story filler

In Motion (M) | 01

Character / Genre / words: Jeon Jungkook x reader (with POV switches) | Smut, Mature scenes, Masturbation Club!au | 7,721 words

➼ Summary: The rule is simple - you can look but you can’t touch. You’ve been attending the event for a few times but it was only when a certain boy arrives at one occasion did you feel the fire of lust burning inside

➼ Warning: exhibitionism, public display of masturbations, graphic smut scenes, mutual masturbations, mentions/use of sex toys, language

➼ Warning 2.0: this is only the beginning

➼ a/n: This is a revamped/edited version. I have decided to not scrap the whole thing when there is no scenes or plots being changed in the process. Feel free to reread this chapter before the next chapter is out. More story fillers will be added in the upcoming chapters.

➼ Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03

Keep reading


Sick no thanks to weather and other things. So, more Sanic and co. An idea for bioluminescence for Zazz. In the context of TUZ, all of the Deadly Six possess bioluminescence, a trait that is an extremely common evolutionary mainstay for Hexxans. Due to a lack of constant / regular light, nearly all life on Hexx has some kind of light display with which to communicate. Natural light on Hexx is sporadic thanks to weather and cosmic interference. The most common form of “daylight” on the planet is Hexx’s atmospheric gases combusting or reacting to magnetic fields at extremely high altitudes, possibly thanks to cosmic debris burning through or whiffing by the planet’s atmosphere. Day / night phases still exist on Hexx, but the light of the system’s star can more often than not only be seen regularly and at full splendor at high altitude. The surface is otherwise generally in a quasi-perpetual state of “twlight” thanks to poor solar reception and constantly reacting gases.

Most life on Hexx is fungal with a wide array of “mimic” species such as false grasses and arboreals that subsist primarily on gaseous and mineral intake. All of Hexx’s fungal life feeds or otherwise lives off of itself in some fashion, leading to a unique food chain and system of adaptation and evolution. Competition for nutrients lead to roaming and eventually free-moving fungal strains of greater and greater complexity, eventually resulting in fungal animals (Zoomycota). The Deadly Six, Hexx’s apex predators, are a species of specialised animal fungus. They are intelligent, tenacious, and have a noted aversion to fungicide.


Couple art things from my Twitter that I’ll toss over here too. Sunfire Tadashi and some Tadashi expressions because clearly this man is trying to take over my entire everything sendhelp

Also since some have asked and because I finally have a small layout of Sunfire’s story: He’s infused with fire/technological radiation as a result of the explosion mixing with some of the experiments/tech inside. After the fire, he was soon discover and taken away to a gov. facility for a while (3-4 years, actually), treated as a mutant/weapon, but eventually he manages to escape, though he definitely has trouble controlling his fire powers, even after all this time (the suit helps, it has some limiters, but he needs to keep it on to maintain full control). He’s technically a vigilante, goes around trying to help people (but accidentally sets stuff on fire in the process, whoops).

Sunfire is partially deaf, and ‘blind’ - he can’t see actual forms, but instead is able to read heat signatures and the make out shapes that way. (but it’s okay, he can warm his hands and just touch stuff to help him see better, or throw out fireballs which is highly dangerous though do not recommend). He also has cool eyes.

Also have a couple Hiro expressions too:

anonymous asked:

Why do you think GSNK did not get a second season?

  • Maybe Tsubaki doesn’t care for one? Anime exists primarily to promote the original source. The anime boosted GSNK manga sales big time. She’s probably happy with that.
  • Getting a second season for any anime is really difficult (mostly for money reasons), even if it’s popular. Only like Attack On Titan-tier series are guaranteed second seasons really.

It is March! I wanted to have some bigass post for you lot for that preveriously referred BTWP announcement, but alas, that is not happening because I am run down with a cold and my plans for this month work-wise have been recently shuffled to accommodate other things. So, I merely have this considerably less exciting offering of WIPs and ugly sketches. Wow!

That announcement however is still going to happen, albeit changed from what I had originally intended. What I wanted to be able to share was “the BTWP blog is LIVE, WOO” with much excitement, BUT. But, the blog isn’t ready yet. The URL has been reserved but due to tackling a lot of unrelated but extremely important work I am far behind where I wanted to be this month. At this point the grand majority of what’s “left” to be done is mostly just writing, which I really don’t want to rush. Anyway, the WIPs above are the arguably final designs for the Koopalings as children. Morton’s a little taller than he actually should be (he’s only 8 at this particular point), but I’ll fix that later. Roy and Wendy have yet to be finalised, so they are not included.

This will probably be the last post regarding BTWP that will appear here before the blog itself goes live, since I would like to save some of the remaining (and currently finished) vis-dev work for the blog itself for some kind of special intermission upload or whatever between Acts (and because insofar as I’m concerned, this break isn’t over yet). However before I leap screaming back into the void of “I’m not here”, I want to share with you fabulously patient people some notes on the background setting under which BTWP is going to be operating. Are you excited? I hope you are because I sure am yeah!

EXPO-ACT1: At this time, the Mushroom Kingdom is at war with the Sarasan Kingdom, contesting over land. The territory is laced with mycelium, the physical reach of the two rulers: Peach and Daisy. Daisy has begun to push for more land, as the Sarasa is no longer suited to her survival due to desertification of an already arid clime, and will eventually kill her and her people, the Goombas. The fungroid people, Goombas and Toads, spread by way of mycelium - primarily from the mycelium spread by Daisy and Peach. The peoples of both Kingdoms are fruiting bodies of the original spore cluster(s), and will lay mycelium in new areas upon settling to reproduce. Daisy’s and her people’s mycelium is no longer able to draw nutrients from the South and Southwest of her Kingdom, forcing a migration. Daisy and her people are basal in instinct and intelligence, they do not grow crops for primary / secondary sustenence, and are considered parasites by their neighbours. The spread of Goombas spoils agricultural plots, spreading premature rot and fungal disease. The Sarasan Kingdom cannot be reasoned with on the issue of political borders [“NO. MORE LAND. LAND.”], resulting in violent conflict between the two fungal groups.

The Toads, Peach’s people, have begun to migrate to the North and Northeast of the Mushroom Kingdom and further outwards to the Koopa Kingdom in fear of conflict and as a result of overpopulation of Goombas, begetting displacement. Many immigrants buy land or become farm hands, introducing new crops to the Koopa Kingdom. The flood of Toads immigrating to the Koopa Kingdom upsets its economy and ecology. Koopa crops are beset with smuts and other infections resulting from the introdution of new crops carrying mold spores from which current crops have no defense. The North / Northeastern border and Northern / Northeastern territories are beset by a food shortage resulting from spoiled crops. The labour market also becomes heavily saturated, creating a food and market crash along the full border. Famine threatens to emerge from the North, sparking retaliation from the Koopa Monarchy. The Monarchy, shrunken in recent years due to the steady transition to democracy, stifles immigration with harsh policies and laws, encouraging political retaliation in kind from the Mushroom Kingdom, still under siege and now experiencing a population and ecological crisis. Peach presses for a granting of Koopa land due to the high population of Toads already present and steadily rising, which is denied. Toads are barred from immigration further into Koopa lands. The Undergrowth especially, the Koopa Kingdom’s most fertile agricultural belt, is closed off to protect it from the spreading fungal diseases emerging from the North.

The Northern Koopa people struggling with approaching famine and a crashing labour market experience hysteria and begin to enact violence upon their neighbours. Acts of cannibalism emerge from rural pockets while urban settlements are beset with burnings and public executions of political representatives. The slaughter is eventually turned upon the immigrant Toads, who are eaten in lieu of failed crops. This becomes a “lesson” for remaining regions. When the west / southwest is beset with hysteria, the “barbarism of the broken North” is cited as an example for the people to remain calm and reaccept the Monarchy in the face of chaos. This is a ploy of the Koopa Court to reinstate the Koopa Monarchy as an autocracy.

The Monarchy offers no compensation for the Toad families affected by the new laws or the atrocities taking place throughout the border and the north, its hands already full with the task of stabilising its native peoples as infant sovereign states begin to show considerable strain from upheaval. The Toad Brigade, a group of extremists acting in the “interest of the Mushroom Kingdom”, has arisen to enact extreme violence upon the Koopa people to force the Monarchy’s hand in granting Peach new land. The current Queen [mother of Bowser] is moving throughout the Kingdom in an effort to calm the people in person.

And that’s that. I will probably see you all again in April!

Caught Up | Yoongi

Prompt: There’s a storm and omg I’m losing signal are you okay?? Hold on let me drive 489432 miles to get you the night before Christmas
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 2,966
Author’s Note: Is it too early to start with the Christmas stories because I don’t care, it’s December so that’s good enough for me. 


You can’t help the yelp that sounds from the back of your throat as the howling against your window grows stronger for just a moment, the shaking of your window echoing through the rest of your apartment and making you feel very small and very alone in just a sliver of a second.

“You okay?”

Inhaling sharpy through your nose, you resume your attention back to the voice on the other side of the line, slightly muffled and hazy with the swirling of storm clouds and snow outside, but clear enough for you to smile just a little. He gives you enough, even through a cell phone, to not feel alone. “Y-Yeah, Yoongi-ah. I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine,” Yoongi retorts, and you can practically hear the frown in his voice softening into concern. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come over?”

You look out the window at the snow swimming around, darkness etched far beyond what your eyes can see, even with the lights of your living room on. On the coffee table is your homework laid out, your feeble attempt to try and get something done in spite of the loud distraction and the fear in your chest that makes you want to bury yourself under 5 feet of blankets and never get out. No, even if you wanted Yoongi, needed him desperately to keep you company to stop the anxiety, nothing about you was worth trekking through miles of snow for. Frost bite and sickness would surely be inevitable if Yoongi tried to step outside tonight.

“Yes,” You manage, glad that you can at least make your voice sound confident enough to stop Yoongi from worrying. You can even picture his face right now, probably back in the dorms with the other boys as they watch TV or hoard themselves with junk food as Seokjin-oppa shakes his head at the unhealthiness of the whole thing. At least Yoongi has the boys to keep him company. “You really don’t have to come over. I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself.”

Keep reading


Been meaning to address the more foundational points mentioned way back for this Digimon project for a while but have just been unable to find the time to write and produce art for them. These two (terrible) sketch sheets were blasted out months ago to test-drive some of the ideas I wanted to explore, mainly the jettisoning of the canonical mechanic of “digital evolution” in almost its entirety. For the briefest of context, in this reinterpretation, Digimon exist in two forms - a code-only form that exists purely in Cyberspace and can never be brought into real space, and a physical, biocomputer form that occupies both real space and Cyberspace. Digimon in Cyberspace can change their form at any time through data reconfiguration, depending on the code they possess, to execute specific tasks in whatever Network they reside in or are otherwise a part of. Code-only Digimon serve numerable purposes, mostly outlined by the sector of which they are a part of (ex: industrial, service, and / or companion or homebrew). Because they exist only as code and possess no personal processing, these cyber-bound entities cannot learn or process the act of free-thought beyond what is allowed in their base programming. Their code can be expanded through the use of patches, but a full upgrade in software entails the destruction of the previous version, wiping it from a network. The change of form amongst code-only Digimon may or may not involve the access and use of external processing or memory power, depending on what is made allowable by its base code and the Network’s processing and memory access protocols. Depending on the complexity of the base code (ex: Tentomon), a shift downwards in execution complexity (Tentomon –> Mochimon) will require no need for extra processing. A shift upwards (Tentomon –> Kaubterimon) may or may not incur external processing or memory power. If no external resources are tapped, the greater form will be truncated in terms of ability unless reversed and re-performed with external resources. Greater forms accessed without external processing or memory can be maintained indefinitely, but those attained through resource borrowing will be reverted once the assigned task is completed to free up Network memory.

Physical, biocomputer Digimon are a feat of bioengineering and computer programming, designed as free-learning, free-thinking, self-maintaining data-writing and storage entities. Unlike their code-only counterparts, real-world Digimon develop along a single path from a primitive cellular culture to a complex organism that cannot be changed, which will be largely reflected in Cyberspace. Growth between recognisable “forms” is slow and visually unpleasant. Growth in a biocomputer can be halted (“capped”) through soft-editing (changes made to the code after setting within a cellular culture), but will drastically change and affect the creature’s lifespan and physical and mental health. The movement through stages incurs the internal development of greater processing power and memory, which can be further altered through the use external drives or physical / surgical replacement of internal components to alter performance in Cyberspace. The successful development of a biocomputer involves the proper ingestion of protein slurry, serving as “food”. A deficiency in protein intake will result in stunting of growth.

Above are chicken-scratch of Diaboromon and Cheribimon’s developmental lines (they’re rough and ugly I am sorry). Diaboromon / Dee was grown in a kitchen sink as a homebrew biocomputer that eventually grew to 25 feet by adulthood. The path of her development remained a mystery to her coders, who implemented a failed growth cap into her code, until she underwent metamorphosis. Cherubimon is an industrial data-maintainance Digimon with a variable / corrupted bottleneck variable code value that alternates between 0 and 1 throughout her development before solidifying (“baking”) upon adulthood. This switching code value results in a chaotic developmental path that constantly rewrites her physical build until the biocomputer reaches her final stage. In Cyberspace the forms of these Digimon will not change unless they are in possession of a script or application that masks their current form with that of an alternate form, related to their code (evolutionary) tree or not. Biocomputers in real space do not possess real-world equivalents of their abilities that come into play in Cyberspace only, such as armour or weapons or other abilities.

Survive Or Die - E.D Part 1

Requested: hello! can you please make an imagine of either of the twins but in the world of the walking dead? thank you! ☺️

Warnings: Talk of suicide and hopelessness 

Summary: Your all alone in the zombie apocalypse when Ethan saves you from yourself. He takes you back to his compound, but it seems far to good to be true. Is it? 

A/N: The first part is a story filler, but I promise you, part 2 is going to be JUICY

Silence. Pure silence. I remember when I used to pray for the type of quiet that surrounded me, but now? It’s just chilling to the bone. I also remember when I used to lie in the sun for hours on end, lathering myself in tanning oil so I could get that perfect summer tan. Now the sun on my skin is a burden, and a hazard. The dry leaves crunch under my hiking boots as I trudge through the abandoned streets, searching for an untouched shop to gather some supplies. Most of the shops within this area have been barricaded shut to keep others out, or something in. I’ve learnt that it’s best to leave those shops alone to avoid my inevitable death, for I prefer that my life ends the way I want it too; and that is not being eaten alive. I haven’t seen a living human for what feels like years, but according to the days I track, it’s only been six months. My thoughts have become a dot point list, the poetic rhythm that used to exist has disappeared with the hope and faith I once had. I don’t even remember what music sounded like anymore! I think that’s what I miss the most. Music

“Common Y/N, we’re going to be late if you don’t hurry up!” my friend grumbled from the outside of the bathroom door as I applied the finishing touches of my makeup. I took a step back and did a slight twirl in the mirror, allowing a slight smirk to spread across my dark red lips.
“Well done Y/N, well done” I smile to myself as I exit the bathroom like I didn’t just spend two hours getting ready.
“YAS BABE” my best friend shouted, signalling me to do a twirl.
“Jesus, you’re making me want to turn lesbian for you!” she giggled, spilling some champagne onto the floor.
“Woops” she giggled loudly. I shook my head and joined in on her laughter, as I grabbed my keys and purse and headed out the door towards the all-to-familiar-clubs. I swear, we came here every weekend, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Oh my favourite valley girl” the regular bouncer winked as he unclipped the black rope, allowing us to enter the club without paying the entrance fee. I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek in appreciation, as the bass thudded against my chest, the music blaring its way into my veins. I tilted my head back as I let myself lose control amongst the dancing bodies, the mixed smell of sweat and spilt drinks filling my senses. I jumped up and down and swayed my hips to the remixed song, as a stranger gripped them tightly and moved his body against mine. I swung around to see my dancers face, and was welcomed by some beautiful baby blue eyes and a devilish smirk. I gave my award winning smile, and laced my hands around his neck, our bodies moving in sync like we’ve known each other for years. I guess the concept of dancing with strangers has always intrigued me the most. You learn more about someone by the way they dance under the influence of alcohol through their body movements then you could ever in a ten-minute conversation, and my lovely stranger was a kind lover at most. His hands never drifted away from the small of my back, or my hips, and his lips never met my neck. He stayed a respectable distance away from me, but close enough to feel his breath against my exposed skin. But like any breath-taking night, the sun rises and your problems resurface with it, but god what I would do to have danced with him into another night. Y/N, wake up. Y/N YOU HAVE TO RUN!

I heard the all too familiar noises carve their way into my mind as the heavy footsteps echoed in the distance. I guess it was my time to run, or I could stay. I could stay here and use the gun shoved into the back of my cargo pants and pull the trigger. I stared into my enemies eyes as the lifeless bodies stumble their way towards the smell of blood and the sound of a heartbeat. I felt the thick layer of sweat form against my forehead, as I wiped it away briskly with the edge of my sleeve. I gripped the gun in my pocket tightly as my hand shakily brought it to my temple. It was now or never. I closed my eyes tightly and expected to see a bright light, or darkness for eternity, but all I heard was a shout.
Don’t what? I must have imagined it, it’s my subconscious trying to survive. The voices in my head sounded awfully close to me though.
“Please don’t! We have to run now if we’re going to make it!” the voice continued. I opened my eyes to see a strained male standing in front of me with a worried look. At first sight he was beautiful, but you could tell that the ‘apocalypse’ had taken its toll on his features. Some tiny scars were sprawled randomly across his picturesque face, and his eyes looked sleep-deprived. He took my silence as a ‘yes’ and grabbed my arm roughly, tugging me along with him as we sprinted down the street. There was a parked car with the engine still running, with a few other guys in the back seat, and two sitting in the utes tray. He picked me up by the waist and lifted me swiftly into the tray as the two other guys motioned for me to grab onto the makeshift rail they had melded onto the top of the utes roof. The car launched forward abruptly as it sped down the street and took a few rights and lefts. I felt my heart beat loudly in my ears as my eyes darted between everyone. They were all quiet well built, which means they had a constant food source and water supply. They also had numerous weapons, including guns. Which means they could kill me at any second. So either, I took my chances now and dove off onto the side of the road, or I stuck with them to see if they take me somewhere later and kill me there. I decided to take my chances and stay. 

~ ~ ~ ~

After what felt like an hour or two, but I couldn’t actually gage the time because I didn’t have a working watch or anything, we arrived at what looked like a once small community filled with houses and shops, but was now barricaded with tall walls and guards. The car slowly entered the compound as my eyes took in the sight before me. Kids and families all walked around freely like the world wasn’t crumbling at their feet. There were rows of crops and farm animals in the far corner, and soldiers participating in what I can only assume was regular training. This seemed to surreal. This can’t be real, I must have died.
“It’s real, I promise you” the stranger that saved me laughed as he extended his hand to me. I laced my hand into his as I jumped onto the ground, stumbling a bit. I was starving and fatigued without a doubt, and that sprint took a lot out of me.
“You need to eat pronto” he smiled kindly, still holding onto my hand. I snatched it out of his grip and looked him up and down, automatically questioning if I could take him on in a fight if I needed too.
“You have no reason to fear me. I won’t ever hurt you” he said softly, as he lightly touched my shoulder comfortingly. My chest heaved almost like I was having a panic attack, but I never really had the time to ‘freak out’ anymore.
“My names Ethan” he tilted his head, his dirty brown hair flopping messily into his eyes.
“Y/N” you whispered, as a ball drifted towards your feet. You looked down at the almost foreign object, and back up to its owner. A young boy who must only be around 10 years old, smiled at you and held his arms open wide. You kicked the ball over to him and looked back to Ethan.
“Welcome to my home”

I’m sorry to learn that the latest issue of “Island” will be the last. Since mid-2015, editors Brandon Graham and Emma Rios have been putting out one of the most interesting comics anthologies of the 21st century: a fantastical mix of wild, free-spirited comics, a great showcase for up-and-coming talent. Island has been the real deal: a future-forward anthology offering startling new discoveries in almost every issue.

It’s been inconsistent of course, and at times maddening in its narrative vagueness or incompleteness, but also spectacular. For every piece that didn’t quite come off, there were others that will stay with me, some for their visionary image-making, some for their narrative guts, some for both.

Island was not curated with the same rigor, or consistency of craft, as famous anthologies like “Raw” or “Drawn & Quarterly” Vol. 2 or 3; certainly it wasn’t comparable to a deluxe book-length anthology like “Kramer’s Ergot.” It was a semi-monthly magazine that came out often enough to have momentum (I was always surprised when a new one came out on the heels of the previous, though it happened often enough). In that sense, it was more like “Dark Horse Presents,” but with, I think, more personality. It had a real vision.

In terms of combining frequency and vision, maybe Mome is the closest thing in recent comics? But “Island” centered on fantasy, SF, and dreamlike surrealism; it wasn’t so much in the post-underground vein of alternative comix, but instead showcased a new generation of graphic talents inspired by, among other things, the luxuriant world-building and eccentric fantasies of anime, manga, and webcomics. The vibe was closer to the old “Heavy Metal” than to any alt-comics anthology. Contributors to Island often wore their influences on their sleeve: Miyazaki, Moebius. But it was a lovely mix, and not at all predictable (it wasn’t only epic fantasy and trippy SF).

Recent issues seemed a bit, what, rushed? That is, they lacked the lovely overall packaging and editorial quirkiness of the early numbers, which had often pushed the boundary between comics and illustration with non-narrative features, opening suites of drawings, and graphic flourishes separate from “stories”: mesmerizing filler (anything but filler!) from artists like Will Kirkby, Jose Domingo, F Choo, Patrick Crotty, Ben Sears, and Xulia Vicente. Look closely at those, and sometimes stories creep out; in any case, they’re transporting and fun to look at.

There were great covers on the book too, from artists like Rios, Graham, Gael Bertrand, Amy Clare, Farel Dalrymple, and Marian Churchland.

“Island” boasted some intriguing serials, including Rios’s “I.D.,” Dalrymple’s revival of “Pop Gun War,” Grim Wilkins’s wordless epic “Miranda,” Graham’s “Multiple Warheads,” Bertand’s “A Land Called Tarot,” Simon Roy’s “Habitat,” and Malachi Ward and Matt Sheean’s superb SF tale, “Ancestor” (those last three have already been collected as books). It also included some searching queer-positive work, including Onta’s furry fantasy “Badge of Pride” and Michelle Perez and Remy Boydel’s spare and subversive series “The Pervert” (the last installment of that was incredible). And there were many strong stand-alone stories, by artists like F Choo, Michael DeForge, and Dilraj Mann (two very strong pieces from Mann, including #3’s “Queue,” a head-spinning experiment in form).

Yes, there were some muzzy, unfinished-seeming stories in the book, and some that struck me as just too derivative. It was a mixed bag. But it was a magazine on a schedule, and still it amazed. Besides, when it comes to thinking about the future of comics, I love a mixed bag. If later issues included serials that didn’t float my boat, always they included other stories that did.

I gotta say, for $8 a pop, this roughly 72 to 100-page comic magazine always delivered plenty of bang for buck.

Such a brave, quixotic experiment. I am sorry to see it go.

I am disappointed and angry that this is the best for art I have been able to bang out over the last several weeks, everything has been sub-par (look at this BS), not even a shred of half-decent writing, either. I just have to admit it at this point that I’m wading through artistic and emotional burnout, have been since September, and I have nothing left. My work has become adversely affected no matter how deliberate the approach, and because of this, all remaining commissions are cancelled. I don’t want to chance sub-quality deliveries for paid work. Clients still in the queue will be contacted before the end of tomorrow, and refunds provided. Commissions are now permanently closed.

I am going to take a break from the internet. I meant to wait until closer to the New Year, but the burnout is too much - I just don’t have the energy to keep up the cheer and enthusiasm of this blog right now. Too much has happened this year on the personal side, and I need to recuperate.

I will be away for between three and six months, while I take care of things. This blog will be essentially silent / go dark until between March and June, wherein I might start popping by to queue up art. I promise nothing however, it could very well remain silent until June. For those who submitted Koops for the Kooper Party, the Party has not been cancelled but no art will appear until next year, if any is produced.

I apologise that I am taking off in such a huff, folks. All I can say is that I am in great need of rest. Before I go I will leave one last thing - a small bit of older writing from the still-developing Appendix being written for IO, for those who have waited so very patiently for new material:

GLUTTONY, the Second Level – Hell / Level
Considered Hell’s greatest desert, Gluttony is an inhospitable, nigh-lifeless expanse of grey, scabbed earth. Its mantle is the thickest and least malleable in Hell. Few crops are known to be able to take root there without considerable effort. The strains of native Abyss-life are scattered and equally uncooperative as their home. Ruled by Yomesh under the Crown of Teeth, the disc is bejeweled by a single city, Nis, an urban monument to excess. Nis segregates itself from Gluttony via a great, hideous chasm that cuts into the ceiling of Wrath far below, being connected to the rest of Gluttony only by a single bridge that is patrolled at all hours. The Level’s history and its people are spotted with controversy and conspiracy.

As an environment, Gluttony is best described as a wasteland. Its tough mantle permits little to take root, and suffocates most of what can. Cut or peeled layers shift and heal over with a surprising aggressiveness and rapidity unique to the Level, closing over tilled land and squeezing buildings out of their foundations. Keeping the mantle from reforming over gardens and settlements takes constant vigilance and labour. Unchecked, the mantle’s regrowth can shift over, swallow, or otherwise bury a developed area of ten miles within one month. Mantle scarring, a method of curing Hell’s earth for development using acids or fire, is extensively used in Gluttony to slow the regrowth of its mantle. However, maintaining this practice comes at considerably low benefit, as the resources required to burn the flesh of the Level are not native to the disc.

Gluttony’s colonisation came at great expense of the people of Dis with multiple failed expeditions, a fallen capital, and the speculated deaths of several millions of Demonfolk. Sitting squarely between Pride and the remainder of Hell, the untamed disc’s acknowledged but unknown hazards made trade problematic and inefficient. Gluttony developed a sordid reputation of swallowing dignitaries, trade caravans, and other parties without trace or discrimination. Those who managed to enter and further leave the Level unharassed described naught but a grey, folded plain devoid of domesticable vegetation. With no true descriptions of the Level’s facets, Gluttony became regarded as an unknowable “blank expanse” in Hell’s make for millennia. With both its Crown unclaimed and its Damned untapped, the exploration and colonisation of Hell’s final disc was considered the greatest remaining undertaking of modern Hell. Conquering the Level was an incredibly attractive prospect to greater demons of the time hoping to secure their future as notables in Hell’s history. As a result, the disagreeable nature of the second Level was challenged many times by eager settlers. The majority of such parties either disappeared or returned defeated by the disc’s inhospitality. [further text omitted]

And with that, I wish you all a happy, safe winter season and new year. I will see you in 2015. Contacts, if needed, are located in the sidebar of this blog.