries turned into soft moans of pleasure, a sound that only encouraged him to go deeper, but still with the utmost care.

___

RENGOKU

It was deeply ironic to Rengoku that he had fallen in love with the very woman standing before him now, dressed in a resplendent wedding kimono, her hand warmly clasped in his as they sealed their bond. She was a simple florist, yet the moment he first laid eyes on her, everything changed. He had originally walked into her shop to buy a bouquet for his late mother, seeking something beautiful to honor her memory. But as he browsed the flowers, his gaze fell upon the woman who would soon become his wife.There was something captivating about the way she spoke—her gentle voice weaving stories about each bloom, explaining their meanings with such passion and knowledge that he found himself utterly intrigued. Every flower had a tale, a symbolism she unraveled with ease, making even the most ordinary bouquet feel like a work of art. Rengoku was drawn to her, not just by her beauty, but by the warmth and sincerity she exuded, her deep connection to the flowers reflecting the kindness in her soul. What began as occasional visits to purchase bouquets for his mother’s grave turned into something more. He found himself returning to her shop time and time again, not just for the flowers, but to see her, to hear her speak and to feel the gentle joy she brought into his life. Now, as he stood beside her, looking into her eyes, Rengoku couldn’t help but marvel at the path that had led them to this moment. The woman who once handed him a bouquet had now given him her heart, and in return, he had offered his own. Their love had blossomed quietly, nurtured by small, tender moments, and now it was in full bloom, ready to withstand any storm.

"I'll take care of you," he whispered, his voice low and husky, lacking his usual enthusiasm but filled with a deep, simmering intensity. The words lingered in the air between them, a promise spoken with reverence as he leaned down to continue his affectionate assault on her body. His lips found their way to her soft mound, and he took one of her tender peaks into his mouth, expertly licking and biting her hardened bud. Each touch sent shivers through her, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation that left her breathless.

As he worked, his hand remained entwined with hers on the futon, a grounding connection in the midst of their passion. His thumb traced soothing circles on her palm, a stark contrast to the heated, deliberate motions of his mouth. It was as if he was two different men—one gentle and protective, the other bold and unapologetically passionate. The duality of his actions left her overwhelmed, her senses tingling with the contradictory sensations of his tender caresses and the sinful ministrations that followed. Every movement was calculated, every touch a testament to his desire to both worship and consume her, leaving no part of her untouched by his love.

"I'll be gentle," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of reassurance and desire. Slowly, he shifted his weight, lifting himself from her just enough to kneel above her, taking in the sight before him. She lay sprawled out beneath him, vulnerable and completely exposed, her skin flushed with the warmth of their shared passion. Her eyes met his, a blend of trust and anticipation reflecting back at him, and he felt a deep surge of emotion knowing how much she was giving herself to him in this moment.

He allowed himself a brief moment to admire her, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath, the way her body seemed to glow in the soft light of the room. She was a vision of beauty and innocence, and the sight of her laid bare like this, just for him, stirred something primal within him.

Leaning down, he returned to her, his movements slow and deliberate as he positioned himself between her legs. His hands caressed her sides, feeling the softness of her skin beneath his fingers, before he gently aligned himself with her entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes never leaving hers, wanting to make sure she was ready, that she was comfortable.

With a deep breath, he began to press into her, moving with painstaking slowness, allowing her body to adjust to the new sensation. His heart pounded in his chest, every inch he moved forward a reminder of the deep connection they were forging. As he filled her, he could feel the tension in her body, and he whispered soothing words of encouragement, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet room. "You're doing so well, love," he breathed, his lips brushing against her ear. "I'm right here with you."

[alphajocklover]

Hey man, so I've tried to be passive most of my life and not cause trouble. Not breaking many rules, doing as I'm told, and it just leaves me with so much missed chances and getting walked all over. I'm kind of tired of it.

I wanna be abrasive, not rude but confident. Almost cocky. And I want the looks to match. I wanna be huge, and bulky, and hairy too. I don't wanna be smart and focused on academics, I wanna chuck balls and pump my cock all day. Weird enough too, I wanna be sweaty. I wanna raise my arms and watch a bunch of gay dudes just melt like puddy.

The best part is, I wanna *feel* this transformation. I want to watch my arms get huge, I wanna hear my voice get deeper, and my chest push out and almost tear my chest. I wanna be...I wanna be...I wanna be a fuckin JOCK

I want to start by assuring you that everything you’ve said, everything you’ve been feeling, makes sense. There are a lot of people out there who are like you, people who have spent their entire lives just blending in. It’s natural to want to fit in, but when you spend so much of your life trying to fit into the norm, it can be easy to forget who you really want to be. When that happens, most people try to change things up. Some chase after a specific new self they dream of being, while others experiment with different identities, trying to find one that fits. But then, there's people like you. People who have spent far too long trying to fit in. For people like you, blending in isn’t a curse: it’s a superpower.

What you have to understand is that a person's identity is far more powerful than you might realize. There's a reason people take names so seriously. Psychologically, socially, and even magically, they’re important. So when a person leaves so much of their identity up to the people around them… it makes sense that a transformation might occur. That they change, literally change, to blend in with others. We call these people Camous. People who have the power to socially blend in, literally, with the world around them. They’re sort of the opposite of Alphas. Alphas change reality to fit their whims, Campus change to fit reality. And from what I hear, you’re becoming one. I know this might sound a little frightening, since having your identity threatened will do that to anyone. But this is a good thing. While changing is scary, you won’t change entirely. Your body, your personality, your traits, and even your reality will change depending on who you’re around, but the core of your identity, your soul will stay the same. You’ll still be you, just… altered. And being a Camou gives you a lot of advantages. It’s true that you won’t ever stand out really, but you’ll always fit in and always be part of a group. And, better than that, you can use your power to choose who you want to be. You want to be a jock, right? A sweaty, hairy, manly jock who makes gay guys weak in the knees? All you have to do is find a group of jocks to join! It isn’t hard to find a group of jocks, even the specific type of hairy gay jocks you’re looking for. You just have to find the right gym, and I know just the one. The Jockstrap is a local gym specifically made to cater to people like you. Or the people you want to be like I suppose. I want you to take a deep breath as we enter. Do you smell that sweat? That manly musk? Breathe in deep, it’ll help the process. Unlike one of the more famous transformation methods I’ve written about, this one isn’t instant. You’re going to feel your biceps fill with muscle, your pecs bursting forward as your body is covered in a respectable smattering of manly hair. It’s already happening. Your shoulders are widening as your chest continues to grow, needing more room on your body. Your legs, your arms, your ass… everything is growing. But that isn’t the only thing that's changing. Your mind is too. I can see the excitement in your eyes as you look around. Working out, exercising, playing sports, hanging with the bros… you’re already getting excited by the thought of it. And without getting too explicit, it’s obvious that you’re excited in other ways. I can see it through your sweat pants (I guess your clothing changed too) and it must be at least 8 inches by now, soft. That rod, your muscles, and the sheer amount of manly musk that's coming from your body now? You’re going to have twinks throwing themselves at you.

Now, since you’re a Camou this transformation isn’t permanent. It’ll last for a while, longer depending on how much time you spend at the gym surrounded by your new bros. The general rule is if you spend one hour with a group, you get three hours as one of them, unless you spend time with a new group immediately after. But the really exciting part is that once you have a form, you can turn into that version of yourself… with some practice, and if you aren’t currently with a large group. 

I honestly can’t believe I haven’t talked about Camous beforehand. Granted, you’re only the second Camou I’ve ever met, but they’re so interesting I can’t believe I’ve never brought them up. I hope you enjoy being a jock, or whoever else you want to try out being. Just, try not to fall in with a bad crowd.

[thethiefandtheairbender]

as a lifelong ATLA fan who narrowly had ATLA dethroned as my top show by The Dragon Prince steadily over the past 5 years, the similarities between the two have very little to do with the surface level parallels that get regularly drawn between them.

Like ATLA, TDP has Books for seasons and chapters for episodes, but unlike ATLA, which only touched on storytelling sparingly as a theme, TDP is obsessed with interrogating storytelling and history and the presence of unreliable, biased narrators throughout many of its episodes (most notably 2x05, 2x06, 3x06, 4x04, and 4x07 among them). Half of what you learn in the 1x01 intro ends up being a lie once you reach S3, with more being steadily deciphered.

Yes, TDP has different magics with people living under those umbrella terms... for the elves. Humans are coming culturally at things from a completely different angle, and the elves' connection to their primal sources are discussed philosophically in detail, informing their practices and their culture first hand, including the way they chafe against humans, who are arcanum-less. Many animals in the world are also connected to magic, which influences both their design and which ones get hunted for humans' more 'clever' solution in dark magic, including each other.

The core issue of the Puppetmaster, down to being a coercive magic formed by someone deeply resentful of their imprisonment? Said puppetmaster is the main endgame antagonist of the entire show with all of S4 onwards being exploring the ethics of controlling people against their will in various methods, and the entire show itself being a thematic battleground of fate (imprisonment) vs free will for virtually every single character.

Where ATLA mostly concerns itself timeline wise with ending the war, very little thought is shown by any of the characters as to what they'll do after the war. This isn't a problem (as it reflects the sheer domineering scope of the conflict) but even Zuko being firelord is only ever really addressed with 2.5 episodes left till the finale. TDP, meanwhile, ends its 'war' in s3 and s4 opens up with dealing with the old wounds festering between people with centuries of history, the struggles that come when people aren't able to let go and believe they're safe or mourn in a healthy manner, and the religious/cultural clashes that may occur when trying to integrate different groups of people.

TDP also has an evil father with a devoted daughter and a brother who eventually defects, but it explores the reality of an abusive parent who loves/will sacrifice for you and your right to leave regardless, even if that means leaving the sibling you truly deeply love and who loves you in turn. Which means that when you and your sibling are on opposite sides of a deep ideological conflict, it actually really fucking hurts bc we've seen first hand just how much they love each other and also how and why everything fell apart not in spite of that love necessarily, but also because of it.

Is this to say that TDP is a 1:1 with ATLA or that it's better? No, not at all, and the latter is subjective. I prefer TDP, but I think they're about on equal ground when you look at each show currently as a whole (although TDP has two seasons left to go).

But TDP takes a lot of what ATLA was doing thematically with some of its most interesting beats and then builds or expands upon them further. It talks further and more consistently about the cycles of violence; in many ways, Jack De Sena's character, Callum, begins the series largely where Sokka had ended (and he's not the most like Sokka anyway; very much his own thing); we get Faustian bargains and centuries' long grief and fucked up people who are trying both succeeding and failing at not doing fucked up things. There are antagonists, but it is very hard to actually label anyone at this point a straight up villain. Moral greyness is where the show starts, and it just continues from there.

That's not to say the show is nothing but dark and depressing - like ATLA, there's a steady thread of hope and humour even as the show gets steadily closer and closer to its 11th hour point - but the show is usually emotionally heavier. There's more blood and potentially disturbing imagery with body horror and on screen death. There's so much foreshadowing you basically can't go more than 5 minutes into any episode without having something that's going to come back around or be referenced again like 3-5 seasons later.

Just to be clear - TDP is like ATLA, but it's like ATLA in interesting ways beyond the more shallow surface level that usually gets attributed to it, while still very much being its own show and its own thing. And that is why I tend to recommend it to people who like ATLA.

Thank you and goodnight

(Also, the fandom doesn't have any ship wars, and the show is queer as fuck)

[biteofcherry]

A promise that won't be upheld

part of Venomous Vows series in collaboration with @jamneuromain

mafia!Ari Levinson x female reader

summary: Your first impression of Ari isn't exactly a bad one, but it solidifies your decision to never have anything to do with him.

warnings: mafia!Ari Levinson; mob!Ari Levinson; soft dark!Ari Levinson;

Author's Note: This is sort of prelude to everything that happens. If you read the thread that started it all (and which is the core of what happens later), you will understand the title of this ficlet - why exactly this promise won't uphold 😏🤭

The sense of power doesn’t thrum through your veins as you cut across the lavish floors of the club, even though people part aside to let you through; neither it pulses as you take the spiral staircase to the VIP upper floors, where curious and hungry gazes glance your way, but no one dared to approach. 

At least not yet. Your father’s name is enough to keep most in line, but there is always someone who would be either too dumb or too drunk to make a move on you. The fact you could get rid of him with the mere mention of your last name didn’t give you a sense of power, either.

It’s the moment when you stepped down the narrow corridor that changed from lacquered black into burnt wood panels, which finally gave way into a beautiful oasis. 

Here, in the private garden sprawling above the city, you feel that rush. 

It’s not just a VIP area. To be allowed here is to be the inner circle. The very few who your father trusted. 

Or to be a monster equally influential as him.

Ari Levinson isn’t a close associate of your father. He doesn’t belong to the inner circle. He doesn’t belong to anyone, but the hell pit alone. 

But he’s here tonight. Exchanging who knows what false politeness and cutthroat deals with your father. 

You know he’s highly intelligent, brutally fast and decisive. Father wouldn’t sit down with anyone who didn’t deserve their position of power. But he’s not the kind of man you want to spend any minute with. 

Especially not on your birthday.

“I’d ask if he’s a stripper, but I’m not yet drunk enough for playing a dumb bimbo,” your friend chuckles next to you. 

She likes to play those games, especially with the dark and dangerous crowd - whom she proves to be idiots led by dicks. She’d almost cross a boundary, but make it so cute that the most ruthless of enforcers and mob soldiers were turning smitten and protective. 

Figures she’d set her sights on Levinson. Danger always lures her. On top of that, his looks also grab full female attention.

“That one is better to be left alone.” Averting your gaze from him, you turn and walk over to the further side of the roof garden, where garlands of lights are hung above a table set for a small group of people. 

Unlike your best friend, you’re not interested in poking the dragon. 

Or to even look at him too long, in case the devil snatches your soul somehow.

You prefer your partners to be more controllable. Lawyers, who have the brains and enough cockiness to make it spicy, but won’t get an upper hand over you. Mob boys who are in the higher ranks, but didn’t display alpha male behavior. CEOs who are too busy with their own empires to be hungry for having power over you. 

“He has to be a really big deal, if you’re saying that,” your friend muses, taking a seat beside you.

And he is.

Ari Levinson isn’t a man you’d want to find yourself near. Not only because of his reputation of being a ruthless and lethal leader. But because he’s not easy to control. He never would be. 

He’s a man who grips the reins of any interaction right away, twisting and pulling and lashing with a crop until any mare submits to him fully. He’s like that in business, but you have no doubt he’d be the same in any relationship.  

“Ladies.”

A voice smooth and rich as the last sips of thick, hot chocolate, resounds unexpectedly behind you. Startling you. 

When you turn, the devil himself is standing right there. His expression is neutral, void of any mischief, or malice. 

So damn controlled. To the tiniest muscle in his handsome face. 

“Mr. Levinson.” You greet him politely, hiding your annoyance at the fact you can’t read anything off his face, or his body language.

His body - impressively broad and thick, while still holding a jungle’s predator’s grace to it - isn’t stiff in discomfort, nor is it alert for a threat. It isn’t fully relaxed either. Somehow he’s perfectly balanced and in tune with his surroundings.

Yeah, definitely a man to stay away from, if you want to maintain your goal of always being in control.

Even if a small part of you wants to stretch along that body and rub your softness everywhere where he is hard.

“Wanted to pay my respects and wish you a happy birthday,” Levinson inclines his head your way. 

“Thank you.” It calms you, realizing it’s just a typical show of manners, which the mafia world puts such emphasis on while not batting an eye at killing. It’s quite comical. 

“I must admit, I’m surprised.” He adds, his tone for the first time betraying some kind of emotion.

Amusement?

“A mafia princess’ birthday being so modest? No party for hundreds of people and social media pictures? You must be setting new standards.” 

He doesn’t laugh, nor smirk, but you notice the way his blue eyes spark. It’s a short, fleeting thing, but it’s enough to grate on your nerves. It’s also enough to have your friend snort. Because of course she made nearly the same comment a few days ago, when you mentioned you just want a nice dinner and a few glasses of wine, not to party all night long.

Not only because you have enough noise and masses on a daily basis as you manage hotels and the party side of casinos - the legal front for the very illegal things your father runs. 

But because, as he called you, a mafia princess is never just a person of the evening for genuine celebration. 

You’re not naive or dumb to not know that those types of parties are a means to be shown around like a prized auction item to lure the highest bidders. Your father loves you, but you’re aware at some point he will arrange your marriage.

You want to spare yourself at least the whole circus of potential husbands, or their representatives, watching you and assessing your worth. 

“I’m not a college student on a spring break, nor a spoiled teen on a sweet sixteen.” You roll your eyes, not voicing the real reasons for the small celebration. 

Which was a tiny victory on your part, because your father couldn’t exactly show you off and wait for offers while it was only him, your friend and two cousins you were still waiting for. 

“No, you’re not.” Levinson agrees, his voice dropping an octave lower.

His eyes stay on your face, but it somehow feels as if he just dragged his gaze down your body in the most inappropriate way. You feel a warm tingle awakening beneath your skin.

“I wish you all a lovely evening. Once again, happy birthday,” he rolls your name on his tongue and his lips curve in a teasing smile.

“May it be a memorable one.”

You watch him turn and leave, moving with the confidence of a predator who knows the jungle holds no secrets from him. 

But he’s not reckless or stupidly cocky, you think. He’s simply (annoyingly) aware of his power. Which makes him all the more dangerous to be around. 

You make a promise to never find yourself in his orbit for longer than necessary.