#velocity weapon

[velocexiv]

i realized that veloce's two "main" jobs (rdm/pld) both have 2-piece arms, and i think it'd be cool and fitting if his azem used both at the same time and shifts the off-hand between shield/focus depending on the situation at any point in a fight

#wolqotd #wol #ffxiv #veloce #velocexiv #rdm #pld #azem #weapons #2023 #wol lore

[age-of-moonknight]

“Knight Feeders,” Moon Knight (Vol. 9/2021), #13.

Writer: Jed MacKay; Penciler and Inker: Federico Sabbatini; Colorist: Rachelle Rosenberg; Letterer: Cory Petit

#Marvel #Marvel comics #Marvel 616 #Moon Knight vol. 9 #Moon Knight 2021 #Moon Knight comics #Moon Knight #Marc Spector #Taskmaster #Anthony Masters #GAH I love these pages so much; there’s so much to unpack #to start there’s the bullet metaphor #first off it continues in the vein (that Marc occasionally buys into as well) of Marc being more weapon than man #and a point I find interesting that they kind of don’t bring up is that a bullet by itself is not lethal #but instead needs a firearm to jettison it into a lethal velocity #paralleling first Khonshu’s control over the direction over Marc’s life and then Marc taking up that mission on his own terms #and then there’s that last bit tying back into the first time we saw Taskmaster and Moon Knight tangle: #that Marc will take any amount of (often extensive) damage to achieve his goal #but also I love the contrast between the dialogue boxes and what’s actually happening on-panel #you’ve got Taskmaster saying “he’s nothing more than a weapon and a particularly savage one at that” #all while Marc is rather tenderly (for him) rescuing people #love that #wish it wasn’t the case that Marc would probably agree with Taskmaster’s assessment #but I love seeing Marc saving people nonetheless

[prismit]

i love thinking i'm good at a game, and then watching someone else play it and realizing "oh my god i'm an idiot"

#ghost town... 2! #yeah this is about dead cells again gvjdhfg #i've been playing WAY TOO SAFE and taking so long and getting hit so many times #turns out if you do more damage faster then the enemies just die before getting a chance to hit you #and if you use velocity and get rich quick together you don't need to worry about not having enough money to buy better gear #meaning you don't need to kill Every Single Enemy On The Map #and then combo for the last mutation slot and. just. i'm immediately getting through runs in literally 1/3 of the time AND taking less dmg #(except i haven't finished a single run with this setup bc i keep going to scarecrow and immediately getting ripped to shreds lol) #still sorta avoiding curses atm because. i'm not super confident yet. but i'm getting there i think #also rn i'm just going through 0bc to collect all the gear i don't have yet because DAMN there's a lot of them #down to the last 14 though. also still need the “dead inside” mutation as well as the 3 new ones. and the 3 new weapons too #so last 20 actually lol (most of which aren't in 0bc but that's fine i'm just working my way up)

[robotsprinkles]

not sure if it's just me but I still think gunplay (and gameplay in general) feels far better in titanfall 2 than in apex legends

guns both feel better to shoot and feel more reliable/effective

which is probably either mostly or at least in part because apex switched pretty much every gun from hitscan to projectile, except I think maybe the charge rifle? wait no just checked, apparently it got changed to a projectile as well just a month ago.

(I get switching all the guns from hitscan to projectile for the purposes of the larger map and it being a battle royale and making sure that you can't just snipe people from halfway across the map with an ar. but it does make the guns feel worse to use. not sure if the hybrid hitscan-projectile method — where guns are hitscan up to a specific range then become projectiles past that range — would work for apex)

movement is just. undeniably better in titanfall. which yeah okay apex isn't really a movement shooter. but still

also titanfall has mechs so. instantly the better game

#basically: yeah I get that battle royale games kinda need bullets to be projectiles and not hitscan for the sake of balance and the like #but it does create the very funny appearance of #all guns having gotten worse muzzle velocities and reduced effectiveness over thirty years of weapons development #all the new ''upgraded/improved'' versions of the tf2 guns having slower ttk/doing less damage than they did in tf2 #which again I get is because having that low a ttk in a battle royale would probably make the game suck for most people #also the increased recoil makes it seem like either the legends are poorly trained/weak as crap compared to pilots #(which I don't think works because ash has the same recoil as all the other legends despite being a pilot) #or the weapons have not only gotten weaker #but somehow have worse recoil mitigation systems than they used to #(which also doesn't work because. why) #(yes I know using gameplay to determine canon isn't smart but I'm dumb)

[anim-ttrpgs]

🌤️ Share your favorite mechanic from a game you’re working on.

I have a lot of mechanics in Eureka that I really really really love and have hardly seen anything similar to them anywhere else, but for the purposes of this ask I’m going to be answering with one of the unique ones that we haven’t talked about on here yet: The Woo Roll.

The Woo Roll is a special roll named in honor of director John Woo, well-known for his bombastic and extravagant use of practical effects in shootout scenes. Eureka boasts exciting and realistically dangerous firearms combat, and what better way to make deadly firearms combat more exciting in a theater-of-the-mind or grid-based shootout than by adding flavor and flare that emulates Hardboiled?

Firstly, it should be noted that it’s actually relatively hard to hit a target in Eureka firearm combat, doing so requires a fairly high roll. That means that participants are going to be doing a lot of missing. Besides just having a higher Firearms skill, the best way to increase one’s chance to hit is by firing more bullets in a single turn in the hopes that at least one of those shots will roll high enough to hit, which is why automatic weapons are more powerful than others: It usually only takes one single bullet hitting to disable a human target, so even with a low Firearms skill, firing more bullets at once greatly increases the chance that at least one will hit.

However, realistically, most shootouts in Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy will be done using semi-automatic pistols, which are only capable of firing a maximum of 2 shots per turn. We don’t want to make our combat be just and endless boring montra of “shoot, miss, shoot, miss, shoot, miss”.

So, how do we make missed shots fun?

The answer is the Woo Roll.

The Woo Roll is one of the few rolls in Eureka that doesn’t use 2D6, it only uses 1 D6.

(Quick note for those unaware: While Eureka is NOT a PbtA game, it does use a similar system of “Failure, Partial Success, and Full Success”, three possible outcomes of a dice roll instead of just Success and Failure.)

When firing a gun, all bullets fired that turn are rolled separately (we have a special speed-rolling system for when you’re firing more than 3 bullets in one turn but that’s a different post). A Full Success(10+ on a 2D6 roll) is required to hit the intended target with any given bullet, a Partial Success(7-9) and a Failure(2-6) both miss. But this is where the Woo Roll comes in.

I’ll let the actual Eureka rulebook take it from here.

As you can see here, missed shots in Eureka still have some effect on the environment and situation, even if they do not kill their intended target. This ensures that a roll in firearm combat will always do something even if it is a miss, and reminds the players of one of the fundamental rules of gun safety: Don't just be sure of your target, be sure of what's behind your target! High-velocity lead doesn't stop being destructive just because it flew a little too far to the left!

The fact that a Woo Roll is much more likely to have a negative result if the shoot was a Failure vs a Partial Success means that handing someone a gun who has no idea how to use it can be more of a hazard than a benefit, but it's not impossible for them to get that one lucky shot that makes the difference. Likewise, a Woo Roll made from a Partial Success still has a small chance to cause disaster, so even very skilled shooters have to consider whether it's worth the risk to start firing bullets all over the place at all.

We also have tables the Narrator(Game Master) can roll on just in case the shootout runs out of Woo Roll Elements or it happens in place where no Woo Roll Elements would realistically be. Here's a sneak peak at the table for Negative Woo Rolls.

Note also that this is a 2D6 table, meaning that the results closest to 7 are much more likely than the results farthest from 7.

#eureka: investigative urban fantasy #eureka #ttrpg #ttrpgs #rpg #indie rpg #coc #tabletop #roleplaying #dnd

[howtofightwrite]

I know DnD is not about realism but how accurate is having, say, your heavy armor wearing paladin have 10 dex or even negative dex? Where medieval knights built like The Rock or like The mountain? I’ve seen youtubers saying that you needed a lot of strength to be able to fight like a knight so women and smaller people couldn’t do it.

I think I know which YouTuber you're talking about, and you can pretty safely ignore them. Their personal misogyny takes priority over their (alleged) expertise when they're forming their arguments.

There's two logistical problems with the idea that you need someone like Hafþór Júlíus Björnsson to make up the bulk of your elite forces. The first problem is that they need to consume a frightening amount of food. This isn't as much of a problem in the modern era, when we have the capacity for truly staggering amounts of agricultural production. But, in a medieval society, with serfs responsible for most of the agriculture, the prospect of feeding each of your elite troops 10,000 calories a day would economically destroy most kingdoms. (And, yes, that is what Björnsson reports to consume on a daily basis. Other estimates place his dietary intake somewhere between 3600 and 8000.) And, to be clear, that is an absolutely absurd amount of food. But, if you want to build that kind of mass, you need a lot of energy, which means, a lot of food.

The second logistical problem is, there's only one of him. Okay, that's not literally true, The Mountain was portrayed by three separate actors, Conan Stevens, a professional wrestler, and Ian Whyte, a stunt actor who had previous appeared as a White Walker in the first season. But, Hafthor Bjornsson took over the role in the fourth season, and is probably who you're thinking of when you name drop the character.

Bjornsson is a member of the 2000 pound club, which include power lifters who can lift over 2000lbs combined between bench press, dead lift, and squats. Not many people ever get that far, and Bjornsson is one of the few individuals who can get into the 1000 pound club from a single lift.

Here's a fun name to know, Becca Swanson is also in the 2000 pound club. She credibly claims that she is the first woman to have achieved that, and I'm not sure if there are any other women in the 2000lb club, but it is achievable.

Now, here's the fun thing about all of this, because you're asking about D&D, and D&D players need to know exactly how much their character can lift. The calculation is (STR*30)lbs. (In the Player's handbook p174.) This also means if you have a real person, and you know how much they can lift in the real world, you can reverse engineer what their strength score would be in D&D.

It's 37.

If you wanted to convert Hafthor Bjornsson into D&D, his strength score would be 37.

Dude can fucking arm wrestle the Terrasque and easily win.

Putting that in perspective, it's a little ludicrous to say that if you want a viable martial character (fighters, paladins, barbarians, etc.), they need a Strength score of 37, when it's not normally possible for player characters to exceed 20 base strength. (If you're wondering, Becca would work out to have ~29 Strength. So, on par with most ancient dragons, and a few gods.)

So, there you have a man and woman who are both superhumanly strong according to D&D.

D&D and math have always had issues like this, and it pops up in a few different places here.

The basic concept that your ability to hit, and the amount of damage you deal is based on strength comes from a very, “schoolyard,” understanding of violence. It's okay to step back and abstract it out, where “strength,” is some amalgam of melee combat aptitude in addition to actual strength, but the idea that being stronger means you can hit harder with a sword or dagger doesn't make a lot of sense. It doesn't even make much sense with axes and maces (the force applied has more to do with the mass and velocity of the weapon, rather than the strength of its wielder.)

A paladin with negative DEX is dead. I don't mean that figuratively, and I do understand what you meant to say, but this rule is a little obscure in 5e. If any of a character's physical attributes (STR, DEX, CON) are reduced to zero, the character immediately dies. Ability draining effects used to be far more common, so the rule existed by itself, though, now it mostly shows up when you're looking at a monster with a physical ability draining attack.

What you probably meant was a negative DEX modifier, meaning your paladin is unusually clumsy. Outside the context of D&D, that would be an incredibly bad thing for a front line combatant. In the specific context of D&D, if they're in heavy armor, it doesn't really matter, if they're in medium, then it reverts to being “a bad thing. Specifically, the rules is that light and medium armor add your DEX modifier to your armor class. Medium armor caps this at +2, but it can go negative with either armor type. However, heavy armor in 5e ignores your DEX modifier entirely.

Now, here's the thing about D&D, its concept of armor is spectacularly weird. Unlike RPGs where armor reduces damage taken, either by subtracting a fixed amount from incoming damage or by reducing damage via a percentage, D&D's system is that your armor class grants you a chance to avoid being hit at all. (5% chance per point of AC, if you're wondering.) Narratively, this is often framed as taking a hit, but your armor turned the blade or something similar. This is because sometimes the enemy attack straight up misses, and that's (usually) determined by your dexterity. This is important, because the game is trying to balance two different power fantasies against each other.

On one side you have the players who want to roll in heavy plate armor, and soak all the hits, and on the other you have players who want to go with light armor, and dodge around enemy attacks. Realistically, that's not an option, but D&D permits it, and again, that's fine. The fantasy of lightly armored fighters makes a lot of sense. I'd even go so far as to say that the barbarian's unarmed defense bonus (where they add CON modifier to their DEX modifier while unarmored) is a really good change in 5e even if it does make no sense objectively. It contributes to the fantasy of this brutal fighter who runs around without armor slapping people silly with their weapons, and shrugging off damage because they're too stubborn to die. In (nearly all cases) the ability to deliver the player fantasy of a class is more important than a strict adherence to reality, and that's fine, that's the point, but the realism of D&D doesn't translate off the page in any meaningful way.

If you wanted a more, “realistic,” (and, yeah, that's incredibly loaded in this context), approach to armor for D&D, I'd say gate access based on your Constitution (or Constitution modifier). Sort of like how your equip load in Dark Souls is based on your Endurance attribute. Give armor and weapons a burden value, and if the combined burden on a character exceeds their CON, the character risks taking levels of Fatigue when they're fighting in heavier gear than they're conditioned to deal with. Maybe add a Conditioning feat or skill if you want to add some other attribute modifiers to the mix should you end up with your heavy armor fighters being underequipped. (Then again, I am one of those psychopaths who really liked the D20 Star Wars' vitality system.) So, ultimately, tinker with the balance until you find something you, and the people at your table, are happy with. Roleplayers who have more meaningful build choices tend to be happier, so long as they don't feel like they're being punished for having a character fantasy.

One of the more amusing descriptions I've read of medieval knights is that they were built like methheads. I can't fully vouch for that, because I'm not an expert on the physical appearance of medieval knights, but it's certainly credible. These guys were eating pretty well for the era, and engaged in a lot of physical activity. Depending on what they were doing, that could easily result in some fairly bulky guys, but it could also result in some wiry looking guys who hide their muscles. Just, knowing what I do about the human body, the answer was probably both, depending on their metabolism and diet. But the image of Sir Methhead, Knight of the Realm, and his implausibly clean teeth, still amuses me.

It's worth remembering that a lot of the times I've seen someone say, “they were built like athletes,” they'll drop an image of a bodybuilder. No. That's not what you would get. Bodybuilding is designed to create its own physique, one that doesn't occur unless you're abusing your body in some very specific (and unhealthy) ways. It's probably better to think of someone like a high-school football player. Bulky, but without the carved physiques of a Boris Vallejo painting. (If you don't know who that is, look up his art. It is a bit dated, but it's gorgeous.)

Alternately, if you do want your characters to look like those paintings, it is your fantasy, have fun.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #starke answers #how to fight write #D&D #Game of Thrones #The Mountain #Hafthor Bjornsson #Yeah Dude's first name is Half-Thor #figure he earns it #I can't judge you for using Boris Vallejo art as your character tokens #I'm still using MTG card art for mine

[soul-controller]

The Man of Steal II

When Clark Kent first left his farmhouse in Smallville to help assist a nearby town with a museum break-in, the man also known as Superman thought it would be a quick and simple encounter of disarming the criminal and handing them over to the police. Unfortunately for him though, this was proven to not be the case as Clark’s attempt to stop the criminal led to a huge fight that traversed through several areas of the museum. In fact, one of these areas included a special Krypton-themed exhibit, which proved to be quite detrimental to the superhero.

As the fight continued through this area, the criminal that broke into the museum (whose name was Darren) was desperately trying anything possible to stop Superman and allow himself to escape from him and the authorities. Searching through all of the rubble and toppled over display cases, Darren was able to stumble upon a rock that he thought could potentially give him an opportunity to flee. Upon slamming the rock against the hero’s impenetrable skull though, Darren found himself blessed with a perfect weapon in the form of a small piece of red Kryptonite.

Given the fact that Clark knew about the random effects that the crystal could have on him, the hero tried his best to deter the man from using the crystal for both of their sakes. The stubbornness of Darren was unwavering though and Clark was unable to stop the man in time before his broad chest was pierced by the crystal. Now after that impact, Clark immediately began to regret his constant desire for helping others as he found himself staring back at his own smiling body and realizing that he was now in the weak and unattractive form of Darren.

“Darren, did you hear me? It’s that kryptonite! That red one is super rare and has too many possible side effects for me to count. That must have caused us to swap bodies! Grab it and walk over here so we can swap back,” Clark desperately said, his voice shifting to a whimper as he struggled to sit up and deal with the intense pain of the impact with the wall. In fact, he was in such pain that the superhero didn’t even pick up on how he was now speaking with an awkward Midwestern accent that was a far cry from his formerly deep and booming voice.

Hearing the declaration of wanting to swap back though, the imposter Superman was adamant about not making that reality. As such, he slowly sauntered his way over to the now-frail superhero while puffing out his chest. “Like I’ve already told you Darren, by the looks of it, I’m Superman now,” he began, his lips pulling into a cocky smirk before letting out a chuckle seeing Clark’s terrified face. “I don’t really care about how this happened to us, all I know is that I’m not going to go back to that pitiful body just to go back to jail for whoever knows how many years!”

To punctuate the sentence then, Darren gripped onto the piece of kryptonite stuck in his chest and pulled it out. Grunting while this occurred, the man breathed heavily for a few seconds and stared intensely into his former eyes. Luckily for the terrified hero, this only lasted for a moment before Darren’s head soon began to turn and scan the expansive museum. Watching as the imposter Superman clenched his fist and pulled the arm holding the kryptonite back, Clark couldn’t even gasp in shock or scream for the man to stop before Darren’s new superhero strength sent the kryptonite flying through the air and shattering against the concrete wall from the velocity of the throw.

Feeling completely hopeless at what was going on, Clark found himself getting understandably quite emotional. It was absolutely infuriating to find himself graveling for the first time (and to his own body nonetheless), but it was something that he was more than willing to do in order to get his body and life back. He couldn’t allow some random criminal getting close to his wife and kids or taking over the role of Superman, Darren would surely destroy his family and his reputation as a good guy!

“Please Darren, don’t do this. We both know that these aren’t our real bodies, so let’s just be grown adults and I can find a shard or something so we can swap back,” he started. But as he finished his first sentence, his extreme sadness and fear finally caused the usually composed man to crack and begin crying. With those tears beginning to stream down his face, Clark tried his best to beg for his own body back. “Please, I’ll do anything you want to get my body back. I’m the real Superman, and I just want to get back to my family,” he continued, his sentence abruptly stopping as he began to full-on sob. Just the simple thought of having this stranger going to bed with his wife or going to his sons’ high school events was enough to break down the last remaining morsel of Clark’s pride. Despite his passionate plea though, Clark was absolutely appalled to find that his own hearty laugh was being used against him and filling the empty atrium of the museum.

“Wow, that was so pitiful and pathetic. With behavior like that, I don’t think we should swap back,” Darren began, his laughter continuing as he put his hands on his hips and looked down at the frail man who was sobbing and desperately wrapping an arm around his right leg. “Honestly, all of that emotion and desperate whining is perfectly fitting for such a weak body. In fact, I think I’m rather content with remaining as Superman,” he continued before suddenly stopping himself. “Or would you rather I refer to myself by my real name? Do you prefer I go with Clark Kent or Kal-El?” he said as he cockily placed his hands on his hips, finally causing Clark to look up in horror at the revelation that the criminal somehow knew everything about him.

“H-how did you know that,” Clark desperately inquired, struggling to comprehend what’s going on.

“What are you talking about Darren, I’m just thinking about my life and memories... especially my gorgeous wife and those two teenage boys that are eagerly waiting for their father to show up back in Smallville. You know what I really can't stop thinking about though? Getting Lois to moan my name as I fuck her mercilessly, a reward for continuing to make the world a better and safer place," he began, the smile turning quite devious as he easily recounted Clark’s last encounter with his family before heading to the museum. To make matters worse for the terrified superhero though, the man’s next statement proved to leave him weak in the knees. “I mean, I don’t think any of those memories feel fitting for a petty criminal and low-level gang member that would stage some break-in at a museum right? Go ahead and try and think about your life though Darren, I think you’ll find that those are more fitting for your life!”

Desperately, Clark tried to recount a recent and important moment in his life. The first thing that came to mind was the reason behind the family’s move to Smallville - the death of Clark’s mother. But to his horror, a brief glimpse through his mind was unable to pull up that memory. Instead, he found countless memories that informed him of a frail and sickly looking woman that was constantly in and out of the hospital. Even more bizarre, those memories also referred to Clark by the name belonging to the body he was now in: Darren.

Gasping in shock at what was going on, Clark tried his hardest to recall more important events and information about his life. But instead, all that happened was that a broader picture was painted about Darren’s life. By doing so, Clark was able to learn more about Darren such as his last name being Hyde and his history of going in and out of jail countless times in his youth. Continuing to pull on this string of Darren’s past allowed Clark to learn more about the man’s history with a local gang who first recruited him when he was 14 and got caught stealing some cigarettes for his mother.

Despite the gang’s best attempts at helping the man bulk up and gain more muscle to become some sort of brute to help them during any heists, Darren’s body was unwilling to grow beyond the pale and bony frame that he’d been stuck with since his childhood. With no real incentive for keeping the man around, the gang soon found a special job for Darren - by being their personal guinea pig and constant fall guy. Whenever he wasn’t in prison for one of the gang’s crimes, the man had no other options but to stick with the gang and endure their various tortures that came in the form of the knife scars that adorned Clark’s new pale skin. As he ran his fingers along the various cuts that crisscrossed on his skin, Clark found himself instantly cringing as he could somehow recall the pain Darren felt as he tried his best to flee and escape the rugged and bulkier men who tormented him.

“This isn’t right,” Clark cried out, the words coming out as a bizarre warble as he struggled to comprehend the extreme yet widely different expressions of his shame, fear, and pure rage. “You’re going to give me back my body one way or another,” he continued, his voice shifting into a surprisingly aggressive scream as he suddenly got up onto his feet and began to rush towards the shattered remnants of the red kryptonite. As he watched for a moment, Clark smirked seeing that the criminal was seemingly so caught off-guard that he hadn’t even attempted to chase after him yet. In a moment of athleticism that Darren’s body had never experienced before, Superman slid along the glass-shattered floor and allowed the pants he was wearing to be torn to shreds as he reached down to quickly pick up a small shard of red kryptonite that was the size of a paperclip. Given his multiple experiences with kryptonite in the past, Clark knew that the small piece was more than enough to hopefully restart the transformation and place him back in his original body.

Upon grabbing the piece, the man slid up from his knees and jumped back into a standing position to face the criminal who had stolen his body. But to his shock though, all he saw was a blur as Clark’s body flew directly at him before grabbing him and throwing him against the thick concrete wall. As Clark gasped and attempted to catch his breath from the impact, the imposter Superman was able to quickly grip onto the man’s kryptonite-wearing hand and slam it against the wall as well. But despite the struggle to regain his breathing, Clark kept a death grip around the shard in hopes of eventually stabbing the criminal with it. However, this quickly changed as Clark looked directly into the eyes of his former body and watched as they began to quickly redden.

“If you want to keep that hand of yours, you better drop the shard. Right now,” Darren warned, causing Clark’s friendly face to shift into a terrifyingly ill-fitting expression of pure rage.

Fearing the concept of losing a limb to his own laser vision, Clark let out a defeated whimper as he dropped the shard and watched as it slowly fell down and clattered against the tiled floor. Feeling as tears once again began to stream down his sunken-looking face, Clark lifted his head up to avoid making eye contact with the body thief who had easily outsmarted and outpowered him.

“Hey hey hey,” Darren lightly cooed, the friendly and calming tone he was speaking with being severely at odds with the reality of the situation. “Don’t worry Clark, I’ll be taking good care of those wife and kids of yours. Hell, based on how poorly your relationship with Jordan is right now, I think you could use all of the help you could get,” he continued with a chuckle, finding great amusement in being able to not only so easily defeat the indestructible Superman but also seamlessly take over his life as well.

“You motherfuck-,” Clark began, growing enraged as he heard the imposter bring up his strained relationship with his son.

But before the superhero could even finish his rare moment of profanity, Darren was quick to grab the man’s head and slam it back against the concrete wall. With his former body immediately slumping into a state of unconsciousness after the impact, Darren couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that he had overtaken the apparent Man of Steel. Although he had found such glee in tormenting the superhero and watching him plead for his body back though, the imposter Clark was growing increasingly antsy in terms of getting home and meeting his new family.

So as he dragged the still-unconscious “criminal” out through the front doors of the museum by the collar of his shirt, the brand new Superman flashed a wide smile as the various police officers were unaware of the fact that the criminal that they were searching for was who they were congratulating. Just as he prepared to fly off though to the house that his memories informed him was the Kent household, the former criminal tried his best to cover his tracks for once the real Clark woke up. This attempt came in the form of some dialogue with the paramedics who had quickly handcuffed Darren’s former body to a gurney and began to inspect his head for any potential damage.

“Hey, just so you guys now, that guy refused to go down without a fight,” Darren began, putting his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest as he tried to appear overly heroic to the paramedics. “Obviously I didn’t want it to get that far, but he left me with no choice other than to rough him up a bit. Just in case he starts saying some crazy and unbelievable things, please check and make sure about whether he’s concussed or not. I know he hit his head pretty hard against one of the concrete walls while we were fighting,” he continued, giving a light grin and nodding his head towards the duo of workers before flying off to meet his new family.

* * * * *

Just a few minutes later, Darren had traversed the several miles of vast farmland before arriving on the Kent property. Opting to have a bit of time to mentally prepare before encountering his new family, the man made a landing near a large barn and slowly began to prepare to adopt the identity of a sweet father and husband rather than the gritty gang member he once was. After reaching the front door of the house, the brand new Clark Kent took a deep breath before turning the doorknob and walking in.

To his surprise though, the house was completely dead and silent beyond the TV in the living room that was still playing the local news station. “Uh hello,” he said aloud, continuing to walk around and looking for his new family. Instead though, the only thing he saw was a lone plate of food resting on the dinner table while all of the lights remained off. Thinking that his new family may have gone somewhere in town, Darren made his way through the hallways before entering the bedroom that his inherited memories told him was Clark and Lois’ bedroom.

After entering and finding that the room was just as empty as the rest of the house, the imposter took a moment to take in the sights of his new residence before noticing an ajar bathroom door connected to the main bedroom. Eager to get out of this suit and see what his new body looked like, the man eagerly made his way in there and began to undress.

As the suit finally slumped down to the floor and Darren stepped out of it, the man was in awe at just how godly his body looked now. Not only did the superhero opt to wear no underwear beneath the suit so the man was in immediate awe of Clark’s impressive 8.5” cock, but the sight of such a buff physique left Darren quite slack-jawed as well. It was incredible to feel such intense strength buried deep within the thick biceps and firm hairy pecs that he now possessed, so much so that the man’s brand new manhood was immediately hardening in response. Fuck yeah, I can definitely get used to this, the man thought to himself as he used one hand to graze his fingers along the well-defined ripples of his six-pack abs and the other to slowly squeeze the shaft of his new cock.

Before he could get too deep into the fondling though, a sudden flick of a lamp caused Darren’s eyes to widen and turn to face the source of the disturbance. Upon doing so, his eyes suddenly found himself staring at his new wife Lois sitting on her side of the bed and watching with a curious expression. As he observed the woman, Darren’s cock couldn’t help but firm up further due to just how gorgeous she was to him.

“Hmm,” she began, her lips curling into a light smirk as she looked her nude husband up and down. “I presume your trip to the museum went well?” Lois coyly asked, her eyes clearly narrowing in on the rock hard cock that was jutting out and pointing directly at her from across the room.

Attempting to come up with a response, Darren found his words beginning to jumble as he attempted to explain himself. “I- um, yeah the whole trip went great. It took a bit because the intruder was wearing this mechanical suit, but as soon as I got him out of it, it was a piece of cake getting him handed over to the authorities,” he said, his words coming across quite direct and intense due to his inner worry of somehow having Lois figure out that something had happened to her real husband.

Luckily though, Lois seemed to think that nothing was amiss, especially as Darren watched her stand up and slowly make her way over to him. As one hand ran her fingers along Clark’s pecs and twirled his chest hair, Darren found himself gasping as his new wife delicately wrapped her hand around the sizable manhood and began to slowly stroke it.

“Wha- what about the kids,” Darren asked, worried about any possible intruders before he truly gave into his newfound attraction towards the woman and fucked her senseless.

“Oh don’t worry, Jordan’s playing video games in his room while Jonathan is video-chatting with his girlfriend,” Lois purred into Clark’s ear. “There’s nothing to stop us from having a little fun tonight babe,” she continued, which immediately pushed Darren over the edge.

Feeling his attraction reaching its limit, the man put his superhero skills to use as he effortlessly pulled the woman into bed at impressive speeds and tore off the woman’s clothing. As they leaned in and passionately kissed each other, Darren’s bad boy tendencies began to quickly come out in full force.

It started out small, with Lois finding her lip bit by her hunky husband as he tightly gripped onto her breasts and sensually massaged the nipples. To her surprise though, she found the action oddly erotic, so she told Clark to keep going as he finally took a moment to slide his massive cock into her needy pussy. With the man sliding in and out with a surprising amount of force and conviction, the journalist couldn’t help but gasp and moan for Clark to “go harder”.

Luckily, Lois’ imposter husband was more than willing to comply with the request, using his wide hands to grip the back of her skull and pull her into a deep and passionate kiss as he ran his tongue down her throat. When pulling away from those kisses though, the brand new Clark was quick to dive into some dirty talk as he told his wife to beg for his cock and to call herself “daddy’s little cunt” if she wanted him to keep going. To Darren’s surprise though, the journalist was all too willing to allow “Clark” to assert dominance as she begged for more and referred to herself as that kinky nickname. As such, it didn’t take long before Darren reached climax and shot his superhero seed into his brand new wife’s eager pussy.

After finishing up and falling back into bed, Darren couldn’t help but smirk as Lois raved about how great that was and talked about how it felt like he was “a brand new man”. As he chuckled and retorted that the woman had no idea how true she was, the brand new Superman decided to flick off the light and head to bed. With Lois now fully believing that nothing was amiss, Darren was somewhat excited to meet his new children the next day and become a better father to them than the real Clark Kent could ever be!

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#male transformation #male body swap #stories involving superheroes #superhero tf #body swap

[nemastraea]

Doormat extraordinaire: Andrew Graves is down horrendous for his own sister | Part 2

Here's a link to the previous half of the essay: Part 1 Here's a link to the AO3 version for archive purposes: The doormat extraordinaire has a bit of a romantic streak,

Content warning: This will heavily feature spoilers from Episodes 1 & 2 of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. Trigger warning: Abuse, cannibalism, child neglect, codependency, harassment, incest, murder, self-harm, and suicide. Disclaimer: I will occasionally reference an extremely normal essay from Sufficient Velocity commenter Leyleyfication (here). It would be a lot easier to read this essay first as Leyleyfication does a pretty good job establishing the following: - Ashley is dependent on Andrew to assure and validate her of her own insecurities, and - The game heavily implies that Andrew wants to fuck his own sister.

So in the previous half of the essay, I got to talk about how, yes, why we can comfortably say Andrew wants to fuck his own sister. We also got into how that attraction manifests as his desire to exert his control, and domination, of Ashley. Hopefully, that's the bulk of the essay (I think).

But what about the possessive aspect that I mentioned?

That's what this half of the essay will get into and hopefully, the fatalist aspect of Andrew's attraction.

Episode 2, common route. I had to throw this screenie in somewhere for how out of pocket it is as a thought.

Wow, you're both possessive and jealous!

Thankfully, it's actually a lot easier to list the situations wherein he's possessive and jealous of Ashley. Unfortunately, I don't have all of the necessary screenshots (and I am fucking crying over it).

In Episode 1, Andrew is immediately upset by Ashley loudly wondering if getting pregnant would get the wardens to call help for the siblings.

In Episode 1, Andrew is offended that Ashley is offended that the wardens didn't find her attractive like the Lady from Room 302 to bargain food in exchange of sexual favors.

Again, in Episode 2, Andrew 'lightly' threatens to backhand Ashley when she jokingly suggests being a call girl.

These ones... are almost easy to dismiss. It's actually very easy to reason it's Andrew being a protective older brother: after all, who would want to be in the same apartment when their sibling is having sex somewhere else? That's the answer that Andrew gives to pacify Ashley after leaving Room 302. Having sex with someone who's brother is walking around the apartment is very, very awkward.

And that's even before we factor in that the two share their childhood room. The game plays into what is likely our real-life mortification and discomfort regarding similar scenarios.

But there are times when it's both in our face, and inexcusable. When it doesn't really fall under that notion of brotherly protectiveness: Andrew's dream and memories from Episode 2. The first is when Andrew reflects on the people he's killed up to this point, particularly the warden he killed in the cultist's apartment.

Episode 2, common route. The warden here is likely Malcom. If you compare Ashley's reaction to the wardens' arrangement with the Lady from Room 302 to this moment, we can probably read this as Ashley being so disinterested in others that she doesn't notice attraction and leering. Andrew, meanwhile, can.

The second is when we learn what happened after the siblings left the Bitch in the Box to, yanno, die from her asthma in a likely moldy box in an abandoned warehouse.

When Andy sees Nina's body, he's not wracked with the guilt of her death. He doesn't care about whether or not that reflects on his morals as conveniently forgetting Nina was asthmatic and begged for help, only for Andy to prioritize Leyley. No, Andy's train of thought went from "I don't want people to find the body" to "I don't want people to know it was [us] who killed her" to this.

Episode 2, common route. Leyleyfication pointed out that this outburst precedes Leyley weaponizing the moral consequences of Nina's death against Andy. Andy, even now with Andrew, doesn't particularly care about moral consequences. Although, getting into Andrew's moral framework as driven by appearances and the fear of legal and societal consequences is a whole different word vomit.

Of course, Andrew being concerned that he'll lose Ashley can be chalked up to the fact that he's been her primary caretaker and the third parent (the most active one, mind you) all his life. To take Ashley away is to upend the foundations of Andrew's sense of normalcy. But that doesn't really align with how Andrew repeatedly emphasizes his candid closeness with Ashley, or his preoccupation with her fat tits (their words, not mine).

Episode 2, common route. When you pair this with the optional interactions of Ashley repeatedly blocking Andrew's view of the TV at the motel, it's actually kinda funny how Andrew's eyes trail to her chest.

Ashley is Andrew's pride and joy ("my Ashley") and he also doesn't like being away from her long enough to spy on a failed attempt at summoning demons. He takes sadistic pleasure in being able to kill the warden who leers at her, Andy uncharacteristically has violent outbursts at the notion of losing Leyley.

Ashley's insecurity and jealousy is almost always front and center throughout the game. But the game also takes care to weave Andrew's obsession with Ashley whenever it can. It's a lot more subtle, and perhaps missable, since Ashley almost never shows interest in anyone but Andrew.

We can possibly argue that Andrew finds comfort in this, that he is 'secure' in the sense that Ashley looks at no one else but him. But even something as Ashley simply expressing wonder at alternative scenarios is deeply upsetting to Andrew, enough to provoke his threat of violence.

Whether or not that comes up in either route for Episode 3 (Burial and Decay) is up in the air, but my immediate impression is that Andrew will be forced to dredge up his obsessive need for Ashley to be by his side, to be his, and his alone. It's not really that different from Ashley's desire and love for him. Really, the only difference is Andrew doesn't really mind having acquaintances or a social life outside of Ashley, but Ashley does. If Andrew deludes us into assuming he isn't in love with his sister, there's a good chance he's denying it to himself, too.

(I do want to hark back on Leyleyfication's essay again, when Andrew asks Ashley to reassure him that they won't end up sleeping together. In that regard, not only is Ashley the one he allows to 'veto' that possible outcome, but we can infer that Andrew wouldn't know how to walk away if ever the opportunity presents itself. He's hoping that Ashley's restraint is what keeps them from crossing that line, because god knows Andrew can't help himself.)

Episode 2, Burial route. Andrew values Ashley's opinion; usually when it conveniences him and what he wants. But if you choose, "never say never," although Andrew doubles down on his show of disgust and mortification, he doesn't get pissed at her or start emotionally distancing himself from her.

Andrew is a tragic romantic, hallelujah!

When I first played the game, the first thing that struck me about Andrew's behavior wasn't when Ashley woke up in his lap. It's not when he throws her the balcony key because he'll follow her to check on the cultist if she'd like. It's when, completely unprompted, he goes on about how romantic it would be if they died in a double suicide:

What? You don't see it? Just imagine hitting the ground together. And with such force our bodies turn into a pile of gory mush. Never to be separated! Our remains would get so tangled up they'd have to bury us together in the same coffin.

Episode 1, common route. You live on the fourth floor, Andrew.

This resurfaces when Ashley doesn't first wake up in the car in Episode 2. He confesses that if she had not woken up, he would have brought her to the hospital. Admittedly, doing so would alert the authorities to their identities: hospital staff would be concerned as to why they look like they're recovering from being emaciated, they're likely paler than the average person, and so forth. They'll ask for a means to identify Ashley, at least, and then they'll find out that both Graves siblings were legally pronounced dead three months prior to Andrew walking into the emergency room.

That is the pronounced risk that Ashley points out and the same risk that Andrew readily dismisses in his panic and worry. And in a way, it would make sense: if Andy was so terrified of upsetting Leyley that he'd willingly keep a girl trapped overnight, if Andy was so terrified of losing Leyley that he'd rather hide Nina's body, why wouldn't Andrew say fuckit, let's risk getting jailed if Ashley isn't waking up?

But this sense of fatalism is more pronounced in the Decay route, of all places. You know, the one where Andrew resents and blames Ashley for everything and hates her so much she dreams of him killing her some way or another. Jesus.

Episode 2, Decay route. When Andrew doesn't see a point in planning their next steps, he admits he has a strong urge to kill them both.

Barring Ashley's first vision of the hitman killing them both, or even the hidden Steam achievement where Ashley finds the hitman in the closet, Ashley's death is a subject only ever thrown around in the context of dying with Andrew, or by Andrew. Just the same, it's almost always succeeded (or preceded; again: hitman vision) by Andrew's hypothetical death.

Ashley starts and ends with Andrew; he's how she's survived for this long, and she's okay with that. But Andrew starts and ends with Ashley, too. His self-preservation goes out the window where the threat of fatally losing Ashley is concerned, and his morals bend where being separated from Ashley is also concerned.

In Decay, Andrew can loathe and resent Ashley as much as he wants. He can blame her as the motivation and reason for why he does what he does. But he genuinely cannot live without her. The consequences of his actions don't bother him insofar as they don't jeopardize his and Ashley's relationship, or Ashley's well-being. That's what matters to Andrew, ultimately.

He lashes out at her, yes, but he consistently feels awful when his behavior drives Ashley away somehow. There is regret in hurting her (verbally, or physically) even when he hates and loathes her so deeply.

Perhaps the most telling, however, is the pay-off of the gun (I told you we'd come back to that eventually!!). In the chase sequence of Ashley's vision in Decay, she has the opportunity to defend herself. But only if Andrew didn't use up all of the ammo when he goes to find and deal with the hitman at the park.

The player is presented with a choice: either Ashley shoots Andrew with the gun, or lets Andrew kill her. The option of Ashley killing Andrew in self-defense is very interesting (but again, that's a different essay entirely). But what happens if Ashley chooses to let Andrew kill her is also just as interesting:

Episode 2, Decay route. Andrew's hand that restrained Ashley by the hair shifts to cradle her face by the jaw. This moment is also preceded by the first time Ashley's little heart bubble is colored a light pink.

When Andrew kills Ashley through this outcome, he does so efficiently: it's visualized by a single blood splatter. In contrast, Andrew killing Ashley because she can't even choose to defend herself is pure viscera: there are more blood splatters, violent as they come onto the screen, and excessive in contrast to him killing the first warden in Ashley's defense. It's pure loathing.

In this outcome, Andrew kills her in what he promises will be a murder-suicide. Perhaps he frees the both of them from the constant threat of evading law authorities, but his last words suggest he expects to rejoin her in whatever conception of the afterlife he has.

As of either route divergence from Episode 2, Andrew is someone who's both in love with his own sister—and someone unwilling to separate himself from her. Perhaps in the more platonic Burial route, Andrew is a bit more relaxed and is seemingly less troubled by his nightmares; he doesn't depend on Ashley as much. But what remains constant is his attempt to plan for the future with Ashley in tow; platonic Burial Andrew won't leave Ashley for the foreseeable future, either.

So yeah, Andrew wants to fuck, own, and have his sister and he's kinda crazy. He's so batshit. As Leyleyfication put it, I also want to dissect this man in a lab.

Episode 1, common route. Ashley doesn't seem to fully grasp that Andrew (even Andy, back then) loves her so much that he genuinely cannot fathom being separated from her. In her defense, though, Andrew implies he can leave her and routinely suggests he loathes having to put up with her. His mixed signals would drive anyone crazy, man.

#lia's conspiracy board #The Coffin of Andy and Leyley #TCOAAL: Andrew Graves #TCOAAL: Ashley Graves #ship: coffincest #character analysis

[fushipurro]

Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy

Chapter 2 - Synched Spirits

<- Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter (wip) ->

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, cowboy!au, fluff smut & a bit of angst in between, guns, mentions of blood, pet names, creampie, anal, threesome (f/m/m), gangs

☆ Word Count: 5.4k

“So, you must be Clementine then, huh?”

The palomino huffs back, examining you with big brown eyes. Her ears flicker with interest, no doubt curious to the strange new human holding taking her by the lead to the other end of town. You can’t blame her for being wary, you’d feel the same if your beloved companion left you for another so you can only imagine how she and your Valentine are feeling right now.

She’s not the only one cautious of you. It’s hard not to miss the many townsfolk eyeing you down, what with how last night went. Between the robbery and your duel, everyone’s on high alert for the foreseeable future.

One would like to believe they’d be more grateful you didn’t outright kill the guy. Maybe they wouldn’t care so much if you were a man instead of a natural born, gunslingin’ woman, but sucks to suck. That drunken fool is lucky you decided to be nice and let him off with just a mangled hand. Had it happened after Valentine was stolen, the results would have been much different.

You hitch Clementine up outside the gun store, pushing past the door and greeting the shopkeeper. They’re about the only person so far today not afraid of you, but in all fairness, he’s the one with a dozen guns an arm’s length away.

“Lookin’ for anything in particular, Ma’am?”

You hum in response, scanning the available goods displayed out across the various shelves. There’s plenty of ammunition for a good price; wouldn’t hurt to replenish your pistol stocks after that duel. You decide on a few, bringing them over to the checkout counter.

“I’ll take these and…” Glancing up behind the clerk, there’s several cabinets containing an assortment of larger weaponry. A little voice creeps up from the back of your head offering a wonderful idea. “…maybe a rifle, depending on what ya have.”

He turns his back to you, unlocking one of the many units. Across the empty counter in front of you, he places down a few options, naming them as he goes, “Rolling Block, Varmint, Springfield, Bolt Action…take your pick.”

You’re instantly drawn to the Rolling Block, a girthy beauty that screams power and fine craftsmanship. “How’s the firepower on this one?” you ask, lifting the weapon up to better examine.

“You won’t find much competition with that one,” he tells you, and that’s exactly what you like to hear.

If someone dares to so much as think they can get away with stealing your horse, then you’re sure as hell going to track them down and put a gaping hole right where their heart should be. That black-haired outlaw better watch his back if he knows what’s coming. Once all is said and done with, Calamity Jane will be needing a new nickname after you usurp that throne.

“How much?”

“$187 even, Ma’am.”

Tch, that’s steep. And more than you have on hand thanks to the rest being buried in Valentine’s satchel.

You sigh, begrudgingly looking over the rest of the artillery. “How about the rest?”

“The Varmint here is our cheapest at $72 if you’re goal is hunting rabbits and other small game; otherwise the Springfield is our next cheapest at $120.”

You replace the Rolling Block in your hands with the Springfield Rifle, trying it out just like you did with the former. It’s lighter in weight with less range on the scope, but the clerk assures you that with some express or high velocity bullets, distance won’t be an issue.

“I’ll take this then.” You pass a billfold to the clerk, seething once again over why you’re doing this to begin with. Money’s hard to come by in this day and age, as far as legal opportunities go for someone like you. So help that bastard if he finds the rest of your stash and decides to take that for himself.

Leaving the store with your new weapon in hand, you’re quick to notice a gathering of lawmen outside the Sheriff’s office just across the street. A dozen uniforms with an equal number of horses all geared and ready to go.

“Who’s the Sheriff around here?” you call out, approaching the group.

“That would be me, Miss.” The crowd parts, making room for a young, white-haired man. “Sheriff Satoru Gojo. How may I be of service to you on this lovely day?”

You scoff, This guy? He’s clean as a whistle. Even the star on his chest could be mistaken for a mirror with how much he’s shined it.

Any other time and his equally bright smile might feel akin to fresh rain in the New Austin desert, but currently, it’s more like greeting the sun after a wicked night in the saloon.

“I’d like to know what’s being done about those thieves from last night.”

His blue eyes wander your figure up and down. Curious, but invasive. “You’re not with the bank, are you?”

Does it look like I’m wearing a suit or a fancy dress?

“My horse was stolen by one of those bastards and I intend on getting her back. Today,” you hiss impatiently.

Giving attitude to a man of the law may not be the smartest decision lest you desire a night behind bars, but to be fair, you have every right to be pissed given the circumstances. Had they have been competent in their line of work, then the criminals wouldn’t have gotten as far as they had or even been able to leave town in the first place.

It’s infuriating.

And the nonchalant nature of this man only pisses you off further.

“You’re in luck then, Miss…?”

You reply to the man with your name, sternness evident in your tone.

“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he remarks, earning a glare of disapproval from you that he shrugs off with a laugh. “My deputies and I are heading out on a lead if you want to sit tight inside.”

You place a hand over your hip, all nice and sassy with your face anything but. “I’d rather come with y’all than sit on my ass.”

Satoru takes the lead of a pristinely clean cremello stallion, its fur almost as perfectly white as the hair on its rider’s head. “I won’t stop you, but…” He pauses, hoisting himself up and over the saddle effortlessly, showing off those long legs of his. “…it could be dangerous.”

You pat the gun holster attached to your hip, just another way of showing that you’re anything but the normalcy ‘round here. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

The rim of his darkly colored cattleman hat dims his facial expression as he hunches down over the horn of the saddle, but not the light coming from that toothy grin stretching ear to ear.

“I don’t doubt that for a second, I’m aware of the duel that occurred last night.”

“Good, so then you know I mean business,” you warn, not once wavering from the eye contact with Satoru.

He outstretches his hand, beckoning for you to accept. “Of course. You want to ride up here with me then so we can get going?”

“Thanks, but no thanks,” you respond, pointing your thumb behind you at Clementine. “This girl will do just fine.”

“Didn’t steal her, I hope?” he teases in an effort to lighten the situation. It doesn’t necessarily work as you roll your eyes the moment your back turns on him. From there, you and the rest of the deputies mount up to leave town, destination unknown.

You hunker back from the rest of the posse, allowing the mare to instinctively follow while you take in the surrounding sights. You had come to this town from a different path than the one you’re marching on now, but given the view, you’ll for sure find yourself adventuring out here again in the future. The settlers here picked a beautiful spot to build the city of Valentine on. In the distance lie snow-kissed peaks and plateaus in nearly every direction, a wide-open prairie, and now the freshwater stream trailing at your side.

The stream runs clear as crystal, giving you an easy view of all the trout and pike that call it home. Measly shadows darting around in search of food and the ducks swimming along the surface. Sunlight catches on all the ripples, reflecting a dazzling lightshow of effects.

“So… what brings you to our fair city?”

You turn to your opposite side where Satoru and his majestic stallion ─ Mugen as you’ve come to discover its name to be ─ are nestled up at your side, stirrups annoyingly clashing with utter disregard for personal space.

“Do I need a reason or permission to come?”

“Well, no,” he pouts, “but as Sheriff I like to know who all is coming and going.” He further invades your bubble by leaning over in front of your line of sight, leather scrunching with every motion. “Besides, you’re an interesting change to the usual visitors. How could I not be curious?” he adds pointedly.

You sigh, giving in to his questioning. He doesn’t seem like a bad guy after all, compared to the horse thief you’re eagerly waiting to meet later. Satoru’s merely caught you on a bad day is all.

“I’m just a traveler like any other,” you drawl, a seldom undertone in your voice. “I used to call Tall Trees home, but that’s long in my past.”

“Bear country, huh?” He whistles out of surprise. “No wonder you’ve got the balls of one.”

“You could say that.” An amused huff leaves you. “Hunting bears is what ensured our survival up around Aurora Basin,” you explain, looking off in the direction of the mountains you at one point called home. “Had to watch our asses at all times to avoid Brumas or Lobo’s pack always hanging around our house.”

“Brumas?”

“Yeah, she’s a local legend in those parts. ‘A giant clad in golden fur.’” You exaggerate with your hands the sheer size of the bear. “Many doubt her existence, but my dad and I saw her firsthand one winter while hunting elk. Barely made it out intact but we made sure to leave her with a memorable scar on her face.” The memory of that day pulls the edges of your lips upwards.

“It's kill or be killed,” the words of your father sound in your head. “Either you stand your ground and fight back, or you won’t survive in this world.”

As they say, there’s always a method to the madness. Grizzly hunting as a kid is what geared you up to take no shit from others today. Especially for a lone woman carving her way through the frontier, you need to have the balls of a bear as the man next to you so sweetly described.

“Yikes,” Satoru grimaces at the fierce display of your nature stretching across your face. “Remind me not to get on your bad side.”

“Help me get my horse back today in one piece and you won’t have to worry.” You wink.

“By my honor as Sheriff of Valentine, I will get your steed back.” He pulls a semi-auto pistol from his belt, twirling it around his finger like you’d find in those animated photographs big cities always show off. The cocky cowboy, slick as could be with the metallic extension of themselves. “I’m the strongest, after all.” He winks back.

You have to hand it to him; he knows how to make an insufferable day a little less so; like a chaser you’d have following some throat-burning liquor. All it took was just some conversation and fond thoughts to get you back in the right mindset.

A pungent smell wafts your way sooner down the path, the luscious greens of the shrubbery abruptly turn to charred remains covering the expanse of land before you. A thin boundary of life and death.

“Forest fire?” you question rhetorically at first, but Satoru offers an answer.

“Kinda, we’re approaching what used to be a town by the name of Limpany.” He pauses, exhaling a discontent sigh. “Burned to the ground last year along with the rest of what you see.”

Kinda?

“Do you know how it started?”

There’s another brief pause, enough to shift the atmosphere in an awkward direction. You aim your head at Satoru, finding his downcast expression and a bittersweet smile. He brushes his fingers through Mugen’s mane, finding comfort with his trusted familiar.

“Since you told me your story, I’ll tell you some of mine,” he begins, taking in a focused breath. “My best friend and I were once deputies together, our sights set on becoming the sheriffs of a town no one would dare mess with thanks to our presence.” A flicker of remorse passes through the depths of his blue orbs. “We had a job that went sideways, and it wasn’t the same for us after.”

“How so?”

“I went on to become sheriff like we originally planned, but Suguru started to pull back and decided on going home to Limpany for a while.”

A pit in your stomach forms, giving you a sinking suspicion as to where this story could go. Considering his mood, the destination ahead, and the reveal of someone important to his life, there appears to be more to this as a whole than just a bank robbery. Nevertheless, you allow him to speak freely.

“Suguru discovered some serious corruption going on in the town by its people. In response, he ended up decimating nearly the entire town in one night, sparing no one. From that day forward, he became a wanted criminal in the eyes of the law.”

You wonder what could have been so severe to require that much lethal force, but at the same time if you were in his shoes, you might make the same choices. It wouldn’t be that far off on things you’d do considering how you decided to get back at the men who stole the lives of your parents.

Now here you are sympathizing with the man you’re hunting for your own personal vendetta. Oh how the tables have turned once you see the other side.

“I take it this Suguru is your gold thief?”

He sighs, “Unfortunately, that looks to be the case.” As you already expected to hear.

The town comes into sight, and with that, an end to your conversation. You’re surprised to see that despite the raging inferno that had occurred, buildings remain standing all along the settlement. Crumbling and disregarded, but still feasibly sturdy.

Smoke still hovers in the air as nature has yet to blossom and overtake the land once more. Maybe once spring has truly set in, new life will occur in its wake. So far, It’s quiet, but that may not necessarily be a good sign. Satoru orders his men to disperse throughout the town, going door to door in search of any signs of the gang.

The two of you hitch your horses out front of what used to be the Limpany Sheriff’s Department. The lettering on the building has long since faded from the flames but remains legible to a degree. Next door however is a jailhouse that stands without issue, and scarce of any blemishes. While Satoru is occupied with the main building, you decide to check out what lies beyond the iron door. There’s a click as you pull the safety of the gun, cautiously opening the door and ready for whatever lies inside.

Come to find out, it’s empty. The eeriness of the room sets off a trail of goosebumps down your spine. There’s smoke damage on the walls inside, but elsewhere nothing is damaged as far as you can tell. One of the locked cells houses two adult skeletons shackled to the wall. The bones of their wrists still nestled between the cuffs. The cell across somehow felt more ominous. The door is opened, leading to an empty room which in itself isn’t a cause for concern, but the scattered loot tells a different story. You bend down to pick up once such piece.

Is this… a child’s shoe?

Your eyes widen.

No doubt that one, but multiple children were being held in this very cell for reasons unknown. Is this what Suguru had come home to find…?

“Surprised? I know I was when I first saw this.”

His voice startles you, causing your sudden turn to meet him. “Satoru, what is this?”

“Corruption,” he answers bluntly.

What a cruel world this can be to live in. And with that thought, you can’t blame Suguru for crossing that threshold of sin.

A commotion sparks up outside, drawing both of you to the door. “Sheriff, come quick!” One of the deputies calls out. You get up to follow Satoru out as the two of you are led to another section of town where lawmen have quickly begun to circle. “It looks like they camped here and left this morning! There’s fresh hoofprints everywhere too.”

“Mount up!” Satoru shouts confidently, “They couldn’t have gotten far, let’s not waste any more daylight here!”

You’re about to whistle for your horse off muscle memory when you immediately have to remind yourself that she wouldn’t be able to hear your call.

They don’t prepare you for these things.

Valentine is all you have left right now. Losing her is like losing family. As much as you find yourself resonating with Suguru, the fact remains that you’re heartbroken without her. Hopefully she’s safe and the two of you will be reunited again soon. You brush the thoughts, running off with Satoru before galloping off with the rest of the posse.

The roads outside Limpany aren’t the most well-travelled, so for any decent enough tracker, the thousand-pound impressions in the dirt are easy enough to spot. There’s evidence a wagon or two may have joined the group, all leading down the Dakota river towards the Upper Montana. Trees quickly become scarcer as you enter this new area thanks to logging companies, making it easier to see everything in front of you but at the same time, everyone can see you as well.

The group stops short of a tree line near the river to use as cover. Up ahead lies a small home and barn to match looking all too lively and full for its size. A fatal flaw in their attempt at laying low, but one you’re thankful for. Pulling out a pair of binoculars from your satchel, you investigate the scene. There’s a long, gray-haired man and another shorter bald guy walking around, weaponry in hand, and several more interesting characters around. Among the dozen horses grazing from their posts, none are Valentine.

“Are those the men we’re looking for?”

“Looks like it,” the white-haired man sighs, tightening the grip on his own pair of binoculars. “I see some other wanted faces the Outlaw Killer was looking into.”

“The Outlaw Killer?” you scoff, quirking a brow. Interesting title that speaks for itself.

“Yeah,” he snickers. “He’s a crazy bounty hunter. You’d know him if you saw him, I’m sure. Grouchy asshole that only ever wears black ─ hell, I think all his guns and even his lasso are the same color.” He rolls his eyes and an image of the blacked-out stallion and its flirt of an owner came to mind from the night before. So much for a bad temperament.

“Good to know,” you hum, raising your new rifle from its holster, taking aim at the gray-haired man first on instinct.

“Woah woah woah, what are you doing?” Satoru’s urgent voice fills your ear.

“What’s it look like?” you calmly reply, “I’m gonna pick them off one by one.” The safety clicks just as the man reaches out with a hand on the barrel to low the gun.

“I’m itching to get this done with as much as you are, but I’d like to arrest them, not kill.”

You click your tongue out of annoyance, “What’s your plan then, Sheriff?”

“Let’s just get a little closer and see what more we can learn first. It won’t do us any good if they’ve stashed the gold, and I doubt they’ll tell us anyways.”

He has a point, sadly. For now, you’ll just have to go along with it. You lean on the reins with a tap of your heel to guide Clementine. “Have it your way, but just remember that I’m not the one wearing a silver star.”

“Hey if this goes well, I’m more than happy to give you one.” He smiles, following your lead with the rest of his men. Once again, he’s got Mugen right up at your side, hunched over the saddle to see your face. “You’re just the kind of attitude we could use; that and I’m enjoying your company.” You roll your eyes but the faint smile tugging at your lips gives you away all too easily.

Being a deputy isn’t something you’ve had in mind before given your sense of exploration and all, but another way one could view it is imagining it as a means of settling down somewhere. An ever-growing supply of work paired with using your favorite set of skills to earn money; all and all giving you stability and a place to call home if you ever decide that’s what you want in life.

It's worth thinking about if he’s serious. A second option to consider on top of Kento’s.

To avoid spooking the gang, you and the rest of the posse tie the reins of your mounts to some trees a few yards back from the tree line closer to the homestead. From there, it’s all about maintaining a stealthy approach. Plenty of shrubbery dots the property, so even with the lack of tall standing trees, you’re able to keep as low a profile as you can without inciting a shootout. The rest of the men can have their fun with their hunt for gold or apprehending dangerous individuals. Your first and foremost objective is securing Valentine.

Since she’s not outside, one can only assume she’s in the barn out of sight. It’s a good size, but in desperate need of some TLC as you learn the moment some rotted wood snaps cleanly off with a simple tug. You crawl through from the back, entering the structure into a bed of hay. Looking up from the ground, you quickly find that it’s not just you stuck in a 12x12 box.

A familiar tobiano paint stands proudly, turning his head in your direction. Beautiful black and white markings cover the gelding with a splash of white on one side of its face revealing a sole blue eye. The other eye is a rich shade of brown, surrounded by black fur.

“Good boy,” you whisper to the horse, hoping to not frighten him or anyone else that may be inside to your presence. He eyes you back with a huff and some widened eyes, but thankfully their ears move in attentive patterns rather than that of aggression.

You measle around to the front of the stall, managing to swoon him with your pets between soft whispering coos. “I should steal you and show him how it feels. You want that, big guy?”

A high-pitched whinny pierces the air, drawing your eyes to your long-lost Valentine one stall over. She stomps her foot aggressively, but her warning comes all too slow before the stall door flings open. Before you can reprimand yourself for being snuck up on, let alone draw your gun, the opposing force already has their own aimed nearly point blank.

“My, I didn’t expect anyone to check here first, let alone wish to steal Uzumaki from me?”

You turn slowly towards the man you’ve been wanting to see all night and day. The same silky-haired bastard that made off with your mare. He stares you down the iron sight of a Cattleman’s revolver, holding a salacious grin as he takes amusement in this whole ordeal.

“I think it’s only fair, seeing as you stole my own horse after your little escapade in town last night.” Unlike his suave tones, your voice is laced with the venom of a diamondback rattlesnake. Just because he has you cornered, doesn’t mean you’re any less dangerous than a pit viper itching to strike.

The sound of gunfire alerts you both to the events unfolding outside the shabby walls of the stable, all with the shouting of a dozen men. The sliding door to the entrance of the barn opens with a bang, and the outlaw is quick to draw up a second revolver at the new arrival.

“Suguru, put your guns down.” Satoru says, trying to mask the hints of pain and grief beneath a stoic demeanor.

On the other end, Suguru is cheerful and keeps his sight set on the other with a cheshire smile. “Satoru~ long time no see.”

You clear your throat, reminding the two of your third wheeling presence. “Nice reunion and all, but you’re outnumbered here.”

“That may be.” he pauses, rolling his head in your direction once more. “But I’m holding the guns here so it’s up to you both to decide how you want to walk out of here.”

Funny how things ended up working out after that.

Between some more bickering, monologues, thundering hooves, and dwindling gunfire, who knew a simple suggestion to “kiss and make up” would lead to you being sandwiched between them in one of the empty available stalls occupying square bales of hay to use as surfacing.

Straw digs into your back annoyingly, but the pleasure of two cocks in either end transition you to a state of euphoria. Muffled whimpers fail to escape, instead warping around Satoru buried deep in your throat. It’s long, veiny, and curves in all the right directions. His hands find comfort over the mound of your breasts, kneading into the flesh with each thrust.

You can’t see it, but those breathtaking blue eyes look in awe of your figure adorned with a sheen of sweat and the sight of Suguru’s cock disappearing into your perfect little pussy. “So pretty,” he purrs, noting how you’re glowing brighter than any star could hope to achieve, silver or not.

Suguru’s hands brand the dipping of your hips with a bruising grip, rutting into you with his especially girthy extension. Each jerk of his body hits right into a sweet spot bringing you ever closer to undoing the knot at the base of your core.

They both momentarily pause as you begin to unravel, choking out cries that leave Satoru reeling with pleasure from the tightness of your throat. Suguru feels it too. Your gummy walls encasing around him in erratic motions. The two of them aren’t far away from their own release.

The sounds each make only serve to keep the wings of your pussy fluttering for more. Irresistibly charming, and all the more passionate given the shared history they share, and you now caught in the middle.

Suguru leans forward over you, cupping Satoru’s cheek to draw him closer, crashing their lips together in a messy embrace. That one action forces each to come undone, painting both ends of you so perfectly white. They pull out, savoring the whining noise you release from the loss. The black-haired man takes a moment to admire how you clench around nothing and the cum gushing out like a waterfall of love.

“How are you feeling, baby?” Suguru asks, and both Satoru and you simultaneously answer positively making him chuckle all low and honey-like.

“You’re doing so well, but we’re not done just yet…” Both men exchange a look, as if reading one another’s mind. Soulmatism at its finest. “Well, Satoru?”

“It’s been too long, Suguru,” he responds gleefully. Satoru then proceeds to lift your tiring body up and onto his lap, making you straddle him as the other comes around into your view. “Ready for more, princess?”

“Less talk, more stuffing,” you scoff, taking it upon yourself to line his tip with your eager cunt, graciously accepting him into the depths beyond what Suguru could reach.

“You heard the pretty lady, Satoru,” the other whispers into his ear, nibbling the lobe as he slowly thrusts up into the man. The slick coating his shaft that you provided just moments ago make for a smooth entry, earning a deep fulfilling rumble from Satoru.

His fingers slid up your thighs and over the curves of your body, pressing into the plush to bounce you on him. You saw plenty before of the cobweb of veins that marble his cock, but feeling the ridges trailing along your insides leaves you breathing out such sinful sounds. He works it like the most formal of fountain pens, writing poetry on velvet walls that could put even Shakespeare to shame.

“Fuuh-uck,” you murmur, burying your face in the crook of Satoru’s neck, shamelessly letting him contort your body however he desires. Your arms wrap tightly around his neck and hair, locking him in against your bare chest.

“Now now, don’t go hiding yourself,” Suguru says between disheveled breaths, trying not to let his pace falter as he urges your face up. He overtakes your lips, mixing sloppy kisses with nips across your bottom lip.

Satoru uses this chance to pepper your open neck with marks fashioned all in his name, biting down with more force each time his lover hits that sweet spot inside. He can feel not only his own chest tighten, but his balls as well.

Suguru breaks the kiss, but only to push the two in front of him down. The weight of Satoru comes down over you, taking your mouth against his and soaking up the taste of all the combined flavors. Suguru unleashes powerful thrusts into Satoru that force him in and out of your own body as he chases his high.

“You missed me this much, Suguru?” He gazes over his shoulder, smiling as he tries to form cock-drunk words. “S-so much more aggressive than usual, f-feels good.”

“Not a day goes by where I don’t see a reminder of you.” You can just barely make out the seldom, yet saccharine face Suguru makes, your own vision clouded with a hazy white. “It’s just like the old days with o-our new friend here.”

“Our princess here is taking us so well, isn’t she?”

“She is,” he says, and you feel feather-light touches come over your thighs that attempt to coil around Satoru for closeness. “You’re such a good girl, I bet you want to cum, don’t you?” You feverishly nod, unsure how much longer you can hold out.

“Come on, baby.” A finger moves over your clit drawing star-shaped patterns until that’s all you’re able to see. “T-that’s it,” he drawls, following soon after.

Hot ropes of cum spill out inside you once more, making a beautiful cocktail of three. Suguru mercilessly ruts into Satoru until he himself finishes, savoring the feeling he’s long since missed and relishing in the new ones you’ve brought him.

Satoru’s body relaxes leaving you trapped underneath. You take the time to brush your fingers through his hair as you come down off your high, feeling yourself ground to the Earth in the process.

Suguru pulls out, leaving a chaste kiss to you both. His delicate fingers push the hair of your face, admiring the beauty of your afterglow. You close your eyes, soaking up the feeling of one another, completely oblivious to anything else.

Well, almost oblivious.

“It’s been fun seeing you again and meeting such a lovely new woman,” Suguru starts. You open your eyes and Satoru as well to see Suguru dressed and mounted atop the tobiano. “I’ve got to get home before my daughters begin to worry. See you around sometime.” He winks, galloping out of the stable before either of you can say another word.

Satoru stands up, exhaling a defeated sigh. The plan to arrest Suguru ended up with the two of you being detained by love. Both his gang and the gold are long gone to wherever his hideout lies.

Satoru helps you up, cleaning you off as best he can before readying the horses, and yes, that means yours too.

Valentine is home, back with her family.

You.

As you sit atop her on route back to the city of Valentine, you feel a discomfort in your clothes and the crunching of parchment to follow. The source of which is a pamphlet courtesy of Suguru, detailing drawings and hints on how if you’re interested, you can use these clues to find him and his camp of outlaws.

And so, a third opportunity for your future presents itself, but that’s for the future. For now, the only thing on your mind is a steak dinner. Here’s hoping the Butcher has finished his job.

☆ Notes: KFC breakup – saloon edition

Fr this chapter was hard for me to write. I love satosugu but I’m not confident in writing them just yet :( I cursed myself so many times and had to close to document. march weather also has got me not feeling too well so that sucks.

I was kinda stumped how to transition from gunpoint to dickpoint in a way that wasn’t so dubious or noncon so I hope you don’t mind me just skipping straight to the action :3 threesome smut is hard to write for me

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk au #cowboy!au #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru x reader #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x you #geto suguru x reader #gojo x you #gojo smut #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[gemstone-gynoid]

my favorite dwarf fortress glitch was the shaft of enlightenment. equip a dwarf fully in armor and with a weapon, and have them fall down onto a upright spike or spear from 2 or 3 levels above. the dwarf would then get legendary in the relevant weapon skills, because apparently they are trying to parry the weapon. in a way parrying the very planet.

it was really moreso that parrying is supposed to give xp based on the opponent, but falling onto a spear technically wasnt an opponent. so instead velocity is used to calculate skill gain. and that's terminal velocity from a few z-levels above.

back in the day, i'd have squads of 10 dwarves stand on top of a bridge. pull the lever to have them all fall into a spike trap. a few would just hit the ground, some get the skill gain, and most get the skill gain plus hit the ground so your legendary weapon users have to go to the hospital anyways.

#dwarf fortress

[seravphs]

omakase

ੈ♡˳·˖✶ — SUNA x MAID! FEM READER; KAICHOU WA MAID SAMA AU

In which Suna becomes the maid. 

wc — 700

tags — Set after confectionery, can be read as a stand alone, suna in a maid outfit, fluff, humor 

prev: confectionery | shoujo series masterlist

“I’m- woah!”

It used to be strange seeing Suna at your place of work, but after a while, you got used to it. 

What you’re not used to is seeing him in one of your dresses. He has one leg stuck in a stocking. The other firm thigh is already firmly encased in the mesh fabric, topped off with a cute little bow. 

Your outfit reveals far more skin on him than it would on you. At 6’1”, he already towers over most girls in the cafe. With heels, he’s a Goliath. Your skirt barely covers him - you have to rush forward to stop him from bending over and inadvertently flashing someone. 

“Um. Playing a little dress up?” 

He perks up as you pull him upright. “Hey! Your manager said Shizuka’s out sick today, so I offered to step in.” 

It’s true that Shizuka’s charm point is her height. Her target audience is men who enjoy a little domination, but Suna might be too much for even them. 

He sidles towards you, swaying his hips like a model. It shouldn’t be as hot it is. Suna is unfairly pretty. He pulls off anything. 

“What?” He purrs, hot and heavy. You splutter, trying to play it off as a reaction to the fact that he’s trying to come on to you at your work place. “You like what you see?” 

He tugs his stocking a little lower, pulls his skirt a little higher. 

“Oh- okay!” You squeak out and slap his hand to his thigh, immobilizing him. “That’s enough from you.” 

He laughs, flashing you sultry eyes that make your throat dry. “Are you sure, master? I can keep going.”

“I’m going to hit you if you keep going,” you hiss at him. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” he says with a grin. 

“Suna,” you groan, trying your best to look anywhere but him. “You’re impossible.”

But you love it. And he knows it. He’s weaponizing it against you. 

“Come on,” he says with a smile, pulling you out back to the alley behind the cafe. “We have work to do.” 

“Correction: I have work to do. You need to change out of my dress and go sit at your usual table.”

“You can’t tell me you’re not-“ 

“Hold up!” That’s Miya Atsumu’s voice. You freeze. This is exactly what you’ve always been afraid of. Suna’s fine. He’s comfortable to be around. You’ve never once thought that he would leak your secret, even back before you’d known him, but Atsumu would do it even if it wasn’t malicious. You don’t even know him, but you’ve heard of what a blabbermouth he can be. 

Suna pushes you behind him immediately, shielding you with his broad back. You’re completely hidden behind him. You feel better but - then where will he hide?

“A maid?” Atsumu whistles. “Hey, pretty thing.”

Your jaw drops. It’s impossible. Atsumu doesn’t recognize him at all. He can’t tell it’s his own teammate in the maid dress. You feel Suna stiffen, too, but unlike you, he’s holding back laughter. He’s not stressed out over the situation at all. 

Atsumu’s twin is a little more attentive. Osamu squints at him. “Suna?”

“Dumbass,” Atsumu scoffs. “That’s a girl!”

“Nope,” Osamu says. “I’m pretty sure that’s Suna in a wig and a dress.”

You have to hand it to Suna. He really commits to the bit. 

Suna gives Osamu a look of utter disgust and offense. With all the strength in his arm, capable of spiking at insane velocities, he slaps Osamu across the face. Poor Osamu doesn’t even have time to react before his head snaps to the side. 

“How dare you?” Suna trills in a falsetto. “I’m a girl!” 

Atsumu yelps and reaches for his twin’s hand, dragging him away as fast as he can. Osamu, still stunned, let’s himself be hauled away as he reaches a hand up to the angry red mark on his face. 

“Thank you,” you sigh in relief, sagging against Suna’s back. 

“It’s fine,” he says, smiling down at you. “That was kind of fun.” 

You giggle. “You’re evil.”

“Besides, I don’t like sharing anyway. We can keep this our little secret.’ 

You will your traitorous heart to stop pounding. 

#sera writes #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintaro x reader #suna x reader #suna fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq fluff

[lunargrapejuice]

promise me you're real

diluc ragnvindr x afab!reader | 3.8k+ words

warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, angst/comfort/smut, diluc has a nightmare, blood mention, rough sex, marking, overstimulation, cream pie- lots of cum okay, let me know if i'm missing anything else

dilucs body trembles in his office chair, sweat dripping off his forehead and down his chest as if his skin was only a few degrees away from catching on fire. he had shed most of his layers long ago, now left in his slacks and a half unbuttoned shirt but it wasn’t the weight of the fabric around him nor his vision that put him in such a state. behind his closed eyes it’s his dream and his aching heart that causes his body to quiver and his skin to burn, his mind unknowing that what played before him was just a mirage. 

the scent of copper wafts in the wind that circles around him but no matter how far he runs he can’t escape it. black clouds make it hard to see what exactly is going on around him or where he is but there is one thing he can make out clearly- the sound of your voice, faint and pleading for him in a way he’s never heard before. the darkness clings to him, seeps into every pore and wraps around his ankles like tight tendrils anchoring him to the ground. each step gets harder to take but even if it took his legs, he’d keep moving until he found you. he ignores the way his legs scream for him to quit moving, taking painful step by painful step but never arriving closer to his destination, closer to you. eventually it brings him to his knees, the only thing keeping him above the ground are his strong arms and his knees that shake with anger and pain. 

“diluc.. please..” your voice cries, wrought with agony. 

using all his strength he lets out an angry yell as he struggles against the shackles that keep him tethered to the ground and in the echo of his voice, a small path opens before him. just out of reach is you covered in a shade of red he never wished to see you in. it soaks every inch of you, making your hair stick to your face and neck, coating your hands that reach upwards. his eyes follow their reach and his own reflection comes into view, your slender fingers gently rubbing his cheek. even though it’s like watching himself outside of his body he feels the softness of your skin and the warmth of your blood lingering on his cheek.

“please make it stop..” you cough, more blood spilling from your mouth and nose with each painful, heaving breath you take to try to recover but it’s no use. he couldn’t stop the crimson liquid from filling your lungs and choking you.

he's forced to watch in horror as his reflection lifts his arm, the dagger he recalls gifting you glistening against the light that illuminates this horrible scene before it’s coated in red. hot tears stream down his face, his heart constricts in his chest so painfully he can’t make a noise and he tries to blink away to this painful image but when he opens his eyes he finds himself in his reflections spot, holding you in his arms, feeling your body limp in his touch the further the weapon sinks into your chest. 

he cries your name over and over, trying so hard to stop his hand from moving but it’s as if something is holding his body hostage and he can’t do a thing to control it.

“y/n!”

a bottle of ink falls from its place and shatters against the hardwood at the velocity at which dilucs body jerks when he awakens and stands abruptly, his large hands slapping against the mahogany desk in an attempt to steady his swaying body. a mix of tears and sweat drip from his chin and stain the paperwork below him. with shaking breath he tries to regain composure and some sense of reality but the image of your lifeless body flashes before him each time he blinks and his chest tightens with each intake of hot air. the state of his body only grows worse when he looks up and sees nothing but the untouched bookshelves and an empty couch in the dim flickering candle light.

on uneasy legs he makes his way to the study door and throws it open, using the wall for much needed support with each step he takes towards your bedroom. in the darkness he swears he can feel the world devoid of you and the light you radiate but it wasn’t possible that you were gone.. was it? .. he saw it with his own eyes, felt your body lose life in his arms thanks to his own hand but he swore to protect you.. he couldn’t- he didn’t.. but no matter how much that promise echoes in his mind, he swears he can still feel your blood lingering on his skin and can still smell that horrible coppery smell mixed with your sweet scent. 

he almost rips the drapes that hang from the canopy when he moves them to see what lay in his bed. as pretty as a picture, or a mirage his mind makes up, your peaceful visage is illuminated by the moonlight, lips slightly parted, taking in the air that causes your chest to rise and fall evenly, your hair sprawled out on the pillows like a delicate halo and your chest covered by delicate, thin silk that threatens to burn under his intense yet hazy gaze. his breath stalls in his chest as his hand extends out to touch you. please be real, he pleads to whatever god forsaken entity that took his loved ones time and time again, hesitant to make contact with your supple skin in fear it may go right through you.

shaking fingers touched you as if you might break under any amount of pressure. something this soft, this ethereal had to be real.. it had to be.. had to be.. he can’t stop touching you; his ungloved hand trailing down your face and neck, against the straps of your nightgown and to your sides, down the outside of your thighs that slowly get exposed the lower he moves, taking the duvet further off your body. surely his imagination couldn’t conjure up the reactions your body makes in your sleepy state, the way you lean into every movement but his bleary eyes can still see the blood glistening off of your body each time he blinks.

“‘luc?” your voice breaks his concentration on your body and brings his weeping eyes to your face. concern and love swirl in the color of your eyes and you go to sit up, question him on what is wrong, pull him into your chest and pour your love into him but before you can move another inch his lips are on yours, desperately searching for something you don’t quite understand. even if you wanted to pull away you couldn’t with his body weight on top of you, not enough to crush you but enough to keep you pinned to the bed. unable to do anything but subcom to his strength and neediness, you don’t press him more and instead you gingerly wipe his tears with each deep kiss and let him take the lead. powerful fingers sink into the fat of your thighs and pull them apart to allow space for him to rest flush against you, heaving chests pressed together which each breath stealing kiss you share.

“it's okay ‘luc,” you whisper against his lips over and over, anytime he allows you a moment for air the words spill past your lips, hoping they’ll reach him and he can trust that they are true. your hands move from his cheeks and into his hair, carding gently through the damp tangled curls.

he shakes his head and attempts to swallow a choked sob when his tongue forces its way into your mouth and against your own but he doesn’t hide it as well as he hoped. you’ve never heard him make such noises, never felt his body tremble like it is now. it makes your own eyes sting, your heart ache - what could he have possibly seen to bring him to this? - but you don’t let it stop you from being the light in his darkness, the one thing that could save him from his own mind.

you’re left panting, breathless, when he finally parts from your lips and travels down to your neck while a strong hand slides under your neck and pulls you ever closer, his other hand pressing into the bed beside you, keeping him from crushing you completely. against your collarbone he whispers something you can only make out because of how intently you were listening for any sign of what he needs. “promise me you’re real..”

“i’m real,” you profess without question. with how he holds you it takes an amount of strength you barely have to pry his hand from the back of your neck and bring it over your heart. under his burning palm your heart beats loudly and you hope it’s solid enough proof to help him believe your words. “i’m real diluc,” you whisper and press his hand harder against your thumping chest.

he feels it, the heart that beats for him and he can’t stop himself from pulling down your nightgown, using his strength to tear open the silk fabric and allow his lips access to your chest. again and again he kisses over your heart, feels the softness of your body under his scarred hands, lets your fingers run through his scarlet locks, soothing his aching chest.

“i’m real.. i’m here.. i’m not going anywhere.” you repeat those words over and over, until the last of his tears soak into the soft skin of your breast and his kisses on your chest become more hungry than desperate. 

wet and warm, his lips envelope your nipple, burning tongue swirling over the hardening nub before sucking lewdly. the hand not keeping him from crushing you with his full weight pulls at the torn fabric of your nightgown and rips it the rest of the way down, allowing his hands to touch every inch of your bare skin without restraint. your body shivers when his hand finds its way to your inner thigh and further up until his finger brushes against your clit through the thin fabric of your panties. he’s memorized the map of your skin and searches for every dip and curve as if feeling them will further prove to him your words are true.

his lips only pull away from your chest to tug at his clothes and your panties until you’re both bare, scarlet eyes never leaving your figure, fearful that if he looked away you’d disappear even if it was only for a moment or his eyes would return to you only to see you soaking in that crimson red. his handsome visage shows all of the fears ragging through his heart, skin paler than usual, breath irridact from more than just kissing, hands still unsteady but he refuses to pull away from you, to take his hands off of you.

“you’re alive..” he whispers against your neck, soft red locks tickling your skin. “i didn’t-” he cuts himself off, not wanting to hear or think about what he saw and instead preoccupies his lips by kissing, licking and sucking at your neck and collarbone. it must have all been a dream.. it had to have been. you were here before him, breathing and unharmed. the warmth of your skin, the quick rise and fall of your chest told him that much but yet, it wasn’t enough. his mind still felt so hazy, so scared this was all another dream, another mirage that would be torn away from him at any moment but maybe, just maybe, if he held onto you tightly enough you wouldn’t be able to slip from his grasp.

“i’m here and i’m okay,” you promise sweetly, your breath catching in your throat when his teeth graze against your neck and his hand travels down your stomach to between your legs. as much as you’d like to enjoy the ways his fingers spread your folds your mind can’t be torn from his shaken up state. you try to pull away to attempt to get a read on him by seeing his eyes but he doesn’t let you move. “is this what you need right now?” you ask in a whisper but no matter how quietly you said it, he would always hear you

the words get caught in his throat, unable to express what he’s feeling or what exactly he needs, he feels as though he barely knows the answer to either of those questions. all he knows is he needs you, needs to feel you and know for certain that you’re not just his imagination, that you aren’t going to slip through his fingers like fine sand. he nods against your neck before a long finger presses against your clit and slides down your folds, slowly sinking into your aching core the same moment his teeth meet the base of your neck.

“ah-! ‘luc!” 

your hands bury in his hair tighten, pulling lightly on the fiery locks and his rough groan vibrates against your chest, sending an unbelievably heat down your stomach and between your legs. with his quick pace and when he adds another finger, rocking them in and out of your tight cunt, curling them against that perfect spot, you know you wont last long like this but you still attempt to hold back, biting your bottom lip in an attempt to keep a bit of your sanity. you’re so lost in the pleasure you don’t realize that he’s pulled away from his relentless sucking at your neck, your hands now resting on his chest and his face now above yours, deep ruby eyes devouring the lustful look on your beautiful face. when you finally do notice, after feeling the intensity, love, of his stare that forced your eyes open, you shied away from his gaze. not because you don’t want to see it, no, he was so beautiful and no one else held his stare like this. not because it scares you even though it looks quite similar to the way a predator looks at its most delicious pray, if that predator were madly in love, but sometimes you found those lovely eyes to be too intense to look at for long. they screamed to crumble before him, swore to put you back together, burned with embers of the brightest flames and a promise that he’d do it over and over again.

“y/n.. let me see you.” your eyes move back to his just in time to see his head shake before his lips come so close to yours you can feel their warmth even though they aren’t touching yours. “don’t hide from me,” he whispers, a gentle command you wouldn’t disobey. 

his lips clash against yours, knocking your teeth together lightly before his tongue finds its way into your mouth and presses against your own. thick, long fingers buried deep inside your pussy quickening their pace, your slick glinesning on his fingers, dripping down his palm as they rock in and out of you. he feels you breaking underneath him, legs shaking against his own, threatening to close around his hand but before they can he pulls away from your lips, a string of saliva connecting you till it breaks, making his lips glossy and he sits up on his knees, his free hand keeping your legs apart. your tight walls contract around his fingers and he watches between the sticky substance coating his fingers with every pull in and out of you and your beautiful face as your orgasm washes over you.

you feel so real, look so real despite how he can’t believe he gets to be the only one to see you like this. real.. you’re real.. he repeats.

he’s completely ignored his throbbing cock until now, keeping his fingers inside of you, moving gently in a soothing rhythm as he pumps his length lazily, giving you a chance to catch your breath. through your hazy vision you aren’t sure catching your breath would be possible, he was so unbelievably beautiful like this and the very sight set your every nerve on fire. wild locks of silken red hair spill over his shoulders and heaving muscular, scarred, chest like a raging scarlet waterfall, sweat beading down his forehead and for a moment of clarity through your lust you question how much of it was from whatever he saw that brought him to the bedroom in this state.

“i’m real,” you whisper again, your hands reaching for his face to brush his cheeks, bring him down so you could kiss his brow but you don’t make it that far. you only make it to his cheeks before the angry red tip of his cock is stretching you so wonderfully, inch by inch filling you so full of him and you can’t find any movements except accepting him and your hands flexing against his face at the stretch of his thickness.

he doesn’t reply with his words. one of his hands envelopes one of your own on his cheek, pulling it away slightly to let him move his face enough to kiss your palm and that was answer enough, an ‘i know but.. still..’

once his cock is fully sheathed inside of you he quickly pulls out, almost completely, leaving you whining at the loss of being so full before he slides back into you in one swift motion that catches your breath and has your back arching, your hands finally pulling him closer to you. he sets a quick and fast pace as his lips met yours and he kissed you lovingly, deeply, his hips slamming into yours lewdly, as if this was the first and last time he would ever have you and he needed to spill his seed inside of you as many times as he could. while he knew this wasn’t the first or last time he’d have you like this, as long as you could take it, as long as you were actually real, he would fuck you until his heavy balls that slapped against your ass with every thrust, were completly empty and you were pumped full of his cum, dripping with it. surely he could only if you were real..

his grip on your hips is bound to leave bruises in the morning, if they aren’t forming already. it’s so desperate, needy and he’s not giving you an inch to slip away from him, not that you want to. archons, no. you were addicted to the way the heavy scent of oak and wine wafted in the air and clung to every fiber of the sheets around you, drowning you in diluc. the feeling of the thick veins of his cock against your velvety walls with every thrust of his hips. the love that poured out from every kiss he gave you, no matter where it be; your lips, your neck, your breasts and everywhere in between and he did not miss an inch in showing you such love tonight. your breathless moans and lovely little noises spurring him on until his pace was getting sloppier, deeper, causing your legs to move from his so you could call his name.

again, he needed to hear it again.

hating to part for your lips, he can’t resist his self need to see you in all your splendor when he rests on his knees, lifts your legs to his chest and over his shoulders, placing kisses to each one before returning his hands to your hips. he has no trouble finding that same brutal pace, resting a hand above your head to keep himself above you but still provide more closeness, practically folding you in half as he fucks you. his breath is so hot against your skin and you dared to take in the heavenly view on top of you, pink abused lips of your lover parted and panting your name oh so softly, like a spell to keep his sanity. you’re both past sanity by now. dark lashes fluttering closed as he takes in the feeling of you, the new angel this has provided for his dick to reach deeper, your dripping pussy sucking him in, greedily wanting more even though you aren’t sure you could take more than he gives you now, feeling him in your guts.

“diluc-!!” you call his name again, scream it and it forces his eyes open. swirling red orbs and a catch of his own breath is all you see and hear before you burst, the world becoming blanketed in red and the warmth of his cum as his own orgasm falls shortly after.

your legs shake, your pussy still fluttering around him, causing bits of cum to seep out of your stuffed cunt and down his balls. a tender, loving, kiss to your lips before the warmth of his breath and his chest retreat and leave your chest littered with marks of his love and proof of just how real you are to cool in the night air.

as if it were the only thing left in this world, a thing to worship when all else was lost, he stared at your joined bodies and watched your stuffed hole leak out thick cum. he throbbed inside of you at the sight and felt himself ready for more the moment he looks up and saw your sweat beaded body still panting for breath and yet reaching for him, calling his name like a siren and he helpless in the sea of your eyes, took you in all too willingly.

yes, this had to be real. nothing, not the fatui, not the abyss order, not any archon or celestia itself could create such a lovely sight to betray his eyes and his mind.  

 he takes your hands reaching for him, placing on his chest, right over his beating heart and bringing the other to his lips, kissing each before bringing it to his face, to sink into his hair as he leans down towards your lips and starts to move inside of you again. “please darling.. again.. once more for me.. please..” 

he would say that several more times until he actually meant it, until you were both fucked out and absolutely spent. after bathing both of you, changing the soaked sheets and carrying you back into bed, placing you gently into the new linen, he fought off sleep for as long as he could, wanting to watch over you, but your calming breath and with you tucked safely in his arms, he couldn’t fight it for long before his finally calm mind lulled to peaceful, if not a bit lewd, dreams that’d he’d play out tomorrow to pamper and shower you and every mark he left on you tonight with his love.

genshin impact masterlist | main masterlist

#genshin impact #diluc ragnvindr #diluc smut #diluc angst #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr angst #diluc ragnvindr smut #diluc ragnvindr x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact angst #genshin impact smut #diluc #lunas moonlight stories

[robotsprinkles]

trying to test builds that don't use the laser lance, pile bunker, zimmerman or halderman, gatlings, songbirds, or ten-cells against freud in the arena and realising that I really need to learn the game more

#going from deleting pretty much every ac in under 25 seconds without trying to needing to figure out what's in measure for the flail #and realising I suck with pretty much any gun type that isn't shotguns or gatlings apart from the stun gun #and don't know how half the shoulder weapons work because I used the ten-cell for 80% of my playthrough #and constantly messing up all my melees because I got used to the laser lance's charged attack thrust/boost being really generous #guess it's time to experiment with every weapon and figure out how they handle #(I would really like it if they added a ''projectile/round/beam velocity'' stat to the weapons)

[sonicexelle-junkary]

Bitter Blood [A HungryHero.EXE fanfic]

“I can't wait to gut you out.”

(CW: descriptions of blood, gore, violence, bad language, and death)

A day used to feel short. Days that, even if it were cloudy and dull, would feel as cheery and sunny as always. Short days. Hours that felt like seconds. Today those hours felt agonizing. The cloudy sky was cold. The air, suffocating. Even a minute now felt like weeks. These emerald hills, this world, it didnt feel the same anymore. Not without him.

Why…. Why was he there? Why was he right there? Right there in the line of fire! He didn’t need to be here! Why was he there? Was it because of him? Because hes a canibal? Maybe he thought that he needed to help protect his image and thats why he came. Oh god. No. No it could’nt have been his fault! No! No No its not his fault! Its not his fault! Its- .... Shadow... Its Shadow’s fault. Its all his fucking fault!

That god damn dark and brooding prick! He couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He had to say something. Had to open his fucking mouth! He made him doubt. Doubt everything that he had thought about him. Made him think that he wasnt the best older brother hes ever had. But, Tails was always independent, even if at times he had to rely on his friends. It was expected, he was a kid. But out of everything, everything that that little fox had went through... It wasn't him, he wasn't thinking clearly, that fucking mutant made him confused. Whatever he said to him, it didn't matter, he implanted that stupid little thought in his head! And now he's gone... Because of him.

“.... I think its time to pay ol’ dark and handsome a visit”

———————

A black hedgehog stood atop one of the many loops of green hills. The naturally generated loops ironically always seemed just the slightest bit unnatural. Even so, they made great viewpoints when sat atop their grassy caps. Shadow, of course, knew this, he would always take advantage of their beautiful viewpoints when he wasn’t in the cities. It, accompanied by the quietness of the stripped fields and checkered soil, waved a calmness over the hedgehog. He wished Maria could see this place the most...

His thick fur shot up, a feeling of dread overwhelmed his body. He was not alone. Something was coming for him. His eyes darted around the area, his ears scanning the area for any noticable sound. His own breath and heartbeat felll silent to his ears. All that was around him was the sound of the wind and.... The dark hedgehog moved to the side just enough for a blurry blue streak to whizz by, barely grazing his nose. It created a sizable crater in the ground once it landed. The force it must've had to create that would have killed him almost instantly if they had collided.

Shadow watched as a blue hedgehog lifted itself from the rubble, coming out with no more than a few scratches and missaligned quills. It was Sonic. The hedgehog’s green eyes starred daggers into his own. A silver object glistened from him through the dust of the crater, A weapon. He waisted no time, Shadow dashed away, over the green hills, as fast as his air shoes could take him. He had no issue with matching or even surpassing Sonic’s speed at times, but something about that stare, how much velocity he needed to hite the ground with that much force…

Shadow ducked as the blue hedgehog came from his path with the intent to kill, narrowly missing his skin. He was in front of him? How was that possible? How fast was this hedgehog? Shadow watched as Sonic skidded and pivoted on a dime, using his momentum to come right towards him. He was always more skilled at his pacing than he was. A wobbly misstep threw Shadow off ballance, and sent the two hedgehogs crashing into each other, sent spinning and tumbling down the barred hills. At the bottom, the black hedgehog kicked the blue killer off forcefully, throwing him to the ground a few feet ahead. The two were quick to hop to their feet and back into battle. Shadow took a fighting stance.

“Enough! Stop this, Sonic!” Shadow shouted “Nothing good will come out of anything that you are trying to do!”

“Yeah, that’s where your wrong, Shadow” Sonic said “something good will come out of this… for me!” The hedgehog pulled out the decently sized blade he had kept hidden. He stared at Shadow, holding it with the intent to kill

“You plan to kill me? Have you forgotten who I am?” Shadow raised his fists at the blue hedgehog before him, he barred his sharp fangs “I AM the Ultimate Lifeform! I was built to be an ultimate weapon, but chose to protect others instead! I AM made of love! I AM the true hero of mobius! And I am not afraid to kill you to protect the world i voued fifty years ago, Sonic the Hedgehog!”

Admittedly Sonic was hurt by shadows comment, but it didn’t break him. He rolled his eyes “yeah, but i think it’s gonna be a lot harder without this thing” he outheald a green gem that glistened the same colour as his eyes. It was a chaos emerald.

Shadow patted his sides “what? How did you-!”

“You see, here’s the thing Shad. Of the whole time we’ve known eachother, i want you to know… I was holding back!”

Instantly the speedy hedgehog was gone, and just as quickly Shadow’s guard was up. If Sonic really wanted to kill him, he needed to be close. It didn’t seem like he was using chaos control, if he was then he could pick up on his chaos signature. Given enough foccus and it would be easy to track him. No, He could just faintly hear his footsteps, smell that sickly sweet iron smell that accompanied him. He was fast, faster than anything shadow had witnessed. he seemed as fast as super sonic. But he hasnt used the chaos emeralds. Has he really been holding back this whole-

A knife held sloppily, but with enough force could kill, grazed Shadows cheek as he narrowly doged another one of the blue hedgehogs attacks. “He’s to fast!” Shadow panicked eternally. He barely dodged another quick strike from the blade, it grazed off a few hairs of his fur. “I need chaos control if I can get a chance to-“

Shadow was spun like a corkscrew in the air and slammed hard into the grassy ground with a deafening thud. His ears rang from the force, he could have sworn he had a cuncussion. The blade plunged into his side and dragged across his stomach. A loud and horrid scream came out of him as Sonics eyes carefully watched the blade glide across his dark body, now stained with his green blood. He tried to move his foot up to push the hedgehog away, but it was quickly slammed back down to the ground with enough force that it should’ve broken it.

“FUCK!” Shadow yelped at his injuries. He bared his teeth and cursed at Sonic. “You’re fucking derranged-!”

Sonic grabbed him by his chin and brought him close to his own face “AND YOU’RE A FUCKING MURDERER!” He screamed.

“I didn’t do anything!”

“THEN WHY IS MY BROTHER DEAD, SHADOW? EXPLAIN THAT!”

“I-it was his choice! He could have left at any time! He could have not been there at all! But he came and he stayed because HE WANTED TO STOP YOU!”

A blade pierced through shadows hand. “DONT TALK TO ME LIKE YOU KNOW HOW HE IS! YOU WERENT THE ONE TO RAISE HIM!”

“AND YOU DO? YOU JUST CANT ADMIT THAT HE WOULD EVER BETRAY YOU-“ shadow screamed again, the knife turned in his palm.

“I’VE BEEN WITH HIM HIS WHOLE LIFE! SINCE HE WAS THREE GOD DAMN YEARS OLD! I HAVE BEEN THERE EVERY TIME HES NEEDED ME! I HAVE DONE MORE FOR HIM THAN YOU COULD EVER DO!” Sonics grip tightened on shadows face. His sharp fangs barred, all to the back hedgehog. “AND YOU! YOU JUST COULDNT KEEP YOUR STUPID PRETTY FACE QUIET LIKE USUAL, YOU HAD TO SAY SOMETHING! HAD TO MAKE HIM DOUBT ME!”

Shadow whimpered. He glowered at the cannibal “And so what if I did? None of this would have happened if you had just learned some self control! All of it... It’s all your fau- AUGH!”

Sonic plunged the knife into shadows shoulder, digging it in all the way to the handle “WHO WAS THE ONE WHO IMPLANTED THAT THOUGHT OF DOUBT IN HIM? WHO WAS THE ONE WHO USED CHAOS SPEAR? WHO WAS THE ONE WHO CAUSED THAT SCAFFOLDING TO FALL OVER? TELL ME SHADOW! TELL ME!”

Shadow shut his eyes and inhaled. The throbbing pain in his hand, his foot, his shoulder, his stomach, it all made him want to throw up. He shook as he glared at Sonic. “He was there because of you…”

—————-

The cannibal on top of him stared, stared directly into his eyes. His expression looked almost deprived of any emotion, but he was furrious. furrious and oh, so hungry. He craved for this black hegdehog since the day they met again in that cave. The blade slowly pulled out of the hedgehogs shoulder, dropping to his side. He leaned in close, close enough for Shadow to see his enlarged pupils and smell that scent that was sickenly sweet and iron-like from those who were his last meal.

“I can’t wait to gut you out.” The words came out of him were bone chillingly calm. Not even a cent of attitude or emotion that usually accompanied his tone. He was calm, those words were calm, but they were drenched in crazed anger.

He slowly raised the knife, preparing to strike one last time. Shadow needed to act now if he wanted to survive. A hit in the right place, with enough force, it will kill him. He didn’t have much chaos energy to use, and the adrenaline was waring off faster… fuck it. In a flash, the black hedgehog teleported away. Not far though, he could only make it a couple of miles. He gasped and clutched his gaping wound. Luckily the cut didn’t go to far deep, but still, he was pouring out blood. He held as tight as he could to lessen the bloodflow.

His vision was unfocused, he was becoming lightheaded from the blood loss, he needed help, but he needed to recharge his energy, and with his injuries it would take him longer than ever. Still, hes going to keep going. Shadow clutched his wound tighter as he slowly made his way across the hills that were now stained with his blood, whining as every step with his foot felt like needles shooting into his skin. Before, they could have beat eachother to a stand still, now... He looked back to see if Sonic knew where he went, chaos snap was not the best at hiding a signature. And perhaps, maybe Sonic did, as shadow saw that blue cannibal stare in his direction. or maybe at him.

“I’ll see you later, Shadow the Hedgehog” his voice echoed through the hills.

Shadow panted, a knot appeared in his throat. He gritted his teeth. “Go to hell, bastard.”

#art #fanart #fanfiction #text post #long post #sonic.exe #sonic.exe au #HungryHero.exe #sonic #shadow #blood #gore #violence #cw knife #i forgot how much i liked to write. even if im not the best at it #expect more to come

[kineticpenguin]

In hindsight, the mythos of Israeli martial ingenuity and supremacy has been unraveling over the last 20 years. Slowly at first, but quicker in the last decade, and catastrophically over the last few months.

The perception that Israel is just hyper-good at all things war is certainly a cultivated one, but I don't think non-military nerds might realize how fucking pervasive it is, even into pop culture. Take Archer, for example

Cyril: Hey, will I get to learn karate? Archer: Karate? The Dane Cook of martial arts? No. ISIS agents use Krav Maga. Cyril: Krav-? Archer: We've got an ex-Mossad guy, he comes in on Thursdays.

This mythos is pervasive enough that giving the US an "Iron Dome" is something Trump has promised at rallies. You know, because American cities are being pelted with low-velocity unguided rockets so much. The crowds ate it up.

But there've been cracks forming. Israel's expeditionary excursions have been a mixed bag at best, and as for their supposedly innovative weapons development, nothing in the IWI catalog is compelling for any reason beyond novelty, and nobody wants their vehicles. (AFAIK the only other country to use the Merkava is the Philippines who bought a bridgelayer variant as a diplomatic deal).

And now their genocidal campaign in Gaza has done little more than paint them as incompetent. You don't exactly cover yourself in glory by bombing hospitals and breaking up equipment in abandoned buildings, or blowing up a building that then collapses and kills 21 of your own men. Or when the whole thing is ostensibly to rescue Israeli hostages, and you murder the hostages while they carry a white flag.

What an absolute clown show. I really hope that there is some justice for the Palestinians at the end of all this.

[howtofightwrite]

how can I describe an intense, suspenseful and viscous fight between two werejaguars and a human(who’s good with a gun) without it becoming repetitive “he clawed him”, “he shot him” for several pages?

As a disclaimer: for the werejaguar portion of this exercise, I’m going to focus on the jaguar part over the were part. Supernatural creatures come in all shapes and sizes and all with different rules attached. Anything I say will need to be balanced against the rules of your setting and what works for you. In this case, I’m assuming the jaguars are the antagonists but you can easily flip flop this the other way round to have it work.

The key aspect of building a good fight scene is understanding the players and the environment. Everything on top of that is technique, but you can’t get anywhere without a good foundation. This is the research phase.

Ask yourself what your characters want. What is the difference between what they can do vs what they want to do and what they’re willing to do? How do their weapons work? How do they choose to fight? Their background, current goals, and personality will dictate their actions. The temptation is to be general, but boil it down into specifics. This character is not just good with guns, what guns are they good with? The gun (or guns) the human character has chosen to arm themselves with will substantially change the shape of your fight scene. Are they carrying a weapon that would have an advantage over a big cat, much less a supernaturally enhanced big cat? Remember, good with guns doesn’t necessarily mean good at hunting, especially not hunting large predators. At what range is the weapon most effective?

Try to take every character in the scene into account. It’s easy to focus on your POV character as the decision maker and let them control the pace of the fight scene, but combat involves more than one character and more than one decision maker. Fight scenes are really 5% choreography, 20% characters strategizing, and 75% sitting there trying to figure out “well, if Character A lunged and Character B jumped out of the way on a 45 degree angle and is now behind Character A, and they’re in a narrow-ish hallway with a trash can, five windows, and no weapons, they’re going to do… what? exactly?” It’s the ultimate Choose Your Own Adventure game and fight scenes work best when the author makes an effort to manage both sides of the chessboard. It’s not about the end, it’s about how they choose to get there combined with whether or not their decisions work and their gamble pays off. Remember, it’s always a gamble and it’s okay to let your characters be wrong.

In this case, you don’t really have a fight so much as you have a hunt. That’s the through thread here between your characters. What this translates into is that your human needs the cats in front of him to get a clean shot while the jaguars want to be behind their prey. Big cats when they’re hunting and guns in general heavily rely on positioning to be effective. Neither of these two groups are going to want to be out in the open. For the human in this situation, an exposed back is a death sentence. This becomes especially true when there are two cats and they have to track both of them. As for your human, guns become less effective the closer you get. Despite what Hollywood teaches us, these are not close range weapons suited to hand to hand. Unless you’re working with a shotgun, you’re stuck with basic physics. The bullet needs time to travel to build up velocity for maximum penetration.

Jaguars are ambush predators. They use up a massive amount of energy per attack, which means they only have a few tries to get it right. Each failure carves off a massive chunk of their ability to continue the hunt before retreating. Humans, meanwhile, are persistence predators. Our animal brain is geared to outlast our prey, to pace them to death rather than run them down, and then kill when they are exhausted. Cats are also, by and large, solo hunters. Some cats do hunt together (siblings banding together happens more often than you might think, even outside of lions when there’s food to support it) but it’s generally not the norm. Whether this causes an instinctual conflict for your werecats is up to you. Their human half may be enabling them to hunt with sophisticated pack tactics. If so, I’d challenge you to consider what that looks like and sounds like as they communicate.

Your human with the gun is limited by the amount of ammo they have. They may be able to outlast the jaguars (depending on supernatural rules.) However, their ability to make a successful kill diminishes with each failed shot.

Jaguars, pound for pound, have the strongest bite force out of all the big cats. Their preferred hunting method isn’t to scratch or claw, it’s to sink their teeth through the back of the skull and into the brain in one swift, clean strike. Unlike some big cats, they largely don’t preferentially suffocate their prey first through the throat clamp. The claws are here to stop their prey from moving while they get that bite in. (If you’re having trouble visualizing how a jaguar moves, climbs, and stalks, I recommend watching some nature documentaries. Or, read some accounts of jaguars hunting humans. It happens.)

In this scenario, nobody’s squaring off unless it’s a feint. Both parties will be moving, getting into cover, and hiding until they can get into a good-ish position to make their attack. They’ll be relying on their senses to find their opponent and maneuver around them. Jaguars, being better at hiding, would in this scenario be forcing the human out of cover to look for them and, depending on their level of teamwork, utilizing each other as bait to lure their prey out. And they might work on getting the human to waste their ammunition first to limit their risk. If they’re smart, they’re trading off and the movement is coming from multiple directions. So, even if your human has a weapon that will kill the jaguars in a single, lucky shot, they’ll still (probably) be breaking cover to put themselves at risk and get a clean line of sight.

I’m not taking questions on the cats being better at stealth. I have an indoor white cat who ghosts off in a small apartment whenever she wants. Where is she? Somewhere. I don’t know unless she wants me to know. Cats are not dogs or wolves. They have a different methodology when it comes to hunting and even large cats possess the ability to vanish in urban environments that aren’t designed for them.

Anyway, this is your suspense. It’s not an original idea, but I recommend leaning harder into thriller, suspense, and horror when it comes to cats instead of straight up action. That terrifying gut twisting sensation of being all alone, not knowing where the enemy is, maybe hearing them but not being able to gauge how far away they are. Go watch some horror movies with big cats hunting people. Like The Ghost and the Darkness (1996) about the Tsavo man-eating lions, which, while not jaguars, is based on a true story and is a fantastic film.

It’s easy to get stuck on the concept of trading blows. “He punched him” and “he clawed him” and “he slashed him” or “he shot him” but remember that initial attacks are about creating openings. It’s rare for your opponent to magically be in the position you want them with all their vulnerable openings exposed, unless they’re caught by surprise. A lot of initial combat is about building into or setting up your finishing move, all while your opponent tries the same from the other side. Instead of thinking about your combatants as standing in stasis and duking it out, remember that they are in motion. They are moving, they are circling, they are bracing, they are hunting for that new position, that unguarded opening. If the opening is not there, create it.

-Michi

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #michi answers #how to fight write #werejaguar #urban fantasy