#you can build your accuracy a little bit

[caileeflavoured]

and lead us not into temptation...

father charlie mayhew x fem!reader

© caileeflavoured 2024, do not repost, modify or translate!

synopsis: During Confirmation, God the Holy Spirit comes upon the person, accompanied by God the Father and God the Son. Father Mayhew, too.

a/n: ahhh, how good it feels so channel my religious trauma into absolute filth again. I was never Catholic so idk how accurate the stuff I said is but I did research and tried my best (really no one cares about Catholic accuracies why are you even stressing about this girl)

warnings: 18+, SMUT, dubcon, little bit of a corruption kink, innocence kink, clueless little church mouse!reader, blasphemous shit tbh, virginity loss, unprotected sex, a priest absolutely abusing his position,

wc: 3.2k

MAIN MASTERLIST | GROTESQUERIE MASTERLIST

They told you that the Sacrament of Confirmation was the most important event of a young girl growing closer to God. They told you it was an honour to attend this spiritual ceremony, that it was the culmination of forming a bond with Christ. They told you that it was high time you were finally sealed with the gift of the Holy Spirit.

Father Charlie Mayhew was adamant that you’d finally receive this great gift, having discussed the possibility of a personal Confirmation with your parents after Sunday Mass.

“She’s at an age where it should already have happened,” he told them. “I assume you wish her to get married soon. She ought to finally be strengthened for service to the Body of Christ.”

Your parents trusted Father Mayhew blindly, believing he was a gift sent to earth by the Lord Himself, and quickly agreed. They wouldn’t want their precious daughter to fall into disgrace should a proper suitor be found sooner rather than later.

The priest nodded, visibly satisfied with their consent. “I can arrange it for next week’s Mass, but I  would like for your daughter to come see me for a private confession. The Lord has spoken to me in my prayers, and has tasked me with properly preparing the confirmands. It’s a standard practice at my church.”

Only that it wasn’t.

Father Mayhew had spent many hours not praying, not studying the Scripture, not preparing new sermons since he first saw you in all your womanly glory at Mass. Instead, he often found himself in his office, his pants growing uncomfortably tight just at the thought of you attending Mass every Sunday like the faithful girl you are, hanging on his every word. 

And when you’d get on your knees during the Eucharistic prayer…

His hand would always find its way to his throbbing length during a quiet moment after Mass, the grip on his cock nearly painful as he worked himself towards the highest of highs. And more often than not he would later find white stains on his liturgical vestments, having to go through several clerical outfits in the span of only a few days.

“Tell her to come see me on Wednesday after general confession hour.”

So your parents sent you on your way, Bible in hand, rosary wrapped around your wrist. You entered the empty church, standing between the pews as you clutched your Bible to your chest.

“Father Mayhew?” A timid call for him echoed through the large building, and soon he appeared. 

His chest heaved as he appeared, his robe sitting weirdly on his shoulders as if he had pulled it over his head in a hurry. His hair messy, not slicked back like he usually wore it. 

The appearance caught you off guard, to say the least, and made your blood pressure rise.

“Ah, my new confirmand!” He greeted you with an open-arm gesture, then clasped his hands together. “Happy to see you. What an exciting time it must be for you.”

He closed the distance between you, turning to your side and placing his hand on your back as he led you towards the back of the church. “Let’s go talk in my office,” he said.

“I thought I came to confess?” You asked in bewilderment. “Oughtn’t we sit down in the confessional booth for that?”

But he was quick to shut down your confusion. “No. No, no, no. Let’s not stick to such ancient traditions. I’ve come to learn, in my time as a servant of the Lord, that private confessions are best made in the comfort of a priest’s office. Shall we?”

He opened the door to his office, letting you enter first before closing the door behind his back and quickly turning the lock before you would notice.

“Take a seat,” he motioned towards the armchair on the opposite side of his desk as he sat down in his own chair.

He leaned back and observed you with relaxed eyes. His stoic gaze was intimidating to you, your heart thumping against your ribcage the longer he stared.

“Father?”

The sound of your voice ripped him out of his dirty fantasy, his focus returning to the there and then, which, admittedly, didn’t help much when his hard cock ached from the torturing restraint of his pants.

“Right,” he cleared his throat, bending forward hoping it would cover the growing bulge. “Now, I have to admit I wasn’t quite honest with your parents,” he chuckled smugly.

The picture of you furrowing your brows as you slightly cocked your head to the side in a confused gesture made him lose a couple drops of cum into his boxers. How could a young girl be so cluelessly devoted to God. To him. It made him lose his mind, and throw his holy vows overboard.

To hell with abstinence. Some girls just asked for it. And he knew you were one of them. 

Gifted by the devil himself, a test of his faith and obedience — the bishop had warned him many years ago that the day would come when he would find himself face to face with temptation — and presented on a silver platter right there in his own church. To him, however, a young, ripe girl like you could only have found her way into his office so he could chase the feeling of his former life.

To remind himself how good it felt to lose himself in the warmth of a tight cunt.

“I understand your parents are hoping to find you a husband soon,” Father Mayhew began. “But Confirmation isn’t the only thing necessary in preparation for marriage. You know, there are certain… other things a young woman must be prepared for before she can fulfil her duties of a devout wife.”

“Father, I don’t—”

His hand shot up, immediately shutting down any doubts or concerns you might try to raise. “Tell me… Have you ever touched yourself? After all, this is some kind of confession here, right? God needs you to be completely honest with me.”

He could sense the warmth rush to your cheeks, the way your breath hitched in your throat as your gaze shifted to the floor.

“A simple yes or no will suffice, sweetheart,” he pressed. “This is crucial for your preparation as a confirmand.” His eyes searched for yours. “You can even nod or shake your head if that’s easier.”

Then, finally, he got a reaction out of you. A timid… shake from left to right. “It’s a sin, Father.”

The change in his demeanour evaded you. The way his eyes turned into slits resembling those of a snake, the way he ever so slightly shifted in his seat as his hand carefully moved to his crotch.

A moment of silence passed in Father Charlie’s office as he let your words sink in. You had been even more clueless than he’d imagined. An enticing temptation, one that he had no choice but to succumb to.

“That is very admirable,” he praised you. “However,” he got up, “as part of this… preparation I need you to be… how should I say this… open to… sexual activities.”

He walked around his desk in a few long strides until he stood in front of you and leaned against the edge of the table, folding in hands in front of his crotch as he crossed his legs. He could feel his cock press against his palms through the fabric of his pants, begging to be freed.

“Why should—” You tried to ask, but his hand was quick to shoot up in a silencing gesture. That’s when you first noticed the bulge in his pants.

With your eyes glued to his crotch, Charlie could barely hold himself back from dragging you across his desk and shoving his cock right into your tight little cunt, no matter if you were ready for him or not.

“Get on your knees,” he said in a plain voice. You obeyed instantly.

He took the Bible and rosary from your hands and placed them on his desk before standing up right in front of you, your mouth so perfectly aligned with his length. A few quick movements got him rid of his pants and boxers just enough to pull out aching cock, tip glistening with drops of precum.

He watched your eyes go wild in shock, although he silently wished they would have gone wide from excitement and lust. He’d get you there soon enough…

“From now on, I need you to listen to me, sweetheart,” he instructed. “No more questions, no ifs and buts, alright?”

His eyes stayed focused on yours until you nodded, and he pinched your chin with his thumb and index finger as a gesture of approvement. A pleased look on his face and a satisfied smirk on his lips, he then let his thumb graze along your lower lip before pushing it in.

“Open up.” His voice turned rough, strained even, as he pulled your jaw down and forced your mouth open. 

He could detect a sliver of fear glistening in your eyes as the tip of his cock met your lip, could sense your wanting to ask what he was doing, but was pleased to see you resist the urge to question his actions. 

So he pushed it in. “Yeah, that’s it,” he groaned, feeling your lips instinctively close around him. “Careful with those teeth.”

His hand found the back of your head, his fingers tangled in your hair to get a good grip and properly guide your movements. He pulled back and pushed back in, this time all the way until he heard and felt you gag around him. 

He stopped once he could feel the back of your throat, watching you struggle and start to panic, your hands moving up to the sides of his hips in an attempt to push him back. But, of course, he was too strong for you. 

“Shh, shh,” he cooed. “You’re doing so well.” 

He started to pick up a pace slow enough to relish the feeling of your mouth and not already waste his seed by shooting it into the back of your throat. After a few more thrusts, he pulled out, watching the string of spit connect his tip to your bottom lip with a grin.

“You see,” he started to explain, “in order to become a full-grown adult, which you will be after your Confirmation, you need to understand certain things. And, as the priest of your church, it is my duty to teach you the necessary lessons to let you go out into world with a clear conscience.”

He watched you intently, gauging your reaction to each and every word of his. You were still kneeling in front of him so he bent down, continuing to observe you at eye level. His breath came in slow, hot bursts as it repeatedly hit your face.

“You understand now why I have to do this, do you?” He asked.

You nodded, albeit hesitantly. 

“And you also understand that this is to stay between me and you, and me and you only, right?”

He waited for another nod, and when it wouldn’t come, he raised an eyebrow, his hand gripping your jaw tightly. 

“Do you understand?” He repeated with more force.

“Y-yes,” you mumbled. 

He let go of your jaw, clicking his tongue in approval. “Good. Now I need you to take your clothes off.”

His patience was starting to run thin, especially with the way he couldn’t find any release from this achingly throbbing tension. “Listen, we don’t have much time, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of. This body of yours…” 

This fucking body I need to desecrate. This body, this… tight virgin cunt.

“This body is a gift from God, wonderful and perfect like all His creations. And…” A mischievous smirk appeared on his face. “It’s not like I have never seen a woman’s body before.”

He watched your shy reaction, and your inhibitions crumble slowly. So he gave you one last push. “I’ll take my clothes off too,” he said, beginning to shed his clerical robes. “That way we’re even.”

Father Charlie watched you with satisfaction as you rid yourself of your clothes item by item. “Yeah, that’s a good girl.”

Once the last of his garments dropped on the ground, he told you to sit back down on the armchair, placing his hands on either side of you as he bent over you. His eyes travelled along your frame, wandering over the hills and valleys of your young, unsullied body.

“I need you to move your hand between your legs,” he said. “Touch yourself.”

This time you did what he said without hesitation. He could see your chest starting to heave, your breath visibly and audibly quickening as your hand slowly glided down your chest until it came into contact with your pure pussy for the first time.

“Fuck…” Charlie breathed, the grip on the armrest tightening as he fought the urge to fist his cock for at least some kind of relief. “Yes, just like that. Now push a finger in.”

You did.

“Does it feel wet? Does it slide in easily?” He asked as he observed how your lips parted at the initial sensation of pleasuring yourself.

You nodded.

“Try pushing in a second finger,” he commanded.

You did, your forehead creasing once it slipped all the way in.

“How does that feel? Tell me.”

“It feels…” You began, but couldn’t quite put it into words.

“Good?” He finished for you.

You nodded again.

“Try curling them upwards, like this,” he gestured a come hither movement with his own fingers for you to mimic.

And you did.

“But Father…” You gulped, “isn’t this… a sin?” You asked as you kept moving your hand.

He shook his head. “How can a natural urge be a sin? The Lord gave it to us.”

“I know, but—” His hand was back on your jaw, his digits pressing into the soft flesh of your cheeks.

“No ifs and buts, remember?” he reminded you, his gaze sharp. 

He quickly glanced at the clock. “You’ve been talking too much. Get up.”

You did as you were told while Charlie pushed the clutter off his desk, his movements rushed. He grabbed you by the back of your thighs, practically slamming you onto the desk and standing between your spread thighs.

So close to that heavenly cunt…

“The reason I’m doing this is because it is my duty as a priest,” he said leaning over you, his hand moving down your neck, over your collarbone, then closer and closer towards your chest.

“You need to know what it will be like to lay with your future husband,” he explained, his length pressing against your dripping core as his lips found your neck.

You reacted to his touches so organically, almost like second nature. Like this wasn’t your first time ever experiencing any kind of sexual activity.

Father Charlie knew he finally had you right where he wanted you. Where he needed you.

“It might hurt,” he mumbled against your neck as his hands cupped your tits, your nipples immediately trapped between his fingers as he pinched and pulled on them. “But that pain is gonna turn into something so much better. I promise.”

His lips travelled down your neck as he pushed you back onto the flat, cold surface of his desk, the temperature a stark contrast to your heated body. His tongue glided along your sternum, first to the left, around your now hardened nipple, then to the right, repeating the same process.

Charlie could hear your laboured breaths slowly but surely transform into hot gasps, soft moans falling from your lips whenever his tongue or fingers would graze the sensitive buds of your breasts. He knew he could take it further without much clueless confusion on your part.

He knew he could finally take you like he had wanted to for so long.

So he pushed into you in one rough motion, not stopping until he could feel the soft tissue of your hymen collapse under the pressure of his cock. 

You cried out, your hands instinctively gripping his strong arms, but he was quick to collect both your wrists in one hand and pin them above your head as he grabbed your thigh with the other. 

“Shh, shh,” he shut you up as he pulled your leg up and around his waist, allowing himself to fuck you from a different angle that would make it easier for him to fully thrust into your virgin cunt.

And, Lord, what a tight little cunt you had.  

His breaths escaped his lungs in ragged grunts as he pushed into you again and again, feeling your tight walls give in more and more to make him fit the longer he kept ramming his cock into you. The desk creaked under the pressure of his body colliding with yours, the wood bending with each new thrust that would allow him to slip further into your silky core. 

“Father—” You pleaded, arms unsuccessfully straining against his grip. “It… hurts.”

“Told you. But not much longer,” he said, his voice ragged as he ignored your attempts to make him stop. “Trust me.”

He could feel himself getting there, could feel how difficult it became to keep a steady rhythm. You were squeezing him in the best way possible, and he couldn’t even begin to think about how it would feel to have you milk his every last drop. 

His moans echoed off the walls of his small office when he felt you start to relax around him. “Yeah, that’s right,” he grunted, his voice nearly failing him. “Let me hear you.”

His thumb pulled your bottom lip down so your mouth would fall open, letting those sweet, clueless whines escape your throat freely. That was all he took as a confirmation of your starting to enjoy the way he was fucking you.

And that was all he needed to find his most earth shattering release so far. He pulled out quickly, finishing off with a couple more strokes before he shot hot spurts of his cum right onto your newly stretched and glistening cunt. 

“Look at me,” he groaned as he rode out his high, his eyes fixed on you, your heaving chest, your skin covered in a slight sheen of sweat, your cunt defiled and disgraced by your priest’s cum.

“Now you’re all set for Confirmation,” he said as he helped you up, then handed you a towel. “Make sure you’re clean before you come back for Sunday Mass. And remember, don’t tell your parents. If you can do that for me, I’ll show you much more if you want me to.”

They told you that during Confirmation, God the Holy Spirit comes upon the person, accompanied by God the Father and God the Son. They didn’t tell you Father Mayhew did, too.

[elumish]

One way to build your writing skills--a way that I would argue is necessary if you ever want to write original fiction for publication--is to write from the point of view of, and with the focus on, a wide range of different characters.

it's really easy to fall into a rut when writing the same character or characters all the time, or even the same type of character all the time, where characterization tends to become muscle memory as much as anything else. You know what that character will do, so you know what characters of that type will do, so you know what characters will do, so that's what your characters do.

And when you don't have to think about it, you don't build--and can start to atrophy--those muscles required to do detailed, specific, engaging character building. What does it mean for this character, in this time, to do or experience this thing. What are the myriad of things that have built your character up to being who they are, and how do those things (individually and in aggregate) impact the choices that they make, the actions that they take, the reactions that they have, and the people that they engage with.

What can end up happening--and I see this all the time in published fiction--is that authors end up only being able to write 2-3 character types of each gender, and it all feels a bit samey.

Without opening a book by so many authors I have read, I can predict with a fair amount of accuracy what most of their characters will act like, because it's kind of the same across the board. Even when they start distinct, they end up drifting towards the same personality/character types like carcinization.

Writing from the point of view of/focusing on a range of characters (especially if they are different genders, of different backgrounds, with different wants and fears and habits and interests and personalities) forces you to actually be specific in your writing, if you want it to be any good.

Your 15-year-old B-student who really wants to spend their time playing rugby shouldn't sound like your 45-year-old businessman with a penchant for collecting Star Trek action figures who is trying to plan the perfect anniversary for his wife and neither of them should sound like the 23-year-old who spends their time going out at nightclubs and showing up a little bit hungover at work and worrying about finding a job that will let them move out of the apartment they're sharing with three other people.

Practice, and then practice some part, and then keep practicing. Write different characters, ask yourself if you're writing a character a certain way because you think they would be that way or because it's just habit, and be specific.

[obsessedwithtoomanythings]

Keep Your Eyes Open

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader

Warnings: Smut, P in V, female anatomy, reader is called she, lots of talk of guns, but no gunplay (I mean, it’s on the table and it’s in her hand, but it’s never explicitly used for the sexual stuff), dirty talk, crush confessions, Leon asks her out then fucks her.

Words: 4K

A/N: This is my first smut in forever. Cheers to Leon S. Kennedy for bringing back that smut inspiration! Inspired by this post! Thanks to @angelltheninth for letting me write it!

“Listen, you know I consider you a friend… but-” Hunnigan starts, eyes filled with concern as she looks over the piece of paper littered with holes. Let’s just say more of my shots ended up in the wall behind the target than the actual target.

“I know, that’s why I’ve been going every day, Ingrid.” My defense is pointless, and we both know that.

“Your firearm recertification is in 3 days. If your accuracy doesn’t get better by then, you won’t be allowed to carry a gun. Do you understand what that means?” She asks as if I haven’t been losing sleep over the issue.

“I know.” It means I’ll be the only agent in this fucking building who isn’t carrying a gun. “I’ll become ‘the girl who can’t carry a gun’ faster than you can say ‘fuck off’.”

A scowl comes from the agent in front of me. “Language,” she reminds. “Maybe you should ask another agent to help?”

“And let the whole building know I’m about 11 shots away from failing my recertification? Pass. I’ll just go practice some more,” I scoff, before turning on my heel to step toward the door.

“Just think about it! I know a lot of agents who aren’t dicks and who are more than willing to help!” She shouts, but I’m not listening anymore. I step out of Ingrid’s office into the cool hallway, shutting the door behind me with an almost silent click. Taking a steadying breath, my feet begin to carry me toward the place I’ve been seeing in my nightmares lately. The shooting range.

“Hey, rookie!” I hear a voice say, halting me in my tracks before I was able to close much distance between me and the stairs. I turn my head toward the voice. Leon Kennedy.

“What’s up, Agent Kennedy?” It feels formal to call him that, but while we’re in this building, it feels wrong to call him by his first name, given he is technically my superior.

“Agent Kennedy? Feels a little formal,” he says with a teasing tone, and I chuckle at him voicing my thoughts.

“Well, we are at work,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. Leon and I have become an unlikely pair of friends. The best agent in practically the entire country and the agent who is about to fail her firearm recertification. ‘Maybe he’d be willing to help me?’ The thought is dismissed as quickly as it appeared. ‘And make him think you’re incompetent? Pass.’

“True. Still feels weird though, Agent.”

“Wow!” I gasp in feigned surprise. “I’m not ‘rookie’ anymore?” A small smile makes its way across his lips as he chuckles.

“You’re definitely still ‘rookie’, just felt like being nice.” His comment is followed by a brief roll of my eyes.

“Okay but seriously? What’s up? I have some stuff I have to do, unfortunately,” I sigh, anxiety filling me again.

“Well, I wanted to see what you were up to.” The smile is still there. Any idiot with eyes can see how attractive Leon is. Bright baby blues, cut jawline, nose that anyone would be lucky to sit on. I have definitely had more than my fair share of daydreams starring the agent in front of me.

“I was headed down to the shooting range. I have my recertification in 3 days.” I pray he’ll opt to find something else to do.

“Oh, that shit’s a cakewalk.” Yeah, for you.

“I really want to practice a bit more. I get nervous before stuff like this.” Admitting this is not an easy feat, my cheeks dusting a light pink in embarrassment.

“Okay,” he says, and for a moment, I think he’ll depart with a ‘good luck’ and a wave. Why the hell would I be so lucky? “I’ll come with. I’ve taken that test a few times so I’ll be able to reassure you that you’ll pass with flying colors.” My eyes widen significantly, and the nerves suddenly take over my tongue.

“N-no!” I stutter, much louder than I intended. His eyebrows furrow over in confusion at the sudden outburst. “I-I just assume you’ve got better things to do.” Smooth.

“Not really. I was hoping to spend some time with you, so it’s no big deal.” Kill me now. He moves toward me, wrapping an arm around my waist to turn me and walk toward the range. Maybe it won’t be so bad.

This is going worse than I could have ever imagined. The target has maybe 3 holes in it and I’ve unloaded a whole clip of 15 shots.

“Well, it’s better than the last clip,” he chuckles, eyes still locked on my practically unscathed piece of paper. The shots didn’t even hit anything vital. I drop my head to the countertop in front of me in defeat.

“I may as well just hand over my gun right now,” I mutter into the hard surface below my forehead. Leon’s hand rests on my back comfortingly before he speaks.

“No, come on. I’ll help you,” he says, bringing the target closer to switch it out for a new one. I turn my head toward him with raised eyebrows, mostly in a ‘how can you possibly fix this?’, my temple resting against the cool surface now. “I noticed a couple of things you can fix that’ll help.” A sigh, forehead back on the counter. Leon pats my back again. “Seriously. Come on.” I rise up again, cheeks red from embarrassment as he pushes the target back to the required distance. Not that I think I’d do any better if it was closer.

“Leon, it’s pointless.”

“No, it’s not. Raise the gun.” I roll my eyes and do as he instructed. “Okay, first off, you’re locking your elbows. Loosen up.” He says, tapping a finger in the crook of my elbow. A chill runs down my spine at the contact. ‘Wow, it’s been too long since I got laid.’ I drop my elbows slightly, noting that it definitely feels awkward.

“This feels weird,” I mutter. Leon smirks.

“I’m sure it does if you’ve been firing with your elbows like that. Loosening them helps with controlling movement caused by the recoil.” He explains, and I’m grateful he’s actually telling me reasons, as it’ll make it easier to remember. “Do you fire with your feet like that?” I glance down at my position, my feet across from each other, shoulder width apart.

“Yeah?” I say, forming it as a question.

“Bring your dominant foot forward. It’ll steady you more,” He says, his tone definitely airing more on the professional side.

“Sir, yes, sir.” The words are mumbled with a light giggle at the end, and a small smile raises the corner of Leon’s lips.

“Okay try firing now.”

I squeeze the trigger slowly, the jolt surprises me which causes my eyes to close for a split second, and to steady myself, I accidentally move my feet back into their original position. The shot lands in the wall. Again. The disappointment on my face must be tangible from a mile away.

“Okay, I think I can fix this actually,” he says, and I sigh in defeat.

“Yeah I’m sure you can, super cop.”

Suddenly, as if the world is working against me, his much larger frame is pressed against my backside. Feeling his chest rise against my back and his hips grazing my ass, I breathe in a quick gasp. Completely enveloped in his scent, hard lines of muscle and heat practically radiating from him, it’s a miracle I don’t melt into a puddle right here on the concrete. His hands find my ear protection, removing the makeshift headphones from my ears, much to my confusion.

“The problem is,” he says, his breath tickling my ear, and I swear he can feel the shiver that runs down my spine, pooling in my panties. “You’re scared of it.”

“W-what?” I stutter, completely affected by his presence.

“You’re scared of the gun. The recoil scares you, and so does the sound of the shot,” he explains, voice barely above a whisper. “I think you’ll find the sound isn’t nearly as loud as you think.” His arms come up, fingers grazing along my skin which causes goosebumps to rise across my arms. He rests his hands right below my elbows, the warmth practically seeping into my bones. “Let me take the recoil. Just focus on keeping your eyes open.” His words send a wave of heat through my spine and I try and fail to not shift against him. His leg shifts forward, forcing my dominant leg into the position he recommended earlier, which presses his hips tighter against me. I almost topple over from the overwhelming sensation of heat from him mixed with his intoxicating scent filling my senses, and for a moment, my vision blurs and I squeeze my eyes shut to clear the sight. Like flipping a switch, his fingers graze my chin, lightly pressing against the edges of my jaw to get my attention.

“Leon, I can’t-”

“I believe I asked you to keep these open, sweetheart.” The agent’s voice is rough in against my ear, and I can feel the vibrations from his words rumble through his chest against my back. It feels like I peel my eyes back open as they beg to remain closed, and I attempt to get my focus on the target in front of me instead of the man behind me. “Now, squeeze the trigger.”

As I do, his hips move forward against me, and I release a gasp. Focusing on keeping my eyes open. The shot rings out, not nearly as loud as I assumed without the ear protection on. Exactly like Leon said. It makes contact with the paper, inches from the paper’s bullseye. My jaw drops at the sight. I actually hit the target.

“Good girl,” he mutters, arms dropping to rest against my waist tenderly. “Told you. You were focusing on it too much.” I feel my arms relax, pointing the barrel of the gun toward the counter as I attempt to turn around to face him, but his frame is like a brick wall.

“Leon,” I begin before another intake of air comes from my chest as Leon’s lips land on the soft skin of my neck. The reaction is immediate, my hips canting back toward him as I set the gun down.

“Nuh uh, baby. Pick that back up and finish unloading the whole clip,” he breathes into the column of my throat. “Want you to get used to this stance so you’re ready for your exam.” The light kisses quickly dissolve into small nips and bites, a moan tearing from my lips as my head lolls back, resting on his shoulder. He stops immediately.

“Leon wait-”

“I told you to finish firing the clip. It’s only 14 more shots. I think you can handle it.” A breath breaks from my chest as I lean forward, arms coming back up into the position Leon had put me in, although his hands remain on my hips this time. The gun goes off again with a bang once, twice, three times, landing in similar spots as the first shot, although they are definitely getting closer to the edge of acceptable. They are hitting the target though. As I squeeze the fourth shot, the man behind me pushes his hips forward again. “Stop thinking, sweetheart.”

“You know, if you wanted to fuck me, you could have just asked me to dinner.” The words come out much more breathy than intended, and I feel like I’m waving a neon sign that says ‘I want you to fuck me’. He chuckles lowly against me, his breath tickling my ear once again.

“I wasn’t sure how you’d take that,” he admits.

“But pushing your hips into me isn’t more forward than that?” I tease. Fifth shot. Only 9 more. He shrugs.

“I came up behind you to gauge the reaction before I did that though, didn’t I?”

“And what did my reaction tell you, Agent Kennedy?” My words are much softer now as if talking louder would shatter the mood of the room, which is alight with tension.

“That you want me to fuck you silly.” Sixth shot. “Did I read that right, rookie?”

Seventh shot. I nod gently, trying not to seem eager, despite the fact that my panties are practically ruined by this point, heat gathering in my lower belly and twisting.

“Leon, can we just-” His fingers skim over the waistline of my skirt, just barely dipping below it.

“No. Not until I know you’ll pass that recertification.” He’s gone back to nipping at my neck until he finds that patch of skin where my neck meets my shoulder. A moan leaves my lips unbidden, and I can practically feel his smirk against my skin. “Go on, sweetheart.”

Eighth shot. More than halfway done. His hand drops down further into my skirt until it’s grazing across the damp spot on my panties and I feel more than hear the low groan that he releases. “Fuck, baby.” My arms go lax as his fingers draw a single circle over my clit through the delicate lace before he moves to remove his hand altogether. 

“Leon, no,” I protest as he presses his lips against my ear, intentionally using a low rumbling tone.

“Finish. Firing.” The command springs arms back up into position.

Ninth shot. Tenth shot. Eleventh shot.

“Doing so good, baby,” The praise goes straight through me, a wave of arousal leaking through the lace. Hands dropping back down to my clit, Leon pushes my panties to the side easily, swirling a finger through the wetness pooling there before bringing it up to press cruelly against my nerve endings. “Is all this for me, sweetheart?” Twelfth shot. I nod, lips pressed tightly together to muffle the squeaks and sounds attempting to leave my throat from his attention. Thirteenth shot. One more.

As I squeeze the trigger on the final shot, Leon’s fingers press into me harshly, hitting that sweet spongy part inside unintentionally and it causes a jolt in my limbs. The shot hits the wall with a pop. I hear a brief ‘tsk-tsk’ in my ear before he speaks.

“Reload.”

“But I-”

“I said, reload. You’re gonna do all fifteen again.” Dread takes over and I feel tears pool in my eyes in frustration, and Leon coos in my ear at the sight. “Oh, poor baby. You can do this.”

“Leon, please, I can’t. I need-” I gasp, setting down the gun on the counter being careful not to flag either of us. (cause gun safety is a thing).

“What do you need, baby? Tell me.” Cocky asshole.

“You.” The word is nothing but a plea.

“Aw, baby. How about I give you what you need, and then you fire off those fifteen shots? That sound like something you can do for me, pretty girl?” I nod eagerly against his shoulder before his hand is between my shoulder blades, pressing my chest to the chilly countertop.

“What about the door?” I ask, breathless and red in the face.

“I locked it when we came in here,” he mumbles as he grips the hem of my skirt and brings it up until he can see the damp lace covering me. Did he plan this? The question surfaces but before it can leave my mouth, my panties hit the floor around my ankles. “Fuck, I wanna taste you,” he whispers, more to himself than anything, but I groan in protest.

“Please just fuck me, Leon,” I practically beg, impatience leaking from my pores at this point.

“I don’t know babe, I’m kinda hungry,” he says, and I don’t need to turn around to know his signature smirk is plastered on his face.

“I will let you later, I promise. I need you right now. Inside.” His chest presses to my back, bringing his mouth close enough to hear him as he speaks.

“Later? You saying you want more than just this?” The clinking of his belt is audible over my heavy breathing because of course, I’m the only one out of breath. I nod. “I wanna hear it, sweetheart.”

“Yeah. I like you,” I start, arms splayed out flat over the top of the counter, fingers searching for purchase.

“Maybe we should get dinner after this then?” He asks, still smiling. I nod.

“Fucking finally,” I mutter and upon hearing this, Leon laughs. Not a deep chuckle, not a teasing sound, a real laugh. An almost embarrassed laugh. Hands finding my waist and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

“Took my time with it, didn’t I?” He asks, and I can hear the nerves in his tone. He’s embarrassed. Like, really truly embarrassed.

“Yeah, you sure di-” The words are cut off as he presses the head against my entrance, dipping the tip in for the briefest of seconds before pulling out and repeating the process. It feels like hours of this torture, his teasing thrusts and slight grazes over my clit before he finally, finally, slides in to the hilt, bottoming out in one stroke. We both release groans at the sensation of my walls molding to accommodate his length, twitching, and spasming as I tighten unconsciously.

“Holy shit, pretty girl, I wasn’t expecting you to be this tight,” he growls into my spine, hunched over my frame as he collects himself. When he does, he leans back, hands moving from my hips to grasp my shoulders, bringing my front away from the surface til I’m practically upright, his cock still nestled snuggly in my heat.

“What are you-”

“Now, reload the gun.” His tone sends a wave of slick down around his length, and he rumbles a groan against my collarbone.

“What-”

“I told you that you were gonna fire off those fifteen shots.” My hands shake as I grasp the glock in my hands, reloading and then trying and failing to return to my stance, so I opt to just position my arms correctly. “Good girl.”

My finger in place, I take a deep steadying breath squeezing. Leon pulls his hips back and slams back home as the shot rings out, and I stop a scream from ripping free as my hands fly back to the counter.

“Lee, you can’t just do that.” The words come out as more of a moan than actual words, the syllables slurring together like a girl who’s had one too many drinks.

“Yet you still hit the target,” he says proudly. I look up and notice that there are fifteen holes in the paper. Sixteen total shots were taken and only one missed. Shit if I had known this is how to get good at shooting, I would have asked sooner. “Come on. You got fourteen more, sweetheart.”

The other shots follow the same routine as the first.

Shot.

Thrust.

Praise.

By the time I’m on the last three shots, my whole body feels like it’s on fire, every inch covered in sweat from his punishing thrusts, tears dripping from my eyes.

“You are doing so good, baby. Three more.” He sounds as wrecked as I feel, voice gravelly against my pulse. His hands grip beneath my elbows again, pressing them back into the correct form. “You are so close.”

The bullet hits the paper with an audible pop. His cock slams back into me, tip hitting my cervix hard enough that I’m pretty sure it’ll be bruised. Broken moans fall from my dry lips, mouth feeling akin to sandpaper.

“Good job, baby. Two more.”

“Please just come for me Leon, I can’t anymore,” My arms droop, barely able to hold the weight of the gun that I’ve grown used to by this point.

“Come on, you can do this. It’s just two more shots. You are doing so well,” he reassures before sinking his teeth into my skin, leaving a plethora of bruises and marks across the tender flesh. 

“What if I miss?” I ask, anxiety poking through, mind locked on how he stopped last time.

“I won’t stop this time. You’ve more than made up for the shot you missed earlier.” I sigh in relief. Forcing my arms back up, I try to steady myself before Leon’s fingers find my clit and I squeal, completely losing my aim due to the tight circles he’s rubbing. “Take the shot, baby.”

I fire, bullet catching the edge of the bullseye and I feel a swell of pride before Leon presses a deep thrust accompanied by a swirl on my clit, and his name spills from my lips as a plea.

“Please come for me, please.”

“Tell you what, if you get a bullseye, then I’ll cream this little pussy, how’s that sound, baby?” The pace of his fingers doesn’t change, and I can really only nod, mind barely able to remember why we were in here in the first place.

Taking aim. Deep breath. Squeeze.

The bullet lands dead in the middle of the red target. I practically drop the gun from my fingers, relief overtaking my senses.

“Atta girl,” Leon groans, pressing my frame onto the counter as he picks up speed to a fast pace, leaning down to crowd against me. My fingers reach up behind me, bent at the elbows, to cling to his hair that grazes against my temple as my eyes squeeze shut. His name is a broken sound coming from my lips as the coil in my gut tightens with each twirl of his fingers and each pass of his tip against my sweet spot. “Open your eyes when you come for me, rookie.”

Most of his words are just a jumble as the coil snaps and a scream rips from my already sore throat, but I can make out a ‘good girl’ and ‘creaming my cock so good, gorgeous’ here and there through the haze of my orgasm. It takes a few more thrusts before Leon groans and curses, lips pressed to my spine as he spills himself inside my still-spasming hole.

It takes a few moments for us to move again, deep breaths the only audible sound in the silent room. He’s the first to move (him and his damn stamina), sitting up to stand before slowly pulling his length out, watching as his seed trickles out slowly and groaning at the sight. Leon reaches down, pulling my panties back up and adjusting them into place tenderly, mindful of the soreness he had no doubt was blooming. With a small tug and some slight wobbling on my end, Leon helps me into a standing position facing him now, small of my back barely resting against the edge of the counter as his hands hold me steady.

“You alright?” He asks, and I giggle and smile in response, leaning my face forward into his shoulder. He chuckles to himself, pressing a kiss to my hair. “I mean it, you okay?”

“Mhm. I’m good. You owe me dinner though.”

“Of course, need me to carry you?” I nod through a wave of sleepiness.

“Wait,” I say, hands on his chest as he looks at me, blue eyes shining with concern. “Can you kiss me?” I ask, shyness returning full force, and he laughs again. In favor of answering, he leans forward, pressing his lips against mine in a sweet, tender kiss. His lips are dry, as evidence of our exertion. We pull back from the kiss with dumb smiles decorating our faces, and he pulls my skirt down to cover my panties, planting another quick kiss on my mouth.

“So where do you want to go to eat?”

I step out into the hallway, flat shoes making far less noise than my usual heels. Leon looks at me expectantly.

“So?” I skip up to him, lips finding his as my arms wrap around his broad shoulders. Pulling back, I shoot him a smile before speaking.

“Guess who just passed her firearm recertification with flying colors?” I tease.

“Nice! See? I told you, cakewalk.”

Tags: @house-of-kolchek

[tiddygame]

i’ve stared at this for so long that i now hate it and think ive lost all concept of how to write so take this and get it out of my google docs

the introduction is rough and the medical depictions (and accuracy/realism) could use some (a lot of) work but whatever! here it is, my vague yet still oddly specific idea of how the face reveal would go in @myriadblvck ’s streamer au:

tw: description of a panic attack? i think?

[this takes place post first irl meet but before they’re officially together]

imagine ghost has a glasgow smile but on one side they carved a little too deep and left some nerve damage. time and surgery helped, after which he could eat unimpeded and talk without a lisp, but there's still some facial nerve damage and/or skin contractures from scarring, specifically around the corner of his mouth.

now, everytime he smiles, be it shit eating grin or a full genuine joy filled smile that not even grumpy mcgrumperson could hold off, it always looks wrong because one corner doesn't raise fully like the other.

everything else is fine, there isn’t any facial paralysis, he just smiles… wrong. especially since only one eye properly squints when he smiles, giving him the look of someone who got stuck mid wink.

if he wants to look “normal” (or as normal as he could get it) he has to manually squint his other eye. still, it always felt weird; you don't realize how much those muscles affect the rest of your face until they're gone.

it's why he learned to always wear the mask.

when his expression is neutral, you don’t really notice it. if you can see his mouth when he talks however, it’s obvious that there’s something wrong. he wouldn’t say he’s necessarily ashamed of the scars and damage itself, but it’s the stares that are the worst. before he started hiding behind it, people would openly gawk or even glare at him as if he was some ne’er-do-well gang member that got what was coming to him.

he still remembers the cosmetic surgeon that had been talking to him about fixing the contractures— the whole appointment was a fucking nightmare. the cuts had healed nicely enough especially considering how bad it could have been; he was lucky to only need a little cosmetic help. the only reason he was there was so he could fucking eat food without struggling to open his mouth.

the doctor spent god knows how long breaking down everything wrong with his face like he was a fucking car mechanic lying about how dirty your filter is. the guy constantly mentioned that while he was under, they could also fix his jawline, do a rhinoplasty, trying to break him down to agree to more work.

he was already fuming my the time the doc brought up how kids would react. asking ghost if he wanted to scare children since “you cant expect the little youngins that are still learning about the world to not get scared by something scary,” and that “even some adults would cringe at the scarring.”

what stuck out most was the condescending smile he had when he said it. as if he was pointing out the obvious and ghost was being stupid and shortsighted by not agreeing.

he declined everything except what was medically necessary. the procedure went fine and after an aggravatingly long recovery period, he could eat solid foods again without issue. but the comments still stuck with him.

…okay, maybe he’s a little ashamed.

scaring kids with your face doesn’t feel good and being reminded of everything you’ve lost when you try to smile can really fuck you up in a way words fail to describe.

so yeah, he hates it. he’s gotten used to the mask, both skull clad balaclava and simple medical mask, being a permanent layer of armor. even now that he’s a bit more comfortable in his own skin it still feels wrong to pull it off.

when he gets close to soap, it still feels like a layer of vulnerability that he’ll never be prepared for.

the first time he let soap see his face, there hadn’t been any grandiose build up, no extravagant planning.

simon had arrived just a few hours earlier. he hated commercial flights with a burning passion but it was always worth it to see johnny.

with soaps twin out of town for the week, he had decided to take leave to spend time with his friend, a friend that he most certainly did NOT have a crush on (a disclaimer roach and gaz heard everytime they started snickering over ghost taking leave.)

johnny had cooked something nice and simple for dinner, saying that simon had spent too long with MREs and deserved real food (ghost only agreed if he was the one washing the dishes, soap had laughed and told him he's not so kind as to let him off the hook for chores).

when they ate, it was always in the living room with johnny taking care to always stay angled away from simon, never trying to catch a glimpse, regardless of how much he wanted to see what was under the mask. the obvious gesture of kindness and respect for his boundaries always left him feeling all weird and fuzzy inside. but, then again, johnny seemed pretty good at triggering that feeling in general.

their finished plates were on the coffee table and johnny was watching whatever dumb movie he had put on. he was pretty sure the man spent more time talking over it and making fun of everything than he did actually watching it (it was simon’s favorite way to watch a movie.)

ghost however, was watching soap. thinking.

in the end, it was an impulsive decision made after a strong three seconds of consideration.

“you uhm— you can look by the way,” ghost stared at the can of soda in his hands, immediately regretting the words.

“what?” soap didn’t fully turn, just shifted slightly to hear him better. a simple gesture to show he was listening without turning to face him. it normally made simon happy to see that johnny was more than willing to accommodate for his boundaries. now though it made him feel stupid for robbing johnny of a normal face to face conversation, a normal human interaction, just over his idiotic insecurities.

“my face, you—,” he felt his heart block his airway and tried clearing his throat before continuing, “you can look if you want,” christ he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. why was he getting so fucked up over this?

“are you sure?” he hadn’t turned yet, but ghost could see his pensive expression from here. this should be nothing. realistically, he knew johnny seeing his scars wouldn’t suddenly make him hate him… right?

“yes.”

but it was more than the fear of hatred, wasn’t it? he was scared that johnny would see him. see more than just the scars, see all of the ugly idiosyncrasies and insecurities laid bare. afraid that johnny would see the truth of how unlovable he was.

jesus he was getting so fucking worked up and dramatic over nothing.

ghost didn’t look up. he made an effort to not focus on his peripheral vision. he heard soap turn, heard the intake of breath. the silence was loud only for a second. then, deafening white noise surrounded him, inescapable, suffocating.

fuck.

he didn’t regret giving permission but god did he regret everything else; the stupid scars, the stupid nerve damage, the stupid way he had managed to fall for someone so fucking good like johnny while he was unequivocally unworthy of his love.

stop being so fucking dramatic. you are not together, never have been and never will be. reality was blatant in front of him but it didn’t stop his heart from foolishly hoping.

he heard soap stand and walk closer. saw from where he was still staring a hole in the can his feet step in front of his. saw johnny’s hands raise. he took a deep breath in, closed his eyes, and with a great deal of effort didn’t flinch when soaps fingers grazed his cheek.

both of his hands came up to cup his face, holding him and ever so slightly tilting his face up, giving him the chance to pull away. he didn’t. he may be a coward but he wasn’t backing down.

ghost eventually opened his eyes to see soap staring at him with wide eyes. he looked away, staring off to some point on the right. he hated not knowing what soap was thinking.

they stayed there for a while before soap broke the silence, muttering, “i fuckin knew you had freckles.”

it was stupid but it shocked a laugh out of ghost. he meant to drop his head, embarrassed that something so dumb made him laugh, but accidentally just pushed himself further into soaps hands making him blush.

he looked up and saw soap staring even harder than before. the chuckle died in his chest.

“do that again.”

ghost just gave him a confused look.

“smile.”

such a simple request, a one word sentence, but it set his face ablaze. his breath caught in his throat, somewhere around where his heart was still trying to choke him.

…he hadn’t thought it was that bad but soaps reaction indicated otherwise. fuck. was his it that awful? he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. this was stupid. he was stupid.

“simon,” of course, one word from johnny and it felt like he could breathe again.

“please?”

fucking goddamn soap and his stupid fucking puppy dog eyes and the way he has ghost wrapped around his fucking finger without even realizing.

ghost smiled. there was no real mirth, more a grimace than anything else. he just wanted to get this over with.

soap was still staring at him, his thumbs tracing his lips, following scars, drawing imaginary lines between freckles… if he wasn't so terrified it might have felt nice.

“Christ,” ghosts heart cracked more, “you weren't lying when you said you were beautiful.”

ghost huffed a laugh and went back to staring off to the right, the fake smile dropping. of course soap would try to lighten the mood with a joke.

his panic fled as quickly as it had consumed him, now just left sitting in soap's living room, face still cradled in caring hands, resigned to his mistakes.

he felt so tired and johnny's hands felt so inviting.

“i wasn't joking,” soap looked…upset? angry? wait— fuck, what’d he do?

ghost stared back at soap, confused and tired. soaps nails felt the grooves of the scar, catching where the skin was raised and lowered.

“you don't have to lie, soap. im a grown man. I'm not fragile. you don't need to coddle me,” ghost said it like it was a joke, hoping soap would laugh along and that this would all just blow over. that tomorrow morning they could forget this ever happened.

“are you calling me a liar?” soap’s brow furrowed. great. instead, he had managed to make everything worse and piss off soap as well.

ghost took in a deep breath, giving himself another shot at calming things down, “no, I'm not. I think you're lying, but you're not a liar,” he stood and stepped to the side, grabbing their dirty plates and walking them to the kitchen sink, “you just don't want to upset me, it's fine. I get it. you're a nice person but you don't have to lie to spare my feelings.”

“I am not fucking lying!” as per usual, all ghost had managed to do was make things worse. there’s a reason he had decided to stick to the battlefield and give up on domesticity.

“well alright then. agree to disagree,” he turned the kitchen tap and started rinsing the dishes, waiting for the water to heat up. just walk away. end it there. let us forget about this stupid blunder and move on. please just leave it. please, please, please—

“no.”

the force behind it damn near made ghost drop the plate he was holding. he managed to set it in the sink carefully and turned to face soap, who was now in the kitchen as well.

“i— I'm not just gonna fucking— simon,” soap took in a deeper breath and went to continue but ghost was faster.

“johnny,” he interrupted, walking forward with his hands up in a gesture of surrender, approaching slowly.

one last chance to not fuck everything up.

“the fact is they're called deformities for a reason. they're not cute. they're not pretty. they're your body’s way of healing what it can and protecting what it can't. it's not meant to look nice, it's just—”

“bullshit they’re not pretty! says fucking who?” the genuine distress in soap’s voice and force behind his words caught him off guard. “simon—”

he huffed and ran his fingers through his hair roughly, pulling slightly at the strands. christ, ghost needs to shut the fuck up. every single time he speaks he just upsets soap more and more.

he needs to retake his hostage negotiations courses. clearly he has forgotten everything about how to diffuse a situation.

johnny takes another second to breathe and collect his thoughts before he speaks.

“simon. I know that— that ‘this’ isn't something that's going to fix itself overnight and I don't expect it to. but, ‘the fact is,’ I think you're pretty.”

ghost opens his mouth to disagree but johnny doesn’t let him.

“no no,” johnny put his hand over simon’s mouth, shocking him into silence. he blinks twice, stupefied.

“i think— no. I know you're pretty. cute even. beautiful is a given but obviously worth mentioning.”

his hand moved to cup simon’s cheek. ghost grabbed his wrist but didn’t stop him, wether it was a warning or encouragement he himself didn’t know.

johnny continued, unperturbed, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right?”

there was a pause and simon realized he wanted an answer.

“johnny-”

“ah ah!” his hand moved back to cover his mouth, grabbing his face and shaking his head back and forth, over accentuating his words, “you disagreeing doesn't change that, right? yes or no.”

he stopped shaking him and moved his hand back to simon’s cheek. simon sighed, defeated, “yes. you are right.”

johnny looked smug, “good. and what do you say when i give you a compliment you don’t agree with?”

simon sputtered, “wha— i don't fucking know—”

“nothing! you don’t say anything!” soap looked way too proud of himself and he continued, “or thank you if you feel so inclined.”

“that was a trick question,” simon replied eventually.

johnny thumbed over his scars once more, again tracing them, “sure it was. now go take a shower.”

he patted his cheek twice and walked to the hallway.

“wait,” johnny probably shook the few remaining brain cells out of his head. “this whole conversation ends with you telling me that I stink?”

“yes. rancid,” johnny opened the door to the linen closet. simon was still in the kitchen. the tap was still running.

“no dipshit, do you not remember telling me that commercial planes makes you feel gross?” johnny threw a towel at him, which he caught just in time for johnny to hit him with a bath rag.

ghost had mentioned that… ages ago, he thinks. on facetime with each other, discussing the merits of bathrooms on public transport. he had said that enclosed, crowded spaces like commercial planes or buses made him feel, well, gross. how—or why—did he remember that?

“but… I’m supposed to wash the dishes?” a weak argument against the stubbornness he was faced with but simon had officially lost track of his mind and this conversation.

johnny shot him a weird look as he walked back towards the kitchen sink. simon still hadn’t moved.

“did you think i was being serious earlier?”

“yes???” he felt like he had been given a lobotomy.

johnny decided to take pity on him and explained in a soft voice that felt out of place, “i was being sarcastic. i’m not going to make you wash the dishes, simon.”

“but that was the agreement: you cook and i wash the dishes.”

johnny laughed as if he remembered something funny, “yeah, i lied.”

simon still stood there, trying to figure out if he had a stroke. johnny had been angry, completely pissed at him, but now was letting him off the hook and calling him pretty? what the fuck is happening?

johnny turned him and pushed him towards the hallway. simon could have resisted but his resolve always seems to crumble around johnny mactavish.

“now go shower, you beautiful bastard,” soap grabbed one of the plates out of the sink and started washing it with water that had probably heated ages ago.

ghost walked towards the bathroom, feeling like he was on autopilot, limbs disconnected from his brain. his cheek still felt… odd? weird? tingly?

it felt something from where johnny had grabbed it. ghost thinks… he thinks he likes the feeling, whatever it is.

he needs to sleep.

[betterbemeta]

I think AI Art exploits and degrades not just artists, but every single person who looks at it in some ways because 'how we look at art' is part of art itself.

This principle is super easy to experience as an artist. All you have to do is practice and reach a plateau where things you did before seem worse to you, that felt great at the time you made them. Your ability to see art changes as you make art, and as you view art.

It's not snobby to say that there is a low average level of 'seeing' art. There's also a low average level of seeing technical design, or seeing weather patterns, or seeing copy editing mistakes and that's why we have architects and engineers, meteorologists, and professional editors. I think a lot about this bit by Scott McCloud in Understanding Comics:

Like the point here is not that 'most people are superficial', but that the surface of art is what most people are familiar with. And it is this basic familiarity that I believe AI Art exploits to fake integrity, something that even the most well-known laughably 'bad art' still technically has.

Like, laugh all you want but effort went into the surface of this art such that it appeared 'okay' to the one who made it, and to those who maybe aren't paying attention or see that its colored and shaded first, the anatomy last. It relies sort of on your familiarity with 'what art looks like' to accept it, but not completely. Someone did work to try and earn your acceptance even if, uh, it's not very good in some ways.

But AI Art relies fully on how unfamiliar you are with art. Let's call this principle 'glamour'.

At first 'the glamour' is unconvincing: this is during the AI's training. But the first 'pass' is the threshold where information builds up about how to reproduce a minimally acceptable image. This is where the glamour is set: the minimum accuracy to convince a human being to fill in its gaps. To basically capture their imagination. From there, front-end use of the machine learning model is released for general users, and it is those users who then select out of many outputs which glamour fools them most. As the other half of this system, the hidden decision-maker, humans are also 'learning' familiarity with the glamour: comparing it to not just our surface knowledge but to itself. We have left reality.

A good example of this can be seen in AI-generated pictures of fiber crafts. It's possible that traditional or digital artist might not be perfect with their drawing or perspective or coloring etc. or may stylistically push the boundaries of perspective or form on purpose. But for a knit, crocheted, or sewn piece a final product often can't exist without its craft having physical integrity:

Aside from the issues that are obvious (fake tilt shift photography with no consistent field of blur, a spaghetti yarn ball, unknown stitch on the vest, no comprehensible seam between the arm and the body, etc.) here are some things that stick out to me to knowing even a little about knitting,

The fake stockinette on the helmet is confused about whether it is completed horizontally or vertically: vertical on the headband (many hats terminate this way, so there are plenty of images to sample) but indecisive when it has to become a round hat shape.

The number of rows on the arms is inconsistent, decreasing strangely where a k2tog would never be.

There is no consistent way the hands make sense, if they are 'mittens' or if the stockinette ridges become 'fingers'.

We can't see how the bottom of the foot was finished: the left foot either began or was decreased to meet at a central point but it doesn't match the right foot and it's not clear how either foot keeps it shape.

Beyond the plagiarism of the images that went into generating AI outputs, your diminishing time to learn about/be exposed to 'things' (beyond just 'art,' anything that isn't essential to your survival) will become increasingly exploited in the future. If left unchecked, images like these will represent not only novelties or etsy scams but a large amount of people's exposure to 'things' in general. Which then leads to something like AI inbreeding (AI generating based on AI), except like... with you.

When people are more familiar with a glamour than 'the real thing', even superficially.

Exploitation of this type isn't even a new thing. It's just that AI can speed it up or extend it to new spheres. Anyone can see a physical table and think 'this table is crap' if it's poor quality because of how much we use tables and our knowledge of what tables are and should do. But I think the blog McMansion Hell actually illustrates a real, practical situation where the familiarity level with a craft (architecture) is low and standards lower to meet it. These hulks were certainly built to invoke 'glamour', but when closely inspected, they have the design equivalent of 12 fingers or bra straps bleeding into someone's skin.

Another easy example might be the excessive 'glamour' that surrounds selling cars in the USA. Very few people will buy enough cars to become more than superficially familiar with them and the amount of people who are car-related professionals is negligible next to the number of people who require a car.

Both cars and houses are expensive purchases that are made relatively infrequently, which is why their brokers and dealers can bet against a customer's average level of knowledge. But soon, many more things may become like buying houses or cars: obscured by glamour.

AI Art relies on you to be a sucker, just like how a sketchy sales rep depends on you to be a sucker. Except even worse than the sales rep, your brain is expected to not just be dumb and inexperienced, but also to get actively dumber over time from doing all the work too.

[stirthewaters]

Too Sharp to Touch pt.7

Word Count: 4.2k (I gotcha covered besties)

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of guns, vomit, violence

Summary: After a long week of back and forth between you and Wednesday you have to go into the woods in search of your hidden textbooks.

Pairings: Wednesday x Reader

Too Sharp to Touch Masterlist

When you sat down at the dining hall for breakfast the first thing that happened before you even got to take a bite of your cereal was that what appeared to be a freshly-sharpened dagger was thrown with deadly accuracy straight at your shoulder. 

Of course, you were able to dodge it; you were a werewolf - you basically had spidey senses thanks to your heightened hearing and sense of awareness but you still practically jumped out of your seat as you did so, your eyes landing on the hunk of metal now embedded in the wooden support behind you. When you glanced at the exit to the dining hall for the culprit you saw nobody there. Though you knew exactly who it was.

Your week had been a living hell. Wednesday knew. Of course she had found out. You knew your acting had been shit. And you had been an idiot to think you weren’t going to pay.

You had started out your lovely morning the day before, awaking to a hissing sound in your dorm room. It was subtle, and definitely not something you noticed at first. You had sat up in your tangle of blankets and looked around with groggy eyes, checking your watch and looking out your window to try and estimate the time, trying to figure out what had woken you in the first place. You’d slid out of your bed, and that’s when you heard a sickening rattling sound from right under the bedframe, knowing enough from your time in the woods exactly what it was. 

You had performed what you personally thought to be a ninja skill level dodge, twisting on your heel in that new move Wednesday had shown you during lessons the other day, jumping out of the way and over onto the other side of the creature, grabbing the rattlesnake firmly behind the head while it thrashed about, hissing furiously and snapping at air. You had planned on disposing of it outside in the woods where it belonged but when it almost bit one of your fingers off you simply cracked it in half with a huff. 

Rumor was the teachers were horrified to discover a dead snake in the trash cans.

You knew who it was the second you had seen the snake anyways. It wasn’t like you had left your window open and a rattlesnake so happened to somehow slither up a two story building to slip inside, half a mile away from where most snakes inhabited the woods. 

No, you knew better than to think that.

And sure, you knew that you deserved this but you were never one to pass by some competition. 

You had gone to YouTube on a search for some things, and after a painfully long day of watching multiple tutorials, with the help of a newly vengeful Thing (still mad over being falsely accused), you managed to not only replace Wednesday’s cello strings with guitar strings but you also managed to un-tune it, screwing the knobs not to the point of breaking, just enough to annoy the Addams. Thing had reported detail by detail that night his dramatic recollection of Wednesday’s annoyance and slight confusion when she picked up her bow to play the cello and was met with the realization that not only was her instrument untuned but somehow replaced with the wrong kind of strings.

You knew it was suicidal but you loved it. 

After classes that same day you had headed back to your dorm to finish up a paper for tomorrow but when you sat down at your desk to start working, upon pulling open your drawer for your school supplies, not a single piece of paper or notebook was to be found. And instead, all that you saw were dog toys. The drawer was packed top to bottom with squeaky toys, tennis balls, and rawhide bones. You had been in surprise for a moment and honestly you thought it was a little funny, not really that offended. You’d been able to get rid of most of the toys, (you gave them to a thrifter in Jericho later on), but you did end up keeping one of them for yourself, though you didn’t tell anyone about it.

Your retaliation in response to the dog toy stunt was to put creamer in her coffee when you were sitting beside Wednesday at the study group, waiting giddily for the raven’s return from the shelves of the library. The goth had returned a few minutes later and sat down beside you at the desk, returning to her work. You had to wait a couple minutes before you saw her glance at her coffee to take a sip, and the look of disgust from the now sweet taste of what once was such a bitter coffee was quite enjoyable to you. Maybe you were a bit of a sadist, but you still had to pinch your inner thigh to keep yourself from giggling at the sight of the raven’s glare slowly shifting over to you. The rest of the group, if they’d noticed, would surely be confused but both you and the Addams knew exactly what was going on.

It honestly wasn’t too bad of a week now that you thought about it. Sure, you had to be on alert constantly but that was what your relationship with Wednesday typically consisted of. Just with a slight bit more murderous intent. Which, honestly, you didn’t mind. It felt good to be enjoying yourself, even if what you did consider ‘revenge’ was a little watered down compared to what Wednesday did. The only real time you had been in serious danger was yesterday.

You had been in botany class, doodling on your notes as you half-listened to the teacher, when you’d spotted a granola bar left discarded in the section under your desk, much to your relief. You hadn’t eaten much that day so it was a pretty damn lucky coincidence. You were completely unaware when Wednesday watched you eat the granola bar, eyes trained on your every move.

You’d been awake all night that night throwing up. Although the goth didn’t actually make an appearance that night you knew that Wednesday had tampered with the sealed granola bar you’d eaten, although when Thing arrived in your dorm with a bottle of water for you and some lame excuse that ‘it was his idea’, you had felt a little bit better. You had sent the hand back with a couple spare inks you had laying around as a thank you. That night overall had been somewhat of a trainwreck though. Only Wednesday Addams of all people could somehow tamper with a sealed granola bar. It was still puzzling to you how in the hell she’d managed to do that.

Not many students knew about the ongoing ‘war’, so you called it. It was a loose term and you didn’t take it very seriously. Enid and Thing knew, of course, and they just stepped back and let you two do whatever it was you were doing. As for the others…well…it was also funny to see their reactions. For example, when you were playing the game Mousetrap with Ajax, Bianca, and Divina in the quad the other weekend. It was your turn, and you’d accidentally set off the trap. Much to the others surprise the traps that’d been set up throughout the game were rigged, and when you turned the crank a small blade shot out from one of the plastic pieces, taking out a small chunk of flesh from your finger. It wasn’t deep but it still stung like a bitch and you had to go bandage your hand before you even considered playing the game again. A small compensation, though, was the look of horror and shock on the others’ face when the whole ordeal had occurred. Oddly enough that night you’d found a small tube of some sort of mystery cream on your bed, which, when smeared on your wound instantly took the pain away. You had no clue what was in it or where it’d come from.

So, today, you had to go and find where in the hell the vengeful Addams had put your school stuff. Although you had gotten all of those dog toys out of you way after a quick search of your dorm your textbooks were nowhere to be found, which, admittedly was a problem. Sure, you didn’t like to do schoolwork but it wasn’t like you didn’t need to do it. You were already late on a couple assignments so if you didn’t get your ass in gear you were going to be in trouble. You’d already looked in all the places you’d thought of but had come up dry, and you had no clues or context as to where they could be so you gave up and decided to just go to Wednesday and ask.

You knew that since it was early morning the Addams was awake. You had time before class to talk. Especially since you had just had a dagger practically thrown at your face. Well…your shoulder. Odd, considering you knew that a dagger in the shoulder definitely wouldn’t be a fatal wound. 

After yanking said dagger from the plank of wood it was embedded in, you carefully held it so you wouldn’t accidentally stab yourself as you walked quickly out of the dining hall, cereal left behind and uneaten. The hallways weren’t as crowded as usual due to the early morning so it wasn’t hard for you to manuever through them, headed for where you knew Wednesday was. The Addams always sat every morning in the quad with a cup of bitter coffee, either writing in one of her notebooks or reading. And when you entered the almost gray area when you eyes fell upon the familiar spot, there she was. 

The raven was seated stiffly on one of the benches by the wall, a book in hand and a cup of coffee at her side, still steaming and clearly fresh. She hadn’t been here long. And the second you stepped into the quad you didn’t miss her glance over in your direction. You had to stop yourself from starting to long as you shook your head and approached the goth, your eyes narrowed, huffing with frustration as you halted directly in front of her. Frustratingly enough, she didn’t make eye contact with you, purposefully ignoring you as she slowly and delicately turned a page in her book.

“Tell me where they are.”

“What a warm welcome,” Wednesday quipped with a raise of her eyebrow as her dark eyes never strayed from the pages. “It’s quite early for you to be awake. I expected worse of you.”

“Cut the shit and tell me where my books are, Addams.” You tapped your foot impatiently, silently debating whether or not to push her book away. “I don’t have all day.”

“Oh really?” Wednesday turned another page, perfectly manicured black nails lingering for a painfully long amount of time. “I assumed that you had an interest in playing games, Y/N. And though you might be somewhat adequate at playing your trivial…amusements on others, I, on the contrary, can assure you that you are inferior when it comes to being the subject of my dissatisfaction.” A hint of a smirk passed over her deadpan expression as she tilted her head slightly to finally look up at you. “Besides, I assumed you would appreciate my…tokens of appreciation towards your stunt.”

A small huff of annoyance passed your lips as you frowned slightly at the raven. “Look, we’ve been going back and forth all week and I just need my stuff back. Would it make you feel better if I said that I forfeit?” 

Another page turned slowly, making your fists clench as Wednesday responded, “it was inevitable that you would accept defeat. Your blows were remarkably inferior.” She paused to take a sip of her coffee before her eyes once more met yours. “Seeing of your abilities I assume that you should be able to track out your possessions; I might recommend searching the north-western quadrant of the woods.”

Your eyes widened in frustration and annoyance. “That’ll take me half the day to search, how much ground to you expect me to even cover in the period of time that I have to work with?”

“Your senses are more than satisfactory for uncovering your works. If you use what you have of a brain then you should be fine.” The raven gave a slight roll of her eyes, returning back to her book, muttering. “Just don’t do anything foolish.”

“Yeah, yeah, glad to know you care so much.” You were poking at her now but you weren’t really paying attention when the Addams shot you the deadliest of glares, jaw tightening with frustration before returning to her book. You exited the quad, swerving down the hall. How in the hell were you going to do this alone? You had a lot of area to cover and only so much time before class started. Huffing, you picked up the pace as you powered through the halls. Your ears picked up a familiar scuttling sound from somewhere behind you, followed by a small tugging of your pants leg, making you turn and see none other than Thing.

“What do you want, Thing? I don’t have much time.” You paused your walking so the appendage could tap rapidly without having to move at the same time. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll deliver your lotions tonight, okay? I can’t right now but I promise I will.” An idea sparked in your mind before you started to walk again and you slowly glanced down at Thing. “You want another nail filer, right?” A couple of taps easily affirmed your question as you brightened. “Perfect. Then help me find where the hell Wednesday hid my books in the woods, and you’ve got a deal.” Thing paused for a moment before rapidly tapping again. “You weren’t with her when she hid them…” you slightly deflated before shaking your head and continuing. “Doesn’t matter. Two heads are better than…” you trailed off before trying again, “two hands? Two hands are better? Wait…” you counted your own hands for a moment, feeling extremely dumb for a second. “Three- three hands are better than one.” You were met with a couple smug taps and you bristled. “Shut up and help me look.”

The hand grabbed hold of one of the straps of your backpack to pull himself atop it, and you took that as a sign to continue, weaving through the halls until you hopped off the back steps and onto the lawn. The early morning sun was just starting to tip over the trees that still somehow bore leaves, though the grass was scattered with said foliage, crunching underfoot as you made your way across the lawn, shivering slightly as you silently wished the sun would just hurry the hell up.

The protection of the woods dimmed the light further, despite the lack of protection from the trees, what little light there was quickly darkening as the cover of the forest encapsulated you. It wasn’t as peaceful as usual. The woods had an almost eerie vibe, one that you couldn’t place but one that you could sense. That little patch of fur on the back of your neck? Standing on end, like your spidey senses. You caught yourself looking around on multiple occasions, having to shake off the wariness as you tried to focus on the task at hand.

Wednesday had said it was in the north western part of the woods. Perfect. You were already there. But how would you be able to track down textbooks? What kind of scent trail would that even be? Sure, you’d maybe spilled a tad of soda on a page or two but surely that wasn’t anything strong enough to track down. You let your bag down so that Thing could emerge and the hand was instantly scuttling off into the woods, searching one section so you could continue yours. 

No, you were not going to get on all fours like an animal and sniff. The mere idea sent a shudder of repulsion and disdain down your spine, as you simply crouched down on the balls of your feet, closing your eyes as you tried to focus on what you were honing out. All that you could scent at the moment was pine, fir, durt, and the regular must odor of the forest, overlayed with old scent trails of animals that’d passed by long before. Underneath it was a scent you couldn’t quite place. It was almost a sulfuric scent; it was definitely faint and you had to really focus to even get a good whiff, but it was there. 

You started half walking half jogging around to try and get some sort of scent trail, rolling your eyes as you silently regretted your action of stealing the Addams’ typewriter. How in the world did she even expect you to-

A faint hint of vanilla.

You caught the scent abruptly when you passed a particularly large clump of undergrowth, stopping in your tracks as you slowly backed up to confirm what you’d just detected. Sure enough there was the scent of vanilla - a good strong whiff of it. Easily scentable. You crouched down again, not caring for once about dirtying your pants as you tore aside a couple clumps of pine needles and dirt, revealing a cardboard box, slightly bigger than a shoebox. Upon opening said box your books were revealed, and you let out a sigh of relief. As you pulled the box from the undergrowth you realized that the box had been lightly doused in vanilla extract, explaining the source of the trail.

Tucking your box safely under your arm, you started to pull your backpack back over your shoulder, dusting dirt and forest debris from your uniform when you suddenly heard the sound of multiple birds taking flight. Your head snapping upward you saw briefly through the thick trees a good number of said birds startled into the air, flying away with what to you sounded like a loud flapping of wings and an alarm call.

A faint scuttling broke through your thoughts as out shot Thing from the undergrowth, clearly scuttling as fast as he could as the hand dashed over to you, trying to sign through his scampers toward you. 

“Thing, what’s wrong?” You glanced at the appendage, worry thick in your tone, trying to understand what he was trying to say, but before you could try and make sense of anything a sudden sound broke through the woods, causing you to jump.

A gunshot.

The sound cracking through the still early morning forest air was enough to make your stomach curl as the fur on the back of your neck instantly stood up, your fingers gripping your backpack strap so tight that your knuckles began to whiten as your eyes widened. Thing leapt atop your bag, signing rapidly, but you were in too much of a daze to even process anything he was saying, practically frozen on the spot like a deer in the headlights as you tried to work through the current fog that was your mind at the moment.

You couldn’t hear anymore gunshots, thank god, but now dread hung thick in the forest air, tension strung tightly from branch to branch as if it was something palpable you could touch. A thick stench of sulfur returned to your nose and you recoiled, taking a step backward that broke you from your daze, instantly reminded of the sulfuric scent you’d smelled earlier. You were backing up now, Thing clutching tightly to your bag as you turned and ran.

You knew there was nothing, nobody behind you but you were beginning to hear things, imagining the rapid footsteps and the crunch of dry leaves underfoot other than your own as you strained for every ounce of speed your body possessed. You were in flight mode. 

Lungs aching and mind focused only on getting out of the forest, you burst from the cover of the forest, racing across the lawn as Thing held on for dear life just so that he wouldn’t fall off. You weren’t paying much attention as your feet got tangled up, and you took a tumble to the ground, skidding a couple feet in the grass as you felt the dry autumn terrain tear at your clothes, most definitely skinning a knee in the process. Thing went flying, landing a couple feet away from you as you stilled on the ground, taking in short breaths.

Your breathing was hurting. God, it hurt to breathe but every second you didn’t it felt like your lungs were going to shrivel and die. Struggling, you huffed in short, cut off breaths as you tried to register everything at once and calm yourself down.

Your body stilled when you heard the dreaded crunch of dry leaves underfoot growing closer. Weren’t you just imagining things? You were supposed to be safe here, Nevermore was supposed to be safe.

“Y/N.”

You slowly dragged yourself to a sitting position, trying to force an expression of calm on your face despite the icy panic you were still experiencing as you slowly looked up to see Wednesday, dressed in uniform with her bag over her shoulder standing beside you, eyes examining you as if you were a scientific experiment. Were you? Was that was this whole… treasure hunt in the woods had been? 

“What happened?” The Addams tone was neutral but oh so barely softer. Her glare wasn’t as piercing as usual. She could tell. Like a shark smelling blood in the water, she could somehow tell how panicked you were? Was it the fact that that damn patch of fur you had was still sticking straight up and bristling like a hostile dog? Was it your struggling to take in breaths as you groaned at the new pain in your muscles from the fall you’d taken? It definitely wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been but it still stung.

You struggled to answer as your voice came out much softer than you intended, “I- it- there was-” you had to drag in a couple more breaths as the raven slowly knelt down beside you, cold knuckle coming under your chin to lift your face to meet yours, her eyebrows furrowing as she met your eyes. “I would suggest attempting to control your breathing and refraining from talking until you do so.”

Instead of responding with a witty remark you simply took her advice, trying to do a breathing exercise as you silently counted in your head, closing your eyes to help your focus as your chest began to rise and fall in a less erratic pattern. Slowly, you regained your focus and the panic seeped away, and you were able to speak regularly, though your voice had a slight shake to it. Damnit, you were supposed to be better than this. You didn’t want Wednesday’s pity.

“I found the books but when we were about to leave we heard a gunshot in the woods.” Wednesday’s hand was gone almost as soon as it had come; you hadn’t even noticed. The Addams raised an eyebrow. “We?”

“Thing and I. We were together,” you stood up painfully, rubbing your skinned knee as you retrieved your fallen items, gesturing to Thing who was on the ground still, dazed. You silently promised yourself to bring him an extra nail buffer for the appendage as an apology later that night, watching him slowly crawl over to the two of you. Wednesday straightened as her eyes flicked from Thing to the woods, clearly in deep focus as she remained silent for a moment. “Approximate the distance between where the gunshot originated and the academy.”

You thought for a second, math racing through your brain as you tried to make a connection. Damnit, you were sucky as hell at your math. After a moment you responded uncertainly. “I’d say two miles. The sound wasn’t as sharp as it could’ve been.” You were pacing now, mind racing as you recalled the sound itself. “I think it was a shotgun.”

“I see.” Wednesday’s eyes narrowed slightly and you noticed her jaw tighten slightly as she glanced at Thing again. “And what did you witness?” The appendage began tapping slowly at first, shaking off the daze of his own fall before his signs became more rapid in pace. The Addams sighed slightly as she folded her arms before muttering, “at least you made a wise decision in splitting up to cover ground.” She paused before turning to you, eyes glancing up to meet yours. “If I may offer a suggestion, I’d recommend that we bring this to Weems.”

Your eyes widened slightly and you felt a small flutter in your chest as you spoke, trying not to sound too hopeful. “You mean we’ll work together?” Wednesday gave a roll of her eyes, muttering something under her breath with gritted teeth before finally glaring at you again. “Yes, but only for the fact that half of this school are incompetent adolescents who would perform quite poorly compared to… you.” The Addams reluctantly admitted, her voice becoming strained at the end of her sentence. “Strictly a professional relationship shall be required. Understood?” She offered her perfectly manicured hand to yours, waiting for you to shake with a raise of an eyebrow. 

You didn’t hesitate one moment, grasping her cold, stiff hand in hers and shaking it.

—————

pt.8 here!

[draculancer-flow]

I'm moving lucrative. I'm moving voluptuous. I'm moving vindictive. I'm moving unrequited. I'm moving out. I'm moving forward.

DracuLancer Flow presents: I'm Moving Different

A LL6 build

This build straight gassing, cutting straight to the bricks.

The Fold Knife is a hell of a thing for a dip into a single licence level for Mourning Cloak. It doesn't display on the printed COMP/CON sheets, but the main gimmick of the otherwise low-damage weapon is that a critical hit causes you to teleport two spaces in any direction. It's some decent positioning, especially since it's an auxiliary weapon so you can have two per flex mount. However, it's inconsistent even with the accurate tag increasing your crit chance, and so usually used in tandem with some of Mourning Cloak's other systems for consistent overwatch denial and extra movement.

We don't want that. We want chaos, we want to turn the sitrep into a minefield without a single point in Iskander.

This is why we use Dusk Wing. Not only can the mech basically ignore difficult terrain owing to its hover ability, but its core power, DHIYED Articulation, lets us activate the Hall of Mirrors protocol, which makes us create a copy of ourselves every time we start a unique movement. These copies are not decoys, or duplicates, or helpers, or mirages; they're bombs. They were made at the bomb factory. They're bombs.

The key to this build is that every time you teleport, it counts as a new movement, letting you lay another one of these little bastards. Seven Fold Knives makes this very easy to do.

Let's break it down: The two core bonuses give us an additional three aux slots for fold knives that we can use, for a total of seven. This is would require an overcharge every time we wanted to use them all in one turn, so we're Not Going To Do That; instead, we're dipping three entire levels into Raleigh to use nothing but the UNCLE-Class Comp/Con, which lets us fire from an additional mount with some decreased accuracy (Note: I was unable to find out if UNCLE lets you fire both weapons on an aux/aux mount, but if it doesn't that's stupid so I will choose to disregard it).

Our systems barely matter but are worth noting. Flicker Field Projector makes us much harder to hit when we move (which we will always be doing, given that we're focusing on Hall of Mirrors), Neurospike lets us do some extra attacking just in case, and Armament Redundancy, Stable Structure, and Personalizations are here because there aren't really any other useful systems we can take and I wanted to spend the extra system points.

As for talents, Ace and Combined Arms make us a bit harder to hit, Tactician makes us marginally more accurate and can negate the effects of UNCLE, and Exemplar lets us give our allies a little bit of support, as a treat. Hunter is the real star of the show; it gives us better range with our Fold Knives and gives us an extra movement option.

In summary, in a standard turn, we will

Move (triggers Flicker Field and creates 1 copy)

Move again because of hunter (creating 1 copy)

Attack Seven Fucking Times (netting us up to 8 copies)

Still be able to overwatch and support our allies with Exemplar

All without overcharging

Giving us

Up to 24 kinetic damage just from the fold knives

Between 2 and 9 copies (up to 9d6 energy damage, save for half)

and that's still not counting reaction shenanigans or overcharging

In summary,

When you pilot this mech, you move different.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

What’s up with the ties between Sally & Eddie?

There are quite a few - to the point where I’m starting to suspect that they may be foils, or at least inherently tied together in the story.

First let's bring things back to the clocks. The “day” side has an obvious resemblance to Sally, like how the “night” side resembles Eddie. There’s not really much I can say here since we don’t know much more yet, and who knows if this has changed behind the scenes. But just think about that, the rarity of the color purple, night vs day, and the “monster”. Keep it in your head, I think it may be important. 

Also the fact that Eddie is the only one with a watch, but Sally’s face has an incredibly similar face on her door.

Obviously Sally has some sort of beef with Eddie, despite him being nothing but friendly and (to our knowledge) being undeserving of it. One thought I entertained was “maybe Sally is dismissive of him because he’s a worker,” but that holds zero water when you consider how perfectly friendly Sally was with Howdy (karen Sally debunked <3). The second thought I had was “maybe Sally senses the queer in Eddie and it intimidates her” - which would make sense if Sally is a lesbian like I suspect. Internalized homophobia, anyone? This holds up if Eddie is going to turn out to be - not open about himself, but comfortable in his skin in a way that, say, Frank isn’t. Which I have a feeling that will be the case, which would likely make Sally put on airs even more so than usual. 

Anyone else seeing a continuous trend of (social) masks and performances unfolding in the Neighborhood? I sure am.

But let’s talk about why I think they might be foils. They balance each other out in an interesting way, despite their only solid similarity being that Both will work/perform no matter the weather. They have a lot of closely related differences:

Eddie has been mentioned (and implied within the story so far) to have a deeper well of knowledge than he lets on, but acts humble about it. Sally has been mentioned (and implied) to know less than she portrays, but acts like a bit of a know-it-all - she pretends to know things that she doesn’t. 

Eddie’s role is about helping others at his own expense, while Sally’s is using others to reach fame. 

Eddie strives to connect with his Neighbors and is all about accuracy/precision. Sally is in her own little world and has proved to be more than willing to improvise / not think things through before acting.

Eddie is slow to anger, and Sally is easily irritated. 

Selfless vs Selfish.

Night vs Day. 

And to put them in the Johari Window - i believe that Sally resides in the Blind Spot (known to others, not known to self), and Eddie resides in either the Facade (not known to others, known to self) OR the Unknown (not known to others, not known to self). Personally I’m starting to believe that Eddie may reside in both. 

It’s far too early to draw any real conclusions, and theorizing on all of this is difficult. I feel as though - as usual - we have puzzle pieces but no frame of reference for the way they fit together, what picture they build. And who knows, tomorrow’s update may shred this to ribbons, but I doubt it. 

One thought I had was that they’re in cahoots about something - it doesn’t have to be something malicious or some sort of secret plot, it could simply be something they both know and are trying to keep quiet about. Eddie is trying to connect with Sally since they have this in common, but Sally is actively putting distance between them to preserve their secret / plausible deniability. Do I actually believe this? Meh. I’m just throwing spaghetti at the wall to see what sticks.

So current base thoughts: Sally is dismissive of Eddie either because he intimidates/scares her on an internalized level, or she’s actively trying to put distance between them for a currently unknown reason. There’s probably a secret third option I haven’t even considered!

[stray-kaz]

Time : a Jeong Jin-man x f!reader oneshot

Anon request: a fic in which there is an age gap. So Jin-man is approximately 40ish and reader is 30.

Summary: Ji-an has moved out to live on her own, and suddenly, finally, there is time for you and Jin-man to be alone.

NSFW

The house was empty. An empty nest. You quietly closed Ji-an's bedroom door and went to sit on the couch beside her uncle, tapping your empty hands on your knees. From his position lying on his back, he prodded you with his foot, one interested eyebrow risen.

"You okay?" he asked, still pressing his toes into your thigh.

"Yes" you sighed. "She's really gone."

Jin-man smiled slowly, and after five years with that slow smile, it still did a little something to your heart.

"She's really gone" he repeated. "But not that far. You missing her already?"

You nodded.

"I'm still here" he reminded you, and you glanced heavily at him.

"I know that" you replied dryly. "How could I forget that?"

He snorted and you stood up, dislodging his foot from your leg. He tsked and reached out to snag your wrist, reeling you back and tugging you to sprawl on top of him, your head thumping onto his chest.

"Honey, honey" he murmured, stroking your hair. "I'm still here. Stay with me."

You stretched out along the length of him, bare feet pushing along his denim clad calves, pressing your head up beneath his chin.

"Oh, fine" you grumbled.

Jin-man huffed a laugh and smoothed a hand up and down your back, pausing to stroke circles onto the bare skin he could suddenly feel when your t-shirt rode up under his touch. He continued to do it as he could feel the hum building in your chest, vibrating against his own. He felt you shift to press closer, head turned so your lips pressed gently to the side of his neck.

"So now we have this house to ourselves" you mumbled, content. "What's on your mind? What do you want to do, handsome?"

"Kiss you" Jin-man mumbled back. "Without the kid making noises about it."

He imitated Ji-an's disgusted reactions with pinpoint accuracy and you laughed, burying your face in his neck.

"Let me think about it..." you muffled against his skin.

You hesitated, pretending to think, and he hummed, waiting, watching you through half open eyes.

"Honey..."

He felt your grin against his skin and then your hands pressing into his chest as you levered yourself up to find his gaze. You leaned in to brush your lips against his and his whole body melted under yours, one big hand coming to rest on the back of your head, holding you gently in place.

His other hand snuck up the back of your t-shirt, oversized and drooping off your shoulders, and splayed wide between your shoulder blades; you shivered closer to him and he nudged your lips a little wider, inviting himself in. Heat flooded you, sinking lower and lower, until your hips twitched over him.

Jin-man pulled his head back a bit and eyed you closely, eyebrows lifting slightly. You froze and averted your gaze, but he gently tilted your head back around with two fingers under your chin.

"The kid isn't here, honey" he said quietly. "We can do whatever we want, wherever we want to do it. Just say the word."

He was staring so intently at you that you could feel it in your toes, and they curled against his calves as you drew one leg up slowly, nocking it against his blunt hip.

"Jin-man" you murmured, tracing his mouth with the tip of one finger. "I love you."

He smiled and tiny lines fanned out from the corners of his brown eyes.

"That'll do, honey" he said softly. "Now up, up, up."

He tugged you up nearer and kissed you again, the hand that had been resting on the back of your head now lowered to grasp your hip, long fingers pressing against your thigh.

In the back of your mind floated the reminder that you were on the couch in the living room, not your bed, but with his strong body underneath yours and his hands on your body, you couldn't bring yourself to care. But he seemed to read your mind, gently withdrawing.

"I think the bed would be easier on both of us, right?" he asked, starting to grin.

You rolled your eyes and fumbled off him to stand up, yelping when he yanked down your sweats in one quick tug, grabbing your waist to keep you from falling. You glowered over your shoulder at him, but he just chuckled and held you steady while you stepped out of them properly.

"Don't look at me like that" he murmured. "Couldn't help it."

Jin-man stood up and you turned round to face him, stretching up onto your toes to be able to reach his mouth again, sighing when his arms wrapped right around your back, arching it slightly as he bent to meet you, your right leg slotting in between his.

He started to walk you backwards, keeping clear of the low coffee table and any other obstacles he knew you were likely to fall over with your eyes shut. He could make his way through the house in the pitch dark, but you were not as able.

But even so, you stumbled into a wall, one of his hands coming up to catch the back of your head before it slammed hard. You mumbled a thank you against his lips and he grinned, just shaking his head. He trailed his lips down your jaw to the line of your neck, appreciating the way you arched it for him, giving him clean access to your sweet spots.

"What would you do without me?" he spoke into your skin, lightly grazing his teeth over your pulse.

You bit back a gasp and dug your hands into the backs of his shoulders, the fabric of his shirt wrinkling under your grip. He carefully slid his hand away from your head and shrugged out of his flannel before taking a small step away and pulling his t-shirt off over his head as well, giving no thought to his old scars as you reached for him to drag him back, running your hands all over his newly exposed skin.

"Be very, very sad" you mumbled, ignoring the quiet twinge of pain that ached at the back of your mind at the thought of it.

Jin-man held your head gently between his hands and kissed your forehead.

"I'm not going anywhere" he assured you, although there was also a soft voice in the back of his mind that said that may not be quite truthful.

He shoved it back on its dusty shelf and tipped your chin up to kiss you once more, watching your eyes flutter shut before he closed his, too. He soothes his hands down your sides, fingers drawing circles on your thighs, before resting lightly on your ass. Pressing you further back onto the wall, you felt his hips lean on yours and the persistent hardness of him nudging against you.

You stopped kissing him to look up, a little flushed, a little dazed, into dark eyes so warm you felt you could have melted on the spot. You arched up and rubbed lightly against him; he dug his teeth into his bottom lip and you smiled, enjoying the friction.

"You're sure you've got it in you, old man?" you murmured cheekily.

Jin-man rolled those beautiful eyes and playfully tapped your butt. This happened right before he lifted you clear off the ground with a shriek, wrapping your legs high around his waist. He pressed a nuzzling kiss between your breasts before blinking up at you, smiling.

"How's that for old man?" he retorted, eyebrows raised.

You grinned and squeezed him between your thighs.

"Pretty good, handsome."

He turned you away from the wall and carried you into the bedroom, letting you drop onto the bed when you were ready. He rubbed his hands up under your oversized t-shirt and lifted it over your head, his eyes darkening when he saw no bra, nipples already stiff and aching to be touched.

"Honey?" he murmured, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your breasts.

Your nod was all he needed before he pushed forward, warm wet mouth enveloping one nipple while his fingers lifted to tease the other. Liquid heat pooled between your thighs and you rubbed them together as your own hands rose to bury themselves in the thick of his dark hair, tugging rhythmically in time with his tongue.

He listened to the whimpers and gasps falling from your mouth, music to his ears. One hand lowered from his head to massage and push at his shoulder. Jin-man raised his eyes to you and nodded slowly, his teeth scraping lightly over sensitive flesh and making you jump. Then his free hand gently pressed between your legs and your thighs twitched apart to make room for his rough, practiced fingers to rub at you through your damp underwear.

"Honey, what do you want?" he murmured, straightening to press his lips between your eyebrows.

You pushed hastily off your knees and stood unsteadily on the bed to push your underwear down your legs, kicking them off over your feet. Then you knelt back down and wrapped your arms around Jin-man's shoulders to prepare, pushing your knees down hard into the mattress. He felt you trembling in anticipation and smiled as he trailed his fingers up the inside of your thigh to tease over you, warm and light.

You whimpered quietly into his shoulder and he shushed you gently as he slowly eased a long finger into you, moaning a little at the feel and tightness, quickly giving you a second and sucking in his breath as you worked down against his fingers, breathing hard over his skin.

"You okay?" he panted, knocking his head gently against yours.

You nodded and he began slowly pumping in and out of you while you clung to him, his thumb slowly pressing circles over your clit, feeling you rock your hips, humming quietly to you.

It was slow and steady when the wave took you under, leaving you to quake and catch your breath, strong arms holding you up against a steady, familiar chest. Jin-man stroked your hair and slowly started to move you up the bed, leaning you down until you rested on your back, eyelids flickering as you looked up at him, quivering thighs dropping open.

"Hey..." you mumbled, reaching out for him. "Get down here."

He grinned and kissed you gently, but you tugged and pulled at him until he was laughing and kissing you harder, both hands pressing into the duvet either side of your head. His hips dropped suddenly and you both groaned, two extra annoying layers still separating you.

"Come on" you complained.

Jin-man huffed a laugh as he watched your hands reach down to the zip on his jeans and drag it down after thumbing the button open. You shoved unceremoniously, impatiently at the denim, until he took pity on you and got them all the way off, followed by his underwear. His smile warmed when you wriggled a little ways closer down to him, your legs open for him.

He leaned over you and grabbed a pillow, pushing it under your hips to prop them up. You bit your lip and watched him through lowered eyelids, buzzing with the knowledge that this was going to feel good.

You pressed your hand over your open mouth when he finally inched inside, big hands gripping your hips to keep them still; he knew you too well, knew you would start humping up before you'd adjusted. You pouted at him and he leaned down to kiss you, receiving a high pitched moan for his troubles as the changed angle sank him the rest of the way in.

"Cheat!" he panted, groaning and pressing his forehead into your shoulder.

"Slowpoke!" you groused back, grinning dazedly as you stretched and tightened your muscles around him.

Jin-man shook his head, thrusting shallowly, shutting you up with such ease it was almost embarrassing. If only you cared to be embarrassed.

"First old man and then slowpoke" he muttered, kissing the delicate shell of your ear. "Anything else, honey?"

You nodded, eyes mostly closed as he watched you enjoy him.

"Yeah" you murmured. "Lover."

He softened and kissed you again, swallowing your little gasps of pleasure as he rocked slowly into you, deep, deeper, deeper still.

Mercenary. Killer. Lover.

"I love you" he rasped a whisper, pressing his face against your neck.

"Mmm" you mumbled.

He lifted away to look down at your face, saw your lazy smile and blown out eyes. He kissed between your eyebrows again.

"So satisfied" he said softly. "Okay, honey?"

"Yes, handsome."

You yawned and he laughed, pushing into you a little harder.

"Tired?"

You shook your head, but he didn't believe you. Nudging his nose against yours, he smiled.

"Jin-man, I love you" you murmured. "Jeong Jin-man, Jeong Jin-man, Jeong Jin-man, mine, mine, mine."

You clamped around him and he grunted, picking up his pace a little, but still so deep.

"Yours, yours, yours" he agreed. "Honey, honey, honey."

Your breathing picked up and your eyes flew open at the fairy light touch on your still sensitive clit, staring down at his fingers lovingly playing with you. His dark eyes were wide, his teeth digging into his lower lip.

"I'm close" he warned you. "Come for me, honey."

His sensitive tip pressed deep inside you kissed against the soft spot he craved and his fingers rubbed and swirled over your bundle of nerves, and you did happily as he wanted, back arching and inner muscles sucking him in so hard he cried out and came, hard and panting into you, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead.

You wrapped your arms and legs around him and turned your head to press kisses to his warm cheek. He slowly pulled out and slumped beside you, rolling to his side and soothing a hand over your stomach.

You wriggled off the pillow and cuddled closer to him, picking his hand up and playing with his fingers.

"I like having time" you said quietly.

"Oh, honey, me, too."

Tagging: @writingmysanity

[puppygirlclaspers]

Gosh it's been a while since I posted my gunpla projects but I'm finally making headway on them!! Expect more posts from me soon!

The main thing delaying me was the fact that I wanted to look into painting details on my kits, mostly to avoid having to use stickers but also to be able to paint the extra details that may be missing from some kits (looking at you HG Kampfer and Gundam Alex)

This was even further delayed because I was on holiday for a bit but now I'm back home and I have all the supplies I need!! Very proud to be able to show this to you all, I'm really happy with the results.

I got the Entry Grade Nu Gundam to test out detail painting, which ended up being a really nice introduction for it since it has some finer details that could do with colour correction but it also has larger areas to paint. I can definitely recommend using Entry Grade kits as practice for customising your gunpla as they are dirt cheap and super easy to assemble. You technically don't even need any tools for it but I would recommend using nippers and a hobby knife to clean up nubs. Here's how it looks out of the box without any modification:

I was honestly really surprised at how colour accurate this kit is for how cheap and simple it is. I was a little worried I wouldn't have any details to paint in! But thankfully there is some colour missing from the forearm verniers, the backpack and rear skirt thrusters and the head.

I used acrylic paints for most of the details, though I did get a set of metallic colour gundam markers, mainly for the sensor green, which I used for the eyes and head cameras on this kit too. It works really well!

As you can see here the details are quite subtle but they really add a lot, and I'm super happy with how they turned out! I was worried that it would look messy but thankfully I could clean up any mess with isopropyl alcohol and cotton buds. The last thing that I did was panel line the kit to finish it off, as well as applying those cool custom Amuro Ray decals on the shoulder and shield.

I was honestly super impressed with the Entry Grade Nu Gundam. The build is very simple and fun, the articulation is very good, better than most kits I've built in recent times, and the colour accuracy is also nothing to scoff at. There is some extremely innovative technology going into these kits, and they look simple yet elegant. The only drawbacks of this kit are the fact that it doesn't come with a beam saber effect part and that it doesn't have any funnels. Minor gripes for me but if you really want a full Nu Gundam experience then you might want to skip this kit. Other than that though, I highly recommend getting at least one of these, whether it's for practicing customisation or just having something neat to display!

[waywardsou2]

Summer of Bad Batch 2024

Week 3

Prompt: "It's just a scratch"

A/N: Not me writing this literally 24 hours before the next prompts come out haha. Ngl tho it's kinda of topic but i just wanted to do some retired Pabu writing and this prompt kinda subtly fit it, I was planning on making it more angsty but it ended up being nice and fluffy. Anyways I hope you enjoy. This will be on my ao3 as well. Tags: none, fluff, slight injury

The afternoon sun shone down on the rocks that Omega and Echo were standing on. Despite Hemlock being gone and Tantiss destroyed Echo wasn’t done training Omega.

Since his cadet days he had done his best to work by the book and train for as long and as hard as he could. Spending time with Clone Force 99 has taught him to loosen up just a little bit, but old habits die hard.

He knows Omega isn’t a soldier and her biggest threat was sitting at the bottom a valley but she needed to know how to keep herself safe in a galaxy so vast, because he knew that eventually one day she would leave Pabu. It was a given but in the meantime all he could do was prepare her.

Right now with the sun beginning to sink lower in the sky but Echo was trying to get as much training done with Omega as he could.

“You need to keep your guard up; one wrong move and you are open and vulnerable. And then you get hurt, or worse” He took another light swing at Omega, and she brought her arm up to block his punch. She did so successfully.

“Where are your weakest points?” he says testing her as he makes another swing.

“My throat, ribs and knees. I can’t leave those open or in range”

“Good. What points do you aim for?”

“The sides of the head and eyes, neck and legs. Attacking the head can disorient, damaging the eyes can be dangerous, neck can be fatal, and legs can subdue them”

“Yes perfect. And what if they are carrying a weapon” he swings again

“Focus on disarming them then either fight or run”

“Excellent” he says before taking one final swing at Omega

Her progress has been promising; she has been able to keep up with him during exercise. She can shoot her practice targets with accuracy that even Crosshair has praised her for. Her ability to complete the terrain courses he sets up have been slower than the rest of her progress, but he knows at the very least she’ll survive.

“The suns going down but I want to try one last thing. You think you’re up for it?”

Omega is breathing hard, but she is ready. She’s going to prove to Echo that she is just as capable as the rest of her brother or any of the regs. Tech has given her the knowledge, Wrecker had taught her demolitions, Hunter had taught her how to track and scout and survive on next to nothing, and Crosshair had taught her the ins and outs of every weapon imaginable, but Echo taught her how to adapt. How to defend herself and defeat enemies of all kinds. If she was able to keep up with and stand up to him then she would be ready for anything the galaxy will throw at her.

“I’ve got the boys to organise their own obstacles for you to complete all over Pabu. Consider this your final test of sorts. At the end of the route, you will have to defend yourself against a surprise attacker – me. If you can best me then I’ve taught you all I can. You think you’re ready Havoc 5?”

Omega takes a deep breath in then smirks at Echo “I’m ready!”

He smiles back at her, looking at her now he takes a moment to notice how much she’s grown. He remembers when they first met her, how small she was, how often they had to get her out of trouble. But now she’s taller, stronger. Her shoulders have widened and her training has helped her build up a stronger frame. Her hair had grown out which Hunter had helped her keep in a tight braid. His years of having to deal with longer hair started to become useful again since she grew it out. They were luck because the rest of the batch would have been useless when it came to hair.

So, Echo set her off on the path and made his way to the final location waiting for her to arrive. He set himself up in the shadows by the entrance to the cave and waited for her to arrive.

Omegas first challenge was set up by Crosshair, she had to complete a small parkour course whilst avoiding stun blasts from him as well as hitting her own targets. Crosshair almost got her, but she ducked just in time and shot her last target. Trying to hide his pride in Omega, he directs her to her next step of her test.

She made her way around the beach of Pabu and came to where Wrecker had set up several types of explosives along the beach. Some hidden and some in plain sight. Omega counted at least eight visible to her. As soon as she got to Wrecker, he clicked the detonator and told her she had 30 seconds to defuse them all. So she got to work moving swiftly one by one to each bomb disarming them, she thought she had tripped one of the last ones but she was able to reroute the circuit and cancel the detonation command. With only three seconds left, thanks you Wrecker’s rather loud counting, she completed her task. Wrecker roared with approval and sent her to her next task with a pat on the back that almost sent her into the sand.

She next found Tech sitting down a side street along the main town centre. His test was a quick-thinking verbal response test. He thew facts and questions at her with lightning speed as she answered just as quickly, she stumbled over her words once or twice but was able to pick herself back and up and continue to recount the information Tech has taught her over her years with them on the Marauder and even on Pabu, giving her exercises and tests to make sure her information was up to date. Once he was happy with the questions, she had answered he told her she had to go to the small forest at the back of the island. She guessed Hunter was waiting there for her.

When she got there she was a little confused at first as Hunter was no where to be found but when she stepped onto a small piece of paper with the word “Come find me” written on them she knew what her next test would be. She took in her surroundings and made note of every clue to where Hunter was hiding. An indent in the dirt which was a boot track that had attempted to be covered. Disrupted leaves moved in the direction opposite to the wind. Any whisper of movement or a breath taken in too sharply. Eventually she found Hunter hiding up between two trees, his back pressed to one and his feet to the other.

“Found you” Omega says, and Hunter lets himself fall to the ground gracefully

“Good job kid, you beat your record time,-” He ruffled her hair “-go on Echo’s waiting for you at the cave”

“Roger that!” She said and sprinted back to the other side of the island.

Hunter smiled after her, watching her run away. She had gotten fast, really fast. Her comfortability with the lay of the land made her lightning quick. As he watcher her go the pride in his heart swelled. Omega had come so far, and he was proud of every single thing she was doing to improve. It reminded him of seeing his brother progress when they were cadets. Watching them move up from Cadets to “Shinnies” and then to Troopers that were being dispatched every free moment they got. He remembers how Shaak Ti looked at them when they “graduated” she praised them for their effort and progress. It’s one of those memories that stuck with him, and he hoped with his brothers too.

As Omega made her way back to the cave her heart began to race inside her chest. She was ready, she knew that. She had completed all of her tests and done all of her training along the way, but she knew that she had to complete this final test for her brothers to fully see her as capable and as trained as them. For them to recognise her as a soldier the same as them. She knew that didn’t want her to be a soldier that they wanted her to a kid, but she was a clone like them, and she wanted to prove to them that she was no different.

As she stepped into the entrance of the cave she slowed from her run to a hesitant walk, making a slow rotation as she walked further into the cave. She had to wait for Echo to appear, she was listening, preparing herself for the first attack.

And then it came, out from the shadows high up in the walls Echo leaped at her taking a sweeping dive for her legs. She jumped and turned around to face him, bringing her arms up in a guard position. He makes another swift attack for her, and she ducks.

“You can’t stay on the defence forever” he calls to her and her brow furrows

She knows this is her final test, but she worries that she might hurt Echo is she uses all her training. But then again, that is what he wants.

Echo keeps up his barrage of attacks aiming for her head and her arms, leaping around to attack her sides and her back. He makes swiping kicks for her legs, but she is able to keep him at bay. But he keeps encroaching, quickening the pace of his attacks and forcing her to move quicker each time, keeping her thinking on her feet.

She knows the test won’t be over until she manages to knock Echo down but she just can’t bring herself to attack him.

Faster and faster his attack comes, and Omega can feel her arms bruising up slowly, she’s starting to get agitated. She’s never going to complete this test if she doesn’t act now.

So she does, she ducks and hides in Echo’s blind spot kicking in the back of his knees. He buckles and turns on his knee bringing his arm up to block an attempted strike to his shoulder. But Omega is fast, and she takes his arm and pulls it backwards causing Echo to be put off balance and pulled onto his back. She attempts to get on top of him to pin him, but he presses a boot to her chest and pushes her off. He stands up again and she recovers from his attack, he leaps for her as soon as he is on his feet again. But this time she is ready; she grabs his arm as he makes a grab for her and twists her body so his arm is pulled away from her and his chest. Continuing her spin, she pulls him further and with all of her strength she tugs sending him stumbling forward and falling into the dirt. Before he can even stand up again, she has crawled on top of him and subdued him.

She won.

“Good job kid” he said as she crawled off him and offered him her hand and helped him to his feet once more.

When she grabbed onto his hand, she felt dirt and something wet on his hand. When she took her hand away there was a light smear of blood on her hand, looking worriedly at her own hand she grabbed at Echo’s and saw a gash across his palm and gazing on his fingers.

“Oh Echo, your hurt”

“Nah, its just a scratch, I survived getting blown up remember? I’ll be alright kid” she doesn’t let go of his hand and carefully begins to wipe away and pick the larger chunks of dirt from his hand

“You should be proud of yourself kid. You’re officially a Clone Trooper now” He stops her from clearing the debris from his hand and pulls her into a hug instead.

Omega wraps her arms around him and squeezes his middle, she is tall enough now to be able to hide her face in the crook of his neck.

Behind them they heard loud yell and Wreckers voice saying, “Way to go Omega!”

Omega lets go of Echo and the two of them walk over to the rest of the squad, they head back to their home in lower Pabu praising her as they go.

Today has been a good day.

[dancingdonatello]

The turtle bros with an s/o that’s a total ice hockey nut

rise tmnt x gn reader

Raph and you get along great and not just because you two are dating. Raph also likes hockey. He does not go easy on you though. He will absolutely barrel you over if he needs to.

You two will fight over the TV if a football game and a hockey match are on at the same time. Raph likes football over hockey and honestly, it breaks your heart. You have to be in separate rooms so you can both watch what you want to.

Leo and you play all the time. The hard part is sneaking into a rink, but usually he’s decked out in hockey gear so it’s hard to tell he’s green anyways.

He’s very completive and is sometimes a sore loser. Whenever he feels a little bit too embarrassed, he will challenge you to a ninja competition, just so he can win.

Donnie, unsurprisingly, builds you a machine to help practice your shot accuracy. Does this machine gain sentience and try to kill you? Yes. Is this Donnie’s fault? He says no. You say yes.

You do get to guilt trip him into playing with you thoogh. He’s not very good at ice skating and even worse at sports, so it’s very fun to watch.

Mikey is your number one supporter. He is always there for your games. He has a duplicate of your jersey. He has posters of you in his room.

He also made you a fake trophy to give you, even if you didn’t win a tournament or anything.

didn’t know if you wanted rise or a different iteration :p

[loonarii]

MADE IN KOREA: EP. 1 (my thoughts on the tv show for that british kpop bg sm decided to do for some unknown reason)

So if you didn't hear, SM Entertainment is the latest kpop company to dip their toes into the concept of a western kpop group - we had VCHA from JYP and their show A2K, KATSEYE from HYBE with their show Dream Academy (and I believe upcoming Netflix docu-series?), and now we have 'Dear Alice' from SM with the show 'Made In Korea: The K-Pop Experience'. Unlike the previous two groups, Dear Alice is a boy group, and are specifically all British, whereas the girls of VCHA and KATSEYE are from all over the world. As your local british kpop stan with access to BBC iPlayer (where this show is streaming) I decided to watch and drop my thoughts on the show and see if its any good, basically.

Right off the bat, the pitch to SM was clearly: 'we will make you a new One Direction' - like you can easily pick out of the lineup who is supposed to be Harry and Zayn and so on. It's not a stupid idea because after South Korea, the UK is probably the biggest exporter of music groups beloved internationally, but I doubt whether kpop stans will take to this well. At least they are promoting this on the BBC, directly to the UK, which is presumably their target audience.

They keep calling this whole thing an 'experiment' which it obviously is, but the higher ups at SM seems to be very on edge about the whole thing - after the groups first performance to Heejun (the director basically) she called a fucking emergency meeting with the SM team and the british producers - there generally seems to be a lack of confidence in the success of the group.

In the beginning of the episode they briefly mention (but for the most part gloss over) the audition process for this show, claiming they chose the five boys for their talents in singing and dance. Throughout the episode though it becomes apparently clear though that they (in the nicest way possible) don't really hold a candle to the debuted idols from SM. The whole show is based on this 'make a british kpop group in 100 days' gimmick, but the truth of the matter is you need a lot more than 100 days to become idol level good at dancing and singing - most idols train for 2 years minimum, some upwards of 6. I have no idea why they didn't choose boys with more preexisting skill in the audition process, or just give them longer to train - perhaps there could've been a bootcamp for a month before the going to korea bit to build basic skills - none of the 5 seem to be overly familiar with the kpop industry and it seems that pretty much all of their context as to what is expected of an idol is drawn from the SMTOWN concert they attended before their training began. They came off as quite unprepared, and Heejun's harsh comments to them in their evaluation clearly came as bit of a surprise to them. It is only episode one though, so i think if anything, now they know the level they are supposed to be at.

All of them apparently have a background in theatre or dance in some capacity (one of them is a tiktoker... ok) but only Dexter and maybe Reese struck me as having much aptitude for kpop dancing, but again it is only episode one so I'll cut them a little bit of slack. They struggled a lot with coordination and accuracy, but from my perspective as a dancer myself and kpop stan, the dance they learned to their song 'Feel the Vibe' (we will get to that don't worry lol) was not what I would call hugely difficult?? the members other than Dexter lacked a lot of fluidity but none of them were awful and I think with a lot more training they could be quite good. Olly seemed to struggle a lot with the dance, and there was some chatter from the producers that members could be cut, and if I had to guess anyone right now to be dropped (momentarily, I'm assuming anyone they kick is going to pull a Momo and be brought back) it would be him.

The song 'feel the vibe' is like.. what you would get if you asked an AI to spit out a 'boy group song' - it has a little bit of RIIZE energy so I wouldn't be surprised if this was an abandoned demo of theirs, but it also feels a little kidz bop? lmao? It's fine basically, not very exciting but not totally unlistenable. My main concern is that its quite a high song especially in the chorus, and the boys seem to struggle to hit the notes. Giving them a song that is out of almost all of their ranges is kind of setting them up to fail especially when they had a week only to learn it. Their poor vocal performance also explains why Heejun was so unconfident in this groups success - SM is is the kpop company known for its vocalists, being able to sing like Ningning or Taeyeon may not be necessary to succeed and debut in other big companies, but in SM vocals are crucial. Again they did only have a week, so at the very least potential is there.

They did a lot of b-roll content of them seeing the sights of Seoul, they did a gangnam style bit (god help me) met with Shindong (...), met RIIZE and TEN of WayV etc etc which was cool i guess - i hope this is a mainstay in the series and not just an introductory element.

Overall the show is not boring by any means, if a little cringey at times, my only concern is that the group that will emerge on the other side will not be up to par? I guess we will see.

[letsquestjess]

Hello it's me again! I have another request for Tech if it's not a bother.

Ok, so it's based on my habit of reaching out to my best friends hand for like comfort or just because I feel calm with them. So WHAT HAPPENS WHEN (in some senerio you can pick) WE REACH OUT FOR TECH'S HAND. Just imagine we're out here holding his hand, not even realizing it, and Tech is just confused or a bit panicked/flustered because it was out of nowhere.

Just a little idea I've come up with, so no pressure to actually write it.

I hope you have a good day see you later!

Hello again!!! This idea is so sweet. Thank you for sending it in! 😊💜

Your Hand in Mine (Tech x GN!Reader)

Summary: Tech misses Echo, and all you want to do is offer him some support.

Word count: 1.2K

Warnings: None.

-- -- -- -- --

With a grunt and sweat dappling your brow, you exerted all your strength to turn the wrench one last time until the final bolt resisted beyond your might. “That should do it,” you said, your grip tightening on the rails as you descended the wobbly steps braced against the side of The Marauder. “Try it again.” 

A few rhythmic taps on the datapad set the capacitor unit into motion. The inner workings clattered, and a momentary panic washed over you. After a minute, the mechanism settled, the pipes trilling to mock your initial worry. 

“How are the readings looking?” you asked, stepping back a pace to admire your handiwork. It wasn’t too shabby, if you said so yourself. 

On your homeworld, you had only been able to work on practice builds, never experiencing the thrill of fixing up an actual ship until your swift escape with the Batch. Eager to repay the clones who had saved your life, you insisted on helping them maintain their craft. Tech had welcomed the assistance and wasted no time in creating detailed lists and charts, keen to pass on his expertise to a willing listener.

“Everything works as expected,” Tech reported. “You are a quick learner.” 

“It was my second try,” you said with a disappointed shrug. 

“Echo used to say that a second attempt meant a lesson truly learned.” 

At the mention of your missing team member, you spotted the involuntary twitch by Tech’s right eye and the shadow over his expression. You may not have noticed the subtle changes if you hadn’t been by his side almost every waking hour for the past few months. Echo had only ever been mentioned in practical terms, if a communication had come through or if providing vital intel. This time, however, you could tell it was different. Tech missed him. Not as an asset to the squad or for his contributions, but as a brother. As a treasured part of their family. 

He cleared his throat with a short cough and worked his fingers on the screen. “While I cannot vouch for the sentiment’s accuracy, I will include your second attempt in the records.” 

When he lifted his gaze, a reticent look pinched at your features as though something unspoken idled on your lips. Assuming you were still downplaying your work, he stood up from the makeshift table. “Please do not think poorly of your efforts. You are progressing well and your assistance is appreciated. I am confident that you will be capable of making repairs on your own soon.”

You went to assure him you would always welcome his presence, but the comment snagged in your throat. Despite your reluctance to admit it outright, you couldn’t deny that you secretly enjoyed his company. His calm demeanour and sincere words of encouragement helped ease the anxiety of your escape, and you itched to reach out to him. There were moments when you had got close to sweeping your hand over his, when that saddened look burrowed so far into his usually softened expression that you were forced to make the conscious effort not to soothe his apprehension with a supportive touch. You had no way of telling if that was what Tech wanted, and the last thing you wished was to make him uncomfortable and risk damaging the bond you had built. 

“Thanks,” you said, collecting the tools scattered on the lowered steps. “I can put the panel back myself. I know you have other tasks to get done.” Without waiting for a response, you ascended the ladder and secured the metal bulk, the deafening shriek of the drill drowning out all other sounds. 

He blinked up at you and analysed the intense concentration on your face. Not wanting to disrupt your work, he quietly entered the ship to carry on with his daily duties. 

 * * *

Omega’s giggle infused the air in the seconds before she appeared from behind The Marauder, Wrecker in quick pursuit. Just as he reached out to catch her, she evaded his grasp and hoisted herself onto the front turret, perched like a little assassin waiting to strike. 

“You’ll have to be faster than that,” she called down to the brawler. 

“You don’t think I can climb up there?” he challenged. 

“Don’t even think about it,” Hunter yelled from beside the smouldering ashes of the fire. He stacked the cleaned plates and cutlery into the storage boxes and propped them on the steps. “Back inside.” 

“Five more minutes,” Omega pleaded over Wrecker’s huffed groan. 

“No. Come on.”

With a nimble leap from the turret, the girl retrieved the box of dinnerware on her way aboard. Wrecker followed her inside the ship with a whispered promise to continue their game when they next landed. He was, after all, still winning, and he wasn’t about to lose because of his brother’s overprotective nature. 

Hunter swung to you and Tech, one foot on the ramp. “I want you both ready to go in ten. Okay?”

Attention glued to his datapad, Tech responded with a half-mustered salute, and you reciprocated with a nod of your own. 

Once you had finished clearing the rest of your equipment, you wriggled the slim crates into their designated spots in the storage hold underneath the ship and locked the hatch. Dust clung to your jacket, and you wiped off the dry specks as you made your way towards the intelligence clone. 

“Need any help with the receiver?” you asked, gesturing to the small device plugged into his datapad. The disc hummed as the blue light traced its perimeter, scanning and collecting data. 

“That will not be necessary,” he assured you. “I have a strong enough signal for incoming transmissions.”

You positioned yourself next to him, your hands resting in your lap as you took in the view of the tundra and plateaus. The setting suns painted the horizon with fire and from the growing shadows, nighttime animals stirred. With sunlight fading fast, you wouldn’t be able to remain outside for much longer, but Tech persisted with his personal mission, resolved to make the most of the remaining light. 

“Still waiting to hear from Echo?” you questioned. As he lowered his head, your eyes followed the motion, drifting along the peeling bark of the log where his hand rested. Guided by instinct, you gravitated towards him and brushed against his knuckles. 

Tech stared transfixed at your connected hands, lips parting and a verbal response dithering on his tongue. Before you could retreat, the fluster within him relaxed into an appreciative peace, and he entwined your fingers. 

A warmth flooded your cheeks as you met his eyes. Sincerity swelled in the amber and erased the furrow between his brow. 

He held onto you like a lifeline, like an anchor keeping him grounded when worry clouded his thoughts and the fear that he may have to face a tomorrow with one less brother haunted him. “Thank you,” he said, barely a whisper amongst the rising coos and whistles of the wildlife. 

“What for?” you asked.

He cradled your palm to his chest, and a reverence came over him, a surety that wrapped him up safe, and warm, and secure. “Everything,” he whispered, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. “Thank you for everything.” 

[miradelletarot]

Writing prompt - it’s been six months since Gale and Tav’s wedding. He surprises her with a super romantic vacation for their honeymoon.

I hope this is to your liking, dearest Anon. I...may or may not have spent the last couple days researching different places (and asking my DM friends for suggestions for a romantic getaway lol). Notes: SFW, GN (I went with a gn, reader-insert to try and challenge my writing a bit. I hope that's ok!) Anything is possible when your husband is a wizard who can teleport you anywhere, and please don't be angy if I messed up any tenses, grammar or anything else. No beta.

I wanted to focus on the actual "surprise" aspect of the prompt where Gale presents his gift to Tav. I had originally started writing out an idea for him to be like "hey, let's go out babe i wanna show you something cool!" and then teleports them to the dream destination, but my brain went way too far in the weeds with lore and accuracy that the story was getting lost. So, hopefully, this little nugget is satisfactory. Thank you so much for the ask! This was a fun one for my D&D loving brain ^^ (drabble below the cut! all sfw) <3

Gale was always one to shower you with affection. It didn’t matter if it was in the form of kisses, hugs, a home cooked meal, or something more. The more he could do for you, the more he could worship you, the better. There was never a time when he didn't want to give you more.

“My love,” he purrs warmly as he greets you on the terrace, “I have something exciting to share with you, and I think you’re going to love it.” The way his face beams brighter than the evening sun fills you with intense adoration. You wouldn’t want to go a single day without seeing that gorgeous smile of his.

You set your book down on the small side table next to your coffee, and take his hand in yours. “Well now, my darling husband, what tales will you regale me with today?” You smile, assuming he has yet another piece of history or magic to share with you that he’s discovered in his vast collection of books. “No tales, dearest. I have requested some time away from Blackstaff.” Your eyes widen, and concern fills your gaze.

“Darling, I’m confused. I thought you loved teaching? Is something wrong?” “No, no. Nothing’s wrong.” He flashed a rueful smile realizing that in trying to build up your anticipation, he only made you worry. “I have noticed that between my teaching, and seemingly endless research, I haven’t made as much time for you as I should.” His face fell as he lowered his gaze to your intertwined hands, and gave your hands a gentle squeeze. “I promised you I would balance my time with you, and…well…needless to say I have done an abysmal job at giving you the attention you deserve.” Gale cupped your cheek in his hand. “Will you let me make it up to you, dearest?” You smile, shaking your head slightly at how absurd he was. “Love, you don’t owe me anything. I know how important your research is…and you have never left me wanting. I promise." You lean in and give him a small kiss on his forehead, and he melts into your delicate touch. “Now…what’s this about taking time away from Blackstaff?” “Ah! Of course!” He straightens up, his gaze bright once again. “You. Me. Three tendays of blissful relaxation in a most beautiful, and mysterious locale.” With your curiosity piqued, you can hardly contain the excitement in your eyes. “Really?? Where?” “Myth Drannor. A picturesque, elven city with a rich history and a mild climate, nestled within the forest of Cormanthyr. There’s plenty to do if you wish to explore, but if not, then the serenity in which we will find ourselves surrounded by will no doubt allow us the relaxation you deserve. Regardless, I want to share it all with you. It’s the honeymoon you deserve after our harrowing adventure.” “Oh, Gale!” You throw your arms around him and squeeze him tight, showering him with kisses all over his face…when you dared to release your hold on him at least. “But, darling…that’s so much time away. Are you sure? You wanted nothing more than to be back home.”

His gaze softened as he pulled you close, nuzzling your cheek. “Home,” he whispered, “is wherever you are, my love.” Your eyes sparkled, and your heart felt like it could burst. The lengths this man would go to for you were immeasurable, and you wondered how in Toril you got so lucky. "Now," he roused you from your wayward thoughts of adoration, "the sooner we pack for our little getaway, the sooner we can leave." He gave you that lazy smirk and smoldering gaze that makes you swoon. "I don't want to waste a single moment, my love." "Well...perhaps you'll join me for one last Waterdhavian sunset before we go?" "Whatever you desire, dearest." He smiles as he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

"My time is yours."

[aroaceleovaldez]

Hi, I recently read your post about the Tri/Nero kids and it was very interesting and I was wondering if it would be okay if I asked you about you headcanons/aus/lore about the Tri/Nero: Poseidon kid, Hephaestus kid and Cassius?? If that's not too much to ask about, no problem if it is.

[Post being referenced]

Of course! I'm hoping to eventually feature all these guys on @deadangelos, but it'd definitely be a ways away (cause there's gonna be like, at least 4 more major arcs before we get to Tower of Nero stuff there) and I don't know how much detail I'll be able to get into with these guys when I do get to start featuring them.

Anyways, just going in order:

The one labeled Poseidon I imagine is a particularly powerful son of Thetis, cause Nero probably wouldn't be able to get his hands on an actual Poseidon kid. He's probably like 10 or 11 or something - one of the younger Nero kids. As a Thetis kid he as mild hydrokinesis powers - probably not nearly as much as someone like Percy, but definitely enough to be impressive. He also might have the Curse of Achilles, just cause I think it's fun if that's a super common thing for Thetis kids. It's just Thetis' default - dunk your newborns in the Styx for extra security. Out of the Nero kids, he's probably closest to the one labeled Artemis (cause moon & tides) and is like, one of two of the Nero kids who is able to calm her down at all or that she's willing to hang out with much (the other being the Apollo kid). That's his big sis and she would probably kill and maim for him lots and lots.

Hephaestus kid is probably an actual Hephaestus kid, and one of the oldest Nero kids. He's definitely bffs with the Aphrodite kid and Nero just goes "Thematically appropriate! Continue as you were." I imagine Nero mostly leaves him alone/very intentionally pays him little mind and just kind of holes him up in his own little section of the building and the Heph kid is A-Okay With That. The less attention from Nero, the better. He probably narrowly avoided Nero considering throwing him off a building for mythological accuracy. Because he has a bit more freedom than some of the other Nero kids he definitely uses that to prepare machinations and is only like, one or two steps away from staging a coup at any moment (which is also definitely at least a little mythologically inspired - he dreams of getting Nero ensnared in his own throne and convincing all the kids to beat him up). He cares a lot about the other Nero kids and wants to help keep them safe.

Cassius i find very interesting cause I have two different directions I'll go with him - the first is that he's an actual son of Zeus and kind of marks the beginning of Big 3 kids being a semi-regular occurrence again, and no one knows who is mortal parent was. The second concept is that he's not only an actual son of Zeus, but also actually a third Grace sibling, because the entire thing with the Nero kids is that Nero stages their mortal parent(s)' deaths as accidents, which is perfectly in line with how we know Beryl Grace died (and it chronologically works with when we know Beryl Grace died). Plus, Apollo very consistently compares Cassius visually to Jason. Thalia and the quest of "wait how many long lost brothers do I actually have?" Anyways Cassius is just a little guy. Babey. I like to base him thematically around myths of infant/adolescent Zeus, cause that's severely underutilized territory. He's close to Meg and I think he also wants to be friends with the kid labeled Hera but she hates his guts cause Nero keeps trying to encourage them to be a duo but she just wants to do her own thing. He's probably also just generally on good terms with most of the Nero kids (he is babey how can you hate babey. Hera kid only hates babey because she is equally babey), particularly the other "Kronos kids" (besides Hera kid) (Hestia kid, Meg, Poseidon kid).