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underdark-dreams · 5 months

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Hello my dear! Prompt for you, what Rolan and Dammon are like drunk, what kind of night they had at the tiefling party on their own, how they are with an interested Tav that night (Rolan x Tav, Dammon x Tav, how they are with an interested each other (dammon x rolan), and how they are with a poly for the celebration (dammon x Tav x rolan) long one I know but damn you feed us well

[bangs metal pots together] Rolan x Dammon polycule lovers, come collect your horny boys!

Please be aware this turned to shameless filth at the end. I cannot be trusted with either of them, and especially not both. 👀 Credits to @turquoiseoverthesea for the lap sitting mischief!

Rolan & Dammon drunk at the Tiefling party: solo + poly HCs with Tav

(Tav is gender-neutral) - (NSFW under the cut)

Rolan solo:

Rolan wasn’t even sure he wanted to come tonight…but he found himself in a generous mood and decided to bestow his company on these rubes

Plus he doesn’t trust Cal to moderate himself or Lia to keep Cal reined in (oldest siblings have to do everything around here)

Ends up tipsier than either of them, though he’s decent at hiding it

You can tell by the way his hand gestures get more and more animated throughout the night

When he’s drunk: actually loosens up a lot in general, smiles and laughs more freely

Drunk Rolan is somehow even more self-assured and cocky than usual, yet simultaneously much more charming about it

Doesn’t realize how handsome he looks when he’s genuinely enjoying himself

Also gets more free with his spellwork once you get a few glasses of wine in him

Fends off Cal and Lia’s requests for him to conjure a whole menagerie of animal illusions, but if Tav asks, he won’t be able to say no

Conjures an owlbear and a tiger and maybe even a dragon if he feels like really showing off to impress Tav, much to the delight of any Tiefling kids who might be sneaking around the party

Even if he spends the night on his own, Rolan ends up having a much nicer time than he wants to admit. He’s a pessimistic worrywort at heart—taking an evening to unwind is honestly good for this poor guy’s stress levels

Cal and Lia are having a great time, too, and that makes Rolan truly happy. Just to see them both enjoying themselves for a change

If Rolan can work up the courage to approach Gale, he’d talk to him for hours about the Weave and spellcasting over a bottle of wine

Takes delight in finding such a highly educated magical mind here in the middle of this godforsaken nowhere (tries to play it cool for the sake of his ego though)

Dammon solo:

Dammon didn’t plan to go but changed his mind at the last minute when it sank in that Tav would be there

Before the party, he definitely sneaks off to wash up in the nearby river. The smell of smoke and iron dust in his clothes is pretty permanent at this point, but he’d rather make a tidy impression tonight if possible

Arrives with his hair still damp but pulled back into its neat topknot

A bit like Zevlor, Dammon tends to hover around the edges holding his drink at first, just taking in everyone else’s good mood tonight

His drinks of choice are at the opposite ends of the spectrum: prefers a very fine brandy or a common ale, nothing in between

Would politely accept a glass of wine if it’s offered but only sips it

When he’s drunk: gets very sincere and kind of intense

He’s the type to sit down to share a bottle and have a long, intimate conversation with someone for several hours, preferably Tav or Rolan. Both is ideal

You can tell Dammon has had a few when he makes really sustained eye contact while you’re talking. Sits a bit closer than usual to show you’re his sole focus right now. Combined with his striking eyes, it’s kinda hot

Also when he’s drunk the tips of Dammon’s ears flush a bright, ruddy pink

Dammon spending the night on his own—I can imagine it going a few ways, depending on his mood

If he’s feeling more cheery and sociable, Dammon might sit near the campfire to hear Alfira’s music and listen to his fellow Tieflings talk about their plans when they reach the city, adding encouraging comments here and there

I could also see him taking his drink and heading out for a quieter spot near the water

Dammon’s a bit of a loner with this group, always seems to keep himself apart from the rest of his fellow travelers. Maybe he enjoys working with infernal iron a little too much to mention in mixed company

Rolan x Tav:

Maybe if Rolan was sober he’d pick up on Tav’s flirting faster

Then again, maybe he’s so wrapped up in trying to impress them with his accomplishments that he doesn’t realize how well it’s actually working

Rolan’s probably out of practice with romance, or pretty inexperienced, or some combination of the two

Dropping hints is just not enough for this guy. He enjoys the banter with Tav a lot more than he wants to admit, but he’s got a mental block against taking it further

It will definitely take something physical from Tav

Making an excuse to touch his hands, or “accidentally” bumping hips or shoulders several times

Then there’s the direct route of “is this seat taken?”

Rolan will look up in surprise but gesture to the bench next to him. Then Tav plops down directly on his lap, and Rolan’s surprise turns into actual panic

Kind of holds his hands hovering frozen out to either side for a second, not sure where to put them even though Tav’s hips are currently snuggled up on his thighs

Torn between everyone here including his siblings seeing this blatant display of public flirtation, and the feeling of how nice Tav’s weight in on top of his legs

When Tav leans in to curl an arm around his shoulders, Rolan’s done for. Any thoughts of shifting them off his lap go out the window and he clasps his hands politely around the side of their leg

Rolan will try to maintain the conversation, but his responses get short and distracted. All he can concentrate on is Tav’s scent and voice and their face so close to his

He’ll accept a few kisses while Tav’s on his lap, but only the shortest, softest lip touches

If they introduce the slightest hint of tongue, Rolan will pull them away and clear his throat maroon-faced and ask which tent is Tav’s, and demand that they both please go there right now

Rolan follows them while studiously avoiding eye contact with anyone he knows

If he realizes Tav is instead leading him farther away from camp, the implication makes his tail flick with excitement

He’d love nothing more than to find a nice soft patch of grass and make out with Tav for an hour

Rolan’s kisses are eager and a bit sloppy at first. But he’s very teachable, both a devoted student and a quick learner

With a little guidance, before long Rolan’s got Tav making some soft and breathless sounds of their own

Tav sitting with their legs straddling Rolan’s thighs would really test his patience—if Rolan wasn’t hard from them on his lap before, he’s definitely hard now

Might get so excited he doesn’t ask before sliding his tail up their hips or wrapping it around their waist

Once he realizes Tav’s equally worked up, Rolan would encourage them to grind down on his thigh however makes them feel good

Adores getting to see the hero of the night pleasuring themself on his leg while his tail squeezes and caresses around their middle

Dammon x Tav:

Dammon is difficult to pin down for a conversation at first, let alone anything more

He keeps circling along the perimeter of the party, chatting politely here and there but never settling for long

He catches Tav’s eye several times but needs some time to work up the courage to approach them—the last thing he wants to do is monopolize someone so popular (even though that’s exactly what he wants to do)

But after Tav returns his looks enough times across the campfire, Dammon has no problem making the first move

He’ll probably lead with a question (enjoying the evening, need another drink, etc)

It’s a polite move but also to gauge Tav’s interest. Dammon knows he’s into them at this point, but he’s still trying to suss out their exact feelings

Once Tav starts dropping a flirtatious remark here or there in conversation, sparks are flying

Dammon can be so smooth when he puts his mind to it, and it’s not long before he and Tav are touching in some way

When he rests a hand on the small of Tav’s back and asks if they’d like to get some air, it’s fucking on

Dammon knows the area pretty well by this point—leads them to a nice secluded clearing that he stumbled on last week and mentally filed away for this exact purpose

Once they’re alone, calloused hands on Tav’s hips are guiding them gently back against the nearest tree trunk and Dammon’s lips are on theirs

He’s a very deliberate kisser, slow and tender but hot at the same time

If it seems like Dammon’s lips are following a predetermined roadmap down Tav’s jaw and neck, that’s because they are

Man has a notoriously healthy imagination and has been thinking about where he’d like to kiss them for a while

He waits for Tav to do anything below the belt first, but once Dammon feels their hands graze there he’s pinning Tav into the tree behind them with his hips

Grinds into them while he sucks on Tav’s neck, drawing as many delicious sounds from their lips as he can

All the kissing and heavy petting is perfectly delightful on its own, but if Tav asked him to take them up against that tree, Dammon would in a heartbeat

Dammon x Rolan

It’s no coincidence that Rolan and his siblings end up lingering near Dammon’s tent back at the Grove

Dammon comes across as the strong silent type, and as the loud not-so-strong type, Rolan finds that very attractive

But Rolan’s also trying hard to keep to himself and not stare. He only stares maybe once every few minutes, and only because Dammon’s toned forearms flexing and the way he grunts with each hammer blow are very difficult to ignore

For Dammon’s part, he’s fascinated and a little impressed by Rolan. Sure he’s got a lot of bluster, but Dammon’s seen what he can do with the Weave, and it’s definitely made an impression

At the party—Dammon will 100% be the one who approaches first

Not afraid of making his intentions known, Dammon gets Lia’s advice on what wine to bring and takes a bottle with him to break the ice

If there’s one thing Rolan’s good at, it’s conversation

But he keeps talking around things—though Dammon appreciates the clever whirrings of Rolan’s mind, right now he’s more interested in his mouth for other reasons

Dammon shoots his shot by brushing a “hair” from Rolan’s cheekbone with his thumb

There’s nothing there, but Rolan is too dumbstruck at the contact to realize. It actually shuts him up for a moment as they both stare at each other

To Dammon’s surprise, maybe spurred on by the liquid courage, Rolan is the one who suggests they take a walk along the river

They’re both buzzing with too much anticipation to say more than a few short words to each other as they walk. When they settle near the river bank, they’re stretched out side by side with hands braced on the ground just inches from each other

Unable to bear the awkward silence, Rolan opens lips to say something just as Dammon tilts his head over to kiss him

The result is that they’re tongue kissing almost immediately

Rolan groans and shivers so hard Dammon has to gently grip his jaw with a hand, keeping Rolan’s mouth where he can explore it

Before long their tails are tangled up behind them, twining and tugging back and forth in a way that has them both panting into the kiss

Dammon x Rolan x Tav

At some point in the night, Rolan and Tav got into a debate about one of those little things that seems so goddamn important when you’re tipsy. Dammon walked past and was immediately dragged in as a neutral party

But Dammon had a separate third opinion, which only made Rolan turn his arguments on the other man with much wild gesticulating of his free hand

Tav burst into laughter between them, and Rolan and Dammon both found themselves too charmed by the sight to care about anything else

From there the wine and conversation both flowed freely

Little, casual touches followed: fingers brushing together over a passed bottle, Dammon clapping Rolan’s back with a friendly comment—a move that turned more than friendly as Dammon’s hand trailed down slightly, causing Rolan to glance his direction with a flush in his cheeks

Eventually Rolan got bold and tried his own luck, sliding an arm around Tav’s waist while they were grinning at something he said. Dammon’s eyes flicked to the gesture immediately

After a trio of shared glances, Dammon broke the rather excited silence by announcing that he knows a place where they could find a little privacy

As the three of them enter the forest clearing, any remaining hesitance melts when Dammon grabs the collar of Rolan’s robes to pull him into a kiss that traps Tav firmly in the middle

Being abruptly sandwiched between their chests pushes a gasp from Tav’s throat, which turns to an approving hum at the sight and sounds of Rolan and Dammon devouring each others’ mouths over their shoulder

Tav’s arms snake around the wizard in front, while behind they feel Dammon’s palms smoothing over the curves of their waist and hips

Dammon breaks the kiss before guiding Rolan’s chin gently toward Tav, and Rolan needs no more encouragement to capture their lips eagerly

Meanwhile, Dammon bends to place soft kisses at the juncture where Tav’s neck meets their shoulder. Dextrous fingers pull their shirt laces looser to expose more kissable skin

Periodically he’ll surface behind their ear to praise how lovely Tav looks between him and Rolan like this, and how good they’re going to make Tav feel. It sets off a chorus of moans passing from Tav to Rolan and back again as their lips slide together

Once Tav decides the wizard’s had more than his share, they break the wet kiss and tilt their head back to meet Dammon’s mouth. Rolan is panting and wiping saliva from his chin, instantly greedy for more

Dammon chuckles against Tav’s lips and suggests there are other ways Rolan can put his mouth to use—and doesn’t Tav deserve some gratitude after everything they’ve done for the two of them?

It wouldn’t work coming from anyone else, but at Dammon’s sultry baritone, Rolan doesn’t hesitate as he slips to place a trail of kisses down Tav’s belly to their waist and lands on his knees in front of them

He impatiently works off Tav’s shoes and pants, tugging with such enthusiasm that only Dammon’s firm grip over their torso keeps Tav balanced. Then Rolan’s mouth abruptly closes between Tav’s legs, licking and sucking as if he intends to make up for every thank you left unspoken

Thankfully Dammon’s mouth stops up their moans, or Tav might worry about the sounds carrying back to camp. Instead only the filthy, wet sounds of Rolan’s mouth against their sex fills the clearing

Dammon’s hands guide Tav’s to each of Rolan’s curving horns, encouraging Tav to ride his face. Rolan moans between their legs at the new sensation of Tav’s grip tugging him, the vibration sending a shudder up their spine

At that Dammon pulls out of the kiss with a groan. One of his hands leaves their hip to tug the linen shirt up and over Tav’s head, leaving them standing completely bare in the dark woods between the two Tieflings. There’s another rustling movement before Dammon’s hard length unfurls against the small of Tav’s back

He’s hot and ridged, and before Tav can release one of Rolan’s horns to reach back for him, Dammon is grinding with a low grunt into the bare skin of their back

Each rhythmic roll of his hips pushes Tav harder against Rolan’s mouth. As if the increased pressure wasn't enough, a tail Tav suspects belongs to Dammon coils firmly up their leg to force their stance plenty open for Rolan’s mouth

As pleasure rapidly coils in their belly, Tav manages to glance down to see Rolan frantically palming himself through his trousers, his other hand joining his lips at working Tav’s orgasm from between their legs

The sight pushes Tav over the edge—just in time, a calloused hand closes over their mouth to catch the loud, keening sounds of their climax

Tav grinds out the waves against Rolan’s mouth, gripping his horns desperately, feeling him whimper and shake between their legs as he himself releases against his own hand

Just a few seconds later, Dammon’s teeth close bluntly over Tav’s shoulder—and in the next moment, hot liquid spurts in trailing paths over the skin of their back

Dammon goes down first on wobbling legs; the tail still wrapped around Tav’s own leg drags them down after him

The three of them lie in a panting pile on the mossy forest floor. Tav’s clothes are somewhere around here, but in the meantime two sets of limbs lay sprawled from either side across Tav’s body, with two ridged tails caressing over Tav’s bare skin as if in loving praise

And that’s just the beginning of the night

#spicy #bg3 smut #rolan x tav #dammon x tav #rolan x dammon #dammon x rolan #rolan x dammon x tav #bg3 rolan #bg3 dammon #rolan bg3 #dammon bg3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 fic

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nanamimizz · 1 year

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tags: fem reader, age difference, established relationship, reader is shorter than kishibe, kissing, mentions of sex + sexual dynamics.

synopsis: kishibe just can’t keep his dirty mind from running, even when all you give him is a kiss on the cheek.

you give kishibe a kiss on the cheek. a harmless gesture one given readily and easily as he shrugs on his overcoat. you didn’t think much of it, thinking he would take your affection with his usual nonchalance and it would be the end of your shared morning.

but that’s never the case is it? things never go to plan.

you don’t notice the warmth in kishibe’s complexion. the way the haze that dampens the iron black is broken through like the sun through storm clouds. his hand is tugging you back - the apartment is warm and its your day off so you are still in your sleep shorts. kishibe keeps his eyes in the soft skin, thinking about marring the satin like skin with his teeth until he could taste the copper of your blood.

“c’mere, give your man a proper kiss.”

you only swallow in your fluster, eyes wide and lips open in a gasp at how unabashedly he handles you - tugging, pulling and holding you in front of him. his hands, warm and worn, you shiver when his scarred palm settles over your ass to tug you closer.

aftershave. mint toothpaste. cologne.

all incredibly deep and dark scents that make you shiver as well as the hauntingly hot hand that squeezes the fat of your ass - an indecent pair of ring and pinkie finger make their way under the high hem of your shorts and dig into the plush curve of your thigh blending into your ass.

“c’mon. don’t make me late.” he drawls into your ears as your head turns, embarrassed at how he handles you. you look back at him, blinking in that shy way he likes so much. timidly you nod and reach up - standing on the tips of your toes, your braless chest pressing against his suit clad chest until your lips meet his.

kishibe grunts - like the rest of you its soft and sweet, it makes him for the first time a long while want to skip out on work. he wants it deeper, harder; wants it dirty like when he kisses you at night with your tongue in his mouth and his hands holding your hips still to teach you patience. maybe he needs a reminder in such a lesson right now. you pull away and he can’t help but look at the clock in the kitchen that’s visible from the doorway, he stays any longer he’ll be late.

“i’m late cause of you. i should put you over my knee for teasing me like that.” he mutters into the air that is shared between the two of you and you only reach out to straight his tie, the folds in his jacket and the lapels of his coat. you pout, petulant and almost childish and it makes him want to kiss you again.

“i just being affectionate - you’re the one who demanded a real kiss.” he can’t refute you so he looks ahead, taking in the pictures that line the wall of your shared apartment. it strikes him that for the first time that it sucks to leave his apartment.

“brat. i’ll see you tonight. if i find you asleep you’re in big trouble.” that makes you smile, you can’t bite back the teasing comment that slips out your soft lips.

“what do you want me to wear?” he’s half a step out the door, hat on his head and giving his ever handsome face a shadow that makes him all the more sinister.

“just this, it’s cute. i like fucking you when you look like this.” he says without pausing, out the door and body facing you to close the door behind him. he stops, watches how your eyes are wide and your arms at tucked behind your back. you’re back to shifting in your place a doe out in the meadow. he feels like a wolf looking at you from his place in the doorway, like he is the outsider rather than the man that lives with you.

“look like what?” you ask, and you almost take a step back as you gaze into one dark eye, the other blocked by the door. you know kishibe is dangerous but this…this is when you see it yourself.

“like you’re mine.”

the door shuts, the clock ticks and the days begins. as you gaze out the windows and see the sun - you can’t help but think it’s a beautiful day and that it’s a shame that you already want it to end.

#lamb.writes #kishibe x reader #chainsaw man x reader #csm x reader #kishibe fluff #kishibe smut

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rowniebow · 1 year

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mercy | newt scamander x male reader

Summary: You and Newt have been put in a sticky situation. Newt has been the hot commodity lately, but you were all too ready to bargain.

Warnings: Angst

Reader: Male, muggle

Parining(s): Newt Scamander x Male Reader

Word Count: 1.9k+

masterlist

Your eyes focused on the cold cement ground you sat upon. Your knees were pulled to your chest. Your head was pounding from all the stress and commotion. You couldn’t help but wonder where you would be as of right now if you had denied the strange British man and stayed working at your nine-to-five factory job. Would you still reside in your pathetic, run down apartment across from Gerda who shared her butter and you shared your eggs with? Would Jerry still be belittling you about how lazy you are at your job? Yes. Most likely Jerry would still be an asshole.

But, most of all, would Newt be in this situation if it weren’t for you? You can’t help but think he would be sitting at home taking care of his creatures if it weren’t for you agreeing to join him. That, at least, is what you said to convince yourself you were okay with what was all happening. Convincing yourself you were at fault for the bad things so your “solution” to the issue - this decision you were making for the both of them - wouldn’t be as painful.

What were you to do, though? When someone shares their most vulnerable feelings with you, and you share your own, are you really supposed to just watch them up and leave without you when their hand is extended as Newt’s was? When they’re offering you an out of your miserable life, and instead an invitation to what you assumed would be a nice quiet life with someone you loved and doing things you loved with them? Are you supposed to say no to joining the person you have grown to care the most about?

You were yanked out of your thoughts as the loud metal doors were peeled open by two large, muscular men clad in armor and wands out ready to strike if you made even one off move. You couldn’t help but wonder if all that was truly necessary for you: a small man with no capacity to fight back. Good lord, you couldn’t even get rid of spiders. All you could do was ignore them and wish them on their merry way.

You stood, the shackles hung off of your wrists and ankles. The rusted chain clattered against the cement floors, scratching against your already pounding head. You trudged with the two large men trailing close behind you. They poked at your back every once in a while when you were dragging from exhaustion.

You three arrived at the large wooden double doors. They creaked as the men opened it to reveal you to the man that hasn’t left your mind in years.

You took in every aspect of Newt with a gasp. His arms were limp and pale from all the hours they had been hung up against the wall. He was on his knees, but his ankles, bloody and bruised, sat chained to the wall just as his wrists were. Blood drained out of them, you were sure they were tingling with discomfort. He didn’t look up, leaving you to look at his knotted, messy hair. Strands flew everywhere, it didn’t even have its usual shape and part. His dozens of layers of clothes had been removed. He stood limply in his tousled white button down and brown straight legged pants. Both clothing items were ripped at the seams and ruffled beyond the familiarity of Newt’s well-dressed and ironed appearance.

“Oh, Newtie,” You groaned at the sight of him. Rage filled your veins. You suddenly began to rethink your bargain, wondering if these awful people who had already done this to him would keep their part and let him go after all this.

Newt looked up with wide eyes at the sound of your voice echoing off of the brick walls. His eyes were swollen and red. His cheeks were patterned in purple and red. Hair fell over his forehead and into his eyes. He struggled at the chains, trying to stand up and move towards you but, of course, he was to no avail. “Y/N,” he called out hoarsely, tears threatening his eyes. You ran towards him, the guards obviously wanting to stop you but they let it happen knowing what was to come.

“Newt, goodness, my sweet,” You cooed, lightly rubbing your hand over his wounded cheeks as you examined him. He winced slightly as you grazed the open skin but overall he refused to look away from you, shocked to see you in front of him. “Are you okay? Lord- obviously you’re not. It’s okay, alright? I-It’s gonna be over soon, okay?” You hushed your tone, wanting to save all your words for him and only him.

His bloodied wrists caught your eye, “Can we- Can we please get this bullshit off of him? God,” You hollered out into the echoed room. The chains released themselves, magically, of course, and Newt fell into your arms. He struggled to snake his own limp limbs around your waist. You felt his shaking body and breath and nearly broke down.

You continued to hold him close, a hand keeping his head in the crook of your neck and another keeping him upright in your arms. “I’m so sorry,” you continuously whispered into his hair that was still soft as ever despite it all. “I love you so much, I’m so sorry.”

“Now,” A voice boomed from behind you. “Would you like to break the news to him, dearest? Or, shall I?”

You ignored the threatening voice - the voice from the man who’s at fault for the crimes committed against the two. You only continued whispering your hushed apologies. You reassured Newt, in between quiet sniffs, that he was going to be okay and that it would all be over soon. That he wouldn’t have to worry anymore and he could continue to forget this.

Newt, listening to your every word and absorbing it (grateful that he gets to hear it again at all), peaked over your shoulder at the presence who had walked in. Neither of the two had seen the man’s face. He stayed hidden under his black, hooded cloak. A mask sat over his face, keeping anyone from seeing him.

Newt watched the man, blurred from his tears, take several steps in the room. After hours and hours of the torturing done to him by this man, he couldn’t even find the strength in him to do much more than look and groan. He happily let you rock yourselves back and forth as you chanted comforting phrases into his ear for only him to hear, and ran your fingers through his hair, and left your warm heavy hand in the middle of his back and rubbed it in small circles.

“I suppose I’ll take that as a plea for me to tell him.” The voice boomed out once more.

Your eyes couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. You quietly sobbed, muttering, “Please, don’t be mad. I love you so much, I’m so sorry.”

“The little muggle has offered himself in exchange for your peace. For your freedom.” You could hear a smile in the man’s voice as he spoke of your bargain. You could also very clearly hear a sharp gasp from Newt, as he began to moan in disagreement. “Yes, we haven’t decided what to do with him, yet, but-! I am a generous man, myself, so I have decided to make the deal with him.”

Newt struggled but managed to push himself away from your loving hold. “No, I-I don’t agree with this.” He managed to squeak out. His ragged voice from all the screaming you had heard him do from down the corridor shook and let a cold shake travel through your spine.

“Yes, well,” The man with the booming voice behind you turned and made his way out of the door. “I thought I’d be kind and let you say goodbye. We’ll be back for you soon enough.” His uncaring voice sent rage through Newt. His fist clenched but he was too weak to do much of anything.

The door slammed shut leaving you two alone with one another. “No,” Newt began but you wouldn’t let him finish.

“Love, I can’t let them hurt you anymore than they already have. Or the creatures. You get to leave with them, I made sure of that.”

“N-No, but,” He gulped, doing his best to soothe his scratchy throat. “I-I don’t get to leave with you,”

“That’s okay-,”

“No! It’s n-not okay.” His eyelids fluttered and his mouth twitched at the ends.

“Yes, it is,” You moved your hands to hold his cheeks. His head struggled to stay up with the weight of gods pushing him down. “You’re gonna be okay and the creatures are going to be okay and that’s what matters.”

“No! I-I-I won’t be okay!” He let out a pained sob. The waterfalls escaped his green eyes.

“You will. And you’ll live a nice quiet life like you said you would.” The smile that graced your lips was filled with nothing but pain and Newt saw right through that.

He stayed silent for a moment. “I don’t want to be okay without you. I don’t want to live a ‘nice quiet life’ without you. That-That is just no life at all, one without you.”

Salty drops of water streamed down your face at his words. What could you even say to that? You’ve been telling yourself you are doing this for him but it’s not as if you would be anything less than angry if he were doing the same for you.

“There-There must be a-another way.” Newt shook his head, refusing to believe this was the reality he was going to have to accept. He kept his eyes trained on you the whole time as he took in every detail, anxious this was going to be the last time he saw your face. He absorbed your skin and where it wrinkled. He memorized every divet in your imperfect perfect complexion. How your eyes were swollen and red from rubbing them all day. The way the light reflected off of your mesmerizing eyes. How insanely beautiful you looked in every way all of the time. He couldn’t believe he scored someone as gorgeous as you, inside and out. Fully and completely beautiful.

“Newt,” You whispered his name, afraid if you said it any louder then the name would escape the two of you and run off somewhere it shouldn't be. “I love you. You are going to be okay. You are resilient and stubborn - I know you can do it.”

“I-I don’t want to, Y/N.” He sighed taking you in.

“I know, I’m sorry.” You whispered as the doors burst open again with a slam. You rushed back into his arms for one final moment where you could feel safe.

“Please, don’t leave me. Don’t do this to me,”

“I love you so much, Newtie. To the moon and back.”

“I-I love you, too.”

The hushed words exchanged between the two were cut short as the big men came to pry you and Newt off of each other. You continued to fight to reach him, but your strength was nothing in comparison and you were only left reaching your hand out as the space between you two grew. Newt continued to scream and holler, even gathering the will to stand and jog after them. But, of course, he was overpowered by yet another unnecessarily strong guard.

The last thing you saw of Newt was him on his knees, screaming your name and pleas for mercy.

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wannaeatramyeon · 11 months

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Is this how you do it- (Not a frequent tumblr user so) Anyways I'm in love with your writing and always look forward to reading new content from you everytime I open this app it's fabulous tbh. On a side note, I wanted to request the lookism guys with a s/o who loves to draw, is generally into art and just lives a normal life like going to college, travelling by the metro, staying up till 3 am to finish art school assignments or just homework you know. I'd love it if you include gun but its totally upto you. Lastly I say it again you're my favorite account on here so I'll always support you btw lmao😭😭😭

Thank you so much for sending in the ask and apologies again (and to all the current requests...) on how long it is taking! AHHHHHH you are so sweet!! THANK YOU FOR THE SUPPORT and for giving the idea for another soft Gun!

Gun Park x Reader: Masterpiece

Gun with art student!reader. You're creating your final assignment.

"What's this piece?"

"Wait and see."

Gun watches you move the oversized blank canvas, rearranging your paints and material. Preparing your little corner of his penthouse. Your studio, you call it. A spot he has cleared aside for you when you gasped at the lighting one afternoon.

Between your art assignments and Gun's job, any free time you have together is sparse - you both take what you can. A call here or there, sporadic messages, infrequent dates if both your schedule allows.

It only made sense for you to move in, to make it easier to steal time together.

Still, your final project looms on the horizon. You need to focus your time and energy on this for now.

Regrettably.

Because as Gun sits and watches you, tie hanging loose, top shirt buttons undone, hair casual and flopping over his eye, you think he looks good enough to eat.

Focus. You shake your head, redoubling your efforts to concentrate. Strike while the iron is hot; you're inspired right now and you don't want to fail an assignment due to an art block. Again.

Gun stays quiet as he observes you. Gracefully moving, pencil between deft fingers, sketching out your ideas.

There's a lot of things that Gun Park can do, but he knows he can't do this. His hands are better suited to create and mould other sort of masterpieces.

His eyes watch you as much as they do your hand. The crease between your brows as you work out the angle, nose wrinkling when it doesn't quite work out how you imagine. Tongue out in concentration, hair up in a bun and wispy tendrils caressing your neck.

He is in awe seeing the lines and shapes take form.

The buzz of Seoul softens at 3am when you finish a few weeks later.

You look proudly at your work. It may be your best one yet.

"Is that me?" Gun takes in the figure you have painted.

Suddenly shy and self-conscious, you nod. It's not the first one you've created of your boyfriend but it's the first one that he has seen more than a passing glimpse of.

Gun blinks at the canvas. Is that how you see him?

He studies the angle of the face, scar softened in shades of pink between eyes that should be demonic. Recognises himself in the pose, odd that it is comforting and protective rather than intimidating. The lighter shades of your paint strokes illuminates, frames him like a halo.

Gun looks at the painting and feels your love poured into it.

It's him all at once and not at all. At least not in the way anyone else could possibly see him.

"It's a masterpiece," he kisses you softly as you smile against his lips, "And you're mine."

#lookism #lookism x reader #lookism headcanons #lookism hc #lookism fic #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #gun park #gun park x reader #park jonggun x reader #park jonggun #wannaeatramyeon

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mysteryshoptls · 1 year

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SSR Lilia Vanrouge Dorm Uniform Personal Story: Part 1

"I'm a pro!"

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

[Diasomnia Dorm – Lounge]

Lilia: Hmm… Silver and Sebek sure are late. It's almost time for dinner.

Malleus: If it were only Silver, I could suspect that he had fallen asleep on the way back... But this is unusual of Sebek.

Lilia: The two of them said they were off to train together today. Maybe they got so into it they lost track of time.

Malleus: I see, that is quite possible with those two. However, if they are any later, they will completely miss dinner.

Lilia: Normally, I wouldn't be against putting together a special late-night meal for those hardworking boys, but…

Lilia: Unfortunately, I have plans tonight.

Lilia: I promised my online gaming buddy that we'd embark on this ultra-difficult quest line that begins tonight!

Malleus: Oh, so you have plans today…! Then that's all the more reason we cannot have you in the kitchen.

Lilia: Yeah. It's a shame, but I'll have to wait until the next time to showcase my cooking skills.

Lilia: So, maybe we should strike while the iron is hot. Let's go fetch Silver and Sebek…

Sebek/Silver: We've returned.

Lilia: Oh, speak, and they appear.

Sebek: Malleus-sama, Lilia-sama. Forgive us for our late return!

Malleus: There was no deadline you were to meet, so it is no matter. We were only discussing how much later than usual you both were.

Lilia: Sebek, did you swing by the library again? Looks like you've borrowed more books than you normally do.

Malleus: Oho. That's good. You would do well to broaden your knowledge.

Sebek: Yessir, thank you for your kind words. However, Malleus-sama, these books have not been borrowed for studying purposes.

Malleus: Not for study purposes… Whatever do you mean?

Sebek: Right, so…

[rustle, rustle]

Lilia: Hm? Something just moved there between Silver's hands.

Silver: I shall explain the circumstances of our tardiness. Sebek and I had finished training and we were on our way back to the dorm, when…

Silver: We picked up a baby bat.

Lilia: Oh! It's so small and cute.

Malleus: It's rather docile for it being a wild creature. It is not showing any signs of wanting to escape.

Silver: It seems to have an injured wing. It was on the roadside, immobile, so I took it into my care.

Silver: Sebek said, "If it's used up all its strength here, there's nothing to be done. Leave it." and tried to stop me, but…

Silver: If I were to have left it there, it would have continued to weaken. Considering that, I just was not able to leave it alone.

Lilia: I see, I see. That sounds like something you'd do.

Lilia: This little one is lucky. If you hadn't picked him up, Silver, who knows what would have happened…

Lilia: Essentially, bats are the type of creatures that fly by using the gravitational force of falling from an upside-down position.

Lilia: They're not that capable of moving on foot once they fall to the ground.

Sebek: You are as knowledgeable about this as we expected, Lilia-sama.

Sebek: The books we just borrowed from the library had the exact same explanation.

Malleus: So, you mean to say that every single one of these books you've borrowed are on bat biology?

Sebek: Yes. I can't say agree with doing this, however… Once we've made the decision to care for it, we must fulfill our duties properly.

Malleus: …Indeed, it is as you say.

Silver: With Sebek's research into the matter, we were able to somewhat learn a little about the bat's biology.

Silver: Only, there was no useful information on how to raise one… However are we to take care of it?

Lilia: Well, if that's your problem, you know of the perfect person for the job.

Silver: Do you know of someone who is skilled in animal handling? Please tell me who.

Lilia: Are you half-asleep, Silver? You should know better than anyone else who I mean.

Lilia: Who among us raised a toothless little babe into a strong, tough, and compassionate young man?

Silver: That's… you, Father.

Lilia: Correct. I already know how to raise a child. You could say I'm a pro!

Lilia: You can relax and leave it to me.

Sebek: Amazing…!

Sebek: When Silver declared he would bring the bat back to the dorm, I had no idea what could be done for it…

Sebek: But we are reassured to be leaving it in your hands, Lilia-sama. Please let me know if there is anything I may do to help.

Silver: Right, it's comforting to know that you'll look after it, Father. And of course, I will not hesitate to be of use either.

Lilia: Kufufu. I'm pretty sure I won't need your help…

Lilia: But I like your spirit! As a possible learning point for the two of you, let's all look after it together.

Sebek/Silver: YESSIR!

Malleus: Lilia will be caring for a little bat, hm.

Malleus: …Perhaps I should keep an eye on them for a little while, as well.

Part 1 (Part 2) (Part 3)

Requested by Feli and @yukibana.

#twisted wonderland #twst #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #sebek zigvolt #twst lilia #twst malleus #twst sebek #twst silver #twst translation #.#i got about 12 asks for his dorm story.#i think that's a new record

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denaliwrites · 6 months

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Not Much Between Despair and Ecstasy

Cale Erendreich x Fem!Reader

Summary: (18+) Truth or Dare doesn't go quite how Cale expected it to.

Soundtrack: One Night in Bangkok by Murray Head

Requests: Open!

Warnings: It's Cale Erendreich and it's smut. Loss of Control. Restraints. Anxiety. CNC. Dommy Mommy.

"What's your biggest turn on?" you ask Cale as you take a sip of the cheapest beer you could find, despite Cale's many, many protests.

"Your tits are divine," he answers quickly and simply, opting for a sip of expensive wine instead of the beer you'd insisted on. "Truth or dare."

You hum as you mull it over for a moment. "Truth."

"What do you love most about me?" he asks you with a cocky grin. You want to smack it off his face and kiss it all at once.

"That even when you drive me up the wall I still want to fuck you."

This pulls a laugh from him. "You know, you're not the first girlfriend to say that."

"Oh, I bet not," you chuckle through a sip of beer. "Your turn. Truth or dare."

"Dare."

He says it so calmly, so confidently, with no hesitation whatsoever. It strikes you, then -- he trusts you. At least, as much as Cale is capable of trusting anyone other than himself. You hope he doesn't come to regret that, even as you say,

"I dare you to let me take control."

The jovial expression falls from his face, and suddenly he looks -- oh, you're pretty sure that's anger. Real, genuine anger. "Absolutely not."

It's so final, so aggravatingly Cale.

"Nope," you protest, getting up from your chair. You pad over to him, gently easing yourself into his lap. Your legs straddle his, and your body effectively pins him to his seat. "That's not how the game works. You chose dare, now you have to live with the consequences."

Oh, if looks could kill. You can imagine the things playing in Cale's mind behind those murderous eyes. Honestly, his rage is kind of hot, if the slick you feel starting to gather in your panties is anything to go by.

Your hands make quick work of his tie, and though he glares daggers at you, he doesn't stop you. Even as you slip that gorgeous silk tie from his neck. And even as you lean down and take his hands in yours. And not even when you use that tie to bind those pretty hands of his behind the chair.

He tests the restraint as you shift back up, and through the anger, you can see a hint of pride in his eyes.

"Oh, good," you purr lightly. "You like my handiwork."

"You did learn it from the best," he growls, rough and deep in his throat. Oh, you can't wait for him to punish you for this.

"I did," you agree, moving to a stand. He watches as you shimmy your panties down your legs, leaving everything else on and -- very carefully -- refusing him a glance at your cunt.

When you return atop his lap, it's with your panties still in hand. He gives them an anxiously curious glance, and because his eyes aren't focused on you, he misses the wicked smile playing across your lips.

You lift your hand so he has a better view of the garment. "Open up, babe."

"Wha--" While his mouth is open and he's confused, you stuff your panties inside, relishing in the way his eyes widen in horror, even as you feel his cock stir beneath you.

His breaths are starting to become shorter, more jagged. You put a hand to his heart, and feel it hammering wildly against its cage.

"Babe, are you okay?" you ask, your gaze soft as you look into his eyes. He simply glares back at you. "We can stop if this is too much." You're once again met with silence, but at least this time you see a slight shake of his head in response, despite the tension in his muscles, in the slight tremor you see in his hands when you look him over.

Technically, the two of you have a safe word. Bucephalus. His idea. But neither of you had ever used it before.

You wondered if maybe this would be the night. If Cale would be the first one to need it. Wouldn't that be ironic?

He continues his silence, not even attempting words with your panties in his mouth. He continues glaring as well, even as you rock your hips and feel his cock straining against his pants.

"Oh, babe," you coo with a smirk, "is this making you hard? Do you like this?" Your teasing earns you an angry grunt at the back of his throat, though he can't mask the way his eyes are leering at you, and he definitely can't hide his erection.

Speaking of that...

Your hands move to his trousers and deftly make quick work of getting them out of the way. His cock bounces free and as it does you hear him release a deep sigh.

You have to bend a little to brush your hands along his length, and the surge of power he feels at seeing you beneath him makes it twitch under your feather-light touch.

His gaze is locked on yours. You see that look he gets, the moment of power he feels. Cruelly, you draw your hand away from him and lean back so that there's little contact between you.

"Ah, ah," you murmur, wagging a finger.

The aggravated sound he makes is wild, like a rabid animal. His hips are an unbroken horse, bucking up desperately for release, and the sudden motion throws you back into him. Your hands jut out, only just stopping you from fully falling into his chest.

You look up at him with a glare and slap his cheek -- not enough to hurt him. Never hurt him. You know he'd never forgive you. But enough to stun him. "You are not in control here," you growl, and he's luckily too shocked to make any sound or movement in protest.

Good.

You push yourself back, though keep one hand clutching his shoulder. Your other snakes over your breasts, and you can tell by the way his eyes lock on that you've caught his rapt attention, and that he wishes he was the one touching those divine tits of yours.

Your hand roughly gropes one, and you let out a moan, the nails of your other hand biting into Cale's shoulder. There's a low keen in his throat as he watches, a desperate need in his eye that even you are starting to become eager to quench.

The hand playing with your breast trails down over your belly and disappears below your skirt, denying Cale the view as your fingers find your clit and start rubbing.

He can't see it, but he knows what you're doing, and he struggles for a moment in desperate need.

You only moan again once you sink your fingers into your cunt, pumping away until you see stars behind your eyes.

It's not until the keen in Cale's throat is loud enough to pierce through your lustful haze that you realize he's so desperate he might be in actual need. You look down to see he's painfully hard.

Oh.

Your fingers withdraw from your cunt, and you use your slick-soaked hand to roughly grab his face, making sure he's looking right at you as you shift on his lap. You hover over his cock for a moment, watching his pupils dilate before you lower yourself onto him.

His length twitches with each inch you sink onto it, until you're finally rested back on his lap, with his cock fully inside you.

"Oh, God," you moan, and you swear the moan he releases alongside yours sounds awfully similar.

His hips buck again, but the glare you send his way stops him from moving again.

His breathing is even more erratic, now, and his heart is beating so hard you can feel it in his cock.

Still, he doesn't relent. Doesn't call for you to stop.

Your hips roll over his, and you find that the relieved moan that grinds through his chest and throat is rather delicious. Wanting to hear it again, you make the same motion again and are rewarded with an identical sound.

"Oh, babe, you sound so perfect right now," you whimper, giving your hips a sharp snap. He grunts in response, arms straining against his restraints.

"Not until I cum, babe," you tell him gently, leaning forward to gently kiss the corner of his mouth. He shoots you a glare, but you see through it easily -- despite his need for control, he's enjoying this.

It's not until a few more thrusts of your hips that you can feel the orgasm pooling in your gut. A few more, and it's near enough for you to chase it, to feel it on the horizon.

"C-Cale," you pant as you drop your forehead to his shoulder, teeth worrying at your lip. "I'm gonna--"

You don't finish. Cale's head drops to rest comfortingly over yours as he feels you unravel on top of him, crying into him as your walls contract around his cock, which only drives him to his own orgasm. He moans as you feel his cock twitch, sending his seed into your cunt and filling you with warmth.

You stay like that as you both come down. You're a panting mess on top of him, but he's surprisingly collected. He also hasn't lifted his head away from you, and you're curious why.

It's only a few moments later you manage to lean down, undoing the knot of his tie and tiredly watching it fall to the ground. He's quick to remove your panties from his mouth, throwing them somewhere off to the side, to be forgotten instantly. After that, his hands are on you, cradling your face with a touch that's surprisingly gentle.

"You did so good, babe," he whispers to you, planting a soft kiss to your lips. "I'm so proud of you."

You giggle deliriously. "Really? You're not mad?"

"Oh, furious," he reassures you. "But you could only pull that off because you've been paying attention to how I do things."

"You did say I learned from the best, didn't you?"

"I did," he agrees, pulling you closer and pressing a possessive kiss to your cheek. "You're a good student. Too fucking good." He kisses you again as you let out a little giggle. "You might require some... correction."

"Oh, I can't wait."

#cale erendreich x reader #cale erendreich x you #bad samaritan fic #bad samaritan fanfiction #cale erendreich fic #cale erendreich fanfiction #david tennant #denali strikes again #cale erendreich is too stubborn to use a safeword #change my mind

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genericpuff · 9 months

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Hey, I've worked a bit in animation and just wanted to point out that shows very often get pitched and bought out, and can sit in the back burner for a really long time depending on the market! Seems like with all the strikes and post covid lag, and a market thats already saturated with greek mythology atm (think percy jackson live action coming soon, youtube series, other webcomics, etc.), lore olympus is probably floating in the air atm until the time is right. These kinds of things can take years to happen, even 10+ years! Some of the most popular animated shows were pitched years before they were picked up and sent into production. Hoping in the time its on hold, they get some really good writers to clean up the story. I don't mean to disregard your post, but just a lil bit of info on how that nature works in animation. I love lore rekindled too, keep it up!

Oh hey thanks for your input! So I do actually have a diploma in animation (though I never ended up working in the larger industry) so I know a bit about how things like that can happen. Nimona's a great recent example, it was bought in 2015 by 20th Century Fox but never made it through development because of Disney purchasing them and bringing the project to a crawl due to it being LGBTQ+, then they shut down Blue Sky and that kept the project in limbo until it got picked up by a new studio and brought to Netflix. So it took well over 10 years for that one to finally hit the screen.

That said, most of that post is addressing the fact that if LO is going to get a TV show (I'm really strongly believing it isn't at this point, esp not with JHC but that's me) then stalling it out for 10 years or however long probably won't be the best move. Especially not with how things are going with animation at large.

While LO is the biggest on the WT platform, the platform itself still isn't as prestigious here in the west as say, DC or Marvel. Its platform and its comics just don't have that sort of longevity out here. LO is also undoubtedly nearing the end of its run and it's struggling to stay relevant as it is - so to make a show years down the road when it's long gone out of everyone's minds (which it will be as soon as it ends and WT starts shilling the next big thing) just sounds like a missed opportunity. It could rejuvenate interest, sure, but it could just as easily flop due to its fanbase having moved on/lost interest/etc. LO is pretty much reliant on WT's advertising at this point, it's not a good sign that WT has to keep putting notifications to read LO everywhere on the app. WT loooves the "strike while the iron is hot" methodology and now with the show they just drag it out? It feels less like striking the iron while it's hot and more like trying to get a fire going, period.

Like, when Nimona got its movie, it was like "omg Nimona's finally getting a movie!!!" but I can't help get the sense that if LO goes through that same treatment, the response is gonna be, "that gross comic with the underage girl and old man billionaire is still getting a TV show??" Maybe that's a mean assumption to make but if LO is struggling to stay relevant and in a positive light now, god knows what that's going to be like years from now if and when they do release a show.

Especially when it comes to comics like LO which generate so much criticism, I feel like it's going to go through the same thing Twilight did, where people adored it during the peak of its run but as soon as the series was over and the hype left everyone's brains it gave people room to actually reflect on it and realize how icky it was LOL (and if it goes the full way of Twilight, people will read it as a joke over how bad it is).

There are also theories in the community that a lot of what WT is doing with LO rn (paying for Rachel to be in the top billing spot at NYCC, getting her a second Eisner, etc.) could very well be them trying to "shop it around" for investors or a new network, by putting Rachel in the spotlight and going "see! look at how successful this comic is! buy it!" That's just a theory of course, but it really isn't a good look when LO wins awards and people ask why. It feels like WT's is trying to throw money at a problem without realizing what's causing the problem in the first place. It winning an Eisner or being hinted at a TV show or getting a top billing spot at NYCC won't give it legitimacy because the comic they're advertising is still garbage, they're trying to convince people it has merit when it doesn't. If anything, it'll make LO and WT lose even more credibility because it makes people wonder why the fuck a comic like LO is winning those awards and why it's being given more attention and opportunities over other comics on the platform that are far more deserving.

Anyways, this post is kinda all over the place, but that's my two cents, my point really is that if there is a show happening, it's definitely not happening soon (in spite of Rachel saying "yeah it's happening!") because there's no clear timeline or progress that's been made or even team in charge of it at this point - and if it happens down the road, its only chance of doing well will be if it gets a major overhaul in its writing IMO because the comic is way too much of a mess rn for television LOL

That said, I'd love to genuinely believe that the show will happen someday, but I feel like the best time for it to happen has passed, especially with the comic losing the quality and prestige it was sold to JHC for since then. That's just me though.

#ama #ask me anything #anon ask me anything #anon ama #lore olympus critical #lo critical #antiloreolympus #anti lore olympus

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rebeccalouisaferguson · 2 months

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Rebecca Ferguson: "I'm done with super power women"

At the same time that Rebecca Ferguson is seen in cinemas in the blockbuster Dune: Part two, she dreams of making small films and acting in theatre. For Gunnar Rehlin, she talks about the sex scenes, the successes - and why there won't be more films with Tom Cruise.

Rebecca Ferguson is tired of playing "super power women".

-I'm good at it, but it's boring, she says.

Therefore, there will be no more impossible missions with Tom Cruise - she was asked to make another film in the series, but declined.

-For the first time I feel like a free agent (a player without a contract with a club, ed. note), she says and laughs.

Instead, she wants to enter the narrow world of cinema.

- And then I want to be on stage. I've never done it, I didn't study acting, I was almost thrown into it. So right now I'm sitting with the freedom, but I don't have any pieces. The other day I read a play for the first time, I haven't done it before.

Rebecca Ferguson wants to make smaller film and theater It might seem a little contradictory that we're sitting at the luxurious Rosewood Hotel in London talking about Rebecca's desire to make smaller, leaner films, as she's currently doing interviews for the mega-budget production Dune: Part Two, with an estimated production cost of over $120 million. This day I meet Rebecca and Stellan Skarsgård, the day after I meet Timothee Chalamet, Zendaya, Florence Pugh and the director Denis Villeneuve, among others.

But Rebecca's desire to do smaller films seems sincere. She says:

- Just this morning, I received an offer to do a small role in a studio film, for a lot of money. But I don't want to feel like I'm working just for money. I discussed this with my husband. Many people say that you should strike while the iron is hot, but I don't want to. I'm very happy with what I'm doing now, I want to do roles that neither bring me down nor lift me up. I don't care.

Now, this shouldn't be taken as saying she doesn't want to make a third Dune movie. Number two ends with a cliffhanger that points to a sequel.

-I have spoken to Denis about it and I would very much like to do number three, she says.

In the Dune films, a powerful science fiction epic set on distant planets, she plays the mother of Timothee Chalamet's protagonist.

- But I don't just see her as a mother, in Dune: Part Two she is a person who wants to get her way, says Rebecca.

"A lot of talk about the sex scenes" And that is probably something that also characterizes Rebecca Ferguson as a person. She is an extremely nice and spontaneous person, who is really not afraid to speak up when there is something she wants to protest against, but also does not shy away from handing out spontaneous hugs.

She has a very Swedish way of looking at work and its consequences – such as doing nude and sex scenes, something that was plentiful in the TV series The White Queen.

- It's not particularly convenient to do sex scenes, man, I have control over the scenes I do and what I show. This couple that Max Irons and I played in The White Queen had many children, so there was as much battlefield as sex in the series. When I was interviewed in the US, there was a lot of talk about the sex scenes and I said: "How do you make children in the US? This is how it works in Europe". By the way, the series was made in two different versions, there is more sex and nudity in the American one than the one shown in England. Sex sells, that's how it is.

Nowadays, London is both home and the hub of her career. She previously lived in Simrishamn. Her mother, who is from England, had moved here and Rebecca followed. For a while she kept the home in Simrishamn (her former partner Ludwig, with whom she has a son, lives there) parallel to the apartment she got in Richmond.

Began his career in the TV soap "New Times" But let's go even further back in time, when Rebecca lived in Stockholm and her career began, with a role in the TV soap New Times. She says that it was a coincidence that she was cast in the series, that it was because she attended Adolf Fredrik's music school and could sing.

The job with New Times caused her to miss high school. She moved away from home, took different jobs, enrolled in high school later, ended up in the United States where she was in a Swedish-American TV soap.

-Imagine being 17 years old and spending a year in Miami Beach, where the biggest problem was whether it would be the pool or the beach.

After that year, she still wasn't sure what she wanted to do.

- I traveled around, was in Thailand and got a diving certificate and wanted to become a diving instructor. I love the sea, love to dive - even though I suffer from claustrophobia. To swim with fish and to float around...

In 2011, she was back in Sweden and met the director Richard Hobert, who asked if she wanted to be in his upcoming film En enkel till Antibes. In it, Rebecca played a cold-blooded woman trying to trick an aging man, played by Sven-Bertil Taube. The film received good reviews, a foreign agent caught the eye of Rebecca and not too long after that she had auditioned for and landed the lead role in the BBC series The White Queen, which earned her a Golden Globe nomination.

Saying no to more Mission: Impossible Soon after, she caught the eye of Tom Cruise, which led to a contract for three films in the Mission: Impossible series. Since the third has been split into two films, number two (Mission: Impossible – Dead reckoning part two) will arrive later this year.

But there won't be a fourth film with Tom Cruise as Ethan Hunt, says Rebecca.

- I'm done, I've turned down part four.

What now occupies her most is the TV series Silo, which is filmed in a studio outside London. Rebecca stars in the dystopian sci-fi series about how humanity is forced to live in a large underground silo after the apocalypse. The first season was a great success, now the filming of season two is underway.

A few days before we meet, Rebecca was at the gala premiere of Dune: Part two in Paris. But while Stellan Skarsgård and the others went to the party, Rebecca had to take the train back to London in order to be there early the next morning at the recording.

-I film basically every day, it's a lot of stress. The others from Dune travel the world and do PR. I'm doing New York, I don't have time anymore.

Still getting starstruck Both Dune and Silo are sci-fi, but it's not like it's a genre that's particularly close to her heart. She says she enjoys the complexity of the worlds depicted and that the Dune films made this accessible in a way that the books they're based on couldn't.

- I like imagination, I'm at an age where you no longer fly on broomsticks. I want to go on adventures, and that's more than fantasy and science fiction.

A few years ago, she married Rory St Clair Gainer, with whom she has a daughter. Rebecca is keen to keep the family out of the limelight, although they sometimes accompany the filming around the world. The husband is a businessman and philanthropist.

Rebecca's work includes filming with mega stars such as Tom Cruise, Meryl Street, Hugh Grant and Hugh Jackman. Can Rebecca still be starstruck? Well, she became that, for example, during the filming of Dune: Part two, when an important role was played by the legendary Christopher Walken.

-I sat on my throne, with a cloth over my face, and did not dare to make eye contact with him. How could I dare speak to him? Then someone said he knows a lot about Marlon Brando, so when I got the chance I asked him to tell me about Brando - and he did.

Rebecca's career has long gone straight up. How does she herself view the successes?

- There are people out there who drive around with scripts and go to castings and never get any roles and who are probably better than I am. I don't mean that I'm bad, I work very hard at what I do.

- But I have never seen a future, I have never predicted that it would be a success. I haven't had sharp elbows to make it in Hollywood. I've wanted to do what I'm doing now for a long time, and it feels like such a damn luxury.

Translated from swedish for @rebeccalouisaferguson

#rebecca ferguson #interview #dune interview #mi7 interview #twq interview #miscellaneous

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boxeboxer · 3 months

Text

Samya’s bad horrible no good day at Loxton-Duchêne (3.3k word practice intro)

As the air marginally warms, the fog that had loomed over the ocean like a dark, dreaded thought comes to swallow the skyline above them. It’s hard to make out where the cityscape ends, the cream-grey concrete silhouettes losing their rigid form as they dissolve into the humidity. The uniform color of it all washes out the dirt-laden snow that creeps at the edge of the tracks, making Samya squint and curl her lip. She puts her hand against her brow.

“Excuse me,” she says, waving at an ice blue krtrim that walks away from its group to puff on its miti, leaving the rest to load material up and onto the doodlebug. It looks up at her, large yellow eyes twinkling in the dim overcast, sleet collected on its shoulders. “This is Loxton-Duchêne, isn’t it?”

Its voice, cold: “Yes, ma’am.” Steam rises from its mouth and forms dew on its glass eyes.

“Which way to the assembly yard? Is it far?”

It points to the idling train engine where its fellow krtrim crawl about it like ants. “We’re bringing alloy to the blast furnace, north. Follow the line and it’ll take you there. It’s past the refinery.”

She can feel the tug of north at her back without turning to face it. The earth pulls her longitudinally along its axis, orienting her as naturally as it was to know up from down. She smiles. “Thank you.”

The krtrim takes another drag, narrowing its eyes, exhaling vapor. A dull pain has formed at its temple, which it presses a finger to. Samya strides past it up and onto the doodlebug. In the next moment, the ache is gone, and it had never seen her. Its coworkers call for its return, and she catches the end of sentence: “who are you talking to…?”

She takes a seat on one of the worn aisle chairs, their cushions flattened against the wood arches. It’s nice to take the weight off her feet, and she crosses her legs over one another while holding a hand over her knee. Where she’s sat at the front, she can see out the driver’s window, perched next to it being a heavily-clothed krtrim who reads a faded CRT display embedded into the dashboard. Its mouth opens to shout something in Krtrim Binary, miti steam rising with its voice, then it bangs on the metal wall with a piece of rebar it pulls from the console. The workers from outside file in like mice in rows.

The driver barks at them again as they sit. She can’t understand the words in sound, but she can get the gist of it through the electric fields which weave themselves through her. “Slow krtrim get fed to the furnace! If you’re not worth more than your circuits, don’t bother coming!”

There’s a murmur of agreement, and the engine shifts into gear. They gain speed to a crawl, then a walk, until they have enough momentum to settle into a comfortable cadence just fast enough to send a breeze through the empty windows. The air brings the smell of hot coke, and the ice along the tracks gradually melts away as they get closer to the furnace.

She turns to watch the scenery, what little there is of it. The Loxton-Duchêne campus sits upon the land like an open wound. Seemingly built to rust, its iron skeleton is a rich, crimson brown, dotted with aviation lights that give it a faint red sparkle. Smog rises from towers as the heat of this place, this organism, is exhaled in a great breath back into the sky. Mixing with the hanging clouds, it casts a silver shadow over it all—a cold, lingering sadness, the weight of which is heavy upon their shoulders. It might’ve been a serene view if not for the noise. The ruminating chew of the railcar engine, steam spitting from exhaust pipes, hydraulics and air brakes, bells ringing in doppler-warped tones, hammer strikes igniting, a constant coronal buzz from the pantographs above, the synchronized movement of every worker and their footsteps—they mesh into each other until they become a singular, unified sound, a roar like that of a seashell pressed to her ear. Piercing the wall of noise, there’s the sharp voices of the krtrim in the cab, talking and gossiping amongst themselves. They speak of missed quotas, interpersonal quarrels, or express a dull excitement at the prospect of a full ration ticket by the end of the day. In their outerclothes, hair covered by scarves and brimmed caps, all wearing the same khaki romper, they look identical. Their blue-white faces peek out from under all the fabric, smooth and semi-translucent. When the light hits them just right, the conduits under the skin draw symmetrical root-like lines under their dark yellow eyes.

The tracks enter a bank angle. They’re lifted up onto an overpass, the stone ballast giving way to a trellis bridge which carries them over a railyard. Long lines of sinter flatcars, sugar-coated alabaster with the thin snowfall, trudge to the depots where they drop their freight to be carried by skip cars to the top of the furnace which is just ahead. She can trace the venous piping, erupting from the ground, to its center. The tuyeres that slither and coil about the structure obscure its true shape. It beats with a rhythm that carries through the ground, a massive heart hidden behind ribs, sinews and lungs—its heat, even from this far away, urging a flush to her mouth that brings her pulse against her teeth.

The car shudders as it slows. The brakes squeal, grinding them to a halt in front of the snaking catwalks which lead to the tapping point. At once, the workers bustle past her, the driver blowing a horn with the tug of a wire. Samya stretches and gets up. Once everyone else is out, she drops down onto one of the railings.

The yard is bustling with motion. Steam from air compressors and hydraulic pumps hiss and whistle from pipes, while the flutter of electrolarynx voices from every moving body fill in any silence there might have been. Much taller than the doodlebugs, the freight cars groan with strain against the tracks. A cloud sweeps over them as coke is dumped from the rolling hoppers onto conveyors, throwing up dust that makes the air smell like campfire.

She threads herself to the other side of the crowd, as agile as a needle through fabric. The krtrim, which all stand at five-foot, don’t look up as she passes them. She sticks out—half a foot taller, paired with the silent work of her muscles and the brown, blood-rich tone of her skin, she’s an alien in the sea of blue faces. If she were somebody else, then she’d certainly catch suspicion. But they say nothing, spare her no looks, just flow around her like water, a stone parting tides in a stream.

Weaving together at the other side of the incline is another depot, and more doodlebugs. One has just set off, headed further north as it drags cargo on wheels behind it. She picks up the pace so she’s at a light jog. An updraft pushes into the small of her back, nudging her into a sprint that she times carefully with the movement of the cane in her hand. The ground departs from her feet and is replaced by the steel plating of the car, and she pulls herself up and onto the rear ladder with her right hand. Inertia forces her body back at an angle which she corrects and begins climbing. With some effort she’s able to step onto the caboose landing, bringing her in front of an exit door and the small terraced balcony that encases it. Some rocks she’d kicked up clatter back over the edge.

She, with a huff, opens the sliding door. There’s less krtrim here than before—dressed differently, too. Their colored hair is allowed to fall to their shoulders, half-covered with scarves that keep a ball cap snug against their heads. They pay her no mind as she finds a seat no one’s claimed yet.

A conversation picks up where it left off. “Did you hear Sonam got close to the cat yesterday?” says one whose smile catches on the sharp consonants of Krtrim Binary. “We’re going to compile our tickets to buy some meat.”

“I thought we were feeding it dough,” another says.

“Cats only eat blooded-flesh," says a third, indignant.

“I hope it doesn’t need to be alive. Asalee markets only sell it dried, and it’s expensive.”

“That’s why we’re pooling our tickets for a direct cuprum exchange. The dry flesh has to be better food than the mice running around here, anyway.”

Samya fishes around her pocket and finds a couple loose bills. She considers sharing it, but it’s harder to scrub a memory of charity than just her presence here alone, so she doesn’t. She already looks out of place as it is.

“Let it eat the mice! They chew on the wires.”

“What? That makes more work for us, then!”

They continue talking, pulling out their tickets, folded and wrinkled from their coverall sleeves. The laughing, interrupted by banal, muttered non sequiturs, all droning into the lull of the engine noise. Just listening to it has made her lose focus of her surroundings, a conclusion she comes to with a jump. She turns her head, eyes darting from the front of the cab to the back. It’s only her, still alone, isolated via the invisible salt line she’s drawn about herself. The racing of her heart in her ears ebbs away.

She swallows and peers out the open window. Breathing in the fresh air helps the adrenaline break down in her bloodstream. Outside, it’s darkened a bit. The blast furnace is shrinking over the horizon. The stacks about it remind her of minarets, slender tubes rendered black against the haze where they crown the great shape of the furnace. She thinks of those faded polaroids of masjids her father kept in frames, aged and faded, showing a world where the sun was still warm on the skin. If you looked close enough, you could see the small figures of her family in the corners, unnamed, forgotten. She imagines them now, as apparitions in the fog. Smiling.

Her hand slithers from under her outerclothes over the sill to place itself in the wind. When she flattens her fingers into a blade, the lift raises her palm. She rides it up and down, then again. Some stray raindrops pull the warmth from her knuckles. Her fingernails go from a light pink to oyster purple. She keeps that position even when pins and needles gather under her skin.

The shuffling of fabric and limbs brings her attention back to the cab. Across the aisle, a warehouse rises into view. The krtrim stuff their belongings back into their bags, inching to the edge of their seats. Samya retracts her hand and rubs it.

She concentrates. She plucks one of the krtrim from the rest, using an unseen hand to take its chin and make it face her. She asks, without words, “Is this the assembly yard?”

“Yes,” it thinks. “The next stop.”

She lets it go. It blinks, then turns around and forgets. She begins to wring the straps of her satchel like a child squeezes their shirt when they cry. The pressure in her chest is making the lights flicker.

She had been taught to hide herself well—hide this clairvoyance, the thing that bloomed in the space just behind her eyes, leached out of her like ink through parchment, twisting and weaving and winding around everyone, everything, these great vines that rooted her and the world to something deep in the ground. Her mother’s hand, soft on her shoulder, voice to her ear, sewing it into a shape she could hold, could touch. Tamed. That power, raging like a flame between her ribs where the heart should be. It swells now, forcing hot breath out her nose, electricity to her feet. But her face remains still. Body rigid as stone.

The train stops. Everybody’s on their feet, filing towards the door which has opened at the front. She’s the last out.

The warehouse sits before them, sagged and sunk into its foundation. Instead of windows, it displays open bays shadowed by retractable garage shutters which have been raised. The roof’s awning expands across the pad where krtrim carry boxes, push handtrucks and smoke. A gate places a barrier between the train depot and the inside. Following it, it leads to a checkpoint where the workers find their punch cards and stamp them. Samya separates from the line and walks ahead.

It’s all noise. Conveyors are squealing on their belts as shards of electronic miscellanea are carried about. Krtrim work away on stools, grabbing assemblies from the line and poking at them with tweezers, soldering irons and voltmeters, yelling at one another. The rest are pulling carts of material, entering data into terminals or manning forklifts. One trundles past her while it carries a pallet of multicolored wire. She steps past it, finding herself running into the fast-moving bodies of the workers. One looks at her.

She places a question in its mind. “Where is the employee named Deepali?”

It’s who she’s come here for, who she’s stepped foot back into greater society for, after living as a recluse longer than she’d ever been any part of it. Samya isn’t even sure what she looks like; a human with brown hair, brown eyes, a skin tone just a few shades lighter, maybe? That described a lot of people. At least here, it’d be like finding a needle in a haystack. So she hoped.

The krtrim shakes its head, not knowing. She asks another. When she again gets no answer, she sends the message to them all.

“Tell me where Deepali is.”

A wave of thoughts rush into her. Most are variations of “I don’t know,” but she picks out the few that say something else.

“In the back.”

“Ask Simrun.”

What to do next is easy. “Show me.”

Field lines flash by them, curling around the crowd and piercing toward the east, where a door is being propped open with a traffic cone. She trails behind it, hand still tight ‘round her satchel strap.

It’s a little quieter back here, the madness replaced with fan noise and the sporadic scream of a drill. Around 30 workstations, which look more like cubicles, fill the space. There are maybe half as many krtrim occupying them. While they sit perched on their chairs, two per table, they position a convex lens to more closely see the bench, using pneumatic tools to tighten shining green boards onto metal plates. The delicate, spider-like shape of fleming valves are pulled from trays to be pressed into the vacant circuits, then soldered. She watches them as she walks.

They wear name tags on their breast pockets. A blue-haired krtrim displays one that reads SIMRUN, sitting alone. Its face is shadowed by its hat, a sugar stick between its lips that it chews while it breaks apart a new set of resistors. Samya puts a hand on its shoulder. It freezes.

“Where’d your friend go?” she asks, smiling at the empty chair.

Simrun doesn’t look up. “Hiding from Bharat,” it says, twisting the sugar stick with its tongue. The immediate association that follows the name implies Bharat must be a superior. “She’s probably smoking. Check the depot.”

Her gaze is nudged towards the open bay, where rows of unloaded crates have been stacked on wood pallets. Their hide-skin covers are wet with the rain. The wind catches them, and makes them flutter under the tension of the bungee cords. When she looks closer, lifting her chin, she sees a wisp of vapor rise over the edge of a wrapped box.

Samya’s hand squeezes, then releases. “Thank you.”

The clatter of Simrun’s sugar stick falling from its mouth is the only response it gives. It wipes its glass optic with its sleeve, the memory of her reduced to a trick of the eye.

The distance from where she stands to the depot ahead stretches before her, the short expanse of concrete loosening into a thick mud that holds fast onto the soles of her shoes. Her grip on her cane is making the wood creak. She’s shaking.

What should she say? She ruminates on it. It’d be easy to look into her mind, sure, but that was just a temporary solution to her problem. The information she needed would certainly be deeper between the brain folds, and harder to pry out. The question she wants to ask, “Tell me about your father, his research, his life, who I am, who you are,” is too forward. Planting it in her head will be too much, too fast. It’d make her vomit, as surges of clairvoyance usually do. Samya was never any good at these segues.

It was simple with the mundanity of routine. People don’t remember most fleeting glances from the corners of their eyes, or conversations half-heard in daydream. That’s all she was to them—a sliver of a reflection that made them look twice, a phantom itch, the interruption of thought.

She’s still deciding on what to say when she rounds the corner. All the anticipation she’d built up immediately shrinks back into her stomach. The person on the other side is just another krtrim, sitting cross-legged and coxing steam from a miti. It, unlike the others, reacts to her presence, whipping its head up to stare at her.

“I’m looking for…” the words fall from her mouth.

Something isn’t right. As she extends her clairvoyance, it’s met with a sudden wall. A shockwave erupts through her, like she had swung a hammer at an immovable object, and the force of it was now ricocheting up her arms, resonating into her bones as if she were a tuning fork struck on metal. She sees flashes of chimerical light through her eyelids until the sensation subsides into an ache. The taste of salt burns at the back of her throat.

She swallows and forces herself to finish her sentence. “… I-I’m looking for Deepali. Do you know where she is?”

The krtrim is wholly unremarkable. Its short auburn hair just barely peeks out the bottom of its scarf. It almost looks brown where it frames its blue-green face. “I’m Deepali,” it says in a rising tone, bordering between a question and a statement. Its hand presents its nametag, and it’s true.

Samya laughs. “No, no, not you, someone else.”

“I’m the only Deepali here,” it retorts.

She loses the smile she’d made, chewing at the inside of her cheek. “You’re sure? I’m looking for a human, asalee, in blooded-flesh.”

The krtrim raises its brow. “She isn’t here.”

“It’s really, really important that I talk to her,” she emphasizes, holding out her clenched fist. She stiffens her jaw as she tries to press an answer out of it, but its mind is sealed off too tightly, and it’s making her dizzy just trying.

It regards her closer, eyes going from her head to her feet and back. Miti vapor blows past its lips. “Who are you?”

Samya stumbles on her voice. “I’m… I don’t….”

It stands, and she backs up into a box. The abrupt movement, unseen by her clairvoyance, startles her. This is a proxy, her common sense screams, a vessel piloted somewhere else, from far away, where you can’t see it.

“Forget it,” she manages. “She’s not here.”

The krtrim watches as she spins on her heel and walks away, eyes boring holes through the back of her head. Adrenaline stings where it pierces her sternum.

#mine #ouro #writing #the burger part comes after but im not done yet

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limpfisted · 6 months

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So in dnd canon player characters CANT turn into devils. And in fact, if bg3 went by regular rules, wyll would just have been punished by having a few devil features

But the game INSISTS his soul was dragged thru hell and he's a devil now

Tbh this makes no sense bc he doesn't look like any of the many kinds of devils. He just has horns and a tiefling eye

But there are fun ways to play with wyll and being a devil regardless

As well as the fact that his "soul" is owned by a devil

So here's a quick round up of some of my own homebrew wyll is an actual devil now hcs

Wyll is naturally lawful good. As a devil, he is tempted ever more by violence and taking advantage of others, but also "deals." While wyll cannot make a contract himself, he is hungry and greedy for high emotional connection and intimate promises. His own charred, damaged, and sold soul longs to nibble and draw the energy off of others, almost vampirically.

He doesn't act on these feelings. It doesn't mean he doesn't have them. Wyll even before the transformation was a person about control and repression. He thought he could CHOOSE and take advantage of his powers with mizora, the tadpoles, etc. Ironically, it may be his transformation into a devil and the want to make "deals" that helps nudge him in the direction of wanting to deal with mizora more to get out of his contract

Physical symptoms

Devils are hot, devils are smelly. Wyll is not used to his own blood and heat and smell. Its overwhelming. He feels feverish near constantly, he's almost always slightly damp with sweat

The weight of his horns and the new positions he has to sleep in give him headaches, and muscle aches. Hes used to being sore, but this is a new extra level hes not used to

In general I have the hc that bc mizora had a grip on his soul---he felt an icy grip in his chest and stomach all the time that made him feel uncomfortably full all the time, sometimes to the point of nausea

Now he STILL has that, but now he also feels hungry all the time, in a way food can't fill

There's also in general mood swings

Wyll is a very clean person who takes great care of himself and the way he presents himself

As a transmasc person going thru a THIRD puberty of sorts, he is now even more methodical about his skin care routine. He hates how much he sweats and he hates how he smells and he hates that his teeth don't fit in his mouth and he has to practice saying all the pretty things he wants to say even more than he already does in his head

Also its a cop out he turns back into a human, thats boring, these changes are just Forever and he gets used to them

In general I think wyll is growing wings! For a fun treat. Over time, wyll will be able to develop his own powers as a devil. He doesn't have mizora, but also he doesn't need her. He has claws and fangs and can develop his own magic if he practices. He doesn't know how to, so this would be an extremely long process that would probably only take place in his blade of avernus path

Tho he doesn't realize it he is now also functionally immortal except if he is killed in Hell

Why would mizora do this to him, u ask. Give him all this power. Its clearly not just a punishment

Well he wasn't supposed to get out of his contract... it was just a sneak preview of his life when he died and got sent to the blood war. These past 7 years wyll HAS been fighting the blood war as one of zariels minions honestly. I dont think mizora or zariel ever thought he would legimately break his pact. And even if he did. Hes a 26 year old human with a good, good, self sacrificial heart who thinks he can take on any evil and HAS to. Hes easy to manipulate

And furthermore. I think zariel and mizora have been watching "the heart of baldurs gate" all his life just waiting to strike

There are ends for wyll where he's in a pact with a devil, and is a devil, and is the grand Duke of baldurs gate

Even if wyll ISNT the grand Duke of baldurs gate

His father talks about being hellstouched himself now! (A story for another time, he says)

Wylls Origin bio straight up says he's a pawn in a war he doesn't understand

Will we ever know the hells plans for wyll! No! But I doubt even getting out of his pact is as big a wrench in mizora and zariel's plans as we are led to believe. If mizora legit cared that wyll wasn't in a pact anymore. Why is she still fucking here. (Go away no one wants u here wench. But I digress.)

#my wyll also kind of glows with hellfire beneath the skin in the dark #fun times

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zhongrin · 3 months

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ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ꜱʜᴇᴇᴛ: ᴏᴄ

꧁𝐂𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨

ʙᴀꜱᴇ ᴘʀᴏꜰɪʟᴇ ⟡ ɪɴ-ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ ① ⟡ ɪɴ-ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪᴏɴ ②

Disclaimer: I'm not a meta player so these numbers or effects may be fucked up. Please take it in all good fun 🙏🏻

ー༄ Special Dish:

“Absolutely Normal Hot Chocolate.”

Type: Recovery Dishes

Ingredients: Cocoa powder x2, Milk x1, Spice x1

Effect: Restores 18~22% of Max HP to the selected character and regenerates 300~470 HP every 5s for 30s.

Description: Coviello’s specialty. Indulgent blend of cocoa and steaming hot milk, along with a dollop of condensed milk and a dash of cinnamon, with marshmallows to stir in or nibble on the side. It’ll warm up your body from the inside. Disclaimer: this version has no god’s remains inside.

ー༄ Favorite food:

“Venison Stew”

Type: Recovery Dishes

Ingredients: Raw meat x2, Fire-Water x1, Pepper x1

Effect: Restores 26~30% of Max HP to the selected character and regenerates 450~790 HP every 5s for the next 30s.

Description: A simple but hearty meal made of freshly hunted game. Since the Fire-Water is poured in the later process of the cooking, the alcohol should warm anyone up quite nicely. A perfect dinner to have in a cold winter night.

ー༄ Signature Weapon:

🗡 Frozen Flame

Weapon Type: Sword

2nd Stat Type: Elemental Mastery

Rating: ★★★★★

Description: An icy blue sword with glowing red ‘veins’ along its blade. Forged by the cold frozen lake of Snezhnaya's endless winters and the eternal fire of Natlan, it seems to be especially receptive to certain elements.

Refinement Rank 1: Lux Aut Umbra

Upon hitting enemies affected by Hydro: Refreshes any existing Nota stacks and gains one Umbra Nota, which increases ATK to all party members by 18% for 10s. Max 3 stacks. The next two Umbra Nota can only be gained if wielder is off-field. When the wielder has 3 stacks, active character’s ATK SPD will be increased by 6%.

Upon hitting enemies affected with Cryo or Pyro: Refreshes any existing Nota stacks and gains Lux Nota, which increases the wielder’s Normal Attack DMG by 100%. This effect will disappear after 42 DMG instances or 18s.

A/N ⟡ Kit Concept: Mainly a weapon to better enhance Coviello's versatile playstyle. e.g. as support/sub-DPS, you'd focus on gaining Umbra Nota and making sure they go off-field, while as a main/sub-DPS, you'd focus on gaining Lux Nota (which can easily be done using their Elemental Burst).

ー༄ Active Skills:

Normal Attack: Advancing in Caution

Normal Attack: Performs up to 5 rapid strikes.

Charged Attack: Consumes a certain amount of stamina to quickly step back and either 1) fires a pistol or 2) throws a dagger. Both instances deal Physical DMG.

Plunging Attack: Plunges from mid-air to strike the ground below, damaging opponents along the path and dealing AoE DMG upon impact.

Elemental Skill: Frostbite

Duration: 12s ⟡ CD: 20s

Cryo DMG: (Base level) 120% ATK + 140% Elemental Mastery

Applies a circular Cryo field which deals continuous Cryo DMG every 2s.

“Why do I wear thick clothes and layers if the cold doesn’t bother me?”

“….... You know I’m still human, right? Or was that a roundabout way of you saying that you want me to die?”

Elemental Burst: Ice Burn

Duration: 18s ⟡ CD: 32s

Enhanced Normal Attack DMG: (Base level) 120% ATK + 250% Elemental Mastery

HP Drain: 5% Max HP per second

Coviello activates their delusion and alternates between Cryo and Pyro DMG between attacks, causing continuous Melt reaction. This will convert their Normal Attack: Advancing in Caution’s Physical DMG into Elemental DMG.

While they’re in this state, their HP will continuously be drained.

“Do you know what severe frostbite feels like? It feels tingly at first, like sparks of electricity. Then, it starts to burn and swell, before you lose all feelings in that particular area... Heh. Ironic, isn’t it? How can cold ice feel like it’s burning your skin?”

“....... I suppose it's something you might not be able to wrap your head around unless you've experienced it yourself.”

A/N ⟡ Kit Concept: Great off-field support/sub-DPS for Hydro-wielding characters (specifically Childe), but turns into main/sub-DPS after their Elemental Burst is unleashed (which could also be a good support for Childe as you wait for his Elemental Skill cooldown). Also I imagine if RNG blesses Cov to fire a pistol as a charged attack, in-game Meirin would go "That's my child ;w;" /silly

ー༄ Passive Skills:

Thermoregulatory: Party is immune to cold weather effects.

Avalanche (be upon ye): If the deployed party is entirely composed of Hydro and Cryo characters, including Coviello, opponents affected by Cryo will have their Cryo RES decreased by 10% for 12s.

Legal Hunting: Gains 25% more rewards when dispatched on a Snezhnaya Expedition for 20 hours.

ー༄ Constellations:

C1: Frostnip

Increases the Level of Frostbite by 3. Maximum upgrade level is 15.

C2: Impermafrost ★

Active characters within Cryo field generated by Frostbite are immune to Frozen even when Wet (other elemental reactions with Hydro will still apply).

C3: Permafrost ★

If the opponent is Frozen, increase Frostbite’s Cryo DMG to 1.5x of the current multiplier value for Coviello’s Elemental Mastery.

C4: Hypothermia

Increases the Level of Normal Attack: Advancing in Caution by 3. Maximum upgrade level is 15.

C5: Blizzard

Increases the Level of Ice Burn by 3. Maximum upgrade level is 15.

C6: Gangrene ★

Increases Ice Burn’s Enhanced Normal Attack DMG to 1.5x of the current multiplier value for Coviello’s Elemental Mastery and reduce HP Drain to 4% Max HP per second.

A/N ⟡ Concept: C1-C3 enhances their support/sub-DPS capability, but C4-C6 evolves them into a decent DPS.

ー༄ Idle Animations:

Crosses arms and watches the snow falling.

Sees a duckling on the ground. Crouches to pet it for a few seconds before standing back up.

#rin's adopted children: coviello #rin's character references #rin's queue is serving tea #i wanted to draw some of these but.... hmmm..... might update this again later when i have more time hehe

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sublime-beyond-loss · 1 year

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Keeping The Narrator Company....2! (Now featuring a Hug Narrator Button)

You can find the streams here:

https://www.youtube.com/user/MyLittleCoward09/streams

So, I fully intended to wait until the 1 year anniversary of Ultra Deluxe hit to see if I was still up for doing an anniversary KTNC stream, but a few things ended up causing me to reconsider when to do this and I ultimately decided to do it now instead of later.

One, running a 24/7 stream is way easier on my PS4 in the winter months than in April, right about when the climate around here starts to get hot and humid. No AC meant that I did start to worry a little towards the end of the last run of these streams that my PS4 might start overheating as the summer heat picked up.

Two, there is a very specific reason why I'm all gung-ho about committing myself to doing this silliness again in the first place. A lot of talk went on during the streams about how there should be a Hug Narrator button, and somewhere in that time abyss I joked that they should add DLC where you get one free push of the Hug button and then any push after that is a paid micro-transaction lmao. The narrator would be quite literally drowning in swimming pools by the end of it with all of the money he’d make lol. Well, somewhere in the ballpark of like four months after the stream ended, I woke up in the dead of night like this,

Because it hit me. The entire time I was doing that stream I had a way of jerry-rigging a bootleg hug button. Youtube lets you add polls to the stream and I had been using the poll function to make jokes the entire time! I could have made a makeshift hug button with that function and I cannot believe I didn't think of it while the stream was still going on! Well, after realizing this, much maniacal laughter followed and then I began plotting.

I can happily say that you can now metaphysically hug the metaphysical voice once roughly every 12 hours. (Because the stream has to be reset every 12 hours or else Youtube doesn't save the video) And because I am a benevolent dictator, you get to push the hug button for the low, low price of zero dollars. And the best part is, it’s all so metaphysical that you don’t even need to worry about the sensory issues that comes with hugging! Practical solutions to practical problems!

And this is the other reason why I wanted to do this sooner rather than later. Youtube has a habit of dropping features you wouldn't think they'd drop (looking at you Sort By Oldest button), and I did not want to wait until April only to find out that they removed the ability to add polls to a stream two months beforehand. Strike while the iron is hot, I suppose.

Alas, I cannot get in on the Hugfest as the streamer, since the streamer themselves is not allowed to 'vote' on the poll, but I shall bear this burden so that others may Hug. I hope by the end of this the skip button room can instead be called The Hugbox. lol

It seems that we are getting dangerously close to creating an incredibly meta and very bootleg TSP equivalent of the final battle from Earthbound, and all I can say to that is uuuuhhhhh......take that Undertale? Of course, the skip button and its Horrors are not a battle that can be beaten, won, or solved, but that's TSP, ain't it? So let's do something crazy and unique, something that only TSP can inspire in a way that other games do not. Prepare to Hug. And if you are morally opposed to hugging the narrator, there is a second choice, like always lol. God, only TSP could create a scene of unyielding existential horror and isolation and yet still somehow inspire the fans to make a communal activity out of it lol.

Rules are the same as last time. The stream will go on till I get sick of doing it or my PS4 gives out. I will not always be at the controller, so its up to you to pick up the company keeping slack when I'm not around, but I do try to keep an eye on the chat and interact with it as much as I can. Remember that this is all in good fun. The chat is meant for hanging out, not to be an edgy dork in, so keep the vibes positive.

The narrator is a wonderfully messy, complex, and complicated character of which there are many angles to view him from. So, from my perspective here where I view him in a very sympathetic and agonizingly relatable light in the best and worst sort of ways, and as someone who enjoys interacting with this game in unique ways as the paradoxes it opens up inside my brain slowly consume my last brain cell, let's do this silly dance one more time.

#the stanley parable #no skip buttons allowed #weaponized autism strikes again

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destinyc1020 · 1 year

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Can I ask a question without anyone becoming offended but, some of these awards that shes winning are they deserved or are they just giving them to her because she's the IT girl and they want her to make appearances? Is this all due to Euphoria, or does her escalating of brands make this award valid too? Don't get me wrong, I love seeing us win, but, I want to make sure its earned and not just giving just to give because of popularity. I think she's exceptional, I just think shes being overexposed and now they're just giving stuff or nominating her just to do it.

Does that make sense?

I don't know...just curious I guess...

Does anyone wanna take this? Cuz I think I'm done today lol....

Look Anon, all I'll say is that, if Zendaya is the "IT GIRL" in Hollywood, so what?? It's not like she hasn't EARNED these awards. Obviously Hollywood LOVES her and she's the Hollywood "Darling" right now. As she should be! She should strike while the iron is hot. Women don't get half the amount of chances in the industry, especially the older they get. Just because someone is "everywhere" and gets a lot of accolades it doesn't mean that they don't deserve the awards they're getting. There are tons of other smaller awards that other actors receive that don't even make the news because they're just smaller awards, but that doesn't mean they haven't received the honors. I just wonder why people have an issue with Zendaya winning stuff or being "everywhere"?? I never hear too many people complaining when it's White girls being paraded everywhere for even LESS work and merit. 🥴 But anytime it's a woc all of a sudden the question is: "Did she really earn it??" As if, you can't be a woc who's getting accolades AND also earning what they're getting. 😒🙄 I don't know if people even realize how subtly racist this is. 🤨 But many of us are so conditioned by our racist society, that we automatically question it when it's a poc. If it's a White person, we just assume they earned what they got...but if it's a POC, we question if it was just a "pity win" or a "handout". Like, do you realize how racist that is?? Anyway, you probably didn't mean it that way Anon, and I'm not trying to come down hard on you, but I don't know how anyone can NOT take offense to this, because in a sense, what you're basically saying is that you don't think Zendaya is earning her awards/accolades, and THAT (imo) is pretty offensive, don't you think?? 🥴

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darthmaulification · 2 years

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I loved your sugardaddy death maul dribbles n headcannons 😔👌🏻 will you make more in the future?? I’d love to see more tbh 😩💖💖💖

LOLZ sorry for being so inactive gamers, i’ve been doing a lot in my IRL life. 😅 this has been sitting in my inbox for a lil while, and since then sugar daddy maul has been haunting me. 💗

i totally want to write more, especially a full length thing, but it’s honestly a lot of twiddling my thumbs and twirling a lock of hair around my finger waiting for inspiration to write to strike LMAO 💀💀

i did write these two mini drabbles to tide us all over until then though!! enjoy!!

(18+ and as gn!reader as possible!! also the second drabble got a tad dark whoops)

clothes shopping

“Wonderful.” The compliment is spoken in a tone often reserved for the midnight hours and glasses of champagne. Maul continues in that same sultry purr, “Positively radiant.”

Red satin and shimmering chiffon drape over your body like a crimson waterfall. The robes are form-fitting in all the right places, breathable and flowy where needed. Gilded armbands hold the fabric up while gold bracelets around your wrists keep a loose sleeve on your arms. Your feet are bare, aside from a couple toe rings and pearl anklets.

And, as always, the thin gold chain with its single ruby eye sparkles around your neck.

You meet Maul’s gaze in the shop mirror. behind you, he stands tall, one arm behind his back, one hand at his chin— contemplative, mulling over his thoughts and the sight of you in the gorgeous robes and jewelry he picked out, appraising. With a smirk and approving hum, Maul’s expression shifts into one of utmost satisfaction.

“You look delectable, my pet.” He says, voice as smooth as honey and just as addictive. He places his gloved leather palms firm on your hips, squeezing, a hot iron grip— a promise. His touch is like heaven on fire, and the positive attention has you preening. A smile pulls your lips upwards, then Maul brings one hand up to your neck and a single finger hooks around your choker.

“Let us retire to my quarters, shall we?”

arm candy

It’s not the first time that your presence has been accosted in such a manner, but that doesn’t make it any less upsetting. The words levied at you burn your mind, swirling around your thoughts like a vicious storm. Deep down, you know it's nothing to be ashamed of— as you’re content and happy with your life— but your chosen... profession has a stigma that nips close at its heels.

Just another common whore, all desperate and spread-legs, for a man’s attention. You going to warm my bed too, sweetheart?

The Zabrak who had spit that at you was not your Zabrak. He was some sneering, tight-lipped Iridonian Zabrak, with dull beige skin and minimal tattoos. Your Dathomirian Zabrak, with his masterful body art, would never say such a thing to you— Least not without your explicit consent.

The room's at a complete hush. Dead silence. Next to you, where Maul sits in his throne, you can practically feel the fire of his wrath searing the air. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you continue to stare at your folded hands in your lap.

In your peripheral, Maul snarls and rises abruptly. His voice comes out in a deadly hiss, “What did you say?”

The words slice the stiff and unmoving atmosphere, and you look up just in time to see the Iridonian's haughty visage practically crumbles. He makes eye contact with you— fear written plain on his face— and you look away, at Maul.

He stands tall, fists clenched at his sides, his jaw muscles tense. A vicious snarl tugs his face into one that screams danger— a cobra coiled and braced to strike. His eyes are blistering, volcanic eruptions. Maul’s saberstaff hangs at his hip, sheathed, but waiting.

"I-I...! I meant no-no— Please forgive me.” The Iridonian stammers through a desperate plea for his life, taking several steps back, unknowingly bumping into the two black-armored Mandalorian guards who appear like harbingers of death behind him. He yelps when they sieze his arms, cries out in pain when one of the two kicks his knee out from under him. The beige Zabrak falls to the floor with a thunk!, held aloft by the iron grips on his upper arms.

“Please! I’m sorry! I beg of you!” You watch as the Iridonian begins to openly weep, sniveling in the face of his demise like the coward he is. Maul glances to you and clears his throat, gaining your attention. Though his expression is still furious, and his hackles raised and stern— His eyes are soft for you.

“It’s your call, my darling pet.” Maul says in a low rumble, and everything the other man said to you melts away. You give Maul a small smile, fiddling with the ruby on your choker, and although you’ve never considered yourself a vengeful person— You’re allowed to send a message here.

“I think he’d quite like being locked away for a little while, my Lord.” You reply, and Maul grins wolfishly, flicking his wrist. At once, the Mandalorians heave the prisoner into the grasp and without wasting a second, march out of the room. The sounds of the Iridonians pleads and screams disappear the second the doors close.

Maul steps closer to you, a dangerous grin on his face, and his gloved hand lays firm on the base of your neck. His thumb rubs circles on your skin, and you lean into his touch. Maul’s index finger loops around your choker just as his other hand rises to cradle your chin in his palm. He turns your head to look up at him, and you’re gone to his honeyed gaze.

“Fantastic decision, my pet.” He purrs, akin to a satisfied lion and just as regal. Then, in an action that’s quite rare combined with the praise, Maul leans down and plants a kiss to your lips.

#orion answers #star wars #star wars darth maul #darth maul x you #darth maul x reader #darth maul #maul x reader #maul #star wars maul #drabble

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