#and i . genuinely appreciate that So so much;;

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the Wife at First Sight series)

When Ghost had asked if you would help him with something, you’d answered yes without a question. You didn’t ask for details, smiling and thanking him every time he opened each door that led to the base’s parking garage, giggling when he even insisted on opening the truck door for you. You’d come to grow fond of your work husband, appreciating how he never failed to make you feel special.

You sometimes wished his affections were genuine, rather than part of what you’d assumed was a strange hazing ritual in the military (which you couldn’t deny kind of worked, the two of you had grown closer hadn’t you? Was that the point of hazings?).

But you knew that line of thinking wouldn’t lead anywhere, other than potential heartbreak. He surely was only joking around, wouldn’t return your feelings. That’s why you played along with the ruse, but tried your best not to fall too hard for the man who was making that more and more impossible.

Still though, you couldn’t deny the pang in your heart when you discovered the errand he requested your help with, was to go look at engagement rings.

Did he actually have someone special in his life? Someone he hoped to propose to?

You felt guilty, thinking there might be another person out there that he loves enough to ask them to marry him, all the while you’re enjoying his attention at work, pretending he could ever actually want you as his wife.

You follow him into the shop, eyes widening at the never ending cases and displays of shiny, glittering jewelry, as far as the eye can see.

He chuckles at your expression, telling you not to worry your pretty little head over any price tags, just to pick out whichever one you liked.

You appreciated that he trusts your judgement so much that he wanted your opinion on which ring to buy his partner, and so you take your time looking through them all, even if it makes you sad to picture him slipping this ring onto another person’s finger.

Gaze scanning the displays, your eye is instantly caught by one ring and one ring only. You point to it, Ghost humming in agreement, signalling for one of the employees behind the counter to unlock the case.

The man pulls the ring out, handing it to the Lieutenant who examines it in between gloved fingers.

“Let’s see how it fits.” He murmurs, taking your left hand in his and slipping the band onto your ring finger, both of your eyes locked on the movement.

“Like a glove.” The employee says with a smile, moving to gather a selection of ring boxes he hopes to show you both, seeing that the ring has evidently found its owner and fits perfectly.

“It’s really beautiful Ghost.” You tell him, admiring the ring as he admires your expression. “Your wife’s a lucky woman.” You add, thinking of the mystery woman you’re convinced he’s buying this for, assuming you must have a similar ring size to her or something, if he’s having you try it on.

Your eyes meet his own warm gaze as his hand folds your fingers, bringing the ring up to his lips to press a kiss through the mask.

“Not as lucky as I am to be her husband.”

[jesteriajunovix]

I really love this post.

Talking about the implicit harms and toxicity within this Era of Internet Fandom fucking bangs.

There are so many layers of non-indulgence on the part of fans that create this "death of the author" bubble where the themes are melted into the shape of varying crude enigmatic desires.

It's very bizarre the scale of how much of it potentially isn't just ignorance, but a choice to ignore implication too. A very harmful thought that seems to be able to come from all forms of identities & fandom is the idea "I need this".

I need them to be gay, (Fujo Territory, and Toxic BL or GL)

I need them to be white, (White)

I need them to be in pain,

(sensationalized feeling externalized via the art of a character without thought of the contextual reality of what the art may represent to others. [Drawing young characters being bloodied, centering ones venting around depicting a character of another race being tormented, or further brutalizing a character tastelessly.]

and so on.

This idea of needing these characters in these ways and these ways showing themselves to be in demand for a fair share of a fandom's population genuinely is several studies and conversations to be had.

I say this with the intention of not coming off as pessimistic, but I do wonder if there will ever be a time when mediums, and media placed in this category of digital entertainment will be something communally more mature on a broader scale as the people who care about what other generations have deemed as "time wasting" art become more important in facilitating the safe spaces and environments in which this art is discussed and held.

Digital Communal Responsibility. Stronger Social Contracts.

There are so many social issues to worry about before we can really even consider getting there, but I have hope in my heart we will somehow.

It's too easy to ignore the task of actually indulging the meaning of art. Such a growing form of stagnation is so dangerous.

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

Thematic Questions

do you know what your reaction to the media you consume means within the reality of your identity as it intersects with others?

Where do you think an artist's artistic intent comes from?

did it come from a healthy or unhealthy place?

how might your headcanon relatively align or contradict the health state of their art?

does your headcanon come from a healthy or unhealthy place?

Is the way you indulge art amongst fandom and community healthy?

how & why?

This isn't a "put a shirt on" thing. Do your conclusions feel right to you? I can only ask that you explore that for yourself as your ideas surrounding art grow alongside you as a person.......

again SUPER good post from zzxid. They constructed such a good point in such a good way and I appreciate people who can use words like this.

I genuinely think Mouthwashing fandom is a good example on how real life misogyny is very wired on people brains and influenced how they engage with fictional misogyny.

You have a story about a woman being assaulted and telling a man he trusted but being dismissed because he is friends with the attacker, and people fixate on shipping her with either of those me.

You have a story about how men that downplay their male friends violence, assume neutrality is the safer option, unintentionally help create an environment that's unsafe to vulnerable people, at a risk becoming a victim themselves. And people make it about toxic yaoi.

You have a character kill herself because she didn't want birth the child of her abuser. And people make AUs where she happily keep the baby.

Misogyny isn't just "I hate this women", it's also downplaying their trauma, defending those who caused it, and reducing them to mothers or wives against their wished under this idea of what womanhood is about.

I don't think we can separate fandom misogyny from it's real world influence, not yet.

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Do the twins ever get attached to stanfraud? Does bill get attached to them too? what is their relationship like? and what is their immediate reaction to finding out everything was a lie -- first impressions? GAAHH I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS i'm ur biggest fan bro

Thank you so much!! It really means a lot that people are enjoying my madness this much!

It’s funny because earlier I was actually doodling him and the twins!

He absolutely gets attached and they get attached in return. While their initial introduction to him is very rocky, they come to enjoy his quirks and unusual interests, especially once Dipper puts together he was the author, and he regularly supervises them on adventures, mainly because Stan asked him too, but also because it’s strangely fun. He will repeatedly claim he hasn’t gone soft to Stan, but then Stan will find him fast asleep with the twins curled up against him, or he’ll catch him helping the twins in their respective Dipper and Mabel’s guide videos. He also likes Mabel Juice! Mabel won’t take his suggestion of adding eyeballs though. Alas.

His feelings towards them are made complicated by his own denial. He doesn’t like the idea that he’s changed much at all, and these new doubts he’s experiencing about his original plans are not thoughts he’s willing to entertain for long. He gets snappy when Stan tries to reassure him it’s okay that he cares, because he doesn’t care, he’s just… playing a role. That’s all. It’s all one big lie. He can do lies. But that doesn’t really explain the genuine panic he experiences when Dipper and Mabel are in danger, and how quickly he jumps in to protect them nor does it explain the fuzzy feeling in his chest when Mabel knits him a sweater.

He’s not the same as he was thirty years ago. That’s a fact. And thirty years was once just a blip for him, but this has felt like he’s lived a whole new life.

And on the flip side, Dipper and Mabel care a lot too. He’s off-putting and he’s strange and he says some things that imply he may have committed murder and gotten away with it, but they like being around him. It isn’t always perfect, same as it is with Stan, but the rougher patches don’t tend to last, and they reconcile by the end of the day (although, Bill is usually incapable of saying sorry verbally and shows his apology through actions instead).

Dipper for one hasn’t really had anyone he can just ramble about nerd stuff with. Bill can actually keep up with Dipper, and they both find themselves enjoying the debate they have about inter dimensional travel, or what sort of haunting would be the most annoying to deal with. Dipper does sometimes catch his uncle looking at him strangely though, almost as though he’s seeing right through Dipper and looking at someone else, but he blinks and the odd look is gone, so he must have imagined it.

Bill does sometimes push Dipper’s buttons, of course, and never gives him direct answers, usually making him look for the answer himself, or read between the lines, which Dipper comes to appreciate as it, so he claims, trains his mind for mysteries. They have a very fun back and forth, honestly. Dipper thinks Stanfraud is the coolest despite all the annoyances, and he really does try his best to impress him.

Mabel meanwhile is just her usual bundle of energy, and charms her great uncle by involving him in her unhinged hijinks, and showing him the art of glitter bombing. She meets him where he’s at! Even though he can sometimes be a little extreme, even for her, she pushes herself out of her comfort zone, mainly because of what Stan told her, about how Ford lost his mind while alone. Well, she can’t have that! She makes a real effort trying to understand him, and why he thinks the way he does.

He also weirdly gives her some good advice whenever Pacifica tries to bring her down, and Mabel is both comforted and inspired by how weird he is, even in his old age. He never lets anyone shame him out of it, and he encourages Mabel to just “Be weird! Your fleshbag life is short! Why waste it caring what lesser skin puppets think?”

Bill unknowingly allows both Dipper and Mabel to feel more comfortable in themselves because of how unapologetically ‘him’ he is.

Sorry if this is messy, by the way, I’m just writing my thoughts as I go along.

Anywho, I think all of this makes finding out everything was a lie very hard hitting for them. Mabel tries to rationalise it, that sure, maybe he wasn’t really their Grunkle, but he still loved them like he was, and they loved him like a Grunkle, meanwhile Dipper reacts very negatively, because he really thought he had found someone like him, someone he confided a lot in, and now he thinks he made the wrong choice, that he was an idiot.

And Stan lied too. He admits the biggest mistake he made was not telling them, but it’s too late for that now.

The one bright side, if you can call it that, is Stan and Bill do tell them before they get Ford back. They think they’ve finally found the way to do it, and Stan wants the kids to know before they try it, give them time to process.

Okay I’ll end there for now! Thank you so much again!

[hitomisuzuya]

stepcest Scara catching reader listening to whimper audios so he helps her get off by fingering her till she cums the same time the whimper audio did PLSSS your fics are so delicious long ily

stepcest, DNI if it makes you uncomfortable, please. scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. fingering. squirting. masturbation. one word of degradation.

thank you so much, dear🥺 i appreciate your kind words.

you have been very frustrated lately. you have to do something to vent the enormous crush you have on your stepbrother. especially lately, even trying to make causal conversation with him or accidentally brushing up against him in passing often left you incredibly wet.

whimper audios were your best friend. when no one was home, listening to them was the quickest, easiest way for you to get yourself off.

you usually took extreme precautions, leaving your clothes right next to you in case you had to dress in a hurry. however, things don't always work out exactly like you anticipated.

scaramouche was being treated to quite the sight right now. leaning in the doorway of your room, he feasted his eyes on you in only your panties, your legs spread and one hand tugging and pinching your nipple. the fingers of your other hand hastily skating over your clit, your eyes squeezed shut as your hips rocked up to grind your clit on the pads of your fingers.

you twitched and squirmed restlessly, occasionally giving your other nipple attention. you are struggling to muffle your moans despite the fact that you thought you were alone.

"scaramouche. scaramouche," you moan so cutely, your fingers messily skating across your throbbing clit a little faster each time you whimpered out his name. you are practically shaking, gripped with the need to find some sort of sexual relief. the rapid build up of pleasure gathering in your clit, your walls squeezing around nothing made you careless. forgetting everything around you, leaving with no awareness.

consumed by thoughts of scaramouche doing things to you that would make you whimper like the ones in the audio.

smirking, scaramouche walked over to your bed, and plucked one of your ear buds out of your ear. "are you kidding me?" he asked, putting the earbud in his ear out of curiosity. "there are better things out there to get yourself off."

you didn't think you'd ever been so startled in your life. your fingers automatically left the inside of your panties, your arm immediately going up to cover your chest. stunned, you realized that you would rather anyone else walk in on you but your step brother.

"scara! what are--" you sputtered, your cheeks couldn't have felt warmer from embarrassment. "you can't just walk in here. i thought you left for the afternoon," you practically smacked the pause button on your phone.

"what? like you are mad about it," he teased, holding your ear bud out of your reach as you lunged for it. "don't stop on my account. please, continue. i was getting hard and enjoying the show."

your mouth dropped open, genuinely at a loss for what to say. you watched, wide eyed as he reached over and rewound your audio. "what are you doing?" you asked, reaching for your clothes.

scaramouche put a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down on your bed. "you poor thing. i can tell from the way your body was twitching that you are so pent up," he purred, enjoying the way your cheeks flushed darker. "let me help you out," parting your legs, his knuckles brushed against your pussy outside of your panties.

"what? would you really?" the words tumbled out of your mouth. you shouldn't be this position with your stepbrother, nor should you say such things to him. but here you were, more wet oozing onto your puffy, neglected pussy just from the thought of scaramouche helping you out.

"of course," he continued in a honeyed, slightly condescending tone as he pressed play. "what kind of stepbrother would i be if i didn't help my precious stepsister discover there are better ways to get off," he nudged your panties aside, his cock pulsing feeling you soak on his fingers as they dipped between your folds. "especially since you were thinking about me the whole time."

"i wasn'-" you protested, shivering as your hips twitched to grind on his fingers as they grazed your clit teasingly.

"oh, no?" scaramouche circled your clit before giving it a light, wet smack. your hips jolted off the bed, and you moaned like your body had just gotten something it'd been deprived of all your life. "scaramouche, scaramouche," he mocked your earlier moans, tracing the outline of your sopping cunt, "please, you sounded so pathetic it was adorable," he pushed two fingers inside of you.

his fingers launched an all out assault on your pussy, hooking his fingers to the knuckle and slowly stretching you apart. he timed the strokes into your sweet spot with the whimpers in the audio, your juices pooling syrupy onto his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you.

"your whimpers sound so similar to the ones in your silly audio," scaramouche snickered, his eyes following your hand as it scrambled up to pinch and roll your nipple "how cute," he pulled his fingers out of you, sweeping them up to rub and tease your clit.

you mewled as your walls squeezed empty around nothing, desperate to swallow his breathtaking fingers back inside your cunt. it wasn't long before your whimpers mingled in time with the audio. you quite frankly were in awe at his skill, skill you'd cum so hard thinking about him actually having. and it more than showed in your pleasured, fucked out expression as he bullied your sweet spot.

"that's my good girl. keep looking at me just like that," he emphasized the last three words with harsher pumps, making pleasure shatter through your core. "keep looking at me like i'm the center of your world. maybe i'll stuff these pretty holes full of toys next time."

you moaned louder hearing the promise of a next time in his voice. "you are practically suffocating my fingers, slut," he groaned, his cock straining and leaking precum in jeans watching you fall apart on his fingers.

your orgasm was building up at a dizzying level, his fingers squelching lewdly as your hips bucked into his fingers. you clawed at his wrist, writhing on the bed. scaramouche chuckled seeing you suddenly squirt all over his fingers. you must not have known you could do that judging from the startled look on your face.

a look that only last a few moments, his fingers hooking into your sweet spot just right. you shook, letting out a high pitched cry of blissed relief, cumming hard on his fingers.

scaramouche fingered you through your orgasm until the audio was finished playing. "see? it was that easy surrendering to me," he purred, licking his fingers clean once he pulled them from your pussy.

[mymegrokosmos]

cheol bf brainrot that no one asked for bc smth a friend sent me sparked a thought tonight so thank k👑 for this one.

I am so sane and normal about this, yup.

seungcheol insists on carrying everything for you. From your purse to your amazon order and even the groceries. Why would you need to handle silly tasks like struggling up to your apartment with big boxes when he's there to do the heavy lifting for you?

On top of being his passenger princess one of the things you took a while to come to a compromise with in your relationship was being taken care of. Letting him do things for you without feeling like you're taking advantage. He insists he does these things for you because he likes to, that it makes him feel better to know you're eating good meals and that he likes when you take over the aux from the passenger seat or talk him through your day while he drives home after work with you on speaker phone.

At first it made you uncomfortable being so pampered all the time. You quickly came to learn the seungcheol's love language is acts of service. Doing these things for you like ordering you dinner when he can't be there to take you out, or picking you up after a night out with your friends when you lose track of time and miss the last bus. So when you eventually start taking joint trips to the grocery store, it's no surprise that you don't get to lift a single finger.

Pushing the cart? He's got it. Reaching the things on shelves too high for you? He's already asking how many you need. Getting your dairy products from the cold freezer section? You stand watch over the cart and stay warm while he picks out the exact brands and flavours he knows are your favourites. And, of course, he insists on carrying the bags back out to the car. You can take a couple of the lightest ones but only because you sulked about it. He insists that he needs you to have one hand free for the keys so you can pop the trunk for him but you both know that's just an excuse to save your pride.

He pouted when you even brought up the possibility of helping so here you are, watching him load the bags while you wonder what good deed you did in your past life to have earned a partner so full of care and genuine love for everyone in his life. It's also just a little bit unfair how handsome he looks in track pants, a plain t-shirt, oversized hoodie and baseball cap perched backwards on his head. He pauses to lift it when he finishes, running a hand through the dark mop of hair that just seems to keep getting longer every time you blink.

"Hey, honey?"

He comes over to see what you need. "Yes jagi?"

The crease in his brows only serves to endear you further. You don't answer right away, too distracted by your fond musings, and it deepens. He taps your cheek gently. You snap out of your thoughts. He looks concerned.

"Everything okay baby?"

You nod. One hand comes up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over one half of the set of dimples that just make you want to eat him. He leans into your touch, smiling softly, but doesn't take his eyes from yours.

"You sure?"

You smile. "Yeah. I'm good."

Instead of explaining you just lean up, pressing a kiss to the cheek not currently nuzzling against your palm. He kisses your hand.

"Thank you Cheollie."

"For what?"

"For always being such a gentleman."

He blinks. You know it's just second nature to him. He doesn't think twice about the way he does these things. That doesn't make them any less meaningful or appreciated.

You take advantage of his confusion to plant a kiss on him. He just stares at you when you pull back. Your hand slides down to rest on his chest and that seems to snap him back into action. He pulls you in, one hand on your waist, and blinks at you.

"Baby?"

"Yes Cheol?"

"Do that again." You quirk a brow at him. "Please."

His smile when you pull away, much more slowly and reluctantly this time, is worth it. He isn't even looking when he tugs you a few steps back with him, out of the way of the small car pulling out of the parking spot beside you. When you blink up at him he's still grinning. He holds out a hand for the keys, not letting you go as he gets the passenger door and helps you in.

"Let's go home."

"Mhm."

The smile on his face didn't falter the whole way home. Neither did the hand on your thigh, fingers laced with yours even as he pulled into the parking garage under your building.

Needless to say, you now reward him with kisses all the time. It's the one response to spoiling you that he can't complain about.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!

⊱ Those Three Words ⊰ || Mr. Silvair X Reader

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮   Character(s): Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Route End: Mr. Silver Hair 1), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror-Elements), Cultural Barriers (Mr. Silvair Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Slight Angst, Pre-Established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~3,280 Request: “Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!” Author’s Note: Mr. Silvair!!! He’s genuinely so pretty, y’all – it’s not fair. 😔 I find his overall character to be quite fascinating, and a part of me is really hoping the game gets a DLC or something to further expand on each of the character’s lore (and more moments with the MC, of course). Like game, what do you mean that some of the monsters may have been humans while others probably never were?? I desperately need more food… I headcanon that Mr. Silvair was either 1. never human, or 2. has been in the other world for a very long time, resulting in the loss of his memory as a human which could be why he’s so interested in researching them/maintaining the MC’s humanity. 🤔 But that’s just a theory – a game theory! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

Even after everything that had happened between you and this world’s resident human-enjoyer, you surprisingly still felt at ease with Mr. Silvair. That comfortability, though, made you think hard about your sanity. After all, it probably wasn’t normal to be comfortable around someone who enjoyed taking you apart and watching your body put itself back together over and over again. Yet, you did, and you didn’t mind your current arrangement as much as you probably would have in the past. 

Mr. Silvair’s home was destroyed in a fiery explosion (courtesy of himself), so you had offered to help him find a new one. You managed to locate a large room, one that he deemed satisfactory enough to call his base, and you had been staying with him indefinitely since then. As long as you had a comfy bed to lay in and someone else to keep you company, you were happy. 

Your other friends(?) frequently stopped by as well to say hello, the most common ones being Mr. Crawling and Mr. Chopped. While you were occasionally hit with a feeling of loneliness, it was hard to feel that way with so many friendly faces around. Well… maybe their faces weren’t that friendly, but they were kind and gentle with you, and that’s what truly mattered. 

You hear the sound of Mr. Silvair moving around in the room adjacent to the one you typically stayed in, and you wonder to yourself what his plans for today are. The tall, long-haired man spent most of his time engaged in research. You didn’t see him as frequently as one would expect despite the fact you two were practically roommates. All you could do was hope he wasn’t messing around with and subsequently angering any more terrifying, violent ghosts. You enjoyed your current home, and going out to look for another one wasn’t very high on your list of things to do. 

The Rubik’s Cube in your hand was still as scattered as ever, and it seemed like, no matter how long you spent trying to solve it, you were only able to successfully complete one side. Mr. Masque was kind enough to give it to you (he apparently had a whole stash of the things somewhere), and his gift was something you were immensely grateful for. Attempting to figure out the puzzle helped you pass the time wherever you were alone (and it most likely helped you keep your head on straight). 

You’re currently lying flat on your back atop the plush bed in the relatively empty living space, looking up at the gray concrete ceiling with a blank stare. Once you decide you’ve loafed around for long enough, you stand up slowly from the bed, placing the cube gently on the covers of the cot. You stretch your arms above your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat at the movement of your stiff muscles, and you begin to make your way to the other room where your… 

What even was Mr. Silvair to you? While yes, you were fond of him – hell, you’d go as far as to say you loved him – you knew he didn’t feel the same. You remember the moment he told you “I not understand like”, and that he didn’t want to save you from your condition, no… he found you entertaining to keep around, and that’s why he did what he did. 

It was complicated, you thought, trying to have a relationship with a being who didn’t grasp what the concept of love was. Deep down, though, you knew you wouldn’t change it for the world. He enjoyed your presence, and that was all you could ask for. 

You walk over to the metal door and knock, waiting for a response. After a moment, you hear Mr. Silvair’s voice echo, “Enter.”

The door opens with a slight creak as you twist the knob, peeking your head inside the somewhat grimy space. The room, still fairly new, didn’t have as much blood or gore as his old one did. There were fresh stains on the floor and wall, you noted, and you couldn’t help but wonder who or what they were from exactly. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, though, so you didn’t bother asking. 

You grin up at the taller man and give him a small wave, saying softly, “Hello. I not bother?”

He returns your smile, placing the scalpel in his hand on the stainless steel tray that held a variety of medical tools. It looked like he was in the process of cleaning the many, typically blood-stained, pieces of equipment. Mr. Silvair turns to face you and replies gently, “Hello. You not bother. Enter.”

Tilting his head to one side, his long, silver locks move when he does, cascading down his head and slipping off his shoulder at the movement. His smile drops slightly before he asks, “Feeling unwell? Injured? Need cure?”

“No, no cure.” You quickly say, not quite in the mood to be dissected or taken apart right now (honestly, though, you never really were, even if you did understand why it needed to be done). You pause by the door before finally shutting it behind you, the both of you now alone in the private and secluded space. 

Ugh – why was it so hard to say what was on your mind??

After taking a moment to build up your confidence, you tell Mr. Silvair while fidgeting with the rubber of the clear raincoat you wore, “I want see you. Communicate.”

He hums and smiles at your admission, walking over to you before placing a calloused hand on your face. Your eyes close on instinct, and your breathing shutters when he rubs his thumb across your cheek. A part of you wanted to be annoyed with him since he had to be aware of the effect he had on you, yet you didn’t want to run the risk of him removing his cool palm from your skin, so you kept your mouth shut. 

It had taken quite some time for Mr. Silvair to get to this point of physical affection with you (something he began doing more often after he saw how much you enjoyed getting head-pats from Mr. Crawling), so you didn’t want to ruin any progress you two had made in your complicated and unconventional relationship. 

“Okay,” Mr. Silvar starts, removing his hand from your face as he gestures to one of the two chairs in the room. He smiles down at you before saying, “Sit. We communicate.”

You do as you’re told without speaking another word, your hands folded in your lap after you sit down, watching Mr. Silvair take a seat on the chair across from you. You talk with him for quite some time, doing your best to update him on your current progress with the puzzle since that was pretty much the only thing you had going on in your life. While it wasn’t satisfying to speak in the other world’s language because it tended to miss most of the nuances of speech, it was the only way the two of you could communicate. 

Mr. Silvair seemed to pick up on your frustration, seeing you were growing annoyed at the lack of words in your arsenal – the term you were looking for wasn't coming to mind. In response, he tilts his head to the side and asks you, “You upset. Why?”

“Not right words.” You reply, brows furrowed when you look up at him, your gaze landing on the bloody bandages wrapped around his eyes. You turn your head to look down at the floor, the somewhat fresh pool of blood perfectly matching the color of the Rubik’s Cube. You point to the puddle and turn to ask Mr. Silvair, “What’s this called in your language? Can you tell me how to say this color?”

“Blood.” Mr. Silvair responds, not understanding what you wanted him to explain. 

“No, no.” You quickly reply, shaking your head. You continue to glance between him and the blood, enunciating your words even though he didn’t understand your language the same way you were able to understand his. You didn’t back down or give up, though, saying again, “The color – I want to know what color blood is.”

He pauses, one hand under his chin as he seemingly takes a moment to figure out what you are asking him. After a few beats, Mr. Silvair replies with a word you haven’t heard anyone speak before, “???”

You visibly brighten at the new word, and the expression on your face causes Mr. Silvair to let out a light chuckle before he crosses one of his legs over the other. You take a breath before telling him, “Okay. Thank you.” 

After another pause, you continue to speak, “So… One part object done, red part. Other parts hard – not finish.”

Mr. Silvair had been leaning forward in his chair, his elbow digging into his knee while his hand rested under his chin, holding his head up as he stared at you with an unwavering gaze. He always listened to you with rapt interest, and you would be lying if you said the constant attention didn’t make your heart stutter in your chest. However, he suddenly speaks, pointing to the pool of blood you had been gesturing toward moments before, “What you call that?”

“Huh?” You ask, pausing your story to look at him. Mr. Silvair doesn’t say anything else, though, giving you a moment to comprehend what he has asked you. You perk up when your brain finally registers what Mr. Silvair had said, replying to him happily, “Oh, that’s the color red. So, blood is typically red – blood red.” 

“R-ehd?” He echos, and the sound of his voice speaking a word that you were able to understand without having to flip through your mental dictionary had your breath hitching. It sounded so strange but so nice coming from his lips. 

“Yeah, red! Blood is red!” You say, sounding excited and oh-so happy. Mr. Silvair would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find the look on your face and the tone of your voice endearing. Then, your expression shifts slightly as you lean forward in your chair, saying enthusiastically, “Oh my god – I just got an idea! Me teach you me language!”

“...You language?” Mr. Silvair asks after a moment, shifting in his seat slightly. 

“Yes! Me teach you!” You reply, gesturing to both him and you with your hands. Your mind remembers the way Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped helped you shortly after you first arrived, teaching you directions to walk, facial expressions, and more. They had helped you expand your knowledge of this world’s language, and they were probably responsible for your survival in so many of those early interactions. So, you smile at him as you say, “We same.”

He returns a smile, nodding his head and replying with a simple, “Okay.”

“Alright, so, let me think here…” You hum to yourself, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes while you consider what you should start with. Body parts seemed to be the first thing that popped into your head, so that’s eventually what you decided to start with. Sitting up in the chair, you point toward your hand with the other, tapping a finger to your palm as you speak, “Okay, so, this is my hand – hand. Can you say hand?”

It was kind of cute, strangely enough, seeing Mr. Slivair take the time to repeat the word you spoke over and over in his mind, trying to match the movement of your mouth with his own. Your languages were quite different in sounds, syllables, and the like, so he was practicing what to say before actually speaking. After a few moments of contemplation, he replies, “...H-ah-nd.”

“Hey, that was pretty good! Not bad for your first try, Mr. Silvair, even if the pronunciation is a bit off.” You say with a wide smile, clapping your hands together as you applaud him on his efforts. He chuckles again, finding your way of teaching to be… sweet. 

Then, you speak again, once again grabbing his attention. You tap the pad of your finger under the skin of your eye, asking him, “Do you remember what this is called? I think I’ve told you before.”

Mr. Silvair is quicker in his response this time, having heard you ask him about his own eyes before as he smoothly says, “Eye.” 

“Yes! Good job!” You praise once more, giving him a thumbs up in response. Then, he stands up from his seat, walking over to you while his once-white lab coat flows behind him. You crane your head back to look up at him from where you were still sitting, a simple and stupid, “...Huh?” leaving your mouth. 

Mr. Silvair reaches a hand to your face, cupping your chin gently in his hand. You feel his thumb resting on your bottom lip, and he begins to move his finger back and forth along the slightly chapped flesh, tugging at it slightly. He tilts his head to the side, asking you seriously, “What this called?”

“Oh, uh…” You know your face is probably flushed beyond belief at this point if the heat cascading through your head is anything to go by, and your mind and heart are completely caught off-guard by his sudden touch and question. You avert your gaze to the side, swallowing harshly before you finally reply, “They’re my lips – they’re, umm… similar to mouth. Lips, mouth, same.”

“...Lips?” Mr. Silvair asks again for clarification, his voice having an almost husky tone to it that has a shiver travel down your spine. 

You nod in response, muttering a barely audible, “Yes…” 

Mr. Silvair hums at your response, a small smile gracing his lips. He leans down, face so close to yours, before he inquires with an almost teasing tone to his voice, “You want touch?”

“Y-Yes.” You answer at an almost embarrassingly fast speed. 

The man who you had grown so fond of chuckles at your enthusiasm before leaning forward, pressing his lips softly to yours while he holds your face between his palms. Kisses weren’t a common thing between the two of you, and they were really only something Mr. Silvair initiated when he felt like it. You could feel the intensity at which your heart was beasting due to his sudden affections, and there was a part of you that was worried it would burst out of your chest right then and there. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you tilt your head to the side, your hands coming up to rest atop his – his hands that were holding your cheeks so, so gently. It was almost sickening the way he was holding you like you could break at any moment. 

Then, almost as quickly as it began, the kiss ended before you even realized it did. Mr. Silvair’s forehead was now pressed against yours, and he doesn’t make any move to remove his hands from your face. Your lips were no longer touching, and yet he still lingered.  

Mr. Silvair didn’t play fair, you thought, yet you couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to kiss you so suddenly, so randomly. You close your eyes and your brows furrow at the tightening in your throat, an aching sensation slowly spreading throughout your chest like a disease before you whisper, “...I love you.”

There’s a silence, a stretch of nothingness before Mr. Silvair suddenly asks you, his voice just as soft as yours had been, “Repeat?”

“...No,” Your response is nearly immediate, and you shake your head before repeating once more, “Nothing.”

“...I love you.” The sound of those three words leaving his lips nearly causes your mind to implode. It sounded so sweet, yet it also felt worse than any suffering you had experienced before. The searing and excruciating pain, the feeling of a blade digging itself into the flesh of your torso couldn’t compare to the deep-seated torment you felt right now.

Mr. Silvair hums, tilting his head to the side as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks, “What mean?”

You knew there was no point, no reason to try and explain your feelings again, but you do. You still do, even though you know it’s pointless to try. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you speak, finding the concrete floor more interesting, “Mean… mean me like you. Lot like.”

There’s a pause, a moment of contemplation before Mr. Silvair says, “...Not understand.”

“I know.” You reply, nodding your head once in response. 

“You know?” He asks you, sounding somewhat confused, a tone you very rarely heard from the man. Had he forgotten that moment that you couldn’t seem to forget, the memory that you continuously found replaying in your mind like a broken record? It wasn’t fair, you thought, that only you were forced to hold onto such a painful memory. 

“You communicate before.” You clarify, finally willing yourself to look at his face. Mr. Silvair’s expression was tight, his lips drawn into a flat line. 

You needed to get away, to just run from this moment in the hopes he would forget the whole exchange just as he apparently did the last one. You take your hands and grab his wrists, removing his palms from your face before you stand up from the chair. You refuse to look at him as you turn, heading to the door as you utter, “...I’m going to go for a walk, so I’ll be back later. Goodbye.”

Then, you feel something tug at the sleeve of your raincoat. It wasn’t strong, nothing that would actually stop you from moving, but your legs proceeded to hault at the small action. Mr. Silvair says, his tone not demanding in the slightest – if anything, it sounded like a plea as he speaks, “No exit.”

You take a deep breath and turn around to face him, asking in such a small voice that it even caught yourself off-guard, “...Why?”

“I want you here.” Mr. Silvair responds quickly, so quickly it seems to have taken both of you by surprise. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he asks, finally releasing the material of your jacket from in between his fingers, “Stay… Will you stay?”

You once again find yourself wondering if Mr. Silvair was aware of the effect he had on you as a sigh leaves your mouth. You nod your head lightly and reply, “I will stay.”

“Good.” He says in response, a gentle smile on his face as he says for the second time, “I love you.”

You frown at him and shake your head, saying with a slight edge of frustration in your voice, “No speak. Not true.” 

“True… Believe true.” He says quickly, reaching out to once again place a hand against your cheek. You don’t move, don’t flinch away from his touch – you still relish the way he’s holding you like a fragile piece of glass. Mr. Silvair’s brows are furrowed ever so slightly as he mutters, “Confused.”

“You’re telling me… How do you think I feel?” You say with a huff, your hand holding into his as you find yourself nuzzling your nose into his palm. The painful feeling in your chest was still present, but it wasn’t nearly as excruciating as it had been now. You find it in yourself to smile, gazing up at him as you speak, “...but we’ll get through it together – we together. Right?”

“To-geh-ther…” He repeats, leaning down to press his forehead to yours once more as he says softly, “Yes.”

[evolnoomym]

Birds of a Feather 🌙☀️

General Masterlist | Joel Miller Masterlist | Support me |

Summary: A peek into the future.

Rating: 18+ mature content mdni!!!!

Word count: 0.8 k

Authors note: First of all Happy Birthday to my Wife @joelmillerisapunk and myself, I love you so much Sunshine (we are literally Scorpio twins) 🫶🏻 This was supposed to be something else, a whole multi-chapter Fic based around this couple (which I still plan on writing) but as you know my life kinda changed completely so I was busy with taking care of that instead. I hope y’all like this little gift I’ve prepared.

Warnings: no use of y/n, Female reader, Female OC, FFM, beautiful domestic vibes, getting married, implied age-gap, cock lol, throuple,

Shoutout to @saradika @strangergraphics and @steddiecameraroll-graphics 💛

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so if you come across mistakes it might be due to that. You are always welcome to talk with me about my writing. In general I appreciate comments, likes and reblogs greatly. 🫶🏻

If someone would’ve told you that your future is gonna look like this you would’ve never believed it. So full of love, happiness and joy, exactly what you deserve after all these painful years. You finally get to wake up and be happy about it. Free of the past that kept dragging you down into the abyss. Meeting Sunny changed everything, you spend hours day after day talking to her and never once getting tired of each other. Love at first sight. Within months the decision was made to leave everything behind, runaway and move in with her.

It may seem rushed to others, but not once since then did you regret leaving. Sunny and you quickly fell into a blissful domestic routine, waking up together in bed, making breakfast for each other, cleaning the house like maniacs together and let’s not forget about those countless trips to Costco while listening to music you both loved. Movie nights cuddled up on the couch, tending to the vegetable garden in the backyard and all the dates Sunny planned, showing off the beautiful hidden spots of her town.

Of course one day the topic of getting married came up and it wasn’t surprising that the both of you had similar dreams, tying the knot in Italy. A month after that conversation Sunny got down on one knee and popped the question, which of course you immediately said yes to. A couple weeks after she slipped that moon shaped diamond down your finger it was time to walk down the aisle. It was a small ceremony. One of the best days in your life, one you won’t ever forget. The day you married the love of your life.

A year has since passed and if someone, again, would’ve told you that it will get even better you would have not believed it.

Life was already pretty perfect, but then you met Joel Miller that fateful night, 6 months ago, at the local bar. Sunny and you had talked about sharing someone but the opportunity never came. Joel however was different from those other guys, his interest was not driven by perversion, no, he was genuine and respectful. A mature man who knows what it takes to make a gal happy. Broad shoulders, strong arms, the sweetest brown eyes and luscious brown locks streaked with grey.

In the beginning you felt like a traitor for feeling the way you did about Joel.

Sunny ever the Angel reassured you each time that you are not a bad person for loving more than one person, after all she loved him too.

Those doubts feel silly now as you stand in the kitchen of the house you three share. Glancing out of the big window above the countertop you can see Sunny in the garden outstretched on a big blanket. She’s soaking up the last rays of sunlight and the golden hues make her look so angelic. It’s November 10th, her birthday and yours too.

You quietly step out onto the porch, tiptoeing over to her, she seems to sense your presence and opens her eyes. “Hii Babygirl,” Sunny’s sweet voice greets you. As you sink down to your knees, she sits up on her knees and slides her arms around your waist. “What did you do inside?” Sunny asks after pressing her soft lips on yours. “I cleaned the kitchen,” you try to lean in for another kiss “Wait I already cleaned the kitchen this morning,” Sunny pulls back and tilts her head questioning “are you okay Baby?” She knows you so well. “Yeah I’m just nervous, do you think he has something planned for us?”

Sunny chuckles “I sure hope he does or else he won’t get his cock sucked tonight,” her boldness still makes you blush furiously “ awww Baby no need to get shy, it’s okay I know you love that cock.” She smirks and you can only nod bashful.

“Yes, but shouldn’t he do something to us?” You pout your lips and Sunny takes the opportunity to kiss you again. She strokes through your hair gently “He will definitely do something to us, but that gift you want probably the most has to wait for a little longer.”

“I know, maybe we can give him that for his birthday?” You suggest in a giddy tone.

“Would it really be a surprise if he’s actively involved in making that gift?” She retorts.

“No, but you know what I mean.”

“Yes I do, let’s talk about it with him okay sweet cheeks?” You nod.

Sunny’s attention is pulled to something behind you “Speaking of the devil,” Sunny smiles and points to something behind you.

When you whip around you see Joel with two huge bouquets in his arms, a big smile on his face and even after he’s worked a hard shift he still looks breathtakingly handsome. And when he opens his mouth to bless your ears with his deep Texas drawl you are immediately put at ease.

“There are my two pretty girls, now who’s ready for a Birthday Party?”

Friends: @beefrobeefcal @pedrospatch @penvisions @tightjeansjavi @aurorawritestoescape @milla-frenchy @strang3lov3 @guiltyasdave @xdaddysprincessxx @mountainsandmayhem @mrsmando @iamasaddie @syd-djarin @msjarvis @mermaidgirl30 @noxturnalnymph @sizzlingcloudmentality @the-mandawhor1an @yorksgirl @sin-djarin @thundermartini @clawdee @almostfoxglove @ace-turned-confused @always-andromeda @sawymredfox @morallyinept @ovaryacted @toxicanonymity @luxurychristmaspudding @rivnedell @moonlitbirdie @zloshy @sixhours @merz-8 @punkshort @beardedjoel @sp00kymulderr @joelslegalwhre @baronessvonglitter @tonysopranosrobe @pedropeach @ozarkthedog @joelsdagger @whocaresstillthelouvre @littlemisspascal

©️ evolnoomym 2024. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

[adhd-fandom-hyperfocus]

✧₊⁺ This Was Not In The Codex ✧₊⁺

Pairing: demetrian titus x reader(f)

Summary: Titus is on a much-needed leave on Macragge. While there he runs into you, or rather you run into him escaping terrible punishment for being unable to tell a lord no.

Part 2/?

Arthur's Note: I am terrible at keeping POV when writing in the third person and try to do omniscient, but again I am no real writer.

Warnings: Pregnancy (reader is pregnant), mentions of SA, and general gimdarkness.

18+ Minors DNI

★。------ ＼｜／------。★

Your mind fought with itself to stir from the imposed sleep it had put you under. The snaring embrace of the blankets you were so carefully tucked into, and the feeling of the fresh clean robe against your skin; it was heavenly. You could float away, or sink further into the mattress. Your body was weak, and in truth you were unsure if you could move from your spot on your own now. Throne, you were not even sure what had allowed you to push on as long as you had at this point.

The scent of fresh cooked food tantalized your nose, and your mouth watered to the point of drooling. Oh, how lovely it would be to taste what your nose offered. The soft moan from your mind fantasizing over the food you smelt confirmed your return to the waking world.

“Oh good you are awake. I heard you stir, but I was unsure if you would go back to sleep.”

That low timber voice, just enough roughness around the edges, yet so full and deep. You knew this voice; it was the angel.

That's right you were taken, no saved, by one of the Emperor's angels. The events of what got you to this point float back to the forefront of your mind, but there was much you had no recollection of, and that sent a chill down your spine. You were in new clothes, on a bed...your tired mind sprung into panic, what happened to you while you were too weak to even be awake? A wave of nausea hit you with panic that the angel was not as much your savior as you wanted them to be.

The sudden spike in your heartbeat and the rapid movement of your eyes did not go unnoticed by Titus, he frowned and raised his massive hands up so you could see them, “You are okay My Lady. I summoned chapter serfs, only female, to clean you and change you. I promise your body was respected. One of them had a robe from when they carried a child, and you wear it now. They washed you down with a cloth before you were seen by a medicae. I did sit in and observe your inspection. Allowed me to ask questions. The care for a woman with child is not taught within the Codex Astartes. It seemed the attending apothecary was also interested.”

A mix of a sense of duty now for his charge and genuine curiosity as it occurred to him he knew nothing of procreation, well he knew the basics, the very basics. And understood he would never yearn for it; at least that is what he's been told and believed. But everything else? Information not important to his existence and purpose, until now. And the things he read and saw made him appreciate baseline women all the more. Even with all their augments Titus did not think an Astartes could handle labor much better.

Though you started to relax a little, forcing yourself to believe him, after all even if it were a lie, what could you do? He could crush you like an ant under heel.

“I got you and the babe some food. I hope it is to your and their liking. Since I know nothing of these things, I asked some of our chapter serfs who were mothers. I did not realize carrying a child could cause such...creative desires of food,” Titus smiled warmly at you. He seemed genuinely happy with his dudillgince and the feast he brought for you. It was strange to see someone, mostly a revered angel, so happy to be helping something as lowly as you. It made you feel terrible; perhaps you were corrupted by the ruinous powers?

“And I made sure there is plenty to put more meat on you and the little one.” he continued. This was much different than the normal tasks he would be dealing with, and this learning, even of something so niche and useless to one such of himself, was better than feeling bored. Plus, he was helping. Titus hoped those above him and his primarch saw this favorably. Though Calgar was planet side and was so far sympathetic towards the situation, even upset to have to admit even Macragge wasn't free of such gross baseline nobles. It was always a harrrowing realization that, there will always be those who abuse any and all power they have.

You look over that the massive plate? No it looked more like a serving platter that had smaller plates upon it, piled high with food. Fruits, vegetables and so much cooked meats and breads. Your stomach growled angerly, demanding you eat what was there. The noise as not just so loud it spooked you, but also hurt.

Overly aware now how starved you were. Your lower lip quivered as you tried to shrink into the bed in embarrassment, and fear. This angel of The Emperor was gracing you with his presence and blessing you with his attention and you're over where making gross indignant sounds like some animal.

It was terrifying how quick Titus could close the gap, with speed you almost couldn't comprehend he was kneeling down on the side of the bed, trying to make himself seem smaller, and offering the most gentle expression. Though it didn't seem natural, practiced, but not forced.

“Please do not fret My Lady, you are not in any trouble. Your body is letting me know I am rambling too much, and you the little one need to eat!” he smiled, resting his large hands on the bed, waiting for you to reach out and touch them, but you couldn't.

He was divine and you were dirty. But those eyes, deep green eyes so soft and pleading while his face looked as if carved from stone. His eyes expressed what his facial could not. Still unable to touch him, you at least made a relented move towards them with a hand of your own.

“You can eat in bed, does that sound nice? Can you sit up on your own, or would you like my aid?” he asked so gently, again, betraying his mighty size.

With your best effort you tried to sit up but your body just couldn't support itself like that. With the fear of survival somewhat muted now, your body was done forcing itself to preform mighty feats like standing. But before you could ask, Titus with such gentleness supported you and guided you up and back so you might use a headboard for support.

Happy that you were nice and steady and stood to go grab the food, but your lip was still trembling. An angel of The Emperor shouldn't be waiting on you! This was beneath him and you were foul for this.

“Please, My Lord, I can-”

“Titus, and please do not fret My Lady. I want to help,” he replied as if he read your mind. He placed a bedside tray before you that had a plate of food piled high upon it, “Now, eat up, I got you plenty so worry not. I will get you more when you finish.”

When you finish? More? How much did he expect you to eat? All of it? You couldn't fathom more than a few bites! Still, you nodded and offered a weak smile. God Emperor you didn't want to displease him.

You tried to pick at the food, tear pieces of bread, or take spoonfuls of food, but you had no real strength, your grip was frail and you kept dropping things. Which caused you to shake and whimper that your failure to do as you were told would be met with anger. It always was. But instead the angel just cooed it was okay, as he started to feed you.

It was not something you noticed but Titus was keep focused attention on making sure he did not feed you too quickly, starting small, if not a bit awkward conversation. Watching you chew and swallow, counting as you two talked. He did not want to overwhelm you, and he was warned if you ate too quickly your body would expel it. And the food was made of dreams to you.

The babe in your belly and your stomach so pleased. Titus kept the conversation light, asking little simple questions like your name, and if you had a favorite color; joking about how Astartes know so little about baseline human health, so you would have to help him learn. He kept you happily distracted as gingerly gave you another bite and another. The way he so sweetly held food up for you and slipped into your mouth so you didn't have to risk any of the energy you had. Doing so with such care as to not spook you.

It was hard to not just let your guard down. Your body didn't have enough strength to fight. Like a prey animal that accepts it fate. That was how your lord always put it. Everything would be better if you just stopped fighting, and at a young age you did. But this? It did not even feel like a dream or fantasy, not like any your simple mind could fathom.

The way his eyes lit up when the moans of sheer pleasure and joy slipped out of you. Seemingly remembering which gave a stronger response and getting you more of that. He was so proud his choice of food was appealing to you.

“See, nothing to worry about. I will have you and the little one up to proper weight in no time. I will be monitoring your recovery and the babe's development.” he said with such a kind smile eyes drifting to your bump, but mindful to not touch it.

In fact all his touches were soft and minimal, but in ways to show he only wished for your comfort. As your chewing slowed, Titus became aware you were full, but perhaps unsure to tell him. And you were. You were worried he would be upset you had not eaten all he brought, and you were enjoying having an angel treat you like someone important.

“Are you full Little Mother? It is okay if you are. I was told not to force more than you are comfortable with.” he assured you

You nod meekly and removed the tray, pleased he got you to each as much as you did, a plate and a half. Not as much as he like, but then again he was warned baseline humans while they did was more often than Astartes their caloric intake was much less. But you had the baby...he sighed to himself, truly human women were complicated beings. Perhaps that was why they could not be Astartes. Their bodies were not simple and easily changed.

You yawned and Titus was easing you back down into bed. The medicae mentioned it might be like this for a while; eating and sleeping as your body regained some form of strength again.

“Thank you my-Titus,” you say quietly, drained from eating but also so content. You could not remember a time where you ever felt full.

“No thanks needed. I have things I must attend, but I promise to return. I will be nearby or another should you need anything. Just call. Our hearing is sensitive so you do not need to worry about being loud for us to hear.” he explained as he tucked you in and fluffed your pillow.

Feeling bold he ghosted one of his giant hands over your small bump. Too enthralled with the idea life was growing inside there to notice your smile. Truly, this was something to marvel at. To house life and nurture it so it could grow. No Astartes or Primarch as far as he was aware could even fathom doing that,

“Beautiful.” he mutters so quietly you baseline ears did not pick it up.

Titus looked up at you and you were already sleeping again. He gave your bump a gentle pat before standing and tending to other matters. Like another meeting with Calgar about why he had a pregnant serf in his room now.

[pbam0ney]

I do not mind and this is fucking awesome! Now I can have it as a wallpaper!

Thank you so much bro. I genuinely appreciate it.

do it :3

[haveihitanerve]

Had an idea but I forgor it so here's a different one

Bruce Wayne, concussed and on several strong painkillers, socializing with socialites from outside Gotham. They ask him about his kids and joke about how they all look so similar to him.

His brain, moving at about 3mph, does not register that his kids were ADOPTED (safe for one) and answers their questions as if he gave birth to them, forgetting he also doesn't have the facilities for that (unless you want him to- we love old trans people)

"Master Bruce I really must insist-" Alfred tried for the fourth time in seven minutes, Bruce had counted, reaching to push him back to bed and pull off the suit jacket he had only moments before helped Bruce put on.

"'M going Alf." Bruce grumbled back, rubbing a bleary hand over his eyes. "There's no use in putting it off. Don't have a good excuse and.." He grimaced. "They need to see me. It's been a while."

Alfred opened his mouth to protest again, even going so far as to move in front of the door to block his exit. "You are on far too many medications Mr. Wayne, not to mention a concussion! You simply cannot."

Bruce's lips twitched it amusement. It was a rare day when Alfred's composure was rattled to the point of calling him Mr. Wayne, and while Alfred was admittedly very strong, there was no way his physical blockation of Bruce's path would actually stop him.

"Alf." Bruce began gently, and the butler scoffed, rolling his eyes as he moved out of the way, striding down the long hallway. "Well. I see my advice isn't heeded. As always."

Bruce threw him an apologetic smile, heading for the main door. "Love ya Alfie!!" The butler snorted, but Bruce could tell he was softening.

"Call if you need boy." Alfred murmured. Bruce grinned, offering a wink as he pulled the door open. "I will." He promised, sliding into the backseat of his limousine, heading to the Gala.

He hissed as the needle broke his skin, biting his lip to prevent any further sounds as the anti-biotic worked its way into his system. Alfred would most definitely have protested its use, especially as Bruce tossed back a handful of other added painkillers, but if he was being honest, he needed them to get through the night.

"Thanks Hank. Tell your wife I said hi and grab her a bouquet on your way home. On me." He patted his driver's shoulder as he climbed out. Hank grinned, tipping his black cap.

"You always make me seem like such a good husband Mr. Wayne, I appreciate it. Have a good night." Bruce grinned back, stumbling slightly as he moved towards the doors, using the car to stabilize himself.

"You give me too much credit, send your boys some love and you have tomorrow off, try to actually use that baseball glove I gifted you." Hank chortled, setting the car into drive. "Will do sir. Good night." Bruce nodded the same back, watching until the car pulled away fully to stumble up the steps.

"Maybe those pills weren't such a good idea." He mumbled to himself as he made it to the doors, pulling them open to walk inside, heading straight for the table laid out with food. Of course, one couldn't enter a Gala without greeting the hosts, and he barely made it two steps before he was intercepted.

"Mrs. and Mr. Ketch. How lovely to see you." Bruce offered a bow, bending too low before rocking back upwards. Mrs. Ketch was smiling at him, a lovely, true smile that Bruce noticed tended to happen whenever he greeted the woman first instead of the man. Mr. Ketch was frowning, but more at Bruce's bizarre drunken act than any offense towards being placed after his wife.

"Are you alright, Wayne?" He asked, and Bruce hated that he actually liked the Ketch's, because there was genuine concern in the mans voice. Another reason why he had come.

The Ketch's were new money, self made, and trying to blend in with the old elites, though Bruce had to admit they never would, they were just too good, too kind, too sincere.

He wondered, dimly, in the back of his foggy, drug addled mind, if perhaps they'd finally tire of all the snide comments, rude looks, sneers, and give up on their well meaning charity that they had chosen Gotham for. He hoped they wouldn't. He liked having actual good conversation at these dull events.

"M fine, truly." Bruce answered, a few seconds too late, smiling lazily. "Might've had a few." He tried his best imitation at a drunken smile, wincing as he realized it was dangerously close to how he really felt.. tipsy. Off balance.

Robert, because that was his name, he had told Bruce his first name instead of demanding he call him Mr., frowned a little in concern, and before he knew it they had herded him to one of the seating places, settling down by him.

"How're the kids?" Mrs. Ketch asked, handing him a glass of water that Bruce gratefully accepted. "Amazing." He answered. "Splendid. They're always doing so well. They don't see it though." He frowned at his glass, wondering why that was.

"They're so amazing though. It just doesn't make any sense," He sat up, leaning forward to look at the couple in front of him intensely. They both had their eyebrows raised in surprise, but leaned forward in tandem, intruiged.

"Because see, they're so brilliant, and lovely, and smart, really I think they're the smartest people in the world- like ever. And Dickie, he's so kind and sweet and nice, and he's got a few problems and I'm sorry about it but he's really just amazing and an all around good person, I really oughtta try and be more like him, and oh he's got my eyes, im so glad he got my eyes, but i love his nose too, its nothing like mine- anyway Jason too- whoo he got my height im so happy for him- he also has my eyes! they all have my eyes actually, except cass, and damian, but like he's so brilliant and smart and he was such a good kid, he is now too- oh he doesn't like me calling him kid, but he'll always be my baby, and oh i cried so much when he died, but he better now, oh and Timmy, oh timmy is so smart. Soooo smart like genuis level, and he's wayy smarter than me, wayyyy smarter, and alfie says he has my hair, but i dont see it- i think he got my jaw though- and then Cass oh Cassandra My baby girl she's lovely and sweet and a charmer, beautiful girl, so is Barbara, but she won't let me say that to her, no no, but she is, she's so pretty and smart and quick, she scares me sometimes but I love her, such a good girl yknow? And Stephanie? Oh she and Tim need to make it official so shes mine. mine mine mine. I need another daughter you know? Too many boys. Equality of men and women at home. I need them home. And then Duke. hes so lovely too. Oh and Damian. Damian took some adjusting but they're all so lovely yknow? I remember the day they were born so vividly. I was so happy. I love them so much. It hurt, of course, but what is that to the joy they bring now yknow?"

Bruce took a sip of his drink, nodding thoughtfully as he leaned back. Mrs. and Mr. Ketch blinked a few times, opened their mouths, closed them again, and leaned back as well, exchanging glances.

"Yes. Well. Quite." Mr. Ketch cleared his throat. "Bruce, perhaps we should call you someone? To take you home?" Mrs. Ketch nodded her agreement.

"Come on sweetheart, let's get you home. You need to go to bed and.. and sleep this off." Bruce nodded, letting them help him stand and guide him to the door as Mr. Ketch called someone.

"Yeah. I like bed. And sleep. Oh- but I can't. Uh-uh, I promised Dickie I'd call him." Bruce nodded, turning to head back inside as though that would help his quest.

Mrs. Ketch grabbed his arm and gently, but firmly, led him back outside. "Rob just called him sweetheart, he's on his way."

"Oh." Bruce nodded. "Oh. Thas good." Mrs. Ketch nodded her agreement, rubbing his back soothingly. "I like that." Bruce hummed, letting his eyes close. "Its like what my mother used to do." Mrs. Ketch looked at him in surprise, hand stilling for a second before resuming.

"Really?" She asked gently. Bruce hummed in confirmation. "Oh yes. Yeah she did. You do it well. You'd make a good mom. Just like me. Well, I don't make a good mom." At that he frowned at the ground, biting his lip. "But I try."

Mrs. Ketch smiled, turning them as a car pulled up. "Yes. You do. And you do it marvelously Bruce, truly. That's all we can ever do. Try." Bruce nodded his agreement as the door opened and his eldest emerged, rushing to his side.

"Bruce!" Dick looked genuinely worried, grabbing his shoulder. "You alright?" His son's eyes were searching, scanning his body.

"Oh hes fine." Mrs. Ketch waved with a smile. "Just a few drinks. I think it'd be best he go home though, sleep it off." Dick nodded his agreement, smiling at her. "Yes. I think thats best. Thank you." She shrugged, waving it off.

"Of course. It's what he would have done for me." Dick lowered Bruce into the passenger seat, heading for the drivers. "Bruce." Ketch tapped the window, leaning down. "Hm?" Bruce tilted his head, rolling it down.

"I'm pregnant." Bruce waited, jaw dropping slowly as the words connected in his brain. "You are?" She nodded, a small smile crossing her face.

"Yes. You're the first person I've told." She glanced nervously over her shoulder, to where her husband was waiting on the steps. Bruce reached for her hand, clasping it in his own.

"You'll make an excellent mother. And he will make an amazing father." He promised. She smiled, biting her lip anxiously. "You think?" Bruce nodded. "I know." At that her smile softened, and she patted his cheek.

"Thank you. And, for what it's worth Bruce," She glanced past him to Dick, who was kindly pretending not to listen. "I think you make an excellent mother."

[nevertheless-moving]

binged dungeon meshi anime + manga after numerous tumblr posts and leg injury. thoughts based on fandom > manga> anime ride:

[SPOILERS FOR MANGA]

senshi pantyshot fanservice much appreciated but... should really be more lingering and inexplicably glistening if its gonna match up to fanservice in other animes

no yeah TOTALLY get why toshiro just said fuck it and went home after... all that. days of no food. blase dark magic/you were too late reveal. long repressed slapfight that he probably felt equally guilty and angry about. girl he loved appeared as GIANT MONSTER and BRUTALLY killed HIS FAMILY.

girl he loved STOPPED TO PULL HER TITS OUT midway through BRUTALLY KILLING HIS FAMILY.

i'd go home too

also , Maricelle, all the love in the world, but i get why everyone was mad about the dark magic. i mean it looked bad. WE know that thistle interfered but the situation looked BAD ngl maricelle i would not want you healing me either after falin appearance.

feel like changeling maricelle should have been half half-foot/half-dwarf or something like that. would have been fun half-elf reveal to party. actually bothers me that she wasn't? the more i think about it. i mean itzumi was still cat/kobold.

incredibly belated but looking back at changeling episode...is senshi shirtless the whole time???

okay nevermind did some extensive research and i'm fairly sure he wasn't

also thinking back about senshi — he absolutely knew what he was doing with setting off the traps and pissing chilchuck off...my man was living here for decades.

kabru/laois is both more and less textually present than i would have thought based on fandom.

like on one hand they barely interact. on the other hand they barely interact and Kabru is VERY much obsessed . they have ONE (1) conversation. much hilarity has been observed about that dialogue so i digress

and there is ZERO new information between that interaction and kabru planning on putting the man on a THRONE. at some unclear point his career goal becomes having his lips at this man's ear and a dagger at his neck ???

i cannot stress this enough: he invests SO EARLY in king Laios. willing to sacrifice his life for this to be realized. goal oriented. unhinged. good for him.

you could say it's just him being practical and choosing the best option based on available information but incredibly relevant new information becomes available and Kabru is STILL locked in

i'm crying over kabru 'compressing' mithran's backstory. sure as a meta framing device fine. but in universe? BONKERS. narrative critiquing clinically depressed man's tragic backstory. Super normal move.

so much nuance and different perspectives on fantasy interracial marriages and adoptions and its SO SO GOOD.

gnawing on the walls kinda worldbuilding seriously

so thistle was a teenager when this all started. that's what i'm getting. that's... man there's a lot of layers of tragedy.

wait so if elves and half-foots look ambiguously young do tallmen look ambiguously old?? wrinkly gangly old old wrinkly fuckers??? or burning the candle at both ends terrible looking tall child???

hey i'm starting to think that the monster who controls all monsters... might not be a good guy

'Delgal' holding thistle at the end ... i'm not crying. you're crying.

impossible to say if laois won the final battle on purpose or not

genuinely no idea

11/10 no notes about that fact

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

HIIII do you have anymore tid bits for you au.... (share all of them. go ham. I LOVE IT SO MUCH)

So many. SO MANY!!

— After Ford gets his body back, Bill makes excuses to himself to watch over Dipper and Mabel when they’re dreaming, and interjects if they have any nightmares. This is definitely important to his evil plans, okay.

— McGucket definitely knows something is wrong with Stanfraud, and makes a scene whenever he sees him, claiming him to be the ‘devil in disguise’, or ‘the beast with one eye’. When Dipper and Mabel ask about it, Bill brushes it off as McGucket’s memory loss making him recall their fallout as worse than it was.

— Bill was roped into helping Stan teach Soos boxing when he was younger. He thought it was stupid at the time, but Stan wasn’t taking no for an answer. Soos still appreciates both of them for it, and Bill doesn’t mind the kid as much anymore. He’s smarter than he looks. He just has to put his mind to it.

— Bill actually likes stargazing. Stan’s surprised when he first catches Bill on the roof doing it, and Bill gets defensive when Stan pushes him on the matter, but he doesn’t exactly hate the company. When he’s left alone with his thoughts and the stars, his mind goes to a place that’s too dark, even for him. So, sometimes he and Stan will grab a drink — usually beer for Stan and some barely drinkable cocktails for Bill — and they’ll watch the stars. When Mabel finds out about it, she joins him. It’s one of the few places that he seems a lot… calmer. Not by a lot, mind you, but it’s noticeable enough for Bill.

— During Headhunters, there’s a lot of conflict between Stan and Bill. Bill thinks it’s weird how Stan is treating the wax figure, that just because he can’t pretend Bill is Ford, doesn’t mean he has to go speaking to a lump of wax. He has a lot of uncomfortable feelings surrounding Ford as is, ones he prefers to bury deep in the back of his mind, and this whole funeral deal, Stan’s genuine grief, it’s really putting a damper on his mood. Plus, he may be a little bit jealous. And maybe, just maybe, a bit concerned. I don’t have the details figured out yet, but I know for a fact they get into an argument over it, and the subject of Ford comes up again — no more avoiding it.

— Stan and Bill are banned from one of the town’s main bars for life. Why? That’s between them and the raccoon.

— I don’t think I’ve mentioned this yet, but Bill actually dyed his, or, well, Ford’s hair brown, though he’s pretty bad at keeping on top of that so the grey roots tend to be showing.

— Dipper Vs Manliness actually has a small bonding moment between Bill and Dipper, where Bill essentially deconstructs gender and also tries to boost Dipper’s confidence, in his own Bill way.

He’s a strangely good influence in general when it comes to masculinity and gender and what not, being as he doesn’t conform to any human expectation. And he would absolutely sing Disco Girl with Dipper too. He loves that song, bitter memories be damned. Why would he let Sixer kill his groove.

And I shall leave it at that for now! If you’d like anymore tidbits I’m always keeping a thousand up my sleeves! And if you’d like any about specific characters, let me know!

[luesmainblog]

asexuality sillies aside, let's appreciate the results here!! as an ace myself i'm fascinated by the severe difference between how sexual attraction Actually Works and how it's treated in society, and this here is a clear example! a small portion of the results didn't feel them until they were the age we expect to be out of highschool. a smaller chunk were even older than that. i'd be genuinely interested to know how many of the older folks are trans and Suddenly Stopped Being Ace when they took HRT, because that's a thing that's known to happen and it's really interesting to me, but the point remains that it is perfectly normal for a teenager, even an older one, to not feel anything yet. rare, but normal! (using the numbers at time of reblog) 3.7% of 28,229 is 1044 people who didn't feel sexual attraction until they were over 18. and then that's 7.1% who were 6-9, the earliest puberty ages!! 1.9% even younger than that!! combined, that's 9%; 2540 people who felt sexual attraction before they were 10. and that's on a pretty small sample size, with MOST people who answered being aspec, and we still found TONS of people who were, in essence, horny children! and that's really important to me, because there's so much emphasis in society to shield kids from sexuality and how even the most basic, biology-based sex ed will Corrupt their Innocent Little Minds..... and a bunch of them are already there. they're already stealing dad's magazines. they're already staring at their teacher's arms. they are already sexual beings, naturally, and it is not hurting them. and at least in america, they're having SO many other feelings explained to them like sad and happy and angry... but they're not allowed to even HEAR about these ones until much, much later. i have often found myself wondering if i would be less sex repulsed if we had just been fucking normal about bodies and genitals and sex from the start, instead of Hiding it and then making it Dirty and Bad. and this only makes me wonder even harder.

[army-o-f-two]

Today was probably one of the most enjoyable days of my life.

As a member of the TCC, I don’t really have many friends. But today, I got to hang out with one of the coolest people ever. His name is DJ and he’s autistic.

Within the next week or so, I’m actually going to his house to get stoned. People don’t understand why I appreciate this. I have a friend who said he’d actively listen to my music taste and is touchy with me.

He listens when I say I don’t want to be touched, he asks before hugging me and he has my reverence. Only my gf has that. I genuinely respect him so much.

Thank you, DJ, for being my best friend.

[thegalleonsnest]

The Bugsnax Card Game is Here!!

I finally got my copies in yesterday, and decided to do an overview of the cards and show them off in a sort of unboxing kind of thing.

The box is pretty big! But the inside is nicely compact with 3 decks holding everything in the game: Bugsnax cards, Trap cards, the Grumpus decks! Some of them are spread out between each pile to make sure everything fits evenly (Found Cromdo's deck in the snax deck pile lol).

All of the cards are very high quality, and full of charm! We already got a glimpse of them in the digital print and play set that got sent out a few months back, but having it all in person feels really cool, I almost don't wanna use them lol.

All of the Grumpus cards are genuinely so much fun to look at, and they all play in unique ways that really changes how much you approach a given situation. Some are built around risk vs reward like Cromdo, or countering another player's deck. Some play somewhat more friendly with others while also using it as a way to help yourself like Filbo and Eggabell. There's a good amount of a variety between the decks that I really appreciate and makes you noticed just how much these abilities actually play around the game's rules and mechanics.

I also was expecting there to be at least copies of bugsnax cards specifically, but no, there's only one of each surprisingly. Not that there needed to be copies considering how big the deck is as a whole, so it keeps you on your toes on who will show up. (side note: Flapjackarak is the only bugsnax in the game to featuring the ability "whirlwind" which isn't even mentioned in the "Keyword Reference" page on the manual, I thought that was neat.)

The decks are separated between basic and advanced/expert decks. Obviously to provide accessibility to beginners and the younger crowd. The game also operates on slightly different rule sets depending if your using the advance decks or have more than 4 players. Which is pretty cool! An average session with the basic decks takes about 30 minutes, but playing with the advance decks and more players, could take up to 60 minutes. But your choice to follow those rules or make your own. (I know I will, I've got several ideas for how make different and new rule sets and game modes)

[planetpedri]

hey i love your writing, i was wondering if you could do like jobe bf headcanons list it could be about anything so yeah, if you do decide to do it thank youuuu <3

Boyfriend Jobe head canons !

I like shiny things / but i’d marry you with paper rings.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . despite coming off as quiet and reserved is the furthest from it. He was obnoxious and joked around constantly, which would seem annoying, but truthfully—you loved him even more for it.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . is very affectionate. His favorite form of affection was to hold your hand. It was subtle, easily hidden when need be, and a simple squeeze of the hand could tell him many things—such as if you were ready to leave a function, or just wanted to assure each other you were there.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . said the first ‘I love you.’ It had come out unexpectedly, but he didn’t bother covering it up or taking it back. He loved you, and you deserved to know that. Plus, how could he take it back when he saw the blush pass across your cheeks and the way you stumbled over your words in a flustered state.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . only felt nervous under your gaze. Somehow, every time your eyes landed on him for a signifiant amount of time, he shifted and swallowed thickly. He didn’t mind it, you just made him… flustered.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . notices the little things. While you two had first started talking, you had mentioned you loved tulips in passing. On your first date, he’d shown up with a bouquet of them in your favorite color. He’d noticed you preferred a certain color of jewelry, and from then on out, he’d only ever bought you that color.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . talks about you constantly. He will somehow interject you into a conversation that had absolutely nothing to do with you. His family and friends liked to tease him about it, but still he felt no shame. He’d always say, ‘why wouldn’t I talk about her?’ A simple response, but it meant the world to you when you found out.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . adores your morning look. He liked to joke that it was like seeing a Panda in their natural habitat—something few have gotten to see. A part of you only he got to see. It was you with no makeup, no care, just you. He loved every part of you, but most specifically the part where you were free and yourself.

Boyfriend Jobe who . . . hates seeing you upset. It genuinely caused him (in a sense) distress. When you were frowning, he would tell you jokes until you cracked a smile, no matter how small, as long as it was there. When you had a bad day, he pampered you with your favorite snacks and gifts. You would always pout, telling him how much you loved and appreciated him. Jobe always replied with a small smile and an, “I know you do, and I love and appreciate you too.”

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in any future jobe posts.

DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby @judebellenthusiast @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms