#instead of turning it into a cash cow

[anthurak]

So I thought I’d throw together a bit of a timeline theory I’ve been thinking about since the last episode surrounding Fizzerolli, how he started working for Mammon, when and how he may have gotten together with Ozzie, who exactly kept him and Blitzo apart after the accident, and also an idea for some rather appropriate karmic irony.

See, we hear in Mammon’s Midseason Special that Fizz has won Mammon’s Clown Pageant the last ten years in a row. But nothing about that indicates that ten years ago was the first time Fizz won.

Instead, I think the actual first time Fizz won Mammon’s Clown Pageant was fifteen years ago. As in, shortly before the accident. For one this really adds some additional weight to the flashbacks we get in Oops. The big celebration we see wasn’t just for Fizz’s birthday, it was celebrating Fizz getting his big break. Winning this competition and getting the chance to work with Mammon, the Sin of Greed himself.

As well as adding even greater weight to Blitzo trying to give Fizz a love letter. Blitzo likely thought this would be the last chance he would get.

Additionally, this would also neatly explain Mammon’s involvement in Fizz’s recovery after the accident. It’s clear that Mammon bankrolled Fizzerolli’s recovery and cyberization, so that begs the question of what would prompt Mammon to invest so much time and effort into helping seemingly some random imp circus kid? Well, what if said kid not only just won his Clown Pageant, but did SO good that Mammon decided pretty much immediately that he wanted THIS kid as his new brand mascot? And then just a few weeks or even days later, that kid was horrifically maimed in a terrible accident at his home? Yeah, I think that gives Mammon ALL the reason to stick his neck out for Fizz. And if you’re going to ask ‘Why didn’t Mammon just drop Fizz after he was basically crippled?’ Because Mammon is the embodiment of GREED. He WANTED Fizzerolli and he was going to HAVE him.

Plus, I think we can assume that this is where Asmodeus entered the picture, with Mammon calling him in to do Fizzerolli’s cybernetics. In turn, I think it’s easy to guess that Ozzie being so closely involved in Fizz’s recovery is when the two started falling in love.

In short, Fizzerolli spends the next few years recovering before making his big debut as Mammon’s new hot brand mascot, winning his next Clown Pageant, and goes on to win every pageant for the next ten years up to present.

Now the other angle here is the big ‘Who conspired to keep Blitzo and Fizz apart after the accident?’ And I’m going to be honest; it is DEFINITELY Cash Buckzo. Like I know some people have theorized that it was Mammon, but frankly that theory just doesn’t make sense anymore. Mammon simply doesn’t have much motive or means to have done this, and if nothing else, he straight up doesn’t recognize Blitzo in the newest episode.

Cash on the other has both motive AND means in abundance. He was certainly one of the people most closely looking after Fizzerolli after the fire and he had every reason to want to cut Blitzo out of Fizzerolli’s life. Likely a combination of petty spite against his son for causing the accident which burned down their circus, likely injured dozens and even killed his wife, and also wanting to isolate and ‘protect’ Fizzerolli, his big cash cow. Especially now that he’d gotten the attention of Mammon, with Cash likely hoping to get/mooch as much as he could out of this new arrangement.

Now that last bit in particular get’s interesting because it’s clear that if Cash was hoping to continue profiting off Fizzerolli, it clearly didn’t work. What with how we have seen neither hide nor hair of Cash around Fizz, who in turn has not brought him up once.

So what happened?

Well, in a bit of delicious karmic irony, I think Cash was the one to cut Blitzo out of Fizz’s life, only to later get cut out of Fizz’s life himself by MAMMON.

#helluva boss #helluva boss theory #helluva boss timeline #fizzarolli #helluva fizzarolli #mammon #helluva mammon #asmodeus #helluva asmodeus #fizzmodeus #blitzo #helluva blitzo #cash buckzo #dramatic irony

[brotherblaze]

quicksand —gojo satoru + geto suguru

summary: Five months after exiling yourself from jujutsu society and fleeing Japan, Gojō and Getō finally track you down. And they’re not going to let you slip through their fingers for a second time.

word count: ~3,5k

warnings: n/a

The evening breeze is cool.

You’re sitting on the grassy area, just in front of the small strip of sand on the shore, legs outstretched in front of you, heels digging into the sand. There are cows grazing a stone’s throw away from you, fenced in and kept up by the city council. The newspaper said they’re here annually, every summer from April to late September. Waves lap at the shore.

The hair on the back of your neck rises on its ends. Familiar cursed energy wraps around you like a vice. You don’t look back to meet their eyes, instead you look at the cows. There are a few calves amongst the herd, fluffier than the fully grown cows.

Footsteps approach and a warm body stops right behind you. Warmth emits from him like he’s a furnace and his cursed energy is all too familiar, almost suffocating, and oh, the irony of forgetting how formidable a person the Gojō Satoru is.

“Get up,” he says. His voice is stern. Cold, even. What a contrast. He’s like a siren, luring you in with body heat to chill you to the bone with his words. You ignore him at first, and instead, take a long breath in, hold it for a few moments, then exhale. It does little to soothe the buzzing in your veins and stop the thoughts racing through your head. Too many to keep count of — all of them centered around them. There’s a headache blooming, too.

Slowly, you unfold your legs and stand, dusting the sand off your pants. You turn to him, keeping one foot rooted on the corner of the yellow picnic blanket to keep it from flying off with a gust of wind. You raise your eyes to Gojō, then over his shoulder to where Getō stands, just a few strides away. The bitter taste of shame crawls up your esophagus as your eyes meet for a moment and you quickly avert yours to stare at the Jujutsu High button on Gojō’s uniform. Uniform. Straight from a mission, then. But it’s hard to tell; they have an uncanny ability to evade the blows of the opponent, never looking disheveled — no, not uncanny, a testament to their prowess, of their ranks as Special Grades. The créme de la créme of the jujutsu world.

“Well?” Gojō’s head is cocked to the side ever so slightly, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes obscured by bandages. Still, the feeling of being watched overwhelms you. You level your gaze with his and attempt not to get spooked by the intensity of his gaze and yet you’re unsuccessful. He definitely notices the subtle flinch of your shoulders. So, you raise your eyes to the treeline behind both of them. He calls out your name and you ignore the instinct to look, to give him the satisfaction of yet another flinch.

“I was a danger to everyone around me. So, I ran.” Cool wind from the sea caresses the back of your neck. You grind your foot deeper into the sand as the edges of the picnic blanket curl up. “It doesn't concern you, by the way, so don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”

“It does concern us when you disappear for months!” Gojō argues, swinging his hand to the side.

“How’d you find me, anyway?”

“You took my credit card,” he says, “three, actually.”

You swear under your breath. That fucking donut shop in town, right. Great donuts, no way to pay in cash.

“So you had to run over here? I’m fine, I was fine, everything was fine. You should’ve just moved on with your lives.”

“I think we have a right to know what’s going on, no?” Getō speaks up. Your eyes meet again but this time it’s harder to look away. In fact, you can’t force yourself to avert your eyes. “We tried to do right by Amanai and we’ll extend the same courtesy to you.”

Unlike Gojō, Getō’s voice is soft. It curls around you invitingly, like it wants you to spill all the secrets you keep close to your heart.

“No,” you say. The word is so bitter in your mouth you almost want to drink down handfuls of salty ocean water to taste anything, anything other than that. You ignore the intensity of Gojō’s gaze, ignore the twinge in your body that’s pulling you back towards them but that ache somewhere deep in your bones, the one that wants you to step closer to chase the warmth of human intimacy you’ve deprived yourself of for the past five months — that crawls up your spine and you almost take a step closer. “Just… leave.”

Gojō grabs the collar of your jacket and yanks you up to face him. You hiss a ‘no’, one hand clawing at his bare wrist, toes barely scraping the ground to kick up a clump of grass and dirt. You expect not to reach him, only Infinity, yet you do, and sink your nails into his flesh. He doesn’t even flinch. This is Gojō Satoru, the very peak of everything, he doesn’t skirt around the subject and he doesn’t accept any efforts at skirting around the subject.

“What do I have to do to make you trust us—”

His right hand collides with your left, already reaching for his throat, and fire licks up the length of your forearm. The distinct sound of metal snapping under immense pressure bounces against your eardrums. The next moment, the glint of the evening sun off metal shards, and the next, a piercing pain in your left cheek. Your knees give in.

Three of your fingers are lying on the pasture grass, glowing blue liquid seeping out of each one.

He seems to realize when you do because his grip on you goes slack and your knees collide with the ground. Your vision is blurring with tears as you reach out to gather the pieces of metal that were your fingers only moments ago and stuff them into your jacket pocket because they were organic once. They can be slotted back, right? They’ll be fine, right?

You reach around yourself for the yellow picnic blanket, shake it free of the stray grains of sand, and sloppily wrap it around your left hand. The bright blue liquid begins to seep through the layers almost immediately.

When you stand, you pointedly ignore both Getō and Gojō, sidestep them both without even glancing at them, and begin the trek back to civilization down the forest trail that leads to the daycare at the edge of the woods. Their footsteps, so silent you almost miss them, follow. They don’t speak, either, as if that will make you forget about their presence and the suffocating force of their jujutsu. Your headache is now fully present and making itself known, wrapping around your brain like barbed wire.

The forest trail melts away abruptly into a stone-paved road. It runs along the perimeter of the daycare and diverges in two up ahead: on the left, the daycare itself and its adjacent indoor swimming pool, on the right, more woods and the parking lot.

You continue ignoring your shadows and climb into the passenger seat of your car. Something vaguely human-shaped is sitting in the driver’s seat, its body littered with eyes. It just stares at you as you pull the car door closed.

YOUR DIVINE MAJESTY…

“What now?” You pinch the bridge of your nose and squeeze your eyes shut to clear your vision.

APOLOGIES FOR MY INTRUSION, BUT WOULD IT NOT BE BEST TO HAVE THEM ON HAND? It tightens its grip on the steering wheel for a moment as if it's forming a nervous habit. Maybe. You’re not sure if they can even feel human emotions.

You glance at the side mirror. They’re still standing there, a few feet from the car. They don’t have any intention to move, either, you think.

THEIR DIVINE MAJESTY NEED NOT WASTE TIME OR ENERGY ON COOKING AND CLEANING. THEY CAN FOCUS ON REVERSING THE BARRIER.

“What barrie—”

You bury your face into your free hand with a loud swear. The headache pulses behind your eyes and your vision blurs with tears. Fuck. You push the car door open and slide out—

“You!” A few long strides are all it takes to reach Gojō and you rear your fist back for a swing at his blurry face. Something catches it and you yank yourself out of Getō’s hold, yank yourself away from both of them, and take two steps back. Gravel crunches under your feet. “I told you to leave, but no, you’re Gojō Satoru and you know better than everyone, right?”

“How is any of this my fault?”

“I asked you to leave! If you’d just left, we could’ve all left and gone our separate ways but no, of course not!” You turn on your heel and stomp back to the car, pulling the back door open. “Shut up and get in the car.”

You don’t wait for their answer and climb into the front seat.

They’re willing to hear you out, you’ll give them that. The curse in the driver’s seat growls from its throat when Gojō and Getō sit and buckle in.

“I need a driver, not a dog,” you remind it. It spits a swear under its breath and puts the car into drive. It jostles as it drives over the speedbump at the entrance of the parking lot and you lay your left hand onto your knee.

Blue bleeds through the picnic blanket and stains your pants and fuck, does this mystery liquid even come out of clothes? Can you even throw it into the washing machine or will it carry the disease onto the washing machine? You groan, imagining a washing machine with a sonic cannon mounted on it. What if this thing is corrosive instead, and by the time you arrive home to wash it out, it’s eaten through both fabric and skin, maybe even muscle, or bone? Will it spread there, too? It shouldn’t, it should be non-viral by now, but maybe its virality only applies if it’s hopping host organisms and won’t spread in its’ first host even if it is viral. And fuck if you have to quarantine yourself in Limbo again—

“Hey.”

A hand lands on the junction between your shoulder and neck, digging into it with just enough force to feel relaxing. Getō presses down on the muscle knot and you place your free hand in front of your mouth to stifle the groan that wants to escape. You lean your head to the left, temple resting against the seat headrest to give Getō’s hand more room to work. Human contact is one hell of a drug.

“You’re panicking.”

You make a noncommittal sound in the back of your throat.

“Breathe.”

“We’re trapped here.” The hand that’s moved on to pull the knot out of your shoulder abruptly stops its administrations. “I read the Book of the Damned, I set a boundary spell. It triggered when you grabbed me.” You turn your head slightly to find Gojō in the corner of your eye. “And I have no idea how to undo it.”

“How’d you put it up?” Gojō asks. His voice is even, but it’s missing the edge it had earlier. More than anything, he sounds tired. You shake your head slowly.

“I don’t remember.”

“That’s dumb.”

“Satoru,” Getō says.

“What does the barrier do?” Gojō ignores Getō’s warning and leans forward in his seat. He’s fully in your field of vision now, all-encompassing. There’s something about him that draws the eye.

“Loser dies, winner gets out.” You shrug your shoulders. “I panicked and the Book gave me a spell; ‘s how it works.”

“Stop reading that cursed thing,” Gojō says, falling back into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. You blink once, twice, then turn straight in your seat, too, and pull away from Getō’s warm hand.

The rest of the drive is silent. Street lights are flickering on the farther you drive. Stores are long closed by now, neon, and lit brand signs hanging on the front of the passing buildings. Dusk paints the sky in a soft lavender. June is nice here.

Eventually, the curse behind the wheel parks the car in the half-finished garage adjacent to a small blue house. Silence lingers in the car as it’s shut off, and the key is deposited in your open palm. The drenched rag that was once a yellow picnic blanket squelches in your lap as you adjust your hand and fire licks up your left arm. You stifle the sound of pain that wants to escape, and turn to the curse. It stares at you with the array of eyes littered throughout its entire body.

“Get lost.”

The figure blinks at you with its many eyes and then slowly, like a sandcastle destroyed by the waves, it melts away.

You climb out of the car, digging into your jacket pocket for the house key and spare a moment to curse under your breath. If the barrier really is impenetrable, you’re all stuck here. They will probably refuse a hotel or whatever to keep an eye on you. That means two more copies of the key, more food, more cooking and cleaning, and more reasons for your shitty neighbors to spy on you. All that on top of trying to piece your fingers back onto your hand — a very, very not human hand — maybe you’ll get lucky and your body will reject the repairs and kill you of lead poisoning or something. You stare at the now-dripping ball of fabric. Is there even lead in this?

Pain twinges again when you forget and try to grab the handle with that hand. You pull away with a hiss but the door cracks open nonetheless and you finish the job with the nudge of your foot. They’re so close you can feel the heat of their breaths on the back of your neck and you hurry inside, teeth gritting together to keep yourself from making a stupid comment that will earn you their hovering for the rest of eternity. The door creaks when Gojō pulls it shut behind him and you wince at the sound. You toe your sneakers off and wander into the house. The flowers strung along every interior wall of the house bloom when you approach. They cast just the right amount of illumination without melting your brain into soup.

Gojō and Getō are still lingering in the open hallway, taking in the interior of the house. It’s more spacious than it looks on the outside. There are two doors to their right, one up ahead, right next to the brick oven, and an open kitchen and a living room to their left. The glass coffee table you seat yourself behind is well within their line of sight.

The fingers clink when they hit the glass table. You slowly unwrap the blue-soaked picnic blanket and place it on the farthest end of the coffee table. It leaves a dribble of blue liquid on the glass.

There is movement in the corner of your eye. You ignore it to stare dumbly at the fingers. You place your metal hand on the glass and attempt to align the fingers to their respective stumps. The movement sloshes the blue dribble around and smears it along the glass surface. Can glass be corroded? It would be a pain in the ass to have another glass table delivered.

Getō gathers your hair and ties it back. You fight to keep a sigh from leaving your lips and instead, swallow around the lump in your throat. His touch is soft and doesn’t tug on any strands and you tilt your face down the moment he’s done, ignoring the lurch in your heart when his warm hands leave your skin. A few strands of hair fall in front of your eyes and you huff. The hair dangles back and forth as if it’s mocking you and you narrow your eyes at it.

“You got a headband somewhere?”

“Shelf next to the bathroom sink.” You jerk your chin forward. “Straight across from the front door.”

You watch him until he disappears behind the brick oven and turn back to the table. Your heart shoots into your throat when Gojō’s face appears in front of yours and you realize he’s crouched down on the other side of the table. He moves quietly, you remind yourself. Be aware of your surroundings, you remind yourself.

Gojō picks up one of the fingers lined up on the glass and slowly turns it between his own. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, his attention solely on the metal digit in his hand.

There are hands on your head and you jump again. Getō makes a soothing hush as he fits the headband over your head and then pulls it up over your bangs. He brushes a few stray baby hairs back with his fingers but they spring up again almost immediately.

“Thanks,” you say stiffly and reach to pluck your finger from Gojō.

“What happened?” He asks and you glance up at him just as he’s pulling the bandages over his head. His hair falls down over his eyes. Beautiful eyes — terrifying eyes. You think you might get lost in the depth behind them if you don’t look away immediately. So, you do, and clear your throat.

“Some piece of shit curse user infected me with some sort of transmutation virus; anything organic becomes animate technology.” You wipe away more of the pooling blue liquid, and line the fingers up again. It seems off somehow. You swap the middle and ring fingers. Still off; it’s hard to tell which finger belongs where and you grit your teeth together and swallow the taste of tears in your mouth.

Gojō leans in and carefully swaps the pointer and ring finger. You want to argue, tell him that you know your own body better than he does but this thing buried into your flesh is new and confusing. Inhuman. Maybe his Six Eyes allows him more knowledge than you will ever have.

In the corner of your eye, Getō moves to the space between you and Gojō, and sits down on the rug, too.

This might be the most people this house has seen since you moved in. Something about it feels right, something about it tears a gaping hole into your heart.

The headache pulses behind your eyes again and you squeeze them shut. When you open them, the world is swimming again. You force down the discomfort of Gojō and Getō’s silhouettes fraying at the edges and return your attention to your hand. Where there once was muscle, hidden by layers and layers of blood vessels and skin, there is a layer of softly illuminated cables hidden under a layer of thin metal with grooves and dents that adjusts itself as you move your arm. You take a breath in and wait for your vision to focus again before you pick up a finger and press it against its corresponding stump.

The cables underneath the metal plating mold together with a low hiss. blue liquid dribbles onto the glass tabletop. You repeat the action once, then once more.

Slowly, you crook one finger, then the other, and the third one. It’s not quite the same as your still-human hand, but it’s a feeling of sorts. It even emits warmth. The luminescent cables bend under the movement.

Gojō lets his impulsive thoughts win and reaches out to press a finger against the soft tissue with his finger.

“Do you go around shoving your dick into people’s gunshot wounds, too?” You slap his hand softly and he pulls back.

“How far does it reach?” Getō asks. You purse your lips and shrug your jacket off, and fold it onto your lap. The metal runs all the way up to about mid-bicep, where it burrows under the scarred skin.

Getō’s hand jerks on his thigh, as if he wants to reach out to you. Instead, he balls his hand into a fist around the fabric of his pants until his knuckles turn white. You don’t want to look up to face him, so you pointedly ignore his eyes as you shimmy closer and raise your arm towards him. There’s a moment of hesitation from his end before his fingers uncurl and ghost over your skin. His touch is gentle, like he’s terrified you’ll shatter if he exerts the smallest amount of pressure.

“Did it hurt?” He asks, the pad of his thumb smoothing over the scar tissue.

“Worse than the sorcerer killer.”

His fingers trace the metal plates of your arm, over the exposed cables in the crook of your elbow, all the way down to your hand and the newly re-attached fingers.

“Satoru, have you seen anything like this before?”

Gojō leans in and takes your left hand in his. He turns it one way and then the other, silent all the while. You glance at Getō who shrugs his shoulder minutely.

“Never,” Gojō says finally. He turns your palm to face him and laces his fingers between yours. He gives your hand a squeeze. “But we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

part two.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #gojo satoru x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk imagines

[pendarling]

Just Faking It

Hero fixed their hair again; the attire was uncomfortable, but the food tasted good. The jovial spirits of the other customers were found unmatched here in their booth, which felt tense and awkward. At least for Hero, they felt that way.

Villain seemed more relaxed than them.

Nothing was more annoying than being forced to attend a mission as a fake couple. It was humiliating to be seen like this; Hero had better things to do. Although they had to admit, Villain was… well… a little above average in terms of looks. Their personality could draw a crowd; something about having a flare bright enough to cause a disruption in town.

They've been trying to get their attention forever, but it just looked like they were too oblivious. It was always the stunning people with the worst sense of awareness. Sometimes, Villain did come off as selfish, but it wasn't anything Hero didn't expect; with Villain's head so focused on themselves, they should've known it would result in their lack of engagement for others. It's probably the core reason why they weren't interested in them.

They watched as the other right across them flagged down yet another server and insisted they pour their glass of wine again. Villain's face was already beginning to light up with drunken happiness. Personally, they didn't take Villain to be a wine person, yet here they were.

"You gonna eat?" They smiled lopsidedly while gesturing with their cup at their plate.

Hero let out a huff of disapproval and wrapped their arms around themselves. Under Villain's gaze, it was impossible not to feel like they were actively trying to intimidate them.

These clothes were so out of their usual style.

Hero looked around the dim-lit restaurant and tried to focus on the target, sitting just a few booths down. The damn CEO was why Villain and Hero were forced to investigate. Their only downside was Villain's lack of concern for the mission. Instead, they seemed to be distracted by the variety of desserts available.

"Can't you stop indulging and restrain yourself for a minute?" They harshly whispered while keeping track of the target.

"But I am restraining myself." Hero turned briefly to throw a questioning stare only to catch Villain's eyes travelling along their neck.

"Cut it out."

They hummed lowly and pushed the pasta around on their plate. "Whatever you say."

This dragged on too long, and Hero was ready to send the attack immediately. The CEO stood, leaving their damsels cooing as they finally walked toward the bathrooms.

"Now! "They whispered. Hero double-checked that their blade was secured on their hips and slipped out of their seat to discreetly follow the other. Villain coughed slightly as they tried to chug down the remaining wine and join their companion.

The booth the CEO was just in had been filled with all types of escorts hired by Hero's Agency to go undercover for this project. It was amazing how they all agreed, most admitting that the CEO was just another cash cow who loved to throw around their money in the hopes that their plans would come true. Hero opened the curtains and closed them right behind them just as Villain made it in.

"What're you two doing in here? We're not supposed to interact." The woman in the centre was a blonde worker. It wasn't a lie to say that she and her entire team were all equally stunning. It almost left Hero at a loss for words.

"Did you put the poison in?" Hero asked as they looked around the seat and table for the device tagged underneath.

Hero's hand grasped what they were looking for and pulled it out. "A bomb?!" Another woman spoke with her eyes flung open.

The secret worker jolted from her spot and inspected it. "How'd you see that?" It was a small portable device in Hero's hand. But easily recognizable. "The CEO's onto us?"

"Yes."

Villain sat beside the brunette on the red leather seat with an arm wrapped around her. "Relax, we'll handle this."

"I saw them plant it just before they left to go to the bathroom. Luckily, it isn't turned on." Hero pocketed the small device and glanced at Villain, now surrounded by the other workers. They couldn't believe they could be thinking about that at a time so constraining.

"Villain!" They moved over to the other side and glared down at them; Villain was still in high spirits from the rush of alcohol. "We need to go!"

"Just a minute…" They sighed before facing another woman who entertained the advancements, but it had gone beyond them. Hero scowled and moved out of the booth, fuming.

What was Villain thinking anyway? They would finish this project with or without them by the night's end.

The CEO's laughter was caught in the air as several footsteps made their way to the booth.

"Fuck!"

Villain sprang out of the chair and attempted to dash out, but the tall figure of their target blocked the way.

"Oh, hahaha," Hero nervously fidgeted. How could they let themselves get caught like this?

The centre worker stood from their seat and rushed over to the target's side, "These people were just about to leave. They were just asking a few questions."

"Were they?" CEO questioningly looked to the side; next to them were several of their personal bodyguards who stared down at the two. "And what questions were that?"

"About you, of course!" Hero chimed in, "We noticed that someone as powerful as you was attending this same restauraunt, we just wanted to know how we could admire you."

Villain nodded in agreement, "Yeah- there's nothing more profound than a strong figure like yourself here."

It seemed to work, and the blonde worker sighed with relief. The target's eyes lightened up at that, "Well, there's plenty of ways to show your respect for me, although I've never had anyone personally show such interest openly. "

"Well, I guess we should be on our way then. Don't want to waste your time." Villain grabbed Hero as they made their exit. It seemed they would be safe for now, but they've interacted with them; they needed to be more careful.

"Now, just hold on a second."

Hero felt their arm tugged back slightly. They paused in their tracks, and Villain looked behind them. The worker stood confused.

"We've only just met. Why don't we get a little accustomed to each other?"

Hero blinked idly at Villain with a questioning face. It looked like there would be a change of plans, "Well," Hero nervously began, "I would love to; however, you see, I'm already here with someone." They gestured to Villain.

"Please, I'm sure if you really had such great admiration, you wouldn't pass up a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity." They laughed as the guards pushed Villain out of the way, and Hero was locked tightly into the CEO's firm grip. From behind, they saw the escorts look at each other skeptically. "A pretty thing like you has better things to do anyways."

Hero faked a laugh, "You're really… too kind."

It infuriated Villain, not because the plans were ruined so quickly but because who did they think they were to take their date!? Who does that?! Villain forcibly pushed the standing guards and spoke louder, "Hey, jerk, that's my date you're stealing!" Their arms were pulled behind them.

The blonde escort placed a hand on Hero's shoulder, "Please, reconsider your decision, we don't have to take this kind guest with us."

They huffed at the escort's words, "Sit down, I'll make the decisions, you're just hired for my entertainment."

They couldn't hear Villain anymore; comforting hands from the escort told them to not look behind them and to follow through. "Of course, sorry for stepping out of line."

They couldn't believe it. Were they really going to end up as some kind of hostage? They knew Sidekick should've followed them in case something like this happened.

Another person in a suit pulled back the curtains, "Your ride has arrived."

"Excellent," They pulled out a cigar, and one of the guards lit it for them, "You'll come with me." Hero was pushed outside and into the cold night. Their eyes still searching for Villain. Hopefully, nothing bad happened with them. This was all so unfamiliar. They still had the dagger attached to their thigh, hidden away. Maybe they could find an opportunity to escape.

A dark car pulled into against the curb. Hero sat on the dark red leather chair, fabricating a contempt expression. They were flexible. They'd come up with something.

~~~

MASTERLIST

#writing prompt #enemies to lovers #cute prompts #fake dating #imagine your otp #pining prompts #villain x hero #hero x villain #writing #fake #scenarios #undercover #heroxvillain #villainxhero #unrequited romance #romance #unrequited pining #unreciprocated love

[jd07201990]

My car had broken down while hauling ass down a wide open, middle of nowhere road toward the city. I was passing through nowheres-ville, when the engine made this horrid clanging noise, and puttered out. I knew I should’ve paid extra for the newer rental, but this old classic seemed fun at the time! One last ride of freedom before starting my Bank job and finally moving away from this small-town living. I couldn’t wait to be gone. Luckily, or rather, incredibly unfortunately as I’d later find out, this oil stained, drawling mechanic was putting down the same road, saw me at the side, and offered a tow. He even let me ride with him to his shop. The whole way, he talked nonstop about how his daughter had run off to the city the moment she could, and only called to brag about her successes. He'd hoped she’d have stayed, and settled down with a good, hard working young man, have a slew of grand-babies, to keep the family business alive for generations. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that was my exact plan as well. That I’d been on my way out of cow-ville when the engine had blown up. So, I told him I was just going into the city to pick up some things instead. He was working on the car, when he popped his head up and asked if I was able to pay, when he figured out what was wrong. I gulped, and nodded, pulling out the insurance papers the rental place had given me. The mechanic Frowned, tossing them on a table full of tools and crossing his arms. He glared at me as he said he wasn’t about to wait 6 months for the rental place to fight their insurance, and that if I wanted it fixed, it was cash or credit only. I had neither, as I’d spent the last I had on the rental and the down-payment on my new apartment. He wasn’t thrilled when I said this, and lumbered to the door, locking it. He turned and shocked me as he pushed me off the stool I was sitting on, his boot on my chest. He told me that if I couldn’t pay, I couldn’t leave. His boot pressed down on my ribs, forcing all the air out of my lungs. I gasped, trying weakly to grip his ankle, when finally, I’d blacked out. When I finally woke, 2 years had passed, and one look in the mirror told me I was Mitch’s boy. The strapping young buck he’d always wanted. Best of both worlds, a strong worker, and a virile stud who’d provide him with a big family. Keeping the garage running, living the high life in a double wide trailer with my gorgeous fiancé, one pudgy tot at her breast, the result of a one night stand turned future marriage, and twins swelling her belly once again. Mitch says it’s a blessing to have a large family, and lots of future kin to keep the business and the lifestyle alive. Something told me Tessa and I were going to be quite busy, with me working at Mitch’s garage, and her raising many, many kids. Mitch finally got the grand-babies he was looking for, despite his daughter thriving in the City.

[may0tuna]

Part 2 High Society | Prowler!Miles Morales x Reader

Writer's notes: I guess I have to also include this but read this lil PSA. Make sure to also read my writer's notes in Part 1, Part 3.

It's been a few days since your dinner party, and you couldn't quite get Miles Morales out of your head. You were attending business school at Columbia University and decided to head on over to the library to do some studying. Books on one hand and phone on the other, you mindlessly scrolled through your friends' social media posts, that is until you bumped into someone just outside the library entrace.

"Sorry, it was my fault, I-," you started to apologize when you realized it was Miles. You blinked once, twice, to make sure it was really him.

"Careful," he responded. His half lidded eyes and smirk made you catch your breath.

"Miles?"

"Y/N, I didn't know you go here."

"Uhm yes, I do. What about you?"

"Helping out in the library is another job to make ends meet," Miles said as he slowly eyed you up and down. You couldn't quite put your finger on him, and it doesn't really help you're in denial about the fact that you're physically attracted to him.

This week was particularly stressful. You were a year behind and all of your friends had graduated already, doing things they're passionate about. As for you, business school was you parents' idea, and since you don't know what you want, you went along with it.

You weren't aware that you were in deep thought until Miles spoke, "Seems like you have a lot going on," he paused. "Wanna grab something to eat?"

The walk to where this eatery Miles had told you about was quite far but still walkable. He said it was a "hole in the wall" type of place, and that they had the best Puerto Rican food.

When you reached the place, the first thing you noticed was the aroma that filled the entire place. It was like being transported to another world where people float when they smell pie being cooled off on a window sill. You haven't realized it until you've gotten to the place that you were famished. Miles greeted some of the customers, including the cook, and led you to a corner booth.

"This place smells like heaven. Well, I don't know what heaven smells like but if it's nothing like this, I'd rather go to hell."

"I assumed you had tasted better food considering you're a L/N."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Your family is one of the richest and most powerful in the city," he paused and looked at you with a deadpanned look before continuing, "I had the idea that you had professional chefs cooking you anything you want, whenever you want." He said as he picked up the menu and started to flip through the pages.

"Don't lump me in with the rest of them," you said pointing a fork at him. "And I know what you're insinuating, Miles. You're telling me that my family's business is evil, I agree. I'm against them using people and treating them like cash cows. I'm on your side." You noticed how your voice hinted a bit of frustration towards the end.

Miles lifted a brow and said, "Is that why you're in a very prestigious business school?"

"Maybe I want to learn how to turn the company into something more ethical," you said proudly, maybe you were convincing yourself more than you were trying to convince Miles. Miles didn't say anything. Instead, he ordered for the two of you. You waited until the waiter walked away. Miles had interlocked his fingers and was eyeing you carefully. You started to become uncomfortable.

After some thought, you decided to speak up, "I should go." Miles did not speak. You decided to stand up, and that's when he stood up, walked over to your side of the booth, and sat down beside you before you could walk away.

"I'd like to leave, Miles," you said meekly.

"No," Miles said as he placed an arm on the back rest of your chair. He leaned in and placed his other hand on yours, which was visibly shaking. You realized that it was true, you are indeed spoiled, privileged, and you know nothing about the real world. If something was to happen to you now, you wouldn't know what to do. Your heart started to beat even faster when Miles leaned even closer to whisper something, "I'm not gonna hurt you, Y/N." You looked up at Miles and gave him a half smile.

When your food had arrived, he moved the hand that was at the back rest of your chair and placed them gently on your thigh. He picked up a fork with his other hand that was previously holding yours and started eating. When he noticed that you weren't eating the food, he softly squeezed your thigh and said, "Eat, mi princesa." You weren't sure if he was being condescending about it but it made your heart flutter a bit.

First bite was indeed heaven. You let out a half moan as you closed your eyes and savor the food in front of you. You saw Miles smirked from your peripheral vision. You're both halfway through your food and you started to relax. You were impressed Miles was able to eat his food with his one hand still on your thigh. Disregard the fact that you were scared shitless a few minutes ago, you decided to test his limits.

"So, Miles," you said as you moved closer to him so that his hands go just a bit further up your thighs. You were wearing a light blue satin skirt with a simple button down shirt. "What other jobs do you have?"

Miles had looked down on his hand and couldn't help but give your thighs another squeeze. He swallowed the food he was chewing before speaking, "Wouldn't you like to know, mamí."

"Yes, I would like to know that's why I asked." You said in your most bratty voice ever just to see how he would react. You have been prim and proper your whole life that this moment right here is giving you some kind of excitement you can't really explain. You would definitely be caught dead if you spoke like this in high society.

"Keep talking to me like that and I'll show you what else I can do." Miles had leaned in so close your lips were inches away from one another. Without breaking eye contact, you feel his hands move up and started rubbing your clit through the fabric. You quickly turned to see if anyone was watching. Thankfully, everyone was busy eating.

Miles continued to rub you and you let out a sigh. You had not realized it but your whole body was leaning into his touch. You felt warm all of a sudden as you let out a breathy "Please, Miles."

All of a sudden, Miles had stopped and picked up a glass of water with the hands that were on you. You pouted at him and he smirked.

"Finish your food, and let's get out of here."

#miles morales prowler #earth 42 miles x reader #high society prowler miles #earth 8 miles morales #across the spiderverse #sony spiderverse #miles morales #prowler miles morales #spiderman #earth 8 miles x reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 8 miles x you #miles morales smut #prowler miles smut #miles g morales

[milkywayhou]

You've Got Email (König x OC: Medical Student!Snow) PART III

Summary: When the Colonel from some Private Military Corporation group accidentally send KorTac's secret file via email to a random civilian girl and now they develop some weird relationship.

or

Snow now overthinking about how fucked up her situation can be

TWs: Slow burn (not really), Implies stalking behavior. I just wrote this for fun.

Words Count: 1.9k (The email contain 1.3+ words while the rest was Snow's 4Chan post)

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/13/23 at 01:38 am

Subject: A late night conspiracy ramble…

Hey!

Once again it’s a late night and these weary med student brain cells are firing off all kinds of…interesting theories and connections, to say the least.

For example, okay hear me out, but what if Big Pharma is actually run by ancient shape-shifting lizard people from the center of the hollow earth who feed on human adrenal gland fluid harvested during rituals conducted at Bohemian Grove, and they started the pharmaceutical industry just to get us all addicted to medication so we’re docile little cash cows?!

I know, I know, it’s utterly ridiculous…buuuuut it would explain a few things haha! Anyways, somehow my winding thought process led me back to pondering your own doubtless intriguing backstory, oh mysterious Colonel.

You’ve given mysterious snippets here and there, but never a straight history lesson, you sly dog. Care to unravel some of those shadows for this thirsty student? Like how’d you get into this line of work anyway?

Maybe share something to take my mind off lizard people conspiracies before this insomnia kills me. You’ve got me curious now!

Conspiracizing but also bedridden,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

05/13/23 at 02:01 am

Subject: RE: A late night conspiracy ramble…

You’ve a vivid imagination, to be sure. As for my own history…it’s nothing so fanciful, I’m afraid.

I grew up isolated, with only books as company. Social skills proved…challenging. The bullying was constant. All I wanted was to disappear into the quiet of nature, far from the incessant noise inside my head.

By 17 I was desperate to escape, and the military offered just that. I dreamed of being a sniper – controlling chaos from afar through calm precision. But my frame and restlessness didn’t suit remaining still for long. They saw potential elsewhere. They assigned as an insertion specialist instead. It was difficult, but taught discipline. In time I learned to turn noise into focus, chaos into strategy.

Now I protect others as I wished to be protected then. It brings…solace, of a kind. Purpose, where once was only turmoil.

Get some rest, Snow. Sweet dreams.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/13/23 at 02:14 am

Subject: RE: RE: A late night conspiracy ramble…

I see.

Thank you for sharing that with me. I can’t imagine how difficult those experiences must have been, but I’m grateful you found your calling in spite of them. It takes real strength of character to turn trauma into purpose like that.

Also, I should say the bullying says far more about their weakness of spirit than anything about you. Their loss, as it brought you to where you’re meant to be – helping people in your own way. I can’t help but smile thinking of a tiny bookworm König dreaming of sniping lizards in the woods! Well, you may not be in the trees anymore but it seems your aim is truer than ever.

Thinking on childhoods, mine wasn’t all sunshine either as an awkward kid. Let’s just say blending in was…challenging, to put it lightly. Between moving a lot after my parents split and living with various relatives, school was an escape into study. Seemed the safest route to gain some footing and make the family proud, at least. Kept me busy avoiding the realities outside books for a while too, I suppose. Somehow I suspect lonely bookworm me and you may have gotten along splendidly if our paths crossed back then!

Anyways, not sure where I’m going with this aside from reflecting our younger selves may have found solace in one another, strange as that sounds now in these roles. At least we’ve come into our own in the end, in our own ways. Small favors and all that.

Just a light note before sleep – rest well, König!

Your friend,

Snow

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/28/23 at 08:27 pm

Subject: Essay Woes and Cadaver Flashbacks

Ugh,

My apologies for this incoherent word vomit you’re about to endure. I’m approximately 5-7 days into an all-nighter essay crunch and my last two brain cells are DANCING.

This final assignment is killing me dead but at least after it’s over I can finally be done with med school! *insert jubilant celebration emoji* Of course that’s if I don’t starve to death first living off instant ramen. I’m positively wasting away without a decent meal. At this rate they’ll be teaching anatomy lectures using my lifeless body.

Whoever invents a magic food delivery service that beams freshly cooked meals directly to overworked students is getting a freaking Nobel Prize. A girl can dream, right? At this point I’d kill a man for a good pizza. *hideshypotheticalmurderweaponbehindback*

Anyways, in my spiral of delirium my thoughts keep wandering back to that fateful day months ago when I randomly received your classified KorTac email out of nowhere. Still bewildered how you even had my address to begin with…were you watching me, Colonel? *pretends to be frightened but is secretlyflattered*

Getting that file was kinda scary at first, not gonna lie. Reminded me of the first time we received our cadavers – that creepy feeling of being watched even after leaving the lab. Is that what it’s like being you, always paranoid someone has intel on you? :)

Anyways, enough gibbering – just wanted to share my pain and also wonder again how our wacky email friendship began! Stay safe out there in whatever shady places your work takes you. And send help – I mean, good luck with all the classified stuff!

Tired and Hangry,

Snow

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/28/23 at 08:40 pm

Subject: WHAT DID YOU DO

KÖNIG I SWEAR TO GOD

I LITERALLY JUST GOT A DELIVERY AT MY DOOR. IT WAS PIZZA AND IT WAS ALREADY PAID FOR

DUDE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T HACK INTO MY LOCATION OR SOME SHIT. HOW DO YOU KNOW WHERE I LIVE??

I’M FREAKING OUT A LITTLE NOT GONNA LIE. I KNOW YOU HAVE ACCESS TO SHADY TECH BUT PLEASE TELL ME YOU DIDN’T TRACK ME DOWN

I was joking in my last email! Sort of! Please say this was all just a coincidence. I don’t need some extra secret stalker on top of everything else ;____;

Explain yourself soldier man!!! My paranoia can only be quelled with answers.

Sending mildly panicked regards,

Snow

----

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

05/28/23 at 09:12 pm

Subject: RE: WHAT DID YOU DO

Snow,

I assure you, any capabilities related to surveillance are reserved strictly for operations.

As for your delivery, consider it a small kindness from one overworked soul to another. Now eat, regain strength, and get back to that essay. You’ve proven quite resourceful in pulling secrets from shadows. But some mysteries deserve to remain.

Worry not and carry on with your studies.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/28/23 at 09:25 pm

Subject: Spill. Everything. Now.

I appreciate the pizza bailout, don’t get me wrong. But my paranoia has now reached DEFCON 1 levels and it WILL NOT stand down until I get some answers. So spill. Just how much do you actually know about me? Do you have my address on file somewhere? Photos? Socials? Pet peeves? Middle name??

I understand need-to-know for operations, but this is need-to-know for my own peace of mind. Please assuage these frazzled med student nerves and assure me you’re not some mysterious stalker Colonel (unless that’s just part of your charm). I’ll even send new Luna's pics in return! Consider it a debriefing – you give, you get. Otherwise the wheels will keep spinning in my head…

Sincerely (and only mildly obsessively),

Snow

----------

>>Anonymous

05/29/23(Mon)22:37:10 No:132926391

Colonel Stalker Dude is freaking me out

Image: [Confused pepe scratching head.jpg 230kb, 400x400]

>Be me, a totally tired out and broke student

>Remember getting those shady files months ago

>Thought Colonel dude was cool and weird pen pal

>Even started to like him after long talks

>But NOW he knows my address???

>WTF how long has he been watching me

>On one hand it’s creepy AF but kinda flattering a high rank dude cares

>Other hand I don't want a secret stalker or to get disappeared

>Free food is nice but feeling stalked is not cash money

>Used to have bit of crush but now I'm skeeved TBH

>What do? Can't go to cops cuz questions. No close friends/fam

>Too broke to move or change info

>Maybe he’s just lonely but also maybe he climbs in my window ;____;

>What if he takes my organs in the night like some human harvester?!

>Only protection is my cat Luna and she's useless in a fight ;_;

>Try to be positive and asking him how much he know

>Currently waiting for his replied while I was writing this post

>Anons pls help, should I keep talking to possible stalker man?

Don’t want my organs harvested but also don’t wanna waste a free food connection

Very conflicted and slightly paranoid this girl is in DIRE need of advice

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)22:45:19 No:132926405: >>132926391(OP)#

Sounds like a thriller romance novel lol! He probs just cares in his own intense way. Keep talking but be safe, maybe feel him out more? Could be nnothing ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:16:08 No:132926439: >>132926405#

IKR it does sound like a book! But what if it’s a prequel to a snuff film?! I’ll try to subtly find out wtf he knows without pissing him off…

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:37:12 No:132926502: >>132926391(OP)#

LOL girl chill no one climbin in ur windows. He prolly just admires ur spirit. Keep lines of comms open, set boundaries if needed but relax!

Anonymous 05/29/23(Mon)23:45:01 No:13292623: >>132926502#

You’re right, I do overthink! I’ll calm my farm. Thank u stranger, maybe he’s just a bored soldier man and not a psycho (´。＿。｀)

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)00:25:31 No:13292684: >>132926391(OP)#

Change ur info anyway, maybe he won’t go to ur new stuff. And get some locks/alarms jfc. Play it safe.

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)00:42:44 No:13292692: >>13292684#

Can’t change anything, I used my student email! And too broke for moves or upgrades, these loans gotta last :’( but self defense is a must, thanks!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:28:19 No:132922735: >>132926391(OP)#

Send Luna pics. Also tell col u feel weird, set ground rules like no stalking. Maybe he just wants friendship. Be safe!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:46:31 No:132922757: >>132922735#

[sleepy_Luna.jpg 1,3mb 1000x1000] You’re so right, communication is key. I’ll lay it all out clearly and see how it goes. Thx fren <3

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)01:59:36 No:132922805: >>132926391(OP)#

Maybe he liiiiikes you ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) whatever happens keep us posted! We’re invested now lol

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:08:55 No:132922822: >>132922805#

omggg don't say that!! Now I'll be paranoid AND flustered X_X But I definitely will update y'all, this is quite the melodrama unfolding

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:15:36 No:132922811: >>132926391(OP)#

Girlll tell that stalker if he wants a piece he gonna have to pay your tuition first! Then maybe you’ll reconsider the organ harvesting. Gotta respect your worth sis 💅

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)02:23:12 No:132922834: >>132922811#

Omg you genius!!! If he’s really interested he can sponsor my broke ass med student life lol. Alleviate my debt and he gets unlimited Luna pics, win-win!

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)03:01:46 No:132922839: >>132926391(OP)#

Lmao girl you been reading too many thrillers! Military guys have ways of finding people, changing email won’t do shit. Just ask him wtf is up like a normal person

Anonymous 05/30/23(Tue)03:39:44 No:132922926: >>132922839#

Ugh you make a good point, confronting is smarter than hiding. But what if he locks me in a dungeon for being nosy?! I have no one to turn to if I disappear ;-;

------

From: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

To: [email protected]

05/30/24 at 03:45am

Subject: RE: Spill. Everything. Now.

Snow,

Let’s just say I know more than you think. But rest assured, your privacy and safety remain my priority here.

As for debriefs, some questions are best left unanswered, even between…friends. Maintaining mystique has its place too, no?

Focus on your studies. I’ll focus on ensuring no more interruptions are needed.

Now get some rest. You’ve an early lab tomorrow if I’m not mistaken.

Sweet dreams.

König

----

From: [email protected]

To: Colonel_Kö[email protected]

05/30/23 at 03:47am

Subject: DUDE.

HOW.

----

This one was short because I've been busy with other stuff hahah. It sure took some twisted turn hmmM? or maybe poor Snow just over reacted ;)

Also love, comment and reblogged are really appreciate! 💖

#könig cod #könig call of duty #könig mw2 #könig x oc #könig #cod oc #cod x oc #konig call of duty #cod fic #cod mw2

[thorniest-rose]

God, there needs to be a sequel to Marmalade where Baron takes a break from robbing banks and instead lures rich older married men into being his sugar daddies and compiling enough blackmail material on them to turn them into lucrative cash cows. Like why go to all the effort of robbing a bank when he can still be a babydoll and use his skills of seduction instead? 💕

#marmalade spoilers

[kakita-shisumo]

In which I sound off for much too long about PF2 (and why I like it better than D&D 5E)

So, let me begin with a disclaimer here. I don’t hate 5E and I deeply despise edition warring. I like 5E, I enjoy playing it, and more, I think it’s an incredibly well-designed game, given what its design mandates were. This probably goes without saying but I wanted it on the record. While I will be comparing PF2 to D&D 5E in what follows and I’ve pretty much already spoiled the ending by the post title (that is, PF2 is going to come out ahead in these comparisons most of the time), I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding about my position or intention. My opinions do not constitute an attack on anybody. For that matter, things I might list as weaknesses in 5E or strengths of PF2 might be the exact opposite for other people, depending on what they want from their RPG experience.

As I said before, 5E is an exceedingly well-designed game that does an exceptional job of meeting its design goals. It just so happens that those design goals aren’t quite to my taste.

# A Brief History of the d20 RPG Universe #

I’m going to indulge myself in a little history for a second; some of it might even be relevant later, but for the most part, I just want to cover a little ground about how we got here. By the time the late ‘90s rolled around TSR and its flagship product, Dungeons and Dragons, were in trouble. D&D was well over two decades old by that point and showing its age. New ideas about what RPGs could and even should be had taken over the industry; TSR had finally lost its spot as best-selling RPG publisher to comparative upstart White Wolf and their World of Darkness games; the company even declared bankruptcy in 1997. Times were grim.

That, however, was when another comparative newcomer, Wizards of the Coast, popped up and bought TSR outright. Flush with MtG and Pokemon cash, they were excited to try to revitalize the D&D brand and began development on a new edition of D&D: third edition, releasing in August 2000.

Third edition was an almost literal revolution in D&D’s design, throwing a lot of “sacred cows” out and streamlining everywhere: getting rid of THAC0 and standardizing three kinds of base attack bonus progressions instead; cutting down to three, much more intuitive kinds of saving throws and standardizing them into two kinds of progression; integrating skills and feats into the core rules; creating the concept of prestige classes and expanding the core class selection. And of course, just making it so rolls were standardized as well, using a d20 for basically everything and making it so higher numbers are basically always better.

At the same time, WotC also developed the concept of the Open Gaming License (OGL), based on Open Source coding philosophies. The idea was that the core rules elements of the game could be offered with a free, open license to allow third-parties develop more content for the game than WotC would have the resources to do on their own. That would encourage more sales of the base game and other materials WotC released as well, creating a virtuous cycle of development and growing the industry for everyone.

Well, long story short (too late!), it worked like fucking gangbusters. 3E was explosive. It sold beyond anyone’s expectations, and the OGL fostered a massive cottage industry of third-party developers throwing out adventures, rules material, and even entire new game lines on the backs of the d20 system. A couple years later, 3.5 edition released, updating and streamlining further, and it was even more of a success than 3rd ed was.

At this point, we need turn for a moment to a small magazine publishing company called Paizo Publishing, staffed almost exclusively by former WotC writers and developers who had formed their own company to publish Dungeon and Dragon, the two officially-licensed monthly magazines (remember those?) for D&D. Dungeon focused on rules content, deep dives into new sourcebooks, etc., while Dragon was basically a monthly adventure drop. Both sold well and Paizo was a reasonably profitable company. Everything seemed to be going swimmingly.

Except. In 1999, WotC themselves were bought by board game heavyweight Hasbro, who wanted all that sweet, sweet Magic: the Gathering and Pokemon money. D&D was a tiny part of WotC at the time and the brand was moribund, so Hasbro’s execs hadn’t really cared if the weirdos in the RPG division wanted to mess around with Open Source licensing. It wasn’t like D&D was actually making money anyway… until it was. A lot of money. And suddenly Hasbro saw “their” money walking out the door to other publishers. So in 2007, WotC announced D&D 4th Ed, and unlike 3rd, it would not be released under an open license. Instead, it would be released under a much more restrictive, much more isolationist Gaming System License, which, among other things, prevented any licensee from publishing under the OGL and the GSL at the same time. They also canceled the licenses for Dungeon and Dragon, leaving Paizo Publishing without anything to, well, publish.

At first, Paizo opted to just pivot to adventure publishing under the OGL. Dungeon Magazine had found great success with a series of adventures over several issues that took PCs from 1st all the way to 20th level, something they were calling “Adventure Paths,” so Paizo said, “Well, we can just start publishing those! We’re good at it, the market’s there, it will be great!” And then, roughly four months after Paizo debuted its “Pathfinder Adventure Paths” line, WotC announced 4th Ed and the switch to the GSL. Paizo suddenly had a problem.

4th Ed wasn’t as big a change from 3rd Ed as 3rd Ed had been from AD&D, but it was still a major change, and a lot of 3rd Ed fans were decidedly unimpressed. Paizo’s own developers weren’t too keen on it either. So they made a fateful decision: they were going to use the OGL to essentially rewrite and update D&D 3.5 into an RPG line they owned: the Pathfinder Roleplaying Game. It was unprecedented. It was a huge freaking gamble. And it paid off more than anybody ever expected. Within two years Paizo was the second-largest RPG publisher in the industry, only behind WotC itself, and for one quarter late in 4E’s life, even managed to outsell D&D, however briefly. Ten years of gangbuster sales and rules releases followed, including 6 different monster books and something over 30 base classes when it was all said and done. It was good stuff and I played it loyally the whole time.

Eventually, though, time moves on and things have to change. The first thing that changed was 4E was replaced by D&D 5E in 2014, which was deliberately designed to walk back many of the changes in 4E that were so poorly received, keep a few of the better ones that weren’t, and in general make the game much more accessible to new players. It was a phenomenal success, buoyed by a resurgence of D&D in pop culture generally (Stranger Things and Critical Role both having large parts to play), and its dominance in the RPG arena hasn’t been meaningfully challenged since. It also returned to the use of the OGL, and a second boom of third-party publishers appeared and thrived for most of a decade.

The second thing was that PF1 was, itself, showing its age. RPGs have a pretty typical life cycle of editions and Pathfinder was reaching the end of one. It wasn’t much of a surprise, then, when, in 2018, Paizo announced Pathfinder 2nd Ed, which released in 2019 and will serve as the focus of the remainder of this post (yes, it’s taken me 1300 words to actually start doing the thing the post is supposed to be about, sue me).

There’s a coda to all of this in the form of the OGL debacle but I don’t intend to rehash any of it here - it was just like six months ago, come on - beyond what it specifically means for the future of PF2. That will come back up at the very end.

# Pathfinder 2E Basics #

So what, exactly, makes PF2 different from what has come before? There are, in my opinion, four fundamental answers to that question.

First: Unified math and proficiency progression. This piece is likely the part most familiar to 5E players, because 5E proficiency and PF2 proficiency both serve the same purpose, which is to tighten up the math of the game and make it so broken accumulations of bonuses aren’t really a thing. In contrast to 5E’s very limited proficiency, though, which just runs from +2 to +6 over the entire 20 levels of the game, Pathfinder’s scales from +0 to +28. Proficiency isn’t a binary yes/no, the way it is in 5E. PF2’s proficiency comes in five varieties: Untrained, Trained, Expert, Master, and Legendary. Your proficiency bonus is either +0 (Untrained) or your level + 2(Trained), +4 (Expert), +6 (Master) or +8 (Legendary). So if you were level five and Expert at something, your proficiency bonus would be level (5) plus Expert bonus (4) = +9.

Proficiency applies to everything in PF2, really - even more than 5E, if you can believe it, because it also goes into your Armor Class calculation. You can be Untrained, Trained, Expert, Master, or Legendary in various types of armor (or unarmored defense, especially relevant for many casters and monks), and your AC is calculated by your proficiency bonus + your Dex modifier + the armor’s own AC bonus, so AC scales just as attack rolls do. Once you get a handle on PF2 proficiency, you’ve grasped 95% of how any game statistic is calculated, including attacks, saves, skill checks, and AC.

Second: Three-Action Economy. Previous editions of D&D, including 5E, have used a “tiered” action system in combat, like 5E’s division between actions, moves, and bonus actions. PF2 has largely done away with that. At the start of your turn, you get three actions and a reaction, period (barring haste or slow or similar temporary effects). It takes one action to do one basic thing. “Attack” is an action. “Move your speed” is an action. “Ready a weapon” is an action. Searching for a hidden enemy is an action. Taking a guarded step is an action. Etc. The point being, you can do any of those as often as you have the actions for them. You can move three times, attack three times, move twice and attack once, whatever. Yes, this does mean you can attack three times in one turn at 1st level if you really want to (though there are reasons why you might not want to).

Some special abilities and most spells take more than one action to accomplish, so it’s not completely one-to-one, but it’s extremely easy to grasp and quite flexible at the same time. It’s probably my favorite of the innovations PF2 brought to the table.

Third: Deep Character Customization. So here’s where I am going to legitimately complain just a bit about 5E. I struggle with how little mechanical control I, as a player, have over how my character advances in 5E.

Consider an example. It’s common in a lot of 5E games to begin play at 3rd level, since you have a subclass by then, as well as a decent amount of hit points and access to 2nd level spells if you’re a caster. Let’s say you’re playing a fighter in a campaign that begins at 3rd level and is expected to run to 11th. That’s 8+ levels of play, a decent-length campaign by just about anyone’s standards. During that entire stretch of play, which would be a year or more depending on how often your group meets, your fighter will make exactly two (2) meaningful mechanical choices as part of their level-up process: the two points at 4th and 8th levels where you can boost a couple stats or get a feat. That’s it. Everything else is on rails, decided for you the moment you picked your subclass.

Contrast that with PF2. In that same level range, you would get to select: 4 class feats, 4 skill feats, two ancestry feats, two general feats, and four skill increases. At every level, a PF2 player gets to choose at least two things, in addition to whatever automatic bonuses they get from their class. These allow me to tailor my build quite tightly to whatever my idea for my character is and give me cool new things to play with every time I level up. This is true across character classes, casters and martials alike.

PF2 also handles multiclassing and the space that used to be occupied by prestige classes with its “pile o’ feats” approach. You can spend class feats from class A to get some features of class B, but it’s impossible for a multiclass build to just “steal” everything that makes a single class cool. A wizard/fighter will never be as good a fighter as a regular fighter is, and a fighter/wizard will never be the wizard’s match with magic.

Fourth: Four Degrees of Success. 5E applies its nat 20, nat 1, critical hits, etc. rules in a very haphazard fashion. PF2 standardizes this as well, in a way that makes your actual skill with whatever you’re doing matter for how well you do it. Any check in PF2 can produce one of four results: a critical success, a regular success, a regular failure, or a critical failure. In order to get a critical success on a roll, you have to exceed your target DC by 10 or more; in order to get a critical failure, you have to roll 10 or more less than the DC. Where do nat 20s and nat 1s come in? They respectively increase or decrease the level of success you rolled by one step. In practice, it works out a lot like you’re used to with a 5E game, but, for instance, if you have a +30 modifier and are rolling against a DC 18, rolling a nat 1 nets you a total of 31, exceeding the DC by more than 10 and earning you a critical success, which is then reduced to just a normal success by the fact of it being a nat 1. Conversely, rolling against a DC 40 with a +9 modifier can never succeed, because even a nat 20 only earns a 29, more than 10 below the DC and normally a crit failure, only increased to a regular failure by the nat 20.

Now, not every roll will make use of critical successes and critical failures. Attack rolls, for instance, don’t make any inherent distinction between failure and critical failure. (Though there are special abilities that do - try not to critically fail a melee attack against a swashbuckler. The results may be painful.) Skill rolls, however, often do, as do many spells with saving throws. Most spells that allow saves are only completely resisted if the target rolls a critical success. Even on a regular success, there is usually some effect, even on non-damaging rolls. That means that casters very rarely waste their turn on spells that get resisted and accomplish nothing at all. It also doubles the effect of any mechanical bonuses or penalties to a roll, because now there are two spots on a die per +1 or -1 that affect the outcome; a +1 might not only convert a failure to a success but might also convert a success to a crit success, or a crit fail to a regular fail.

# What About Everything Else? #

There is a lot more to it, of course. As a GM I find PF2 incredibly easy to run, even at the highest levels of game play, as compared to other d20 systems. The challenge level calculations work, meaning you can have a solo boss without having to resort to special boss monster rules to provide good challenges. I find the shift from “races” to “ancestries” much less problematic. PF2 has rules for how to handle non-combat time in the dungeon in ways that standardize common rules problems like “Well, you didn’t say you were looking for traps!” Everything using one proficiency calculation lets the game do weird things like having skill checks that target saves, or saves that target skill-based DCs. Inter-class balance, with some very specific exceptions, is beautifully tailored. Perception, always the uber-skill, isn’t a skill at all anymore: everyone is at least Trained in it, and every class reaches at least Expert in it by early double-digit levels. Opportunity Attacks (PF2 still uses the 3rd Ed “Attack of Opportunity” - but will soon be switching over to "Reactive Strike") isn’t an inherent ability of every character and monster, encouraging mobility during combats, and skill actions in combat can lower ACs, saves, attacks, and more, so there are more things to do for more kinds of characters. And so on.

Experiencing all of that is easiest just by playing the game, of course, but suffice it to say PF2 has a lot of QoL improvements for players and GMs alike in addition to the bigger, core-level mechanical differences.

# The OGL Thing #

Last thing, then. In the wake of the OGL shit in January, Paizo announced that it would no longer be releasing Pathfinder material under the OGL, opting instead to work with an intellectual property law firm to develop the Open RPG Creative (ORC) License that would do what the OGL could no longer be trusted to do: remain perpetually free and untouchable for anyone who wanted to publish under it. The ORC isn’t limited specifically to Paizo or to Pathfinder 2E or even to d20 games; any company can release any ruleset under it and allow third-party companies to develop and publish content for it.

Shifting away from the OGL, though, required making some changes to scrub out legacy material. A lot of the basic work was done when they shifted to 2E, but there are still a lot of concepts, terminologies, and potentially infringing ideas seeded throughout the system. These had to go.

Since this meant having to rewrite a lot of their core rules anyway, Paizo opted to not fight destiny and announced “Pathfinder 2nd Edition Remastered” in April. This is a kind of “2.25” edition, with a lot of small changes around the edges and a couple of larger ones to incorporate what they’ve learned since the game first launched four years ago. A couple classes are getting major updates, a ton of spells are either getting renamed or swapped out for non-OGL equivalents, and a couple big things: no more alignment and no more schools of magic.

The first book of the Remaster, Player Core 1, comes out in November, along with the GM Core. Next spring will see Monster Core and next summer will give us Player Core 2. That will complete the Remaster books; everything else is, according to Paizo, going to be compatible enough it won’t need but a few minor tweaks that can be handled via errata. So if you’re thinking about getting into PF2, I’d give serious thought to waiting until November at least, and maybe next summer if you want the whole Remastered package.

And that’s it. That’s my essay on PF2 and what I think makes it cool. The floor is open for questions and I am both very grateful and deeply apologetic to anyone who made it this far.

#RPGs #roleplaying games #d20 #d20 history #pathfinder #pathfinder 2e #pf2 #pf2e #dungeons and dragons #D&D #d&d 5e

[mmmmmmmmmmmmsoup]

Yandere x Gardener reader 2.0

(This post is like another root from the story tree. But instead of talking about David, we talk about a new customer of yours, Cash)

Warning: Yandere, stalking, nsfw?

• so now that you were working at more locations, and keeping your distance from David, you found yourself on a ranch

• Not your ranch of course, but a costumers

• a man named cash wanted some help tending to his mothers garden

• his mother was growing to that age where things didn’t come easy, and not that he couldn’t take care of the garden himself, he just didn’t have the time

• he had cows, chickens, and crops to take care of. But he still wanted to make his mama happy

• that’s where you come in. A few times a week you would come by, weeding, dead heading, and watering the flowers

• Cash and his mother also had a green house full of veggies and some other edible things, you took care of that too

• now the first time you met Cash, he was quiet  and you had no idea if even liked you

• but that didn’t matter, he hired you to work, and work you did! Plus, the view you got to see while working was beautiful, just a valley of rolling hills

• and Cashes view of you was… well, let’s say he had a hard time looking away

• at first Cash didn’t really pay much time to you, you had a job to do and so did he. and as long as you did your job well, there wouldn’t be an issue

• he was also a little embarrassed to having to hire you, he wished he could just take care of the garden himself but alas, there just weren’t enough hours in the day

• he liked that you had manners. He had told you if you harvested any fruits or veggies to just bring them inside and put them on the kitchen counter

• and every time you did, you’d knock, make sure him and or his mama was aware of your present and quietly walk to the kitchen

• sometimes you even asked his mama if she needed anything like a snack or a glass of water, he thought that was sweet

• sometimes you’d leave a small bouquet of flowers freshly plucked from the garden and place it in the living room for him and his mama to see

• he thought you were a sweet girl, he didn’t dig much further then that, he didn’t want to

• but one day, when Cash was heading to the house for lunch, he saw you.

• you were ripping a small old stump out of the ground, and Cash just couldn’t look away

• you were wearing a tank top, sweating, covered in dirt, and your muscles flexing

(even if you don’t think your that muscly irl, trust me, if you ever do get gardening as a job, you will develop muscle)

• oh lord, this man just turned into a blushing mess

• ever since that day, he started paying attention to you more

• you see, Cash always came home for lunch, and the window above the sink, where he washed dishes was in perfect view of the garden

• also in perfect view was your ass when you bent over to pluck a flower or whatever else you were doing

• he started washing dishes by hand a lot more

• anytime you suggest something for the garden, that be a certain tool, plant, or pest control, you’d find it either in the shed during your next visit or he would straight up give you money to go buy it

• and he would totally give you too much money too. If you ever try to give him his change back, he would refuse and just say it’s your tip

• one day you had told him how people’s gardens were being ruined during the nights and within three days, he had updated his whole security system (by the way, this man is like rich, so he already had gates and a pretty good security system)

• he even set up some cameras facing the garden, only for security reason of course… no other reason

• he just likes you ok, and has no idea how to show it

• not only were you sweet, a hard worker, and hot as fuck, but his mama loved you

• “that gardener is such a lovely lady, and does such a nice job on my garden!”

• mama would 100% bake cookies for you and put them in a container for you to take home

• Cash thought highly of what his mother thought, and if she liked you, I mean????

• If his garden produced to many of a certain vegetable, he would just give you the extra (saving on that grocery bill gorl)

• one day when cash had a little bit more free time, he chose to have a picnic with his mama, he was thinking about asking you to join, but his mama beat him to it

• “hello y/n, me and my son are having a picnic, you should join us”

• you looked behind her to see Cash, looking slightly bashful and quick to look away when he noticed you staring

• “sure, I’d love too!”

• Cash laid down a blanket, and sat between you and his mama

• you ate some sandwiches with some home grown veggies on the side, and of course cookies made by mama her self

• you all had a nice chat, mainly mama asking about you

• cash learned how you liked to dabble in art, drawing, painting, photography, you name it you’ve probably tried it

• and just other little things like family, where your from, if you go to school or not, stuff like that

• like dam, you just keep getting better and better

• the more he learned about you, the more he liked you

• he was also thankful his mama was the one handling the conversation part, he was never great at socializing

• he also had a hard time focusing on what was being said when his eyes kept wondering to your soft lips

• fuck, he’s blushing so hard

• ever since that picnic happened, mama totally knows what’s up ;)

• she thinks it’s cute that her son FINALLY has a crush, maybe she will actually get some more grandkids!

• so every now and then she ask you to help cash with something or maybe the other way around, just so you spend more time together

• cash gets so embarrassed every time

This post is getting too long! How did I do? Any tips, tricks? Let me know!

Also what do you think about David and cash?

Whenever I’m talking about cash, I’ll probably always post it as a 0.2 chapter, like I did here

#yandere #yandere x reader #my writing #yandere Farmer

[rosemxze]

about the 10/19 update:

reminder: criticism is okay but do not be hateful, or send PB or anyone hate.

so, apparently a lot of players are really mad right now. the CN players pointed out PB's lack of transparency in their emergency maintenance notice. they pointed out that they were reducing store benefits while increasing exchange prices. to some players, they feel like PB is turning WHB into a cash cow.

additionally, allegedly some people have lost money from the shop passes where if you had previously made a purchase, you would have to pay again since PB had made adjustments to the rewards 😭 also they've also hidden the old levelling reward in shop passes according to this tweet. overall, it's super confusing so i'll just leave this topic as it is.

honestly, i do understand that PB needs to earn money to pay their employees but i think the way they package their bundles and paid gems are terrible and just doesn't seem to be worth the money.

for their 113+7 gems pack i can't even afford 1 lesser key, whereas for around the same amount of money i can spend it on arknights's monthly card which gives 11 pulls or genshin's welkin pass which gives 16 pulls.

so i just come to the simple conclusion that i'm going to stay f2p. it's just not worth it if i can spend it on a different game and get more. it's not a big deal for me as long as banners eventually get rerun ahahah

some were also upset about no maintenance compensation which i think is fair because the maintenance would usually have some sort of compensation in exchange for their player base not being able to play/grind during that time period. i feel like PB could have gave guilty gems, lesser keys, or solomon's tears. or even gold/books or jelly or any of the upgrade materials that is difficult to farm for right now. or even pies which is even more difficult to collect than tears atm.

there should also be compensation for those who have lost their money through this update :')

there were also some criticism regarding how they "fixed" the store instead of the bugs. not only that but more bugs appeared such as some units are now unable to be deployed after the update or how the secret shop's vortex will appear every time you log in but the shop itself never appears.

the more common topic at hand is the solomon tears. some players have argued that this is what you're supposed to expect when you are an f2p player. however, i would like to also argue that it shouldn't take months to fully max a single character— which includes promotion, skills (2 for most, 3 for L-tiers) and unholy board (for L-tiers).

reminder that this game is eventually going to have 80 casts (or more if they add the angels and humans like obey me has done) in the future. that is a lot of characters and they will each have different copies and versions of each of them in the future too.

using arknights as an example, that game is farmable for f2p players like myself. i never spent money on arknights but i was able to upgrade multiple characters much faster which is good for tower defense games where you need to strategise with different characters. albeit WHB is easier in that aspect of strategy, it still doesn't change how it is definitely a little more challenging in WHB to build characters.

though, i can also go on the other side and argue that perhaps PB didn't mean for us to speedrun the content either.

i'm personally okay with grinding and being patient as long as the event stages are reasonable and can be cleared without very high difficulties.

also i'm also personally okay if their gacha banners have a reasonable pacing and pity system. since that is my personal main concern as a gacha addict :p

though, seeing all the others' feedbacks also kind of influenced me a bit and made me skeptical of PB. this single update kind of made me look at them in a different light and not the positive kind 😅

but!! they still have another update on 10/25 so i guess we'll just have to see how that one goes. maybe there will be improvements? who knows. i'm just praying for the better because i do enjoy this game so far and want it to do well in the future too 🙏

reminder: again, it's okay to criticise and give feedback but please do not be malicious and hateful 🙇‍♀️

#rae rambles #whb updates #what in “hell” is bad? #what in hell is bad #whb

[lightsoutmotel]

OBEDIENCE LESSONS. — m!Remy x gender neutral cow!reader.

Description — You've pissed Remy off for far too long. Either you break or he'll break you into the stupid little cow you are himself.

Content Warnings — Noncon, pet play, reader has a cunt and can get impregnated, breeding/impregnation, impact play, breathplay, degradation

Whenever you spat and kicked and swore as you were being wrangled, Remy had to remind himself that having spirit was a good thing. It meant you were strong, on one hand. On the other, you were a pain in the fucking ass whenever you were conscious.

You were a stubborn, contrary shit and the number of farmhands willing to deal with you was dwindling. Handing out cash incentives to deal with one pissy cow wasn't good business, not with Alex threatening to break even soon.

The smart thing to do would be to cut his losses. But the sting of a split lip from your flailing didn't leave his head clear.

All it took was an instant, where Remy's shock made his long-simmering rage boil up, and one of those gloved hands shot out and slapped you smartly across the face. Then it was your turn to be shocked, reaching up to touch the warming skin, your own fury rekindled and so ready to give him hell only for him to shock you again.

He removed the heavy collar he had fixed to you and threw it aside with a clang. It was quickly replaced by his own hand, grasping tighter around your throat while your instincts had you clawing at his wrist trying to make him let go. All it did was earn you another slap.

"You stupid cow," Remy hissed out with venom. "I've given you every opportunity to be good, to get treats, to be taken care of..."

Fierce tears built in your eyes as he used his grip to shove you down to the floor, the impact almost making you dizzy with the head rush it gave you and how thin the air was getting in your lungs. It gave Remy an opportunity to grab your thigh and push one of your legs up to your chest and expose your defenseless cunt. He held fast to your thigh even as you struggled against him.

Then he spanked your pussy. It made you shout and jolt and so he did it again. And again. Over and over again, the sound of it sharp cracks in the otherwise quiet corner of the barn he had you in. Relentless and furious.

You were sniffling and panting as the abuse continued, and it only ended with one final, pointed slap before Remy's arm withdrew. Only for him to grab your jaw and squeeze until you opened your mouth, all to rub his gloved fingers over your tongue, practically fucking your mouth with them. They tasted of leather and you and your face flushed once you realized he was forcing you to lick up your own arousal.

"Do you act like a brat because you get off on the pain?" Remy asked, his voice thick with incredulity. "Do you just want to get hurt and owned?"

Another slap to your face to disorient you, then he was slotting himself between your legs and you had to bite back a moan when you felt the bulge of his erection shove up against your slick cunt.

"S-shut up, fuck you—"

"Oh, I'm about to, little cow, be patient."

That made your eyes go wide and you tried to wriggle away from him, getting into your usual routine of trying to kick him, but he pinned your hip down to the floor and messily ground the heel of his hand against your pussy. The sound it made was humiliating — you were so wet that it was loud enough to hear with him touching you so forcefully. You writhed and grit your teeth.

Then Remy shoved two fingers into you to test the readiness and give and your body seized up, your walls squeezed tight around the intrusion. You thought you heard him grunt in pleasure at feeling you from the inside but your train of thought was derailed once he started fingerfucking your drooling cunt.

You grabbed at his wrist again and your nails dug into the exposed skin but did little more to stop him — you felt like you were just trying to hold onto your sanity instead of fight him off as he coaxed up against your g-spot while he thumbed at your clit and forced you closer to orgasm.

"This is all you needed to be good for me. Slutty thing," he rumbled darkly.

Two fingers turned to three, turned to the sound of Remy's pants being fussed with and shoved down just far enough to let his cock spring out. He wasn't letting you cum and you felt like you were losing your mind being denied over and over again. It distracted you from your usual fight and it filled Remy with such sick satisfaction to finally see his troublemaker flat on their back taking it.

And you took it. Every single inch. With your legs over his shoulders folded in half, that thick cock stretching you out far more than his fingers prepared you for. Your mouth was wide open while your eyes were mostly closed, dazed, all attention drawn to the way he was splitting your pussy open in one slow, determined push to bottom out.

Finally, bare and balls deep in you, Remy gathered your wrists in one hand and pinned your arms down above your head then began fucking you into the floorboards. They creaked under the force of each thrust. You whined and moaned, nails digging into your own skin, your core hot and needy and your control gone.

Face to face with Remy, panting in each other's faces, until he brought your mouths together to fuck your mouth with his tongue too. You were too hazy to kiss him back but he didn't mind using your holes with little input from you.

He squeezed a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit and you could hardly stand it for a few moments before you arched up against him and came messily all over his still-thrusting cock. It exposed the vulnerable column of your neck and he was quick to dip in and suck and bite bruises into your skin as he fucked you through your orgasm.

"I own you," he growled out into the shell of your ear, "and you're never going to forget that. You're going to be a good little breeder cow from now on, you don't have a choice."

Breeder. Even in your fucked stupid state that word stood out and it rekindled a sense of fear that rose above the lust he forced upon you. You began to struggle. He pushed more of his weight down onto you to keep you pinned where you were, his body heavy and you lying helpless beneath him, the sound of your fucking loud and wet and lewd.

"No," you whimpered, "I-I don't want to be preg—"

"Cows don't speak," he snarled before he shoved his fingers into your mouth to shut you up.

Somehow, he found it in him to fuck you harder and rougher, hardly caring that you were orgasming again and again around him as he chased his own end and goal. Your eyes were rolled back as you practically ragdolled underneath him and took it.

It felt like he was deep enough to bruise your cervix. It felt like he could get you pregnant in one go. It felt so good you were in tears.

Your hole was raw and tender by the time he shoved himself as deep as he could inside of you, finally pulsing out his orgasm in thick spurts that you could feel with the way his cock twitched and throbbed. It flooded you until it spilled over, running down out of your hole and marking you even more as his property.

A few lazy rocks of his hips helped ensure everything settled right where he wanted it. He eased back to let his softening cock free only to quickly replace it with his fingers, fucking the cum that dripped out of you back inside your tender pussy, and making you cum again for good measure. To see that pathetic look you made when you came but also to ensure that his seed would take.

You both were sweaty, hair complete messes, by the time he knelt between your legs and let them down from his shoulders. Overwhelmed and, honestly, half-asleep from the exhaustion and countless orgasms, you did little except turn your head away in protest when he leaned down to kiss your forehead and scratch behind your ear. You blinked at him hazily, almost confused by the show of affection.

"Be a good cow and hold onto that for now. We'll take great care to make sure you're knocked up after I make my rounds."

#degrees of lewdity #remy the farmer #lights out writes

[the-path-to-redemption]

Imo volume 8 is where rwby hit rock bottom. It's when you might as well give up ANY last bits of hope for a good story if you weren't self-caring enough to drop it after volume 4. It's when the show loses the last bits of self-awareness. It felt like the writers finally stopped trying, ykwim? Sure they were red flags and bigotry high and low every season prior, and one could endlessly nitpick and nitpick and nitpick what's wrong with this show, and if anything it may have never been good altogether. But fucking volume 8? Felt like they didn't know what story they wanted to tell anymore. There's no consistent story, arcs that matter or anything to be followed unless you turn your brain off and take nothing seriously.

But no, that wouldn't be right. Cause then there's volume 9, just when you thought it couldn't sink any lower. It is beyond my comprehension how any sane, mature viewer can look at how jokingly, carelessly, superficially the writers have treated the topics of suicide and yet STILL ask for more, STILL see nothing that'd have them go "ok, this is wrong, they shouldn't have done that", STILL screech green light volume 10!!!! all over the place.

Like, what is wrong with you people?

Long Post Ahead

In the words of Jellopocalypse, RWBY is a show that like to fly by the seat of its pants. The first few volumes, while shaky and full of things that is valid to criticize about, had this charm to it that pulled people to watch. It was a passion project and filled with care from its creator, and that was obvious. It was a diamond in the rough waiting to be polished and explored given time and effort.

However, it was also clear that the writers are still very, very incompetent for the actual writing for this show on the grand scheme of its narrative. Which is a shame, because they CAN write. Red vs. Blue had great episodes, and so did RWBY; Volume 7 had my favorite episode "Gravity" and it was written by M*les, so the dude can make a very good episode where you're engaged with it. However, that episode immediately went to the trash because everything after that is so bad, it made everything that happened in Gravity in regards to Ironwood meaningless. The hype was gone, the faith that we had for the show finally picking up again got shattered because the writers refuse to keep up the momentum of their story.

It's not the first time this happened. Things were picking up back in Volume 2 during Yang and Blake's conversation, then Cinder's infiltration into the CCTV tower, and then Mountain Glenn. But guess what? The girls defeated the bad guys and took a nap on it instead of continuing to question what's happening around them. Volume 3 had so many good moments, but the dredge of V4 and V5 and so on made the events of Beacon meaningless. No example is better than what happened to Penny.

There is a lack of consistency as well as a lack of passion for RWBY from its actual writers, because the show is RT's cash cow now. CRWBY from the get go just copies cool ideas and themes for other shows without actually understanding WHY it worked for those show. It's all every surface level writing, and it's insulting because they CAN write. They just chose to be incompetent.

#answered #anonymous #rwde #rwby critical #anti rooster teeth #anti miles luna #anti crwby #crwby critical

[lol-jackles]

(Li 1) I revisited a former favorite tag of mine, the tag "jaawy" at the tumblr blog likestarsonearthj2. After years of shock at JA's true face, I wanted to see for myself how his real horrible self was obvious but I couldn't see it in his pics & gifs under the tag (short for Jensen Ackles Always Watching You, the blogger's tag for when JA is looking at JP). And... it's like a completely different person! Was he "on" (acting like he cared abt JP I mean) nonstop? BTS, onstage? I just... wow.

I've always said the J2's codependent-ish friendship came first, and the (platonic) Wincest came afterwards. Writers write what they see in front of them. It's why I don't blame Tinhatters for thinking they’re in a relationship or J2 shippers for shipping them.

Jared was 22 when he was suddenly a lead of a show and responsible for the livelihood of 300 people (150 crewmen plus their families) to pay their rent and their kids’ colleges.  I would be surprise if Jared didn't turn to Jensen for support and became dependent on him to some degree to quell his anxiety.  Except people are not medicine and eventually Jared would realize that.

Jared might feel that he owes Jensen because he convinced Jared not to quit in season 3 or 4 due to mental health issues. If Jared had broke his contract before the show was syndicated (and why Kripke was "losing sleep"), then he would have been blacklisted by furious producers for costing them lucrative licensing deals because shows rarely survive without their lead actor. Jared publicly credited Jensen for convincing him not to leave and now Jared is a lead on another successful show, so Jared’s success is in part due to Jensen even though Jensen was looking out for himself at the time.

Jensen needs Jared to stay with Supernatural not only to keep the cash cow going, but to benefit from Jared's work ethics and business acumen. As the "Taker" in their codependent relationship, Jensen relied on Jared to assume or soften the negative consequences for his actions as well as compensate for his under-functioning.    Jared the "Giver" was a people-pleaser and cleans up the messes other people have made, lie or make excuses and pretend things are OK when they’re not.  Givers like Jared don't empower, instead they enable and make things worse.

Jensen knew 2 years before the series finale that Jared was leaving SPN, and from his pov, Jared has been leaving him for 2 years. In my experience with acquaintances who are Takers, they do not feel good enough for their Giver, and becomes resentful because they feel the Givers undermines their sense of competence.  Then the Takers tries to take the "mature" route by avoiding texting or talking to their Giver while feverishly working on themselves or their jobs.  in Jensen’s case, the prequel spinoff project.  Jensen planning a prequel spinoff without Jared’s knowledge is his twisted way of being “good enough” for Jared. 

At least that's my take based on witnessing some real life emeshed and codependents folks.

[xinimartsy]

A rant on why Chevalier's route is crap and annoying and why Clavis' is superior.

(reminder that this is MY opinion. You're allowed to disagree, or even debate me, as long as we keep it respectful.)

Clavis' route kinda upset me a lot. Not the route in itself, which was fun and wonderful, but at how better it was than some of the other routes, specially Chevalier's. (Chevalier stans, don't come for my head, it's just my opinion)

Firstly, in Clavis' route, we get to see how great MC can be. She can be clever, cunning, stubborn, brave and lots of fun, what just makes her look all the more bland in the other routes in comparison.

In particular, surprising absolutely no one, what upsets me the most are Chevalier's route and Chevalier's MC. I made a post talking about how it was much easier to ship Chevalier and Clavis' MC, since they seem to have a much better relationship than they do in his own route, but i kinda got stuck thinking why is that.

For starters, i do understand Chevalier is one of the starting routes, which is understandable because he is Ikepri's cash cow, he's one of the most popular suitors and players do tend to be somewhat attached to their first routes. And in order to not spoil any later routes, starter routes are usually the blandest.

However i think that is a huge hit to Chevalier's character. We're supposed to get to know him on a deeper level on his route, however, we end up getting to know more about him in Clavis' than in his own. And while i understand that it was in order to not spoil Clavis' route, i think it's very unlikely that we get far enough into our relationship with Chevalier without knowing the huge part of his life that is Clavis, and without having meaningful conversations such as Clavis being Chevalier's last bastion. So i feel like we were robbed of a much more interesting route with Chevalier.

Also, most people that agreed with me on that post about Chevalier's MC unlikeability described her as "naive and dumb", which is kinda true, but more for a question of poor writing rather than as actual character traits.

Chevalier would have no interest in someone dumb or that he sees as lesser than, so his mc was actually meant to be presented as being clever and a quick learner despite her good heart and starting naivety. However it doesn't come across that because they failed at writing one of the most difficult aspects of this relationship: Chevalier's genius.

He is supposed to be a genius beyond his time, almost superhuman, and there's no problem with that, except is something extremely hard to write, and the easiest mistake to make when writing a genius is lowering everyone around them instead of elevating the genius themselves.

Basically, in order to make Chevalier look like the smartest person in the room, they gotta dumb everyone down. And that's why his MC is so annoying.

As we play this first person game as said MC, we have to constantly read through many lines of him explaining things we as readers already understood, but MC was made to be puzzled because she can't possibly be on par the genius who's ten steps ahead of everyone. And then when she figures out something on her own (after a little push from Chev) we the readers are just "ughhhh finally" while, in game, she's demonstrating cleverness and quick learning.

To write a genius is needed to have a dash of unpredictability, and to actually puzzle the readers as much as the characters. That's why Sherlock Holmes was written through the point of view of Watson, so we'd always be as puzzled as him, and as shocked when Sherlock did his thing that no normal human can do, and it leave us thinking "wow, he's indeed the greatest detective around".

Meanwhile, with Chevalier, they fail at the "show don't tell", constantly telling us he's a genius and hyping up his brain, but when it comes to the showing, they don't. We can't see his gears turning or his thought process, we don't see him actually do anything amazing - aside from physical prowess - that is beyond the bounds of understanding.

Don't get me wrong, he's intelligent and his ability to predict diplomatic moves like a game of chess is impressive, but it's not something so mind blowing that we can't piece together ourselves and need a step by step explanation on how he came up with it.

And in this, i believe Clavis' was written better as a genius than Chevalier. The second prince might be a prodigy, good at everything he picks up right away, but Clavis feels like the true genius of the family, even with mishaps and failures, he keeps us on our toes and thinks outside the box.

#ikepri #ikemen prince #ikepri clavis #ikepri chevalier #chevalier michel #clavis lelouch

[beelmons]

A story of 'maybe's and 'what if's

cw: @snarkylinda made a post about when JJ asks Spencer what he would have been in another life and said Spencer probably writes coffee shop AUs. So here's a small peek at cowboy!spencer with his small town!BAU AU. Gif credit @imagining-in-the-margins (couldn't find it on tumblr's gif search bar so I had to use a link). Nothing happens in this fic, just Spencer doing cowboy stuff and being happy with his life, like he deserves.

Focus: Spencer Reid x Reader (vaguely), everybody else on the team is mentioned.

The rule of the land was to trample or be trampled, a rule that was much to the dislike of Spencer Reid.

"Stop moving, let me see you." the young cowboy would shout as the small animal thrashed around in his arms.

Once he was able to contain it, he could notice the fracture on the middle part of its leg. A youngling rabbit had wandered into his ranch early in the morning and his cattle, albeit small very lively and wary, had tried to kick it out of their area by force.

During his first round, early in the morning, of revising the cows, he noticed his herd dog heavily interested on a random hollow rock, barking and bending with his tail wagging from side to side. To his surprise, the source of amusement was no other than an injured rabbit, to whose rescue he went.

"I don't think I have enough to take care of it here, we're going to have to go the sanctuary." he huffed in disappointment.

The small animal was put into a weary satchel after being given a light sedative, this to protect it from hurting itself, and Spencer went on his merry way. As routine marked, he stopped by the local coffee shop to grab some liquid energy for the day, and after chatting with his friend Kate, he headed to the flower shop down the street. Something caught his attention inside the café, though, a face he had never seen before. A passer by, he figured, and he didn't pay much attention before he left.

"Morning, Reid, you're out early." Will pointed out as Spencer entered the small venue.

"There's something I have to do right away, is JJ in?" he asked

"She's in the back, I'll tell'er you're here." the man, dressed up in local police uniform, reassured before disappearing behind a cloth door. Shortly, Jennifer came out with a bright smile on her face.

"Good morning, Spence, good to see you awake before nine." she joked.

"I'm usually awake, I just don't go out until I make sure the horses are clean for the day." he quickly explained before he turned attention to his original purpose "do you have any lilies or daisies?" he asked.

"I must have some left in the back. Got a date?" the blonde woman teased.

"Haha" he mocked "Could you please go get them, I'm in a rush." Spencer said.

"Yes, just let me— Oh, welcome!" she suddenly changed her tone and Spencer could notice it was because of another costumer behind him.

"Hi" you said, walking to stand next to Reid by the registry "I'm here to pick up an order? I'm—" you began to explain until JJ interrupted you.

"Yes, my husband said you called last night. Your order is ready, I'll go get it." she turned to face her friend instead "And I'll get your daisies for the date you don't want to tell me about, lover boy." she teased Spencer.

The man simply made a mocking face that caused her to laugh as you were left alone in the room. He took a second to try and glance at you from the corner of his eye, trying to double-check of the suspicion of you being the same person as in the coffee shop was true.

"Daisies for a date?" you said, trying to break the ice "A bit unorthodox, they aren't necessarily the most sensual of flowers."

"It's not a date." he said politely, although his slightly awkward pursing of the lips made you realize he was not the most comfortable, so you decided to shut up.

"Here." thankfully, JJ appeared once again to give you the order, and after taking your cash you dashed out of the place.

"Who is that?" he asked, his eyes looking back to the door you had just walked through.

"Oh." JJ said with a specific suggestive tone "Why, interested?" she propped herself curiously onto her elebows on the counter.

"You know what?" he was about to start telling her off when he felt a slight twitch in his satchel "Actually, I have to go." he said in a hurry and snatched the flowers from the counter to head to the sanctuary.

Maybe not interested, yet, but he was certainly intrigued by the random, and in his opinion quite attractive, stranger that just appeared in his town.

However, he would have time for that later, he needed to get to the animal sanctuary.

"—and over there you take a left and you will immediately see the police station." or not, since you were right there in the animal sanctuary, conversing with Morgan "You can ask the secretary for sargeant Hotchner, if he isn't there he might be at Rossi's, the local saloon, you can ask detective prentiss to take you."

"All right, thank you." you said with smile

"Welcome, take care, sweetheart." he charmingly saw you off.

Before you could exit the place, though, you crossed sights with Spencer. The awkward smile appeared on his face once again and he raised a hand to give a lame, weak wiggle of his fingers.

However, this caused you to get a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest, and you hit him with a smitten grin.

"Good luck with whoever is on the receiving end of those daisies, lover boy." you joked in his direction before you disappeared, yet again, behind the entrance.

Morgan stared with raised eyebrows and startled eyes.

"She hasn't been here more than a day and you already bagged her?" Morgan let out an impressed sigh "Gotta get me some of that cowboy game."

"Can everyone stop? I don't even know her name." he said as he stepped closer.

"Whose name?" Penelope entered the waiting room with her particular beaming attitude.

"The girl who was asking about Hotch's." Morgan clarified to her.

"Oh, I think she's pretty, do you?" Garcia asked Reid.

"No!" he almost yelled defenssively.

"Oh my god! You totally like her!" she shouted and Morgan laughed in response.

"Can we get back to my actual problem?" he once again tried to change the subject, gently laying the bag on the counter to open it "Poe found it hiding, I think the cows broke the leg. Can it stay here for a couple of days? Brought flowers as a payment." he raised the bouquet in her direction.

"I love daisies, they are like the poster flowers of joy. Thank you, Reid." she took the flowers before setting them in an empy container on the fron desk "Now, let's get you better, little thing."

With care, she took the bag to take it to the hospital area, leaving only the two men there.

"Rossi said he is hosting a private dinner at the saloon tonight, you coming?" Morgan asked.

"I don't know. Blake asked me for help to prepare some material for her class." Reid answered with tiredness.

"I know for a fact that she's gonna be there." Morgan teased with a grin, subtly referring to you.

Spencer remained quiet, apparently unamused, for a second.

"We'll see." he said.

However, there was nothing to see. He was intrigued, and if there was something Spencer Reid couldn't control about himself was his curiosity.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #this is so stupid but it was so fun to write hehe #criminal minds #blurb: mine #blurb: spencer

[limnsaber]

Anyone else thinking about how one of the key factors that led to the success of The Mandalorian as a title was how it could stand on its own two feet and was a great point for those who had never known of Star Wars or who were pressured by the endless filmography of Star Wars to learn about this world and experience the galaxy far far away for the first time, in an encapsulated, grounded yet fantastical series?

How it fit beautifully into missing pieces of the timeline, and yet the rotating landscapes and settings were a galaxy of their own?

Cause I am. In addition to the other thing I’m thinking about:

‘The MandoVerse’

SW & it’s endless filmography of concluded titles and additions to its timeline allowed fans to jump in at any place and interact with it uniquely, without the pressure of the modern day factory line of ‘the next Marvel movie’ that you’d have had to see the previous 5 movies to understand.

Marvel is going to run itself into the ground, because what’s profitable short-term is not what is long-term, and while Disney has their sights set on the money they miss what allowed Star Wars’ 50 year legacy.

Limits, and production time between movies and titles, not endless releases of the next biggest thing. Clarity, and vision, and planning, not the mess that was the Sequel Trilogy, and not what Marvel is doing in this moment and what Disney is turning into.

In creating a MandoVerse, they’ll turn to the Marvel cash cow and churn out everything that they can, with more of characters as funny hollow action figures and of that only. There will be no thought or follow through in regards to the writing (aside from the plot points leading into the ST), while touting still the success, legacy, and longevity of Star Wars.

So creating a MandoVerse, where you have to be a Star Wars fan or be dedicated to the story is ignorant and flies in the face of what made the Mandalorian a success, and what allows stories — like Star Wars — to live on for as long as they have.

I’m not saying that having every piece of the GFFA being tied together is a bad thing. I’m saying having The MandoVerse & requiring your audience to stay in day-to-day, to watch those review videos on YouTube or see again and again the newest Star Wars title is exhausting, and weaving all of the events together, instead of allowing defined plot lines and character arcs, is hugely negatively impactful on story integrity and coherency.

It’s a bad idea all around. And I can’t imagine what it’s going to do to the writing decisions

#saw ‘The MandoVerse’ in a news blurb and went kind of insane #the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian season 3 #disney #the mandoverse #perhaps this is not reflected in the statistics. but it is certainly reflected in the fandom & attitudes about it here on t umblr #whatever you’d like to say about sw & it’s history of writing; bad or not; at least it was cohesive #sound? perhaps not. but cohesive #mhmm