#trying a new coil method for ARMS

[spr1ng-b0y]

I don't often post wips, but I'm liking the way this one looks and thought I'd share :]

All the same canvas, just different snippets

#nintendo arms #arms game #wip #sketch #spring man #ARMS #trying a new coil method for ARMS #liking it so far

[drurrito]

Night Drive (18+)

Summary: You get a new car

AN: 18+ only y'all--we're gonna pretend that there are plenty of other self-driving cars that aren't t*sla...I hope this makes up for me not putting out another part of AYTO yet! All mistakes are mine.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Warnings: cursing; reader has a dick; dom//powerbottom!Natasha; sub//top!reader

----------------

You sink lower into your seat as you rev the engine of your new car with the widest grin Natasha can't see. Natasha looks hardly impressed from your view beyond the barely-legal tint of the windows.

You decide to roll down your window and plead your case.

"Hey baby."

Natasha rolls her eyes. You already screw yourself coming right out the gate with pleasantries, Natasha knows you're desperate to get on her good side when you do that.

"So...what do you think?" You vaguely gesture to the rest of the car and Natasha scoffs.

"I think you were a finance bro in your past life," she crosses her arms, and you relent, "probably," you sing as you round the car to lean against the hood. The gun metal gray still holds a shine in the moonlight. This wasn't an impulse purchase, you had been talking about buying a new car for a while now. You would go on little rants about the specs of certain cars whenever you saw them on the road or on TV. It's not like you were waiting when you had the money, being an avenger was a pretty-paying gig. You were just waiting for the right one, at the right time--a method you mastered by the time Natasha came around.

"Wanna go for a joyride?" You offer, already leaning off the hood and spinning the key in your hand.

Natasha wants to keep giving you a hard time, but you look so damn good in front of your sleek, expensive, new backdrop. Your muscles bulge under your fitted black shirt, and you have the cockiest smile on your face, like you knew you were winning this race.

"And if we get pulled over?"

"With SHIELD plates? I'm not worried about it," it almost comes out like it's scripted. You're not above rehearsing a speech for Natasha if it means getting your way. You're pulling out all the stops, but Natasha wants to remind you who's really behind the wheel. Her eyes rake over you slowly, intensely--the same way fresh lava travels over earth. You're standing at attention and you don't even know it.

"You gonna open the door for me or just stand there like you forgot your manners?" Natasha watches in amusement as you fumble for the door handle. She slides onto the cool leather while you make your way into the driver's seat yet again. You wait patiently for her to get comfortable and buckle in.

It's only when you rev the engine with a wink that Natasha muses this might have been a bad idea on her part. You punch the gas pedal and she's quickly acquainted with the back of the cherry red bucket seat.

----------------

Natasha decides that she doesn't like going fast unless the fate of the world depends on it. She also decides this is the one exception when she sees the freeway system of veins in your forearms as you grip the steering wheel. Natasha feels like she's flying when she watches your triceps flex while you turn the wheel or do something as mundane as turning on her seat heater.

Natasha slides her seatbelt off in a way that doesn't set off the sensor--she didn't want this moment to be ruined by a lecture on why it's important to buckle-up. You're too distracted by the beat of your night drive playlist to notice her crawling closer to you.

You feel her lips on the shell of your ear, "eyes on the road, got it?"

"Yes ma'am," you try to say cooly, you don't dare chance a look over at her. She hums with satisfaction and rewards you with a kiss on the skin behind your ear and a nibble on your lobe that tightens the coil in your belly.

Natasha sucks and licks at your neck while her deft fingers work to undo your belt and zipper. Her hand explores the border of your waistband before dipping under and finding what it was looking for. You let out a whisper of a gasp when Natasha admires your full length and girth. Your grip on the wheel tightens, Natasha chuckles when she hears the leather under your fingers groan.

Natasha begins to stroke you slowly, agonizingly so, but that doesn't keep your hips from bucking up into her hand.

"Tash," that only elicits a rumble against your neck. Natasha's other hand curls around your neck and gives a light squeeze that makes your vision blur for a second. Her stroking picks up speed, you have to work impossibly hard to keep your foot off the brakes.

"Natasha, please."

"I like the way you say please, baby," she mumbles with your skin between her teeth.

"What did I tell you?"

"Eyes on the road, ma'am," you say with a quickness that makes the corner of her lips curl up in satisfaction.

"So smart," she praises before you helplessly watch her head lower until you feel her lips greet your cock with a sloppy kiss. You throw your head back against your seat with a pathetic moan.

"So desperate," Natasha teases, and your mind feels like it's going a million miles an hour--multitasking is usually your strong suit, but it seems damn near impossible now.

Natasha's tongue travels the length of you, your hips feebly buck into her mouth when she finally grants you entrance. You slow your speed to safely take a hand off the wheel and hold her hair back. She thanks you with a gentle squeeze on your thigh and the prettiest sounds you could have only ever imagined.

Your playlist is already repeating itself by the time Natasha comes up for air. She can barely hear it over your panting anyway. You're rock hard and right where she wants you.

"The car can drive itself, you know," you breathe out. Natasha's brow quirks with curiosity.

"Show me," it's a gentle command, but your fingers rush to press the right sequence of buttons. You ease the seat back with haste, and Natasha just lets you sit there for a few beats to take you in and also leave you in suspense.

Your fingers dumbly flex against your legs while you wait for further instruction from Natasha. She doesn't even try to hide her smirk when your eyes begin to dart between the road and her.

"You're not gonna let us crash right, dove?" Natasha's finger traces a feather-light trail down your arm. It's a genuine question, even though she knows you probably did some sizable research on the safety features of the car before you even entertained buying it.

"No ma'am, you're precious cargo," you give an easy smile and that's Natasha's cue to move and straddle your lap. You help her with your hands on her hips, your hands quickly retreating to your sides when she's situated over you.

Natasha swears your eyes are sparkling as you watch her slide her panties to the side with one hand and take your length in the other.

"Eyes on me, baby, just for a second," she coos and you obey. Natasha can't help but admire the striations of your muscles working overtime to restrain yourself. You've always been intoxicatingly obedient, even when it's downright painful. Your eyes are locked on Natasha's, you have to bite your lip to stifle a moan when she finally eases down onto your cock. She's already working her hips in a way that has your entire body buzzing. You can count on one hand how many cars have passed you by this whole time, just like you expected.

Your fingers dig into the leather of your seat, your eyes periodically glancing at the road to make sure it hasn't veered off course for whatever reason. Natasha steals a few sloppy kisses when she leans into you to get a better angle and bounce on your cock at a speed that should be illegal.

"Tash, I'm gonna-," you choke out between labored breaths.

"What was that baby?" she leans back and oh god, you wish you had the kind of self-control your car has right now. You feel like you're going to pass out watching Natasha ride your cock, you're too blissed out to realize that she's spelling out 'm-i-n-e-' with her hips.

"I'm gonna come so fast."

"I know baby."

That seals your fate. Your arm reaches back to brace yourself against the seat. With a long and drawn-out "fuck," Natasha feels you push deeper into her, filling her up with every last drop of you. You both fall into a sweaty, moaning heap against the seat. Your body trembling with aftershocks as Natasha scratches at the skin on the back of your neck. You only get to drink this feeling in for a few seconds until you see red and blue flashing lights in your rearview mirror.

"Shit," you sit up and Natasha freezes when she sees what you see. You feverishly check your speedometer, you're not speeding. You start rifling through your brain to see if you forgot to do something, insurance? Plates? Registration?

Your questions are answered when you watch the cop car speed off into the night. Natasha lets out a heavy sigh of relief that makes your dick twitch, reminding you both that you're still inside of her.

"Told you," you try not to sound so exasperated. Natasha just rolls her eyes before kissing your temple. Night drives might just become a regular thing now.

#not a word #not one peep #works #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff smut #what do i say? #use protection #dont actually have sex while operating a moving vehicle? #if you know what this is inspired by no u don't

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Types of People in a JW Congregation

The professionally-trained(?) opera singer; always extroverted, with a booming laugh, and is either a super nice person, or the most passive-aggressively hateful son of a bitch you’ve met in your life. If they’re a guy, he’s an elder; if they’re a lady, she’s an elder’s wife

”Promising” young brother (fourteen-year-old mic handler) who has such a suave voice, it sounds like he’s recording an audiobook any time he opens his mouth; probably can’t carry a conversation to save his life

Group of plump old ladies who always sit in the back and wear fancy suits with matching hats; they have arms like a hydraulic press and will crush you when they hug you

That one brother you swear is a closeted gay man because he wears loud suits, bow ties, and has all the stereotypical mannerisms; but then he gets up on the platform and says the most homophobic shit ever; usually really nice, not necessarily because he actually is, but you feel that way because you feel sorry for him

Five-year-old who gives disturbingly articulate comments and is probably hyperlexic (reads their parents’ words off a card and gets all the credit for it); householders think she’s adorable and she places literature without trying it it’s a me

Old crotchety elder (or group thereof) who likes to fuck with the mind of one specific guy for a prolonged period of time, to the point of giving said guy severe health problems; has driven at least five people out of the congregation and/or out of this mortal coil

Young People who present “The Truth” in such a new, hip, and cool way, it’s physically painful to listen to

Mother who nudges their kid to answer and whispers what she wants them to say in his ear, word-by-word; said kid always sounds like he was just awoken out of a dead sleep

The elder’s wife who smiles too much; probably bursting at the seams to gossip about you

Super Witness Wife and her unbaptized mate who you could have sworn was already a ministerial servant; they’re both really fun, actually

Middle-aged pioneer with seventeen studies who’s dying from stress; usually ends up having some kind of mental breakdown or health concern

The POMI who shows up once in a blue moon; visibly dissociated from reality

Keepers of the Bonfire Party (probably old and/or wealthy, with a forest for a backyard)

That One Sister with a questionable hairstyle who everyone lets slide because she’s a pioneer; has dyke energy

Quiet single person who never comments and always leaves immediately following the prayer; either everyone wants to talk to them, or no one seems to like them and ignores them, depending on how old, attractive, and visibly neurodivergent they are

Person who will talk both your ears clean OFF about Jehovah and how he “helped” them; seems happy but is severely depressed and you‘re very concerned about them

Group of kids who all talk about watching Naruto and Marvel movies in the company of each other; they seem PIMO, but they’re so unafraid about their spiritistic tastes that you can’t tell

Witness family who thinks all modern-day media is demonic, and only watches, reads, and listens to old stuff; the whole family seems like they’re suicidal; there’s definitely more abuse going on than meets the eye

The ten-year-old unbaptized publisher who admits to staying up all night on their tablet because they can never get to sleep before 1:00 AM, but gets nervous when you ask what they were doing on said tablet; probably browses gore websites and reads about methods of torture to feel something and/or reading My Book of Bible Stories got them into it

#exjw #ex cult #ex jehovah's witness #add to the list if you feel inclined #religious trauma

[bawdy-booster]

Crowded Touch

You covered your face with your shawl as a thick mist poured out from the lamp, hazy and smoky with such an intoxicating presence that it felt like even a whiff of the fumes would leave your mind spinning.  You tightened the shawl as the mist gathered in front of you, coiling itself to form as that awful djinn appeared once more before your very eyes, their toned figure billowing out into a smoky tail that wafted throughout the room.

“Come now, master~”  They beckoned once again to you, “This is all about give and take.  You give me three wishes you want me to grant, and I, the Great Djinn Nihar, shall take you on a trip of your wildest desires.  That doesn’t sound so bad, does it?”

You shook your head in disbelief.  This djinn had gotten you close to giving yourself away to their wanton desires, and you were determined to make sure they wouldn’t get a second chance at it.  You would resist whatever attempt they’d make to turn you into their pet pleasure-toy or go mad trying.

You squirmed as their smoky form crowded in close to you, dousing you in their beautiful smell that made it oh-so-tempting to tear that shawl keeping such magical pleasures at bay.  The Great Djinn sized you up, looking over your tensed body amidst their expansive form.  “Alright then, Master,” they tutted, “How about this?  I shall count to three, and if I haven’t gotten you to Relax yet, I shall leave you be.  But if I have…”  The Djinn flashed a coy, predatory grin at the thought, “I shall grant your wishes.”

Every thought in your mind told you there was some trick up their nonexistent sleeve, some ploy to get you under their spell and enthralled as their little puppet.  You knew they would do everything in their phenomenal cosmic power to make you theirs, and yet…

There was always the chance they failed, right?

“One…”

You jumped as a pair of misty hands clasped onto your shoulders, kneading deep, spiraling rubs into your weary body.  They touched their way over your shoulders and up your neck with a gentle caress, numbing your senses until they melted like putty under their agile spell.

It felt so wonderful… but you had to remain vigilant!  This was obviously part of her plan to coax you into letting your guard down and submitting yourself to their desires!  Even if it did feel nice for your touch-starved body to be held in their embrace, there was nothing this djinn could do to sway you from your resistance.

“Two…”

Two more pairs took to your form, tenderly feeling over your weary arms.  They danced dexterously up and down your arms, tracing delightfully dizzying patterns over your body.  They worked synchronously with one another, starting at your hands, then working slowly, methodically up to your shoulders, where they’d meet with the singular pair caressing your head and shoulders.

Your hands squirmed for something to grab onto, only to lock fingers with a hand from each pair on your arms as they rubbed themselves over you, blocking out all sense of touch bar their hypnotic manipulation of your limbs.

It felt so blissful, so tempting to surrender to Nihar’s invitation to surrender.  But still, you resisted, your mind racing against that soothing feeling that ensnared your senses in their touch.  Even if you did… feel… so good…

“Three…”

Three more pairs of hands descended upon you, taking eagerly to knead your writhing legs.  A pair each ensnared a leg beneath their fingers, feeling over your calves up to your thighs.  It felt so good to be felt up and worked over, your mind paid no thought to where the third of these new pairs had gone… until you felt them clasp firmly at your chest.  

Beneath your shawl, your gasp turned into a wondrous moan as the hands on your chest quickly put themselves to work, feeling all over your core body.  They cupped at your chest, dancing over your nipples.  They traced down your sides, groping at your hips.  They teased and tortured your navel, their light touch unraveling you in their expert grip.

It felt so… It felt so…

SNAP!

All the hands massaging you tore away from your body in a single instant, before snapping in synchronized unison.  Hypnotic Bliss poured into you from all sides, drowning all sense of resistance before their many hands descended upon you once more, crowding over every thought in your mind that wasn’t about the Great Djinn Nihar and how much they cared about you.

“See, Master?” Nihar soothed, “That wasn’t so bad.”

As their hands descended upon your shawl, crowding around to pull away the cloth covering your face, the last thoughts of your resistance cried out for you to tear yourself away from their touch, to avoid their blissful coaxing and teasing of your senses.  But as the shawl left your face, every sense of resistance was smothered under the blissful fog that crowded over your mind.  An empty grin curled up your lips as you basked in the presence of the Great Djinn Nihar.

You wished for nothing more than to be breathing in their fragrant mist…

You wished for nothing more than to be massaged by their many hands…

You wished for nothing more than to be their pampered plaything for the rest of your life…

And they were happy to grant all of your wishes for you~

#bawdy posts #my writing #reader insert #hypnosis #hypnokink #mind control #djinn #genie #massage #magic #smoke

[soliloquy-dawn]

sweet

Jegulus microfic - prompt: sweet (august 4th), 1049 words, @jegulus-microfic

CW: explicit, cheating, dubious morality (Reg's a little shit)

Part 4 of soul: 1, 2, 3, 5

Regulus lives for the thrill of it - the sneaking around, the blatant lies, the half truths. Or that’s what Barty’s trying to convince him of. You’re loving it, he would say, while slamming his hips down, pinning him to the bed, or any random flat surface they found themselves in the vicinity of. 

“You fucking enjoy it, don’t you? God, I love that about you.”  

Regulus thrashes under him, begging for mercy, acting out the part, screaming bloody murder, and Barty assails him with rippling pleasure, crude words and rough hands that methodically pull him apart.  

It’s not really about Barty, Regulus knows deep down. Barty’s the catalyst that brings the worst out in him, always, without fail. Barty knows him, intimately and disturbingly, sees through his ploys and games and his superficial guise of sweetness. 

James fell hopelessly in love with that sweetness. He laps it up, sucks it out of his bones like marrow. And while James gets to lick off his sugary coating, Barty gets all the ugliness, the rough, jagged edges, and the raw, brutish want. He gets to taste the bitterness and ferocity of Regulus’ twisted mind. 

Barty doesn’t mind; he’s not a sweet tooth kind of guy, by his own admission. “I get the real you, you know? It’s so scrumptious, much more flavoursome,” he’d say to Regulus while still inside of him, licking sweat off his upper lip.

Regulus wonders if his sweat and come taste different, depending on whose tongue it lands on.

He loves James, he truly does. In his own peculiar way. Barty says Regulus loves being loved and that doesn’t amount to the same thing, but Barty’s a sadistic fuck who’s probably never loved anyone but his mother.

It’s pitch black outside when he gets back to the flat that night. He slips under the covers and coils his arms around James’ waist.

“Hello,” Regulus whispers into his ear, breathing in the lulling smell of home. James radiates such warmth Regulus has to fight tooth and nail to prevent his sweet duplicity from melting in its blaze. He can feel his heartbeat reverberating in his own chest, strong and unremitting, like a ringing of tower bells, always consistent and reliable, beating out a rhythm that Regulus got so accustomed to. 

Regulus doesn’t know it yet, but tomorrow morning James will find out. This transient moment is the calm before the storm, before James’ world shatters to pieces, the poorly concocted illusion dissipating when he finds out that Regulus is in fact, a lying, cheating, soulless monster and not the sweet boy James so desperately wished to be in love with. 

There’s still time left on the clock. Tomorrow might be the day of reckoning, but for now, Regulus jumps at the chance to ply James with sweetness one last time.  

“Hi,” James stirs, twisting in his arms to look over his shoulder. He smiles, eyes still glued together with remnants of sleep. It’s late. Regulus taught James, like a dog that loves to be shown new tricks, that his nighttime trips to the gym are nothing to be concerned about. 

It’s too easy. James trusts him, blindly. He'd give him the world if Regulus asked for it to be laid out at his feet. Maybe that’s what triggered his most sadistic appetites; there’s nothing sweeter than annihilating love that’s so freely given, turning your nose at it and watching it crumble into dust and ruin. There’s something delectably tragic about it. 

“How was the gym?” James asks, and Regulus hums quietly, pressing his lips into the back of his neck.

“Sweaty,” he says with a smirk that James cannot see but must feel mirrored on his skin. 

“You smell so good.” His voice is thick and drowsy. “Soapy.” 

“I showered, used your shampoo.” 

“I love when you smell like me,” James murmurs.  

They remain silent after that, their breaths in sync, skin brushing on skin with every minute movement. Regulus rubs his shoulders, massages his stiff back, raking his nails over his scalp. 

He smells sweet, Regulus thinks; like honey, or a buttery cake, or melted chocolate. The taste of him sits on Regulus’ tongue, taunting him to do more, to take the first bite. 

He slides his thigh between James’ legs and smiles smugly when he parts them instantly, grinding back with a pleading whine.  

“Are you tired?” Regulus whispers, teeth grazing the hard, protruding bone at the top of his spine. He wants to sink his teeth into it, and he has a tendency to do as he pleases, so he bites down. James yelps and goes rigid in his embrace, his thighs squeezing relentlessly, a hardness growing between them. Regulus cants his hips, pressing his hardening cock against his ass and back. It’s a preamble, a soundless request. 

“I’m fine, I’m awake now,” James gasps, rocking against him. “Fuck me, please.” 

“Is that what you want?” Regulus says, kissing the line of his shoulder. He knows what the answer will be. James could be swaying on his feet, on the verge of passing out, and he’d still fall on his knees and beg to be fucked if Regulus asked nicely.  

“Yeah, please. I want it.” 

Regulus makes quick work of stripping them bare. He opens James up, only spit coating his fingers when he buries them deep inside, coaxing broken moans from his parted lips. It’s rushed and so keen and earnest, each move punctuated with honeyed words that wring more sweetness out of James. 

He comes faster than he wishes to, buried deep inside him. James writhes in his arms, his back arched and nails biting into the pillow. Regulus leaves streaks of saliva and vicious scratches across his broad back. So much to explore, swathes of skin still left unmarred, so he licks and sucks bruises into it, rubbing his lips raw. He bites into him ravenously and his mouth is full of James; he tastes so sweet, melting on his tongue like sugar. 

All that sweetness turns to ash the next morning. 

When James lets him back into his bed and Regulus gets an opportunity to taste him again, James’ sweetness has an undertone to it, a rotten aftertaste, which Regulus comes to recognise as a distinct flavour of a broken heart.

#jegulus angst #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus #james potter #regulus black #james potter/regulus black #jegulus microfic #prompt fic #soul by soliloquy_dawn

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Two

On the first freezing day of Autumn, I zip my coat all the way up to the top and shiver as I exit the apartment building, a huge, converted Georgian house that opens onto Fitzwilliam Square. My hands are stiff as I try to wrangle my bicycle loose from the iron railings out front, my condensed breath floating over my face to warm up my nose and cheeks. I swear under my breath as the key gets stuck, again, and then stand there jangling it madly for a minute before it releases and the heavy chain pools onto the concrete at my feet. 

I’ve learned quickly that the trick to owning a bicycle in Dublin city is to get the cheapest bike you can find and then make it look even cheaper. Shane and I spent an evening destroying it in the bin yard a couple of weeks ago, stamping the pedals until pieces broke off, using spray paint in lurid colours to obscure the brand name and shiny red coat on the metal work. We wound duct tape around the saddle and the handlebars, which doubled as an anti-theft method, happily enough. It was a cathartic experience. Claire had come along with a sticker book and helpfully dotted the body with flowers and hearts and rainbows too, insisting that all thieves are men, and none of them will want a girl’s bike. I then went to the nearest bike shop and bought two locks, the most hard wearing and expensive ones they had, because nobody is going to pick two massive locks for the pathetic reward of a dinged up bicycle covered in stickers. 

“It’s a rite of passage to have a bike stolen in the first month.” Shane had said with some sympathy after I cried at the college gates having discovered my brand new bike gone, only an easily sawed through lock pathetically coiled around the stand left as any evidence that it existed. “Sure, bits off my bike get robbed all the time. I had to cycle home from town without a saddle the other week. We’ll get you another one, I know a guy who deals them out of his ma’s garage.”

“Isn’t that kind of like contributing to the negative cycle?” I whimpered. “I bet all those bikes are stolen too.”

“Yeah probably, but, ah, sure. They’re only sixty quid.” 

That’s how I ended up with this ‘new’ bike, and luckily, nobody has stolen its saddle yet. We made sure that it’d be so inconvenient that even the most hard-up, desperate thief wouldn’t come near any part of it, but as a payoff it’s so uncomfortable. It squeaks, the back brake doesn’t work and sometimes when I go too fast I feel as though I’m going to slide off it and bash my most private areas onto the crossbar, but it gets me where I need to go. In the cold, early morning in the mist and smell of turf I throw my leg over it and manoeuvre it out onto the road, my bag and drawing tube strapped across me, and zip up towards Baggot Street, then skirt around Stephen’s Green, the new, cold wind throwing icy daggers at my face as I weave in and out of traffic, eluding busses and taxis and pedestrians who keep crossing the road before it’s their turn. Rust coloured leaves drop onto the pavement before my wheels as I pass the flats along Kevin Street, children in tiny uniforms walking to school hand in hand with their parents. 

“Use your arms!” A taxi driver screams at me as I swerve to the right ahead of him, and I ignore him, already used to men screaming at me on these streets, whether it’s because they think I’m cycling them wrong or because they have an opinion about my body that they’d like to share. 

Dublin isn’t awful, but it’s harsh in ways I’m still unused to. When I visited it I saw it as more beautiful than it really is, but back then I only saw the shops, the parks, the huge Georgian houses, and now I see the back alleys too and the places that don’t feel all that wonderful. I’ve seen the yellow pallor of the people at the back of the bus, the men in alleyways who dare you to look in and see them so they can shout at you for doing it, women climbing into sleeping bags in the sheltered doorways of department stores for the night, battered paper cups set out hopefully in front of them as they curl up to sleep on the cold pavement. 

I get shouted at a lot here too. By bus drivers, for not knowing how to use my Leap card properly, and by the people on said busses for standing or sitting in the wrong places, by taxi men for crossing the road at the wrong time, by screechy women in windows for throwing my chewing gum in the wrong bins. I apologise a lot more than I ever have now, which is really saying something. 

I swerve down a bumpy, cobblestone side street and through the gates of NCAD, taking the time to chain my bike onto the same rack where its predecessor was nicked from, giving the locks a hard, intentional look as if I could intimidate them into staying put. Then I hurry inside and up the stairs, the central heating blasting over me so intensely that by the time I stumble into the studio I feel like a piece of ham wrapped in cling film. I drop my bag and drawing tube onto the floorboards by one of the drawing tables and start ripping my outerwear off in a frenzy. 

Prev // Next

#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims 4 storytelling #sims4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 2

[liminal-storage]

#18: Slip-Up (Fish Out of Water)

Prompt: A Fish Out of Water Characters: Maximilian “Finch” with mentions of "Wolf" (@thedarknesssings) and "Priest" (@zoetic-tome). Notes: This writing is not about ffxiv at all, but rather related to a Blades in the Dark campaign I’ve been playing with some friends. 

—-----------

Maximilian Finch did not walk, but rather, stumbled through life with all the grace of a carnival clown. Or so it seemed, if one were only looking at a snapshot of their life for the past twenty-four hours.

Deals with shady entities, soul collection, haunted knives; usually Finch liked to reserve their involvement with such things for the sake of the Nest and Mother alone. Stepping into a role such as this one, working alongside Priest and Wolf for the sake of something so much greater…it felt strange. And stepping into the shadows of those who had already established themselves, already had a rapport and a routine... Well, Finch supposed they could be forgiven for some stumbling. But not on this level. This particular mishap made them feel like a baby bird fallen from the nest, the very same way they felt back when Mother first found them. How ironic that they, whose role back home was to show newbloods the ropes, felt like it was their very first day on the streets all over again. And again, and again, and again. Every time they stepped outside lately, it felt like a disaster waiting to happen. 

Finch preferred a slow and methodical approach to problems. This new gig didn’t work that way, and where Finch normally slid through shadow with the grace of a black cat, they’d found themselves faltering, stumbling around awkwardly like a newborn foal. Turned out that trying to find your place on someone else's playground was tougher than they thought.

They certainly weren’t making a very good impression for themselves, and this latest incident could only possibly be earning negative points. 

Finch shifted, struggling lightly against the multiple coils of rope wound about their torso and arms. A coil of dark hair hung in their eyes and no amount of furious air puffing could get it out of the way. Their head ached, their mouth tasted like copper, and even the faint flickers of candlelight in the room proved painful to look at. 

The last few hours were blurry in Finch’s mind. All they could really remember were snatches of a brawl, flashes of that accursed knife, and echoes of the blinding, murderous rage that had overtaken them. Really, Maximilian couldn’t blame the proprietors for tossing them into this dusty, dank little room with only an incredibly cranky crab-clawed guard for company. 

Finch wasn’t sure what sort of fate awaited them come morning. Would Priest or Wolf advocate for their release? Would the others from the bar demand coin or blood as recompense? Finch’s allies might be better off leaving them to their fate, honestly. Mother would be so ashamed to hear of this incident. Doubly so if it meant their partnership was to be dissolved. There’d be penance to be paid for such a massive lapse in judgment. 

They’d find out in the morning. For the time being, Finch had plenty of time to ruminate on how badly they’d played the fool. 

#ffxivwrite2023 #ritz writing #Maximilian Finch #mood tanked bigtime so this is shorter than intended #maybe i'll try rewriting at some point

[draconicsparkle]

So I was not sure if CountrygirlJade21 wanted big or small for this prompt. So I just chose one! And I chose smol!

And we get even more clinginess! I think people like it a lot. I do as well!

Not many notes this time cause my brain empty. So have fun!

At this moment in time, Nagito would surmise that he had been living with his human for several months now. And how wonderful those months had been. Every single one was amazing, with new discoveries and fascinating occurrences. All with his beloved Hajime.

He found himself thinking about this as he woke up and stared dreamily up at the large face in front of him. He had snuck over from his terrarium again during the night. And who could blame him for doing so? Hajime was warm and comfortable, not to mention a nice sight. So of course, he did it as often as he could.

But, in truth, that was not the entire reason he had come up this time. Something else had motivated him. Some strange instinct that he had never felt before instructed him to stay as close as possible to his beloved. And he was more than happy to listen to it. Which led to now, as the morning sun woke his human up. “Good morning! How was your sleep?” he cheerfully asked.

Hajime groaned and groggily opened his eyes. “Again? You have your own space, you know.” It was said in a neutral tone, so Nagito knew there was no annoyance.

“I know I do. But you are so much better!” he replied, moving so that he was resting on his crossed arms. He sighed wistfully as he stared, making Hajime roll his eyes with a blush.

“You are such a sap,” the human grumbled, reaching down and pinching the thickest part of the green tail to lift him off. In response, Nagito slithered in between his fingers and forming a complex knot. Now he couldn’t be shaken off. He grinned with his fangs in full view when he heard Hajime sigh. “Fine. You can stay there for a little.”

A little? Nagito wanted to stay the whole day. But he supposed that he could reposition eventually, provided that it didn’t take him far away from his beloved. He planned to not spend even a full minute away, and he was willing to use every method possible to ensure it. His instincts demanded it.

So he tightened his coils when Hajime yawned and sat up, stretching his arms above his head. Nagito felt as though he was on a ride, like the ones at those human amusement parks. Especially when the arms lowered again at a quick speed. The rush of adrenaline was so interesting to feel, and he liked it. Maybe he could ask Hajime to simulate a ride at another point in time. But not now, as the human had to prepare food.

This time, Nagito would partake in food as well. It had been two weeks since he last ate, and he was feeling a little peckish. The naga was very curious as to what would be made today. He very much enjoyed Hajime’s cooking. It was really a shame that he couldn’t enjoy it more. He had learned in the past that trying to eat even a bite everyday led to him feeling sick. So he stuck to his schedule, eating only after two weeks had passed. And today was the day.

What unfortunate timing, it was. But Nagito didn’t let it get him down. He could work around it.

He stayed glued to Hajime throughout the cooking process. He had to relocate to the human’s upper arm, climbing up in a well-practiced manner. Hajime didn’t seem to mind, and Nagito certainly didn’t mind. He could feel the muscles under his tail move with every action preformed, a very enjoyable sensation. It was a shame when he had to again relocate to the neck in order to be stable enough to eat. But at least he could feel the heartbeat.

Nagito knew that humans often found his method of eating off-putting, which is why he did it out of Hajime’s range of vision. Thankfully, today’s breakfast included small sausages, the perfect size for a naga. It was also very tasty, which made swallowing it quite easy. It was gone from sight in practically no time.

Grateful that his mouth was free again, he utilized his regained speech to ask a question. “What are your plans for today?”

Hajime took a second to reply. “I have to go to the library to work on a project. So I’ll need to be there for a few hours. Will you be alright on your own for that long?”

That sent a wave of panic through him, heightened by this strange instinct. “No! No, don’t leave me behind! Take me with you! Please!” he cried, hugging the human as best he could with his small arms.

His begging clearly shocked Hajime, who stiffened slightly. “Huh? What’s going on? You sound like your life is on the line.”

Nagito squeezed his arms and tail tighter. “It is! I must stay with you today!” he pleaded with desperation. “I’ll be quiet! I’ll be still! Just don’t go without me!”

“Okay! Okay! Calm down! You can come with me,” Hajime said in a voice laced with confusion.

Nagito instantly relaxed, rubbing his cheek against the brunette’s neck. “Thank you. Thank you. I am eternally grateful. This shall go into the book of greatest deeds ever performed. May countless blessings rain down upon you for-”

His speech was interrupted by a finger ruffling his hair. “I already told you to calm down. Don’t praise me that highly for a simple task. I don’t know what’s gotten into you all of a sudden, but I’ll let you work through it with assistance if you need me to.”

Feeling his cheeks redden a hint from embarrassment, the naga did rein in the heaps of praise threatening to spill forth more than it already had. So he settled for a more condensed response. “Thank you,” he repeated before drooping on the huge shoulders and closing his eyes. He had a full stomach and was with his beloved. He couldn’t ask for a more perfect scenario.

Hajime, ever so considerate, seemed to realize he was dozing. As such, he did his best to be silent in his movements. From getting dressed, gathering his required materials, and stepping outside to go to his destination. All was quiet. Especially when they entered the library.

It was as if they had entered a whole new world. Only the sound of rustling pages was audible. No voices, no music, no footsteps. It was so peaceful.

The naga was sure he would have loved to investigate and observe more. However, his meal and the satisfied instinct made it very hard to stay awake. So he ended up passing out for a few hours while Hajime worked on his project. It was a very restful nap and nothing disturbed him. Not until he felt something begin petting his hair and tail gently.

“Nagito? You’ve been asleep for a while. Time to wake back up.”

That was Hajime’s voice. The most wondrous of sounds. It coaxed the naga back into consciousness, flexing and stretching as he blinked his eyes open. They were back in the apartment.

“Oh… I didn’t see anything outside today. How… strange…” he noted as he yawned wide, his mouth seam splitting a bit. It settled back into place momentarily, fangs folding back up onto the roof of his mouth comfortably.

“Yeah, you were totally zonked out. Feeling better now? Clinginess subsided?” the brunette asked as he lowered one of the hands to set his bag back down.

Nagito reached over and grabbed ahold of the digit on his hair, hugging it tight. “Well, if I say yes to that question, then it would be a lie! I’ll always be clingy for you!” He did take a moment to evaluate his instincts. It was there, but far more muted. He thought it was slowly disappearing as the day went on. “But as for what I know you are referring to, I think it’s almost over. Just a little more and it should be gone.”

Hajime hummed as he returned to the kitchen to make a snack. “Have you gone through this before? Some strange naga thing?”

Nagito shook his head. “I must admit that I am not quite sure what it is. I’ve never had this happen before. Though, I do recall having a day of extreme loneliness around this time in years past. Perhaps it has changed now that I have someone precious to me.”

He felt the skin heat up under him, informing him of the human’s blushing. “O-oh. I… I see. Well, I’m glad you are doing better now.”

Nagito again hugged the human as best he could, smiling wide. “Oh, yes. I am doing just fine. More than fine.”

Masterpost

#danganronpa #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #komahina #fanfic #au #drabble #g/t #gtronpa #naga

[fictomorph]

Soot Tags (Roy Mustang TF/TG/MC)

WARNING: This story contains transformation, female to male TG, slime as a TF method, mental change, and reality change

“Ugh. This place looks horrible.”

That was all Ember had to say. The young girl ran her own business as a freelance cleaner, doing any job that paid well enough. So when an offer came to her from a couple of realtors for $3000 to clean a two story house, of course she accepted. Those usually took two to three hours, and would be well worth it. However, she should’ve remembered there’s always a catch for these kinds of jobs. As it turned out, the house had recently been in a fire, and the inside was seared to a crisp. It seemed structurally sound, she checked with a testing whack of the door frame. No debris, but a bit of dust and soot fell. More of a mess for her, but she wasn’t about to die, so...if she was lucky she could get it done by 6.

The hours of tedium passed as they always did, and at 3, Ember had almost finished the first floor. She decided to take a quick break, sitting at the heavily-scrubbed kitchen table. She’d catch her breath, move onto the first floor, and be done with it, she thought as she wiped sweat from her ginger brow. She was about to give herself a good 20 minutes of YouTube before her eyes caught something in the corner. Getting up, she carefully approached it, scared it might be some form of animal. Gripping the handle of her broom tight, she batted at it, only to sigh.

It wasn’t anything alive, but it was still rather odd. It looked like some kind of thick black spiderweb. She paused, looking over it. She had seen these before...what were they? Oh yea! Soot tags! They showed up after fires, something to do with soot particles and low circulation. She reached up to bat them away, only to pause. She’d never actually ran into these before...was she supposed to grab them? She remembered you weren’t supposed to wet soot because that would just make it smear more….if she grabbed them dry, it'd probably be fine.

Tugging on a pair of thick rubber gloves, she reached up to the corner and spooled the soot around her hands, like some kind of goth cotton candy. Pulling her hand back down, she noted a few strands were still there, but it looked like she got most of them. She went to pull her glove off, only to hesitate. Yeesh. The thing had almost completely coated her hand, staining it with its almost ink-like form. At least she still had that other glove...she tried to tug it off with her other hand, only for the tag to almost jump to her other hand!

“The hell? Okay, maybe it’s like…..static charge or something.” She nudged the sink’s handle, almost surprised the water was still running. However, she got a nasty shock as when she tried to wash the soot off, it instead jumped further down her arms! What’s more was the realization that her thick rubber gloves had become silk and stain free, a red lizard marking the back of one. Okay, she may not be an expert on soot tags, but she knew they couldn’t do THIS!

It began to creep up her arms, the thick goo soaking her arms in dark blue fabric. Her frame seemed to tug out, a new coat of lean muscle under the sleeves. She could feel its tendrils wrapping around her, tugging her middle longer, coils causing muscle to appear along her middle. The deep blue became more and more tied to her, small accents of white manifesting along her chest to give the goo a more uniform look.

“I-It won’t come off!” She grabbed at her chest, trying to pull the adhesive off of her. Her chest and shoulders broadened, bones clicking into place. She felt it pour down her legs, growing taller as they pressed out into sleek deep blue dress pants. Even her feet weren’t immune, somewhat grubby sneakers gaining a coat of polish as they became dark black leather.

“What the hell is this stuff-mmmph!” It crept up her face, the taste of overly burnt meat coating her tongue as she was unfortunate enough to get some in her mouth. She felt the soot reshaping her face, jawline becoming sharper and more defined, brown eyes deepening to the same pitch as the soot and taking on a more stern, determined look. The most notable change was her hair, as the soot had wrapped into the fibers of her hair, charring it dark and chopping off a decent chunk.

“G-Get off me!” Her mind was so overrun with panic she didn’t even notice how her voice had changed, now that of a stern (if slightly mischievous) authoritative figure. She had been blinded by the soot, it like a thick, overly applied face mask. Her head began to spin, she assumed from the fumes the soot had to be producing.

She….no, that wasn’t right. He held his head, finally managing to find a weak spot in the soot’s grasp as he pulled it off, gasping.

“Hm?” Riza poked her head in the room, confused. “Is something wrong, Colonel?”

Roy Mustang snapped to attention, looking back at Riza. The two were investigating a house that had burned down mysterious, signs pointing to it being foul play. “No, all’s fine. I did find these, though.” He revealed the soot tag in his hand, soon scraping it into a jar. “Soot tags. They only appear when a fire is caused by an artificial substance, meaning this wasn’t some stove that just got left on.”

“Hm, that’s certainly something.” Riza took the jar from Roy, looking over it. “Nice find. I’ll leave you be to the rest of your work.” Roy scoffed, leaving his assistant to walk away. That was probably all he’d find here...didn’t see too much of a reason to burn this place down.

Ah well, he shrugged. Just another day at the office.

#character tf #character transformation #female to male tf #female to male transformation #ftm tf #ftm transformation #slime transformation #goo transformation #reality change #Tf

[septimusmoonlight]

Anonymous: I was reading through some of your post (great posts 10/10 btw) and I saw the tentacled masses one and your tags mentioned a marriage ritual?? I want to know all about this and I can't believe it hasn't been asked about, also I would 100% marry a tentacled mass

Ahh, the tentacled mass, masters of dubious consent! The marriage ritual I mentioned for these things isn’t much in comparison to their usual reproduction methods - it’s almost gentle, even.

A tentacled mass will only perform a marriage ritual on a subject who has actively pursued it without prompting. This usually doesn’t take very long, as people chosen by tentacled masses tend to remember how good it feels to be taken by one, and so usually return to the mass that fucked them the first time to ask for it to happen again. When the human initiates, the tentacled mass gladly takes them up on it, filling them with eggs and cum, giving them a large batch of squirming tentacle children (tentaclets?) to birth, reveling in their cries, relishing the process of molding its human incubator’s body to its needs.

After this happens, the mass inserts a specific tentacle into its human just after they’ve finished giving birth to the young ones, coils it up inside of them, makes them swell with it - and then it marks its mate, the tentacle inside of them glowing as a scrolling mural of spirals pours down the human’s right arm, from shoulder to wrist. The mark looks almost like a sleeve of tattoos in the color of the mass, whether it’s bright magenta or a deep royal purple, and in dark-skinned mates where this doesn’t show as well, the lines are bordered by white-pink or white-purple to clearly show the sign of ownership, of a bond, of a match made in ecstasy. At that point, the human’s brain has likely been taken in by the combination of aphrodisiacs and sexual pleasure, and has legitimate love for their new spouse - or, if they don’t experience romantic attraction, a deep bond of friendship like no other.

Not only is the mark on their arm a constant visual reminder to the human as their status as a spouse and breeder for their tentacled mass, but it makes it easy for humans in the same situation to find each other in public - which can make for some very interesting conversation. Oftentimes, though, in a rather sweet twist, the spouses of tentacled masses will also buy themselves rings to wear, because normal humans won’t take the mark on their arm as a sign of marriage, and might try to pursue them otherwise.

No other human can ever satisfy the spouse of a tentacled mass, though. Not after their mate has showed them what true pleasure is.

#Originally posted May 8th 2020 #asks #anonymous #my writing #nsft text #patreon.com/septimusmoonlight #dubcon #birth #aphrodisiac use

[neonghostcat]

Cultivate: Chapter One

The first chapter of "Cultivate: Slow Life on a Monster-Infested Mountain" (a LiuShen fanfic for the SVSSS fandom), presented without the extra formatting it has on AO3.

I am only posting this chapter to Tumblr because of the formatting issues. If you wish to continue reading, please follow it on my AO3 account! (The other chapters shouldn't have extra formatting.)

(PS: If you are using a screen reader and it has issues reading this chapter, please let me know and I'll try to correct to accommodate!)

Chapter 1: Replanted

[Prologue]

Shen Yuan died.

It was fine. Whatever — it happens. You could even say he’d been overdue for it. Since he was old enough to understand the concept of death, Shen Yuan was aware that he wasn’t expected to live much past his sixteenth birthday. That he’d lived into his early 20s was not only a good run, it made him regret his death was by food-related misadventure.

That wasn’t even tragic anymore — it was just embarrassing!

“Stupid author! Stupid novel!”

As far as last words go, Shen Yuan had to say that they wouldn’t have been what he’d have chosen to go with. But they were his and thankfully — unlike his method of death — no one was going to know that he’d said something as underwhelming as that except for him. Well, apparently him and whatever was behind a System just like you could find in any half-baked webnovel.

【YOU CAN YOU UP, NO CAN NO BB.】 Or, in other words, If you think you can do better, then put up or shut up.

That should have been the ignoble beginning of his unlikely afterlife of fixing a plot-hole ridden stallion novel to make it into a story that realized its full potential.

Only it wasn’t.

After the System pulled him from the dark and gentle embrace his consciousness had floated in and gently mocked him, Shen Yuan gradually became aware of physical sensations. Arms and legs that felt as heavy as iron. Skin tickled by dripping sweat. The give of a pillow underneath his head. The subtle weight of clothes and the sudden strain for breath as he took his first after an indeterminate amount of time. Then a soft, pleasant mixture of scents that made him think of green places and high-quality incense.

He also became aware of the brush of another consciousness that was not his own.

‘Who?’ It asked, at first surprised. It seemed almost faded and fragile. And then suddenly the sense of presence strengthened into a much, much stronger one. Cold and furious, it demanded: ‘Who dares?’

Before his soul could settle comfortably into a new container and into the world that briefly flickered into his hazy vision, the venomous hostility made him recoil.

‘I will find you. And you. Will. Regret. It.’

He backpedaled from the vicious anger of a soul that threatened him using the name Shen Qingqiu and promised him nothing but pain for his imposition. The words were laced with acid, etching the threat into his mind. Shen Qingqiu seemed to think Shen Yuan had trespassed intentionally.

Shen Yuan panicked and tried to escape, retreating from the other soul as quickly as he could. He could feel it coiling for a strike.

His retreat caused a chain reaction. Or… perhaps the timing of it was entirely coincidental.

【!!!】

【H-host! Wait—】

He could sense the System trying to compensate for the unexpected responses; tried to keep him contained. Shen Yuan’s concept of the world around him went from blackness, to vague flashes of a room right out of a historical drama, to blurry worried faces — first young and handsome and then old and weathered.

“Qingqiu-shi—”

He abruptly no longer felt the physical sensations of a body.

“—Gongzi?”

【Something is wrong—】 the System said, its Google Translate-like voice skipping and popping. As if to mitigate his confusion, a semi-transparent view screen, like a video game or cell phone, seemed to form in the air to show the words as it spoke them. The words also looked glitchy. 【Remain calm… This should be as easy as — 】

【□□□□□□□□□]

??????

After a horrific digital grinding noise that sounded like a blend of all of the Something Bad Happened computer noises that would make any internet addict’s stomach clench, all sensory input ceased entirely. It wasn’t even like death. At least in death he had felt a sort of lukewarm comfort in the hazy darkness. It was restful there.

This was like nothing at all.

[Chapter One: Replanted]

Shen Yuan slowly opened his eyes and took a breath, almost inhaling a bug.

Coughing and hacking, he shoved himself to his side and lifted his head dizzily as he tried to make sense of things. Before he could do more than vaguely register he was somewhere outside in a grassy field near a run-down looking well, a hand lightly touched his back.

“Gongzi…? Are you all right?” a voice cracked with age asked in a tone of hesitant comfort.

He didn’t jump or flinch. Apart from the form of address, this sort of wake-up wasn��t entirely unusual for him. Almost choking on a bug was probably a first, but he’d lost track of how many times some helpful bystander had been on the scene when he’d collapsed in a faint.

Once Shen Yuan’s eyes focused enough to make out his own familiar hands — pale, slender, and soft with a freckle on the side of his right hand, just between his knuckle and the webbing of his thumb that his mother used to tease was the scar where he’d bitten himself with his first tooth — he lifted his gaze to the man behind him. As he half-expected, the man was quite a bit older, dressed in the style of an ancient peasant, and looked somewhere between kindly and cautious.

He’d… really transmigrated, hadn’t he?

Had he really been sent to fix Proud Immortal Demon Way?

【Answering host — yes!】 the System said, sounding relieved as it popped up another game-like window, which flickered and went staticky every so often. 【This changes things quite a bit… Ah…】

Aren’t you still glitchy? He wanted to ask, staring at the screen as the monotone computer voice was doing the same digital popping and warping from earlier.

【This… There was an error. It should be fine now and will sort itself out!】

…Would it?

“Gongzi?”

Oh — that’s right.

Shen Yuan looked to the old man who was looking more and more troubled by the moment. He offered him a weak smile, trying to reassure him as he tried to get used to the physical act of breathing again.

“I… think so,” he said softly, testing out his voice carefully. He sounded the same. Well — that wasn’t too surprising. He had the same freckle on his hand, after all. But he felt things were… off somehow. Like his body wasn’t quite his own. He’d have to figure out why it seemed that way in a moment. “What happened?”

The old man relaxed visibly, but shook his head with a faint frown. “This old man can’t say. I was walking home when I saw you laying here off in the field… Are you sure you’re all right?” The man’s eyes flicked down to his clothes, up to his hair, and back to his face, looking oddly nervous.

Shen Yuan looked down too and realized he was dressed in an absolutely unusual manner — for almost any context, not just for pseudo-ancient-China. Proud Immortal Demon Way was far more on the ‘fantasy’ side of the scale than the ‘historical’, but this seemed a bit outré even for that.

He’d been about to go out grocery shopping before he’d got a notification on his phone from his reading app that the final chapter of Proud Immortal Demon Way had gone up. He’d immediately abandoned his responsible task and hurried to his PC to read it, electing to settle for whatever he had left in his house for lunch as he read. He’d decided he could always do the shopping later — he was desperate to have all of those hanging plot threads tied together in the end and thought the final payoff would be worth the delay in ‘adulting’. (A mistake, as it’d turned out. On multiple levels.)

So he hadn’t been wearing anything special when he’d died. He last remembered putting on a ratty pair of jeans, a teeshirt, and a zip-up hoodie. He couldn’t remember if he’d been still wearing his sneakers at the time. In his rush to grab his lunch and plop at the computer to read, he might have left them on rather than switching back to his house slippers.

But he wasn’t wearing the shut-in millennial’s standard uniform now.

In those few moments he’d been Shen Qingqiu, he’d been wearing long robes — multiple layers of beautiful celadon blue and green cloth patterned with bamboo — and gorgeously detailed accessories that were mostly the stuff of ancient fantasy dramas and virtually unheard of in modern life. Soft, flexible boots had peeked out from beneath the fluttering hemline, evidently not yet removed because he’d been recently placed on the bed. He’d even felt the faint ache of his scalp where his hair had been freshly taken down from a crown.

He wasn’t currently wearing the garments that were out of a xianxia fan artist’s dream either.

Instead, it was some outlandish hybrid between the two, making him look like a pop idol or a sci-fantasy JRPG character. A tunic shirt down to his knees worn under a shorter wrap shirt held closed by a wide belt and thin patterned sash, something like stylish harem pants, a few accessories that made him feel incredibly fashionable for once, boots that blended the nicer aspects of both pairs of footwear, and a multi-layer hooded outer robe with a subtle cybernetic pattern to it. All items were in shades of teal, bright cyan, or near-black. As an added point of excessive, his hair was likewise roughly halfway between his old short style and Shen Qingqiu’s long and flowing locks — falling unbound just to his shoulders.

It was an attractive look overall — he’d totally have worn it to a fan convention — but it’d make him stick out here, even if this was the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way.

【It is Proud Immortal Demon Way! But don’t worry! The OOC penalties have temporarily been turned off.】

… The glitching was getting more concerning. He thought it was supposed to stop?

Realizing he’d better answer the old man, Shen Yuan nodded absently to him. “I think I’m still disoriented. It’ll pass momentarily. Where am I?”

This did not appear to reassure the man, but he at least didn’t look even more worried about him. He just nodded, almost as if he’d expected that answer.

“Answering Gongzi, we’re at the base of Taoren Mountain.”

The old man gestured to one side and Shen Yuan became aware that they were in something of a flat valley area in front of a mountain shaped like the peach kernel it was named for. The mountain looked oddly teardrop shaped and unbalanced, as if it were canted ever-so-slightly to one side, but it gave the mountain a kind of uniqueness worthy of an exotic live-action location.

“Taoren Village is about a half hour’s walk from here.” Perhaps seeing his blank expression, the man continued. “Is Gongzi a cultivator? I can point out the direction to the nearby sects? That might give you a better idea of where you are.”

Shen Yuan was about to say he wasn’t a cultivator before he recognized his clothing would be better explained if he pretended he was. Then the System spoke up again.

【Host contains a golden core in this world!】

“I… yes. I’m just a rogue cultivator, though.”

If anything, this answer seemed to reassure and enlighten the old man, who chuckled faintly and relaxed even further. “I see! That explains it! Did you get lost on your way somewhere, Gongzi? You don’t look hurt…?”

“Yes, I suppose I did. I rested here in my travels… perhaps I’ve had a very minor qi deviation, but it seems I’m all right now,” Shen Yuan said, throwing out the possibility in hopes of explaining any oddities. The old man continued to nod as though the story rang true to him. “You said the village is a short walk away?” Maybe he could stay there.

“Answering Gongzi — yes. Ah — it’s closer for someone like you, I’m sure! This old man doesn’t move as fast as he used to! Just follow the road directly.”

【Host — you should let the man escort you to the village! You can enter the first quest-line this way. I’ve had to make adjustments to the story to account for the earlier error, but soon we can reunite you with Shen Qingqiu and override his errant code! Please cooperate nicely!】

…what?

【Answering host — you will take Shen Qingqiu’s place, as originally intended, and repair the ‘stupid story’ as you wished!】

Become Shen Qingqiu?

Uh… absolutely not. He was neither stupid, nor crazy! Especially since Shen Qingqiu was a high-spec peak lord! Even if the man’s cultivation level was stunted, he was still dangerous as hell, cunning, utterly ruthless and — worse — completely aware he existed, pissed about it, and likely to attack on sight! How was a newbie like him going to survive their first encounter, even if he wanted to take his place and risk a bad end like he’d earned?!?

“What about the mountain? Is there anything of interest there?” he asked the man smoothly, as he felt the System become stunned to silence.

The old man immediately shook his head quickly, “Oh no! No, you wouldn’t want to go there, Gongzi! It’s dangerous! The villagers all say it’s haunted and crawling with monsters! No one’s lived there in a hundred years, at least!”

Shen Yuan turned his eyes towards Taoren Mountain again, eying it speculatively.

The trees were strangely dark with an unusual number of dead ones scattered among them, but that was mostly towards the bottom of the mountain. The closer towards the top they were, the more normal everything looked. Aside from the vague strangeness of it, it didn’t seem especially dangerous-looking. No radiating bad-mojo aura. No circling carrion birds or ominous hooting owls or cawing of crows. No unsettlingly dark sky above. No weird perimeter or strange shrines at the foot of the mountain path dense with rotting binding talismans and paper seals.

Look — the world of Peerless Immortal Demon Way wasn’t subtle, okay?

If it was a truly bad place, it’d have at absolute minimum of two or three of those. Or, at least, it’d be a honey trap and go out of its way to look as beautiful as possible: exotic birds overhead with long trailing feathers, jewel-like butterflies, flowers blooming everywhere, trees with unlikely colored leaves like pink and purple, and enticing glimpses of silvery waterfalls cascading from picturesque cliff faces. This mountain had none of that. It was actually surprisingly normal looking aside from its odd shape — even boring compared to the vivid descriptions he’d read in the novel.

“No one lives there, but does anyone still go there?” he asked.

The old man thought for a moment before shrugging helplessly. “They shouldn’t, anyway… Some of the wood-wise young men and women might have hunted or foraged there once if they were brave enough, but not recently. They say it’s cursed. The village head has forbidden anyone to go the last twenty years or so. …are you thinking about cleansing the area, Gongzi?” he asked, a touch hopefully.

“…perhaps,” Shen Yuan hedged, not wanting to commit to it yet.

“I should warn there’s probably no reward in it. None of the local sects have ever done more than bring their young disciples every so often for a Night Hunt. But even that hasn’t happened in a generation or so. Nothing comes down from the mountain to bother the village, so it’s not a priority, I suppose. And we don’t have anything set aside to tempt a strong cultivator or priest to do it themselves…” The old man sighed faintly.

Nothing dangerous came down the mountain and the sects weren’t interested in it even as a training ground? Didn’t that mean there was probably no danger?

“If I were to go there and investigate the cause of the disturbance, would that upset the village? I wouldn’t want to report to the village head or come to get supplies and be chased out of town because they’re worried I was cursed or possessed…”

The old man looked cautiously optimistic. “It shouldn’t be an issue! The rule is for villagers. As a cultivator, no one would dare say a word about it to you! I’ll even talk to the village head for you, if you like.”

【…H-host… This isn’t… You’re not meant to be pursuing this irrelevant storyline! Please reconsider!】

The System seemed dismayed, but not alarmed. Shen Yuan couldn’t help but quirk his lips into a smile, which made the old man smile reflexively in response.

“It shouldn’t hurt if I go to investigate the issue, then. I am not in any hurry and you could even say it’s my duty, right?” Shen Yuan asked, trying to look a bit dignified and as lofty as a cultivator in a webnovel.

Well, not too lofty.

Rogue cultivators in the world of Peerless Immortal Demon Way were barely footnotes in terms of power. Of those who were powerful, too many were outright dangerous. Though since the old man didn’t seem especially wary of him, Shen Yuan thought his impression of their place in this world might be skewed because the protagonist, Luo Binghe, casually stepped on evil rogue cultivators like flagstones on his glorious path to becoming a demon king. Regular rogue cultivators could easily be more acceptable to the average peasant, who couldn’t necessarily rely on a big sect to help them… as evidenced by Taoren Village’s issue.

【Host, you really must not! The Plot—】

The old man looked overjoyed. To show his support, he took down the cloth sling he was using as a satchel and offered it to him. “It’s not much, Gongzi, and surely you don’t need it, but please give this old man face by taking it anyway. My daughter made several meat buns more than usual this morning. She’s an excellent cook, even before considering her as my daughter. Please accept.”

Shen Yuan made all of the proper polite noises and eventually bowed to the old man’s insistence, accepting both the cloth sling and the meat buns inside. If he didn’t quickly figure out how to perform inedia so he needn’t eat at all, they would be extremely welcome. Once the old man was on his way, Shen Yuan turned towards Taoren Mountain and set his shoulders.

He smiled as the System popped up several windows warning him he was going the wrong way.

But the System was ignoring a major flaw in its assumptions: He didn’t give two flying figs about The Plot. Not if it meant becoming Shen Qingqiu and risking literal life and limb. All four of them.

Screw that.

---

As a supposed cultivator, it didn’t seem as if Shen Yuan could activate his immortal powers just by walking. He’d tried different methods of provoking something to happen and even started asking the System to give him a hint or flip the switch or whatever, but he neither figured it out himself nor could prompt the System to do more than beg him to turn around and meet The Plot.

But even if he wasn’t as swift as a deer or as powerful as a lion when he moved, at least this body seemed completely healthy. In his previous life, a walk like this with the rough path and gradual incline would have had him tired and winded already.

A golden core, a healthy body, new clothes… and he seemed to be several inches taller too. What other upgrades could he look forward to?

【H-host—】

The closer he got to the mountain, the more the messages from the System seemed to glitch as it begged and threw crying emojis at him. But as upset as it appeared to be by him ignoring The Plot and its attempts to get him back onto track, it didn’t seem to be able to force the issue, nor did it seem angry with him.

Its mistake, really. He was pretty sure he hadn’t asked to come here, even if his bitching apparently gave it all the permission it needed to abduct him and drop him into this insane world.

Still, Shen Yuan wasn’t really built to be a total jerk either… And no one was around to notice if anything seemed off if he talked to System.

“What is it?” he finally asked, digging around in his pockets.

Unfortunately, he could find nothing to tie back his hair unless he used the sash on his belt, and that might make him look like a bandit (or, in his eyes, more like a drunk salary-man with his tie wrapped around his head), so he’d rather not. He sighed and tucked strands behind his ears instead. It was at that length that was too long to stay out of his way and too short to easily manage. What a hassle!

【Strongly advising you reconsider. This place… has nothing to do with The Plot. Quests cannot be given… The more you diverge from The Plot during this critical period, the more difficult it will be to correct what went wrong!】

Shen Yuan hadn’t been walking longer than ten minutes before he’d reached the foot of the mountain. Or, rather, he’d reached the paifang that seemed to separate the boundaries between ‘the mountain’ and ‘off the mountain’. It didn’t bother him to stop for now and rest a moment before ascending, so he dropped to take a seat on a long flat stone set like a bench next to the road.

“I’ve considered. And reconsidered. I still think this is the best way to go. If you didn’t notice, Shen Qingqiu was aware of me when you tried to stick me in his body. He’s out there, angry as a hornet about it because he thinks I tried to possess him. And I’m not going to walk into the tiger’s den and hope the tiger doesn’t eat me. I’m not stupid. It’s not a good idea for him to find me, especially since you’re not telling me how to use my cultivation powers. Do you really think I’m capable of getting the jump on him?”

【. . .】

“That’s what I thought. So my best chance to survive is to find somewhere he won’t bother looking. And what’s better than a haunted and/or monster-infested mountain that no one goes to and the sects don’t care anything about? It’s probably not either of those things or else they’d use it for Night Hunts. And if it is either of those things, then even if I’m a newbie cultivator, I should be able to handle them, right? Otherwise either the villagers would be having more issues or the sects would have more interest, or both.”

【…that’s…】

Shen Yuan waited, crossing his arms over his chest. When the System didn’t say anything, he prompted it. “If you have an argument against any of this, then please say it. I’ll listen.” Even if he would probably ignore it, he’d at least listen.

There was a long pause before a rather halting — 【This one… does not know. Taoren Mountain is not part of The Plot in any way. There is no information… Does host have a background in wilderness skills? There should be nothing here. It is safer to live in the village!】

The System seemed to perk up once it was able to present an argument that might be listened to. Too bad Shen Yuan was a stubborn person. He’d had to be.

“The villager implied people used to live here. And no one builds a paifang and lays a stone path to nowhere,” he said, nodding towards the features ahead. “I’ll at least follow the path to see where it leads. Perhaps there will be an old manor or an abandoned temple I can use for shelter. One night outdoors in the summer isn’t going to kill me. …at least, I think it’s the summer.” The System neither confirmed nor denied, so he shrugged. “How about this? You tell me how to cultivate to make my survival more likely and if there’s nothing here, I’ll listen to you and go stay at the village until I decide my next step.”

【…You were supposed to be in Shen Qingqiu’s body. What you knew of cultivation from reading Proud Immortal Demon Way and other stories should have sufficed along with his body’s muscle memory…】

“You’re saying you can’t help,” he said flatly.

【Not until you reconnect with The Plot…】 the System said, its monotone voice sounding oddly apologetic.

Shen Yuan sighed and ran his fingers through his hair and then cursed himself when he had to tuck it behind his ears again. “…I understand. But I want to try my way first. I feel like it’s my best chance.”

He shivered as he remembered the acrid taste of a will to live that surpassed even his own.

Even if he’d wanted to take over Shen Qingqiu’s life, he wouldn’t have felt right in going against him even if he were certain of winning. Shen Qingqiu might be a monster in human flesh, but what right did he have to usurp the man’s life? Better to stop him from another direction. And he couldn’t risk doing that until he was strong enough to at least escape, if not win that encounter.

Hopefully that could happen before too many lives were stained by Shen Qingqiu’s pollution, but at least most of those characters lived for quite awhile in the novel. He most likely had time.

An idea began to form in the back of his mind. It was a small seed of an idea, but a strangely potent one. All it would take was a little push to grow.

Musing a little, Shen Yuan crossed beneath the wooden gateway on his way to start the trek up the mountain path. Immediately, everything began to go wrong again, with that same strange digital Bad-Things noise that suggested another error. His steps faltered.

【H-host!! □ □□】

【--□ you mu□t —】

【--□ cultiv□te!! —】

There was another long string of garbled text and strange letters before it managed to send through another partially readable message.

【--□??? -… pea□hes - □□□ merg□d… St□□ge plot…】

…what?

And then a final, clearly desperate last word came in on the biggest message screen the System had used yet.

【SURVIVE!!!】

Then there was nothing. Even when Shen Yuan retreated a few steps in case it had something to do with the mountain, there was no sign that the System existed.

As far as he could tell, he and the System had completely disconnected from one another. /end chapter 1 Click here to read it on AO3!

#fanfiction #fanfic #SVSSS #svsss fanfiction #LiuShen #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain #scumbag system #story: cultivate

[godofvillains]

@lambfated

"Noted."

"We will be sure to take care of that with which you have entrusted upon us."

Indeed, it was a rather risky situation for the both of them, now…but to take as much of a gamble as the two of them were was honestly rather exciting, in a way. As fun as it had been to simply tear their way through their enemies, brute-forcing their way into success, there was an undeniable appeal to be seen with Shigaraki's new plan…

That said, at the mention of rope becoming involved, The Lamb cannot help but finds themselves shuddering with distaste at the thought of even just feigning having been captured again. This would certainly be a test of their willpower…even with the reassurance from the other of an easy escape.

"Typically, the Bishops have their prisoners brought to them in chains; it is far more difficult for a lone animal to escape such constraints, after all."

"Perhaps we could enter their domain and attempt to find a sacrifice within? There is certainly no shortage of unfortunate victims to be found within these lands, after all…"

Ah, so this land used chains then? That would be harder to make sure they could be let free on whim. However, Shigaraki did have a reason to use rope instead.

"I think rope will be fine. I am OBVIOUSLY not from here, being a human being. I doubt any of these bishops have seen anything like me before," he points out, "It could be with my reason that I use rope. That it's just my style. I don't think anyone would find it suspicious. If I was one of your kind-- maybe. But me being outside of this land-- I have different methods to things. And I feel that these Bishops aren't complete idiots and would see that," Shigaraki reasons to them. "I think I have some rope stores in my pocket dimension, actually..."

He unzips a small hole into thin air. Reaching an arm through it and pulling out a thick rope from it. He coils it around his arm and closes the portal.

"My guess though, knowing they'll want chains, they'll want to change you from rope to chains. So when I bring you to them, they'll try to wrap you in chains..." That's what he hypothesized. If he knew more about these bishops and the OLD FAITH, he could come up with a better plan. But right now, it was just guess work.

Though, the god would make sure the Lamb would not be harmed from his plan. He refused for it to back fire and get the other into harms way.

#lambfated #((I've been playing CotL again #and I kinda wanna RP Narinder again #I RPed him when the game first came out

[duckit7]

The Protector

Hey! So, like many writers here know, new stories pop into our heads all the time. Here is a little taste of a story I’m working on right now. This chapter is definitely not finished, but I’m hoping to have this one and maybe another done by the end of the weekend.

-----

The giant man stubbled back in pain. His breathing was heavy. Blood dripped in alarming volume from his body. The wolves circling him smiled a toothy grin at the sight of their prey beginning to falter. It was the beginning of the end. The beasts encroached further. The giant grit his teeth as he staggered his stance, making sure to stand firm between the life he was protecting and the forces that meant to end it.

“Come on you sons of bitches. Give me the fight of my fucking life.” he roared.

The first wolf lunged. Its weight bringing the giant to the ground. The man fought off its jaws with the shaft of his axe. With one great heave the creature was thrown off. The giant scrambled to cover his most prized possession. He knew this was the end as he felt the presence of another foe rocketing towards him. The attack never came though. Painful cries erupted from the wolves. The man looked up to see a warrior woman had joined the fray.

Her powerful muscles glistened with sweat in the late afternoon light as she drove her axes down into the neck of a wolf. The woman methodically worked her way through the pack. Some scattered at the sight of her. Others stood their ground and died at the blade of her axe. The giant watched as another wolf corpse slid to the woman’s feet. It was just her and the alpha.

The two forces locked eyes, both baring their teeth. The woman slid her axes back into their holsters at her side. The giant could visibly see her muscle coil as they prepared to charge. Without warning the warrior woman dashed forward. Her adversary responded by meeting her halfway. Their bodies tangled into each other, crashing into the forest floor was they went.

Sweat and blood cascaded down the woman’s face. She kept the monster’s jaws at bay with her hands as they tumbled. She waited patiently for her opportunity to strike as claws raked down her arms and chest. The beast started to pull its head back to try to free its greatest weapon. Seizing the opportunity the women lunged forward. Blood pooled in her mouth as she sunk her long canines further into the wolf’s neck. Then, with all the force she could muster, the warrior ripped her head back, tearing the beast’s throat open in the process.

The woman delicately laid the wolf’s large body on the ground. The fight was over. Adrenaline was starting to be replaced with exhaustion as the warrior turned to her friend still lying on the ground behind her. Her body sluggishly moved toward the man.

“Ben…” she choked out between labored breaths. Her heart raced faster as she approached her injured friend.

Ben stared up into his friend’s slate blue eyes. “Hey squirt. Aren’t I supposed to be the one saving you?” he said. He tried to give a half-hearted chuckle but he pain over took him.

The woman slid his head on to her lap and softly stroked his hair. “I guess this is paying you back for always coming to my rescue as a kid.” Hot tears started to well in her eyes.

Reaching up a shaky hand Ben wiped a stray tear away. “Don’t cry for me squirt. I get to die the same way I had always dreamed of, you holding me close to you.”

The warrior shook her head, “No… You can’t leave me like this Ben… It’s not fair…” Tears were threatening to break their bounds.

“I’m going to have to be even more unfair and ask a favor of you Liz… Protect him…” Ben said before removing his arm from his side to reveal a tiny human.

The small man’s eyes stared up at her in horror. Liz sucked in a short breath as her body went rigid.

“Wipe your mouth wolf girl. You’re gonna scare him.” Ben said giving Liz’s face one last pat. “See you on the other side squirt.”

Liz felt the life leave his hand as it dropped to the ground. Staring into his lifeless eyes Liz knew her friend was gone. All that was left was the husk that once housed a soul. Emotions swirled throughout Liz’s mind, threatening to unravel her at the core. Liz couldn’t hold back the pain anymore as she smashed her face into Ben’s unmoving chest. A sorrowful roar ripped through her body with such ferocity that the forest went silent.

Liz allowed her body the release it demanded for what seemed like hours, but only carried on for mere minutes. The smell of fear wafted up to her nostrils, pulling her attention back to reality. Still clinging to the already cold hand of the giant was a tiny man. His body was visibly shaking with fear while his eyes locked on to her.

Liz let out a heavy sigh as she brought her sleeve up to haphazardly wipe some of the blood from her mouth. Without thinking she started to reach out for the small being. The man’s eyes widened as the large hand approached. Subconsciously his fight or flight instinct kicked in. He didn’t know where he was going, all he knew was that he had to get away as he dashed through the forest faster than he had ever run before in his life. The giantess let out a groan as she rose to chase him.

He could feel the giantess’s feet shake the ground as she bound after him. “I have to get away!” was all the man could think. Seeing a break in the trees the man powered forward with all his might, before coming to a halting stop at the edge of a small cliff. Below he could see the opening of a small cave. He knew that he would possibly break something in the fall, but that seemed like a better option than being crushed by an angry giant. He could feel the heavy footsteps approaching rapidly. Without thinking the man closed his eyes and jumped.

#g/t #giant/tiny #no fluff all fear #its going to get better i promise #rough draft #duck it

[scrollsfromarebornrealm]

wayward (grand)daughter 2

The weather was clear and the stars were out as Riven made her way out of the Fortemps manor. Nodding to the guards on duty, she made her way over to the railing. No one was around to gasp--she was clad in only the thick warm nightgown that was her favorite whenever she was in the city.

Scandalous, that. Showing clavicle and neck. Riven exhaled, leaning on the railing. Closing her eyes, she let the icy chill wash over her-and smiled at the faint gust of air behind her.

"Hi, you."

"You should be in bed." Estinien rumbled. He moved closer, bowing his head to press a kiss to Riven's cheek.

"Couldn't sleep." Riven replied. Estinien watched as she turned to face him, a pensive look on her features.

"I'm...sorry, for what happened. I didn't mean to cause everyone to worry."

"Just don't do it again." Estinien scolded gently. "At least...when it comes to that." That being Mikoto's continued experiments with the Bojzan crystals. A suggestion from Zoisette regarding Riven's memory problems had the brunette revisiting the auri at the Bojzan Resistance Headquarters. When Riven had undergone the procedure to see what the possible problem was...it had ended badly. Mikoto and Mathye daring to venture into Riven's psyche had resulted in her suffering a seizure-like reaction. The two had stopped, and Mathye immediately put his foot down on any more attempts. However Riven had pleaded with Mikoto for one more try--which had yielded even stranger results. Riven had some memories of her childhood-but found it hard to remember her parents' faces. But when it seemingly came to her teenage years--she couldn't remember anything at all, and attempting to with Mikoto's method had triggered the reaction.

Mathye had been less than pleased.

"Not in a hurry, trust me." Riven mummured. She laid her hands on Estinien's chest, curling and uncurling her fingers. Anxiety rose from her in waves, and Estinien frowned.

"Hey." He whispered, catching her hands. Partly to soothe, but also to keep Riven from hyperfocusing on her fingers--a trauma response from her time in the First.

"What's wrong?" Riven didn't immediately respond, drawing in a deep lungful of cold Ishgard air.

"My first two weeks in Limsa...I would wake up from nightmares, every night." She began. "Something...faceless. Formless, reaching out for me. I felt as if I was under attack. Sometimes...I felt trapped. I wanted to go outside...feel the sun, but I couldn't. Something was stopping me." Estinien listened, his own fingers beginning to gently stroke Riven's hands.

"I'd cry. I'd wake up crying--or just burst into tears at random times. Loud noises scared me. And no matter how hard I racked my brain...I couldn't figure out why."

"You were getting used to being someplace safe." Estinien mused. Riven nodded.

"I..was at my wits end. I'd just gotten into the Arcanists' Guild, setting up my housing situation--and this was just...it felt like I had too much on my plate. So I told myself that I was going to figure this out, starting with me finding out just where I came from on the ferry. And then..." Riven trailed off.

"Then?" Estinien prompted. A picture was forming in his own mind--one that made him want to curl his lip and growl, the thought of Riven hurting and alone in a new city...and dealing with trauma recovery. The midlander swallowed.

"...Have you ever had moments where it seems like...the gods, or the universe, or...whatever you believe in, is sending a pointed message about your situation?" She asked, looking up. Estinien hummed, letting go of Riven's hands to wrap his arms around her.

"Aye. Probably the one I remember the most is when I decided to take up the mantle of Azure." He answered. "Everything in that moment seemed seemed crystal clear. That I'd picked the right path." Riven exhaled, feeling the tension slowly bleed out of her. Estinien's presence was warm and comforting, his aether coiling around her senses.

"The day before, I'd gone to pay my respects at a shrine of the Navigator. There was a mother and her child there with an old woman." She said. "I didn't hear all of the conversation, but I heard a little bit from the old woman."

Llymlaen grants second chances. The sea and the wind let you become new once more.

"That stuck in my head." Riven whispered. "The next day, I went to the ferry-docks, and I found out about the fire. And I remembered the words of the old woman, and..."

"You felt it was a sign." Estinien finished. "The goddess telling you not to look back." Riven nodded.

"I took it to heart. I left, and I threw myself into the Arcanists' Guild. The nightmares eventually stopped, as did the tears, and soon it seemed like my past wasn't important. The rest..." She shrugged. "You know." Estinien hummed, moving his hands to Riven's shoulders.

"For the record, I feel I should add to the growing consensus." He said, moving his hands to gently cradle Riven's face.

"Whatever thing happened in your past--whatever you might have done, it does not matter now. It does not matter to the Scions, it does not matter to Augustine and the others, it does not matter to the Fortemps. It does not matter to the hundreds and thousands of lives you have saved." Tears sprang to Riven's eyes, and Estinien continued.

"And it does not matter to me." He finished, pressing a gentle kiss to the midlander's forehead. "It is the sharp-tongued, demon-summoning madwoman that I fell in love with. To her past self, battered and bruised from whatever hell she escaped from, I bid that she only rests in comfort and peace."

-----

wayward (grand)daughter 1 here

#ffxiv #wol riven #riven fortemps #estinien varlineau #estinien wyrmblood #these two needed a soft moment

[shays2544807613]

7 Surprisingly Effective Ways To Water Gun

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Henry was also unsatisfied together with his work. Greater than something, he wanted to be a designer slightly than a foreman, main the day by day work of manufacturing. He was all the time trying for tactics to enhance and perfect his creation. Henry continued his work as a lone gunsmith until his passing in 1898. By all accounts, he was joyful and satisfied together with his work, which allowed him to innovate and work with weapons in the kind of fingers-on manner that Winchester prevented him from doing. While he did seek what he believed was his, he never sought fame or fortune by making firearms - if that had been his goal, he definitely may have began up one other weapons manufacturing unit after parting methods with Winchester. To own a Henry is to personal a basic piece of American design. Think of your self as proudly owning a 1903 Harley-Davidson. Sure, you’re not going to win any motorbike races with it, however who cares? It’s hardly the purpose. Henry was in many ways the primary wildcatter - a man who saw a necessity in the world of firearms and went about making what he and others needed. A real American unique. The new Original Henry Rifle from Henry Repeating Arms is an opportunity to own a chunk of history at a fraction of the fee that the rifles from the 1860’s sell for. It is a line-for-line reproduction with the only concessions being made to accommodate extra fashionable calibers like .44-forty WCF and .Forty five Colt. Henry Repeating Arms is proud to manufacture these rifles again on American soil for the primary time for the reason that 1860s, truly making it America’s Rifle.

Click here to view the original article. While he doesn’t have the same household recognition as Sam Colt or Smith & Wesson, Benjamin Tyler Henry is a towering determine on this planet of ammunition and firearms - and those in the know, know. Henry invented the eponymous Henry rifle, which was the world’s first repeating rifle that actually labored. Henry was born in Claremont, New Hampshire in 1821, to one of the crucial distinguished families in the realm. His grandfather, Colonel Benjamin Tyler, had been the town’s first millwright, who founded several successful mills in the town and invented the wry-fly water wheel. One of his cousins, James Tyler, likewise continued within the progressive spirit of their shared grandfather by perfecting this water-wheel design, creating a lot of the prosperity that visited the town through the early years of the Industrial Revolution however permitting paper and textile mills to spring up throughout the town utilizing the ability of this perfected design.

In actual fact, a 2019 analysis discovered that less than half of youngsters could appropriately determine a real gun when it was proven alongside a toy Orbi Gun. The excellent news is that with regards to criminality, research does not point out toy guns make youngsters extra violent. A 2018 research discovered that imaginative play with a toy gun was not more likely to be a risk factor for later criminal conduct. Dr. Spinks-Franklin notes that aggressive pretend play is part of normal improvement and does not point out that a child will develop up to be violent. That said, there are some identified risks associated with toy guns, together with bodily damage, mistaking real guns for toy guns, and mistaking toy guns for real guns. Toy guns can and do pose a threat of bodily harm, particularly amongst BB guns and airsoft guns (often known as non-powder weapons). In a 2020 research published in Journal of Pediatric Surgery, researchers found that amongst hospital admissions for non-powder weapon-related accidents in youngsters, patients were predominantly male, lived within the South, had been non-Hispanic white, and have been low-income.

[lennyinlordran]

The Zaradus Regime [Parts 3-4]

Part 3 To her surprise, the equipment hadn’t been modified. However, attached to the ceiling was newly installed… thing. Ostensibly a light fixture. With several Tesla-Coils attached to an encephalograph.

Sasha did the obvious thing and was about to plant half of her explosives on it, opting to wait until she knew more about the plan.

She was about to leave, before the distant sound of someone entering the hall came to mind.

Sasha hid under the seats, before two people walked in, Former Councilor Zaradus, and John Doe strode into the room.

“Tell me, advisor,” said Zaradus, “Is it possible to subvert the Encephalitic Imprinting mid process?”

“Only if someone had our remote control key, or a physical connection to the device.” Replied John.

“So, if this works, we will have the perfect method of recall.”

“Wait a minute.” John Doe sniffed the air.

“We have an intruder.”

Sasha threw her voice to sound like Zaradus, and asked “how’d she get in? In-true-da-window?”

John Doe turned to glare at Zaradus.

“Puns? Really” he asked.

“Tons, truly” piped Sasha in her impersonation.

“That’s not me!” Sputtered Zaradus.

“Oh, how you plea!” Tossed Sasha, impersonating John Doe now.

“You dare to mock your master!”

While the two bickered, Sasha crawled up to the ceiling, then connected a remote USB to the device.

Because USBs are cross compatible with alien tech eons old.

She slipped out through the window while they continued bickering.

From outside the building, Sasha connected to the remote USB, and plumbed the files of their machine.

She discovered their plan. They device would have a someone with psionic powers into the Encephalogram, and the machines would use the readings to imprint on the minds of anyone wearing electrically conductive-

“Oh. Well ••••”

Sasha checked to try and overwrite the program. Nope. Written on ROMs. Read-only.

Sasha proceeded to angrily curse for several minutes while punching a nearby tree.

The current time was 11:32 pm. The concert started at 6:30 the next day.

“I have only 18.5 hours to subvert this… think!”

Sasha decided to take a power nap in the tree. Do not do what Sasha does.

At 2 in morning, she opted to get started on arming herself.

She proceeded to break into a hospital and “borrow” an EEG. She then proceeded to visit the Rhumerians. After about three of her 18 hours, (15 left), she had recalibrated one of her pistols to stun Rhumerians, IE, Zaradus.

She then tried to sneak another look at the Encephaloscriptor.

Guarded directly by John Doe.

She returned the EEG.

12 hours left.

Sasha proceeded to sleep on it.

6 hours left.

Sasha had an idea.

She called up Leo and Maxine, then explained her plan.

Part 4 People were piling into the concert hall, about 60% in tinfoil hats. Maxine, (being more experienced in delinquency) had snuck onto the catwalk above the hall. Carrying a piece of white particle-board.

She approached the Encephaloscriptor, and Stood before Zaradus. She was extremely nervous. Sasha spoke much of these “Rhumerians”, but despite her love of mermaids, Maxine was distinctly unnerved.

“Stop! You’re not supposed to be up here!” Boomed Zaradus.

“Are you?”

Zaradus drew his rifle.

Max leapt forward, holding the board against the floor of the catwalk, lying flat behind it, squeezing her eyes shut.

A single stunner blast struck Zaradus, and Sasha crawled through through the portal in the Board. Zaradus got up from the stun, and a new voice rang out.

“Aww, a cute effort children.”

John Doe had approached from behind.

Sasha drew her human-calibrated stunner. She now had weapons trained on both Zaradus and John Doe. Zaradus had his rifle trained at her, and John had a Saturnian death-ray trained on Max.

“Zaradus, Fire-“ Sasha stunned Zaradus again.

“John, drop the gun and I’ll let Zaradus use the machine.”

John Doe lowered his weapon.

“As if I work for him!” He pointed his Death-ray at Zaradus.

“But… the plan! The birth of a new Yithian empire!”

“Why, talking like that, you make it sound like I’m a Yithian.”

“What?”

“You were misled. I’m far more than you could imagine.”

John shot Zaradus, leapt forward and shoved Sasha aside. Sasha fired the both stunners at him, no effect.

He donned the interface of the Encephaloscriptor, grinning madly.

The coils of the machine began to spin around the central axis it was built on, as it tilted down towards the crowd, most of which was cheering on the Cristian rock band playing.

Bolts of energy crackled between the coils, and the crowd began to run. The coils extended away from the machine, And trees of bolts of emanated from the machine toward the tinfoil-hat wearers in the crowd, the rest calmly began to leave, hurried but un-panicked.

Sasha fired at the machine. A shower of sparks erupted from it, as John cackled “it’s too late!! Mwahahaa! Urahahaha!!!”

Sasha then duly noted that she that still had the portal open.

“Leo! Give me the laptop and Maxine’s guitar!”

These items were handed through the portal.

Sasha grabbed the remote control from Zaradus’s remains, and plugged it into the laptop.

“Fool, the machine isn’t needed anymore!” Boomed the voice of John.

“Who are you really?” Asked Sasha nonchalantly.

The crowd roared, “He is The Faceless God, The Dark Wing, The Sand Bat, The Bloody Tongue. But you can call him Mr.Skin.”

Mr.Skin grinned like a puppy.

“And those titles mean?”

“You know not the Thousand-named lord of the woods?”

“Yeah. Maxine, here’s your guitar, we need a world-saving jam.”

Sasha plugged the guitar into the laptop, which was controlling the machine.

Maxine began, cautiously, to shred. Various members of the crowd started to vocalize in sync with the tenuous chords

The band’s lead guitarist began to shred a counter.

Sasha grinned wildly, and said, “you forgot something, Mr.Skin.”

“And what would that be?”

“Leo, Hand me that mic while you’re here.”

A Microphone (and stand) came through the portal, Sasha plugged it into the laptop, and Leo chimed, “the power of friendship?”

“No! The power of…”

Sasha turned and grinned at Max. Together they said, “Rock!”

Sasha tossed the mic to Max, and she began a one-girl cover of “feel better” by Penelope Scott.

Mr.Skin stared at the Two as Max sang, and he attempted to get the crowd to chant.

They did.

#cat girl #short story #weird fiction