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toto-the-cactus · 2 days ago

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Eat up, yall starving lunatics. More Papatarion for the books since yall feel kinda tender for this man <33

Summary: Mortarion's approach to fatherhood 2.0

Pairing: Mortarion x Reader (Female)

CW: Mentions of pregnancy

Little and Precious (Part 2)

Mortarion wasn’t a fan of going through every little report that needed to be addressed by him after any sort of deployment from the Legion. It seemed too meaningless in comparison to other tasks that needed most of his attention.

So far, it was a drag having to oversee the next resupply of the dreadnoughts even when his gene-sons could go for long periods of time without needed them, but neglecting his duties could lead to terrible consequences he rather not have to contemplate when the ones in the line were you and his daughter.

The fact that you had understood and even tried to help on the workload made Mortarion wheeze in amazement because how had he managed to find someone like you in this wretched universe?

You’ll be the end of him.

While overseeing one of the many dataslates on his desk, the Primarch heard the door opening and closing just as fast. A light shuffling approached behind him, but Mortarion pretended to not see or hear anything and kept himself occupied while a twitch graced his scarred lips in an attempt to hide a playful smile.

There was a breathy giggle and immediately the partial silence of the room came back as if nothing happened.

When Mortarion looked at the pile of dataslates on his right, he noticed a freshly cut yellow flower above them. It was very innocuous in nature and contrasting in a manner that made the Pale King blink a few times in bewilderment.

He still found surprising how silent and fast his girl could be when she wished to.

The Primarch then heard the shuffling again to his left and right there on his desk rested a pile of hard candies of different flavors.

“Hmm… It seems a spy has entered my private chambers” he said with a serious tone despite the gentle smile on his face. “Where would they have gone?”

Mortarion made a show to ignore the giggling behind his chair and simply checked under the desk to left and right, his smile only widening at the sound of snickering when he sillily checked under the dataslates to keep the play.

The mighty Primarch can only imagine how much his Legion would be both confused and perplexed at his behavior, but the demigod had spent enough time with you and his daughter to start understanding the soft edges he could possess too with his family.

The sweet silliness that accompanied the toddler’s laughter made any sense of shame or aggravation be forgotten at the sight of happiness from the girl. What would have been a slight towards his person, now it made something tender spread over his ribcage.

Of course he always made sure not to make a fool of himself in public, but no one was blind to the gentleness Mortarion displayed towards the little lady of the Death Guard Legion.

It was a good thing his daughter had the same approachable and warm disposition that her mother possessed, as she had managed to have pretty much any astartes graped around her little fingers without realizing.

The Pale King hummed, tapping patiently on his desk until his precious girl let her guard down and swiftly scooped the toddler with his two hands under her armpits, all while she shrieked in laughter.

His little girl always loved to be raised in her father’s arms.

Mortarion went ahead and sat himself along the child on his lap, grabbing the yellow flower over the dataslate and settling it behind his daughter’s ear to decorate her hair.

“I thought you were with your mother, my little bud” he extended one of the hard candies to the toddler, who sheepishly accepted the offer while swinging her little legs.

“Mama got tired and went to sleep” she explained idly in that sweet tone of hers, but Mortarion noticed some dejection too. “I just feel a bit sad that mama can’t play with me like before because of my little sister being in her belly…”

Ah, so that’s why his precious lady had wandered here.

The second pregnancy had been a huge and scary surprise just like the first time, as you two and some apothecaries had believed that the first one had been nothing short of a miracle.

Mortarion wouldn't say that he felt disappointed at the result, but he could see now what other effects were starting to have an impact on his little girl in a terrible manner. Your due date was just a month away and rest had become nothing short of obligatory at this point, so he understood where the frustrations of his daughter seemed to arise from.

This was the kind of stuff you would usually be dealing with, as the Primarch still had a hard time understanding a proper approach to the simple concerns a small 4 year old would have.

He was the imposing and protective father while you managed the complexities of baseline human feelings his little flower may experience.

This was a territory he never expected to cross.

“Well… my little bud… I know right now it’s hard since it's only been you around us… but once your little sister is born, you know who else she will need to guide her and protect her?”

She looked expectant at the answer. Big childish eyes drinking every word from him.

“It will be you. When your Mother or I can’t be around, your little sister will be counting on you to take care of her… at least, until he grows and can protect herself”

The once dejected look on her face regained a new light of understanding. Little fist balling the beautiful fabric of her purple dress while looking now at him with one can only describe as unshakable determination that made something inside Mortarion choke a bit.

“Then I’ll be the best big sister ever! I’ll help mama and-and I’ll help you too papa, then…!”

His precious daughter seemed to have gotten quite the fire on her rambling now. Going on and on about the things she wished to do once the baby was born and even making plans at which of her favorites astartes will be allowed to help protect her future younger sibling.

Never in his wildest dreams, Mortarion believed he’ll be granted such wonderful moments.

This is me while I wrote this shit at midnight

#warhammer 40000 #warhammer 40k #mortarion x reader #reader insert #female reader #x reader #reader #mortarion #mentions of pregnancy #wh40k #wh40k fanfic #parenthood #papatarion

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mycatwantstoeatpins · 2 days ago

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[Description: screenshot of tags:

#svsss #bingqiu #scum villain's self saving system #scum villain

#luo binghe: I don't know why the evil deity toys with me this much but as long as he is amused then he's not killing me

#luo binghe: each day he lets me live is another blessing especially since I have no hope of escape

#luo binghe: is it for some sick amusement that he drags me to and from the dens of monsters and feigns ignorance?

#luo binghe: if I reveal that I know the truth will the ruse end? does he do this with all his sacrifices?

#luo binghe: or is he toying with me because he knows that I'm not really a maiden at all? standing on this knife's edge is unbearable

#luo binghe: and yet somehow this is the most stable my life has been ever since the death of my poor mother

#luo binghe: the world is cruel – perhaps if I become whatever it is this god desires I might be shielded from more of it for another day

#luo binghe: wait I have heavenly demon blood? then… perhaps my dark master considers me a suitable companion thanks to this?

#luo binghe: are we two companions in this wretched world? outsiders sharing scorn and thus only able to find solace in each other?

#luo binghe: is this what is feels like to care and be cared for? it's been so long I had almost completely forgotten it

#shen yuan: gosh these upgrades are getting convoluted I wish I had a skill menu or something

#shen yuan: oooh neat a slime! easy exp!

/end description]

Bingqiu AU where Luo Binghe's the chosen village sacrifice to the evil deity who lives up the mountain.

Normally the village sends maidens, but they've more or less run out of expendable girls of the right age and, ahem, "virtues". So of course Luo Binghe's early life bad luck kicks in. In the wake of his mother's death there's no one to really care about what happens to him, he's fairly pretty, and the village leaders decide that if they dress him up like a girl the teenaged homeless kid should pass well enough. And hey, y'know, he's probably got a hard life ahead for him anyway -- dying in a brothel of some venereal disease or on the streets of exposure or starvation. At least as a sacrifice, everyone else gets to benefit from his loss! And the kid will get added to a shrine and be remembered as a hero! If anything, he should be happy about this!

Binghe is not happy about this.

But he's also a skinny underfed nobody who is easily overpowered, dressed up like a bride, and tied to a post. So. Not much he can do but wait for the evil deity to come and do whatever horrible thing he's gonna do to him.

Meanwhile, Shen Yuan is pretty sure he's been isekai'd into the over-powered hero of some kind of supernatural adventure story? He's not totally sure because he doesn't recognize the setting, but the signs are there. He's got a shrine-like base of operations (though it seems to have become corrupted/ruined, probably he has to restore it somehow), he has a very resilient and handsome new body with spiritual energy of some kind flowing through him, and a very clearly magical sword. Plus lots of neat starter powers! Though it feels like he has other abilities that have been blocked somehow? Probably he has to level up in order to access them.

When he treks out of his "base" and finds what seems to be a distressed maiden, he takes it for his beginner hero mission. The girl claims that she's been doomed to be sacrificed to an evil god. That sounds a little above Shen Yuan's pay grade for dealing with, so he unties her and decides that they had better just get out of the whole region altogether. He already packed up anything useful from his base, anticipating he might get caught up in an adventure once he left, so they follow the river away from the settlement until they reach another one.

While they travel, Luo Binghe tells Shen Yuan about the cursed deity, Shen Qingqiu, who was cast out of the heavens for slaughtering one of his brethren and has apparently being do-who-knows what to maidens from the local village in exchange for his "protection" ever since. Sounds like a real asshole! And also mid-level boss type bad guy at least. Shen Yuan hopes he doesn't have to fight him, but he probably will.

Thank goodness he found Binghe, though! Clearly the helpful little sister type! He's definitely going to require her assistance if he's going to figure out how to navigate this world and level up his skills enough to take on a god.

#svsss #svsss fic #bingqiu fic

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gay-dorito-dust · 9 hours ago

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In a part of Gotham, there stands the glorious Wayne Manor. So marvelous, so fantastic, so peaceful-

Isekai Reader: AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! GET YO DEMON SPAWN BITCH!

Bruce, drinking coffee while reading the newspaper: He doesn't mean any harm

Isekai Reader: YES HE DO! GET YO FUCKIN CHILD *currently clinging onto the chandelier*

Damian: Get down you foul wretched being, I'll show you what it means to take away the precious servant of BaBa

Isekai Reader: Its not my fault Alfred is fond of me!

Damian: Why you insolent!

Isekai Reader: AAAAAAHHHHHH!

....

Isekai Reader: Any of you notice the feral cat speaks like a victorian child?

Dick, looks at Damian who is talking with his Supe: Well now that you mention it

Jason: He does speak like one

Duke: why'd you call him a feral-*realizes* nevermind he truly acts like one

Later

Alfred: I take as you all enjoy it

Isekai Reader: Why yes, thank you Alfred I no longer feel famished

Jason: As do I, everything you cook taste exquisite

(Been at it for a while)

Damian, annoyed at the two: Stop this nonsense!

Dick to Duke: Why do I get the feeling those two are doing it on purpose

Cassandra: they are

Isekai! Reader/you: *mocking* doth mother know you weareth her drapes.

Damian: what are you on about buffoon?

Isekai! Reader/you: Shakespeare in the park? Anyways has talking like a kid your age ever crossed your mind or are you above that too?

Damian: *unsheathed sword*

Isekai! Reader/you: you know what I think I hear Alfred call for me. IM COMING ALFRED! *runs away*

…

Isekai! Reader/you: is the place haunted?

Duke: haunted? No I don’t think so.

Dick: I think we’d all would’ve known if that were the case…

Jason: why? What makes you think that?

Isekai reader/ you: I thought I saw something in my room, it was looking right at me. It was short, almost like a little kid- *realises* it was Damian wasn’t it?

Jason: yes

Dick: yes

Duke: unfortunately yes.

Damian: *appearing out of nowhere* it was me, took you long enough to figure it out and here I thought adults your age should have a fully developed brain by now.

Isekai! Reader/ you: *lunges for the fucking kid* COME HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT!

Dick, Jason and Duke: *holding isekai! Reader/ you back before things get ugly*

…

Damian: *shrugs* father and Alfred should’ve left you out on the street where you belonged.

Isekai! Reader/ you: -*smug* but they didn’t!

…

Bruce: play nice with Damian

Isekai! Reader/ you: I want you to listen to yourself as you say that again. There’s no way in fucking hell am I playing nice with that gremlin.

…

Bruce: *to you and Damian* try not to kill each other while I’m gone.

You: oh please we’re not children *side eyes Damian* at least not some of us.

Damian: *mutters out the side of his mouth* funny coming from you.

*Bruce leaves*

You: eat shit and die

Damian: yes fuck you.

#dc imagine #dc x reader #dc comics x reader #dc imagines

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yumeaoka-chan · 3 days ago

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A Sure Thing

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Reader/ Demon! Hobie x Angel! Reader

Word Count: 5.4k

Tags: fluff, family time, fighting (just sparring), cursing, badass R(in a sense), title based off of Sure Thing by Miguel, teenage! Billie & Ramona, lovesick hobie, lovesick r, (your friends being disgustingly cute), R is AFAB, no physical description of R (besides clothing), nephalem! children

Summary: You come home to find Hobie and Ramona sparring, because of course they would be.

A/N: So... suprise? Another part to the au, I guess😭🤚 Along the lines of an epilogue. Billie, Ramona, and third child belong to @the-kr8tor 💕💕 I just came up with the son's name.

Part 1 <<< Part 5

Sweat beads at his brow, his chest heaving as he reaches over his desk for his phone. A scowl on his face when he can't quite seem to grab the blasted thing, breath growing heavier the more seconds that tick by. Where was his good for nothing secretary when he needed her?

“The stupid bitch”, the man spits as he loosens his tie, sweat dampening his crisp black suit. He blinks as his vision suddenly swims, colors bleeding together into a blurry mass of light. The man gasps, hair slipping into his eyes and chest aching. The room seems to tilt on its axis and he feels hot, too hot, too cramped. He wants to peel his skin, scratch the itch that has settled on his bones.

Then, like magic, the sensations are gone. Like water has doused the flames. The ache in his chest still lingers and with a shaky hand, he pushes back his hair, gaze stuck on the ceiling. When had he looked up? And had the lights always been off? Shaking his head free of the thought, the man wipes the sweat from his brow. That had been… strange. Perhaps he should go to the hospital, especially since it felt like his legs were glued to the floor, his butt melded into the luxurious office chair. Blinking slowly, he lets his eyes drift back down towards the door of his office, only to startle at the woman standing in front of him. Eyes skimming the figure before him, he sneers and scrunches his nose up in disgust.

“What the hell are you doing here? Security knows better than to let filth in here!” The man barks angrily, lifting his hand up to shoo the woman towards the door. Only to feel a sharp pain overcome his entire body at the motion, like needles pricking his skin and alighting his nerves. His eyes flutter before he fixes his glare at the sound of soft laughter.

“Security couldn't stop me if they tried, Mr. George Barnaby Miller”, you say softly with a chuckle, fiddling with a loose strand of fabric on your jacket. You sweep your gaze over to the stocky man behind the grand desk, movements calm and almost carefree as you slowly saunter closer towards him. A haughty man on his throne. You scoff and shake your head as an amused smile flits across your face. Where oh where have you seen that before…? Miller furrows his eyebrows at you, scowl painted on his thin lips.

“You know my name…? Never mind that”, the man huffs, hands shaky as he pulls at his collar. He clears his throat and taps a finger on his desk, demanding your attention. And with amusement sparkling in your eyes, you give it to him. “Take me to a hospital, stat. Get me there fast enough and I'll make it worth your while. Also, you'll address me as Mr. Miller, brat.”

“Hm. How about… no?” Miller narrows his eyes at your words, fire lurking beneath the depths and threatening to burn you. You aren't fazed by the flames.

“No…? You don't get to tell me no, you useless wretch. Get me there at once!”

“Why would I bring an already dead man to the hospital”, you question with a laugh, snorting at the blank look he gives you. Disbelief colors his gaze and he sneers, shaking his head and pounding a fist on the desk. It doesn't rattle, which seems to get his attention. The air is almost stale, like time has all but ceased at this moment. The man swallows a lump that forms in his throat before giving a haughty smirk, leaning back in his chair.

“Threatening me will do you no good here. Do you even know who I am, trash?”

“I do, actually! Born March 26th, 1925, father died when you were young. Hm, let me just…” With a flick of your wrist, tiny glittering gray clouds materialize into existence, littering the air around the two of you. They swirl and shine and flicker, until a sudden flash of bright light reveals the moving pictures hidden within. You can hear Miller's breath hitch at the sight, see as a hint of trepidation begins to flicker in his eyes. A smile on your lips, you stuff your hands in the pockets of your jacket and sit up top the very edge of his desk. Before he can protest, you jerk your head towards a specific gray cloud.

“Pretty, isn't it? Know what these are, Miller? They're memories. Moments in time, your time.” You mumble as you both peer at a shimmering gray cloud. The moving image inside shows a young boy cackling as he steals from poor beggars on the street, spitting in their faces before running off. The image flickers before showing the boy slapping and demanding money from a tired looking woman. She hands the boy cash with tears in her eyes

“You've always liked money and shiny things. Didn't seem to care who you were taking it from, just as long as it ended in your pockets.” You mused as you idly scratched at your neck, noting how the man behind you is silent as he watches the scene unfold. With a shrug, you nod your head at a different cloud, the flickering scene showing the same woman from before. Only now, she's bowing her head and seemingly spewing apologies towards a fuming couple. The couple have their arms wrapped around a heavily pregnant girl, who could be no older than fifteen. They're shouting as they point at the boy from before, who's older now and smirking with his hands behind his head.

“Poor girl. Got her pregnant and kept denying the baby was yours. Gotta say, nothing has changed about that.” You mumble as the scene flickers to a new one, showing the older boy now wooing another girl as the pregnant girl from before weeps at his feet. This was only making your job easier. You motion to yet another gray cloud and the two of you watch another memory. This goes on and on for what Miller thinks is hours, all the scenes portraying everything he'd ever done in his lifetime. When the clouds poof away in a shimmer of tiny sparkles, he glares at you with his jaw clenched, nostrils flared in barely restrained anger.

“What the hell do you want from me…?” That makes you scoff loudly, shaking your head as you move off of his desk and stand in front of him once more.

“You don't get it, do you Miller…? All those memories we've just sat here and watched, moments of you being nothing but a dick to people… That was your life. That's how you'll be remembered. All the pain you caused, all the lives you ruined. You abused people, your wife, your children. Discarded those who didn't fit into your perfect ideal vision like the children you had from numerous affairs. Stole from the poor, ravaged the needy. That's all they'll see when they think of you.” He laughs, a deep guffaw that comes from the belly as he slaps a hand on the desk. Like your speech just tickled him. With a sigh, you look at him with exasperation as you wait for him to finish. It takes several more moments before he finally quiets down, chuckles leaving his lips as he wipes at his tears.

“Gotta admit… That was a good one. You act as if I should care, as if my heart should bleed for those pathetic sacks of shit. Life has no room for scum like that. They should be thanking me.” Miller spits out, words a hiss of venom for all those people he trampled upon. “I taught them that only elites like me belong in this world, that they should apologize for even being born. No matter how they remember me, it'll never take away from the fact that they should have never been placed on this damn planet to begin with. They'll remember their place in this world, thanks to me!” You just stare at him, silence all you can muster for several heartbeats as he heaves from the drivel he'd uttered. With a sharp inhale, you nod your head, removing your hands from your pockets.

“Okay…”, you breathe softly, standing up straighter as you step back from the desk a bit. “That was your chance at redemption, at repentance, and you squandered it. You won't be mourned…” Angry veins threaten to pop out of his forehead as he gives you a nasty look, eyes wide and teeth bared with fury that makes his entire body shake. He points a thick, manicured finger adorned with several rings at you, hand shaking and twitching with the painful spasms that seemed to wrack his body. The guilty always did like to snap their teeth when it was unnecessary, especially if they knew that deep down, they were in the wrong.

“Know your damn place! Who the fuck are you to judge me, you filthy quim?!” The man's heavy breathing is all that can be heard in the silence of the office, the air now growing colder and thicker. As he wiped at the sweat that was starting to drip down his temples again, he could feel his temper dissipating slowly. You remained staring at him, unblinking and the slight shine to your eyes fading, like the warmth of your gaze was growing colder. There's something stirring around you, something sparking like static. Like a dangerous current of energy. Miller can see it, feels his breathing grow heavier with slight trepidation. Trepidation that slowly shifts into fear at the way the lights in the room start to flicker.

You tilt your head at him and the very ground starts to shake. The eerie look in your eyes grows all the more frigid as they start to glow a bright white, peering deep into what he feels like is his very soul. Papers and supplies suddenly shoot up into the air, whirling and spinning about the two like a raging tornado. The lights flicker sporadically, the violent winds rustling his clothes and whipping him in the face as he gazes up at you in horror. There, erupting from your back and spreading out wide behind you are a pair of glorious wings, casting a large ominous shadow about the room. The feathers gleam and glitter, shifting from pristine white to pitch black with every movement as you lift up into the air. Divine, radiant energy crackles around you, around your very fingertips as you point a finger directly at the shivering dead. Fear grips its icy claws into Miller's non beating heart and refuses to release him as you speak, your voice seeming to rattle his very bones, thundering in his ears like the most vicious of storms.

“I am peace. I am agony. I am light. I am darkness. I am protector. I am avenger. The Heaven's bell ringer. The Hells’ caterer. The Angel who hath fallen from grace. The Angel who hath conquered her fall. The Heavens and Hells demand judgment for thee and judgment I shall bestow.”

Just as his trembling lips begin to part, hastily trying to plead for mercy, a crackling bolt of energy erupts from the tip of your finger. His screams echo in your ears as his soul writhes and twitches, shrinking down, down, down. Until it is but a glowing orb floating listlessly above the desk. The howling wind slowly subsides, the papers and office supplies clattering onto the floor around you. You flutter back down to the floor, stumbling as you land on your feet. Groaning, you place a hand against your head and shake away the lingering glow of your eyes. One day, you'd get used to this part of the job. Hopefully.

Sighing, you beckon the floating red orb towards you with a flick of your finger, tucking it into your pocket once it glided into your palm. The sound of clapping makes you jump, your head whipping around towards the source. Serenity giggles at you as she nears you, hands on her hips as she nods her head.

“Doesn't matter how many times I see it, you're always so bloody terrifying. It's a good look, babes”, she hums as she links her arm with yours. You roll your eyes and shake your head, a smile flitting across your face despite yourself.

“I suppose. I wonder if it'd have the same effectiveness if I was actually in control of that part of the job.” You mumble as you feel a ghost of a hand on your shoulder, patting it in what you're sure was thanks. The Almighty. After giving you your wings back after killing Osborn, the entity had bestowed you with a new title befitting your new sense of self. Not just an Angel but nowhere near a demon. More so, you were the bridge between the Heavens and Hells, delivering judgment to those whose vile acts have threatened the lives of more than just a handful of people. An amazing job that you did with pride and great care, fairly judging the souls that were required of you. The only downside to the whole thing was that you couldn't control when you gave the whole spiel you did earlier. As long as it terrified your targets into knowing the severity of their actions, it didn't bother you.

“Oh, trust. You don't need a speech to be terrifying”, Reni says with a playful scoff, making you chuckle as you open a portal to your home. It then struck you that Serenity was here. On Earth. With a gasp, you turn and look at her with wide eyes.

“Now that I'm thinking about it, why the hell are you here? You shouldn't be out and about like this right now. How did you even get Ned to let you leave the Hells?” She groans and rolls her eyes, patting her pregnant belly with a sigh.

“I had to sneak out. I was feeling cramped! And nobody does funnel cake better than the humans, okay?” Serenity says with a sheepish smile, poking your cheek when you frown at her. “Neddy was fussing over me too much and I needed a break. Not that I don't like when he's clingy. The baby wanted earth food so she gets earth food, dammit! I'm a fully grown succubus, I think I can handle a trip while pregnant.”

“Ned is probably losing his shit right now”, you sigh heavily as you tug your friend along with you into the portal. “He gets a little dumb when it comes to you. Imagine how he's gonna act when he sees you missing.” Reni just groans and stomps her feet as she trails behind you, knowing that you were right. It makes you giggle.

You feel the weight of your day lifting off of your shoulders as you both emerge from the portal, the sight of your home filling you with warmth. A smile flits across your face as you both walk towards the cottage, heart soaring at the sight of your little Aiden running towards you.

Reni lets go of you so that you can open your arms wide, letting out a small oof when the eight year old collides into you. A chuckle leaves your lips and you pull him closer, fingers softly pushing the locs over his eyes away from his face. Aiden smiles up at you with gleaming eyes, dopey and lopsided just like his father. It always astounded you just how much he looked like Hobie, to the point he could be considered his mini me. At least he had your eyes.

“Welcome home, Mummy”, he says sweetly, beaming up at you in the most adorable way that your heart aches. Cupping his face in your hands, you press a loving kiss to his forehead and nuzzle your nose against his.

“I'm home, my darling. What have you been up to today while I was gone”, you coo softly as you lean back a bit to look at him properly. His nose twitches before he gives you an endearing look. Uh oh. A tell-tale sign that he was about to lie. You release him with a raised eyebrow, hands on your hips as you wait for his little story. Aiden chuckles softly and clasps his hands behind his back, black wings drooping behind him a bit.

“W-Well…! I, uh… I paid attention durin’ class today! Mr. O'Hara said I was good! And then, uh… I-I came home and did my homework. Honest!” His cute little smile almost makes you forget that he's lying straight through his teeth. You hum before glancing down at his shirt, noting the dirt caked onto his sleeve. Oh, of course.

“Aiden Lokius Brown, answer me truthfully. You and your sisters have been sparring with your father again, haven't you?” He shakes his head furiously, nose twitching all the while. You suppose that one day he'll get a handle on that. Just as he goes to open his mouth to deny your claims, an arm wraps around your shoulders. A deep chuckle sounds in your ears and you turn to see Hobie beaming down at you. His golden eyes sparkle and his locs spill over his shoulder as he peers at you, a knowing grin on his face.

“Wha’ is all this ‘bout sparrin’, huh? Aiden and I've been doin’ nothin’ but homework. Right, terror?” He drawls as he looks down at a slightly shocked Aiden, who quickly pulls his facial expression together before giving you a shaky smile. The sight makes you narrow your eyes and you gaze back up at Hobie with a knowing smirk, the demon before you visibly sweating under your scrutiny. After a beat of silence, you lean away from him and fold your arms.

“Come on, Billie. Jig is up”, you hum softly, biting back the grin as ‘Hobie’ groans with defeat. A shimmer of dark purple light flickers around him, before the form of your demon melts away, revealing your pouting sixteen year old. She huffs and folds her arms as she looks at you, brown wings drooping a bit in disappointment at being found out. Her clothes are mussed, dirt cakes her cheeks, and her hair has leaves sticking out of it.

“How'd you know it was me? Thought my Dad impression was spot on.” Billie grumbles, scrunching up her nose as you rub some of the dirt off of her face. A chuckle leaves your lips as you playfully yank at one of her curls.

“You and your brother should have planned this out a bit more. Besides, you forgot to add our birthstones that he wears in his hair and his necklace”, you say as you show off your ruby one that matched his sapphire one. Billie just pouts and kicks up dust with her feet before letting out a loud sigh.

“Okay, fine. We were sparring with Dad, though he only wrestled with Aiden. He and Mona are going at it right now.” You just close your eyes at her words before shaking your head and heading to the backyard, your children trailing behind you. The sounds of a scuffle grow louder the closer you get, eyes wide at the scene that greets you.

The flowers you'd planted were all but scorched, lingering purple flames burning the grass beneath it. The very earth looked as though it had been cracked open by an earthquake, the pergola now sitting lopsided. The large oak tree that you and Hobie both adored was now split in half straight down the middle. And there Hobie was, too busy sparring with his daughter to notice the state of everything. The chaos of it all just makes you sigh and you hear Reni’s voice coming up beside you, turning to see Riri at her side as well. The cambion shakes her head and grins as she points at the two, gently nudging your side with her elbow.

“Ramona’s lasted longer than the other two. Wonder if she'll finally beat him this time”, Riri says with an excited gleam in her eyes. You shoot her a glare and huff.

“Ri, you know I don't want them doing this. Look at this mess!”

“If it's any consolation, it doesn't look half as bad as last time”, Reni whispers softly, a sympathetic look on her face as she pats your back. Her hand stills suddenly and you glance at her in confusion before biting back the amused giggle from leaving your lips. Standing a few feet away is Ned, newly finished knitted blanket for the baby clutched in his hands and a frown on his trembling lips as he meets eyes with Serenity. He's quick to march over, the crow demon very clearly upset at the fact that his girl had up and disappeared on him. You watch with a barely contained grin as Reni gives him a sheepish, apologetic smile before gaping at him in shock. Unshed tears shine in his red rimmed eyes as he looks down at her, face slightly red as though he'd been crying. Poor guy. Ned sniffles before folding his arms, the blanket he made still clutched in his hands.

“Go on. Tell me where you were.” He huffs and Serenity all but caves at the sight of him, hands cupping his cheeks as she leans up to press a kiss on his lips. Riri groans beside you at the sight but refrains from booing them, clearly seeing how upset Ned is.

“I'm sorry, Neddy bear. The baby was making me crave funnel cake and I was feeling really cramped at home. I should've told you, I'm sorry. I didn't think you'd be this upset about it, honest!”

“Course I was! You're pregnant, babe! This is our first ever child and I don't want you to strain yourself.” Ned sighs before wrapping his arms around her in a hug. “If you want to get out sometimes, then just tell me. I can always walk with you or have someone else go with you, okay? Promise not to sneak out anymore? It's not good for my heart.”

“Aw. I promise, love.” Serenity coos before kissing him, Riri now officially starting to boo them. Ned flips her off, which makes you laugh. Some things never change. Taking a deep breath, the crow demon gazes around at his surroundings with wide eyes.

“Oh, shit. Wha’ happened here?” A groan leaves you as you're suddenly reminded of the chaos. The cambion besides you snorts at your friend's words.

“Took you long enough, Neddy boy.” You chose not to dwell on the thought of repairs and shift your gaze to observe the fight closely. It looks as though the long sparring session was about to come to an end, Ramona panting heavily as sweat dripped down her forehead. Hobie smirks at his daughter and tilts his head, voice taunting as he speaks.

“Come now, Mayhem. That all you got? Thought you said you was gonna make me eat dirt, huh?” He snickers before beckoning the panting teen closer. Mona grits her teeth, eyes glowing a deep blue and dark brown wings puffing up with growing irritation. Energy crackles around her then, sharp and scorching, almost like lightning. Then, she suddenly disappears in a shimmer of blue smoke, the wispy clouds dissipating into the air. Ramona appears in front of him in a shimmering puff of smoke then, quick as lightning as she kicks him in the chest. Hobie grunts before moving to grip her leg, only for his fist to close around nothing. She's behind him, aiming another kick to his back. Just as he turns around, Mona has appeared at his right, smoke billowing in her hair. She lands quick harsh jabs and kicks, moving so fast that it's hard for any of you to really keep up. Blue smoke trails after her with every new spot she teleports to.

“Go, Mona, go!” Billie cheers and Aiden jumps excitedly beside her, the two overjoyed to see their father actually getting stumped for once. Hobie chuckles, shocked and proud that he's being forced to defend himself before clicking his tongue.

“As amazin’ as this is, Mac”, he grunts before shooting out a hand to grab Ramona by the collar of her jacket right as she appears in front of him. Her eyes widen and she yelps as he suddenly flips her over his shoulder, the two tumbling onto the burnt remains of the grass below. Landing on her back with a groan, she glares up at her smirking father, slapping at his arm firmly pressed against her shoulder. Hobie chuckles and tilts his head down at where he has her pinned, his victory clear. “Not really good to be predictable, innit.”

“Ugh. One of these days, ‘M gonna win.” Ramona huffs, chest heaving and the blue glow of her eyes fizzling out. Aiden and Billie boo at Hobie as he helps her up, patting her head affectionately. Which earns him a pout and a slap on his hand.

“I look forward to seein’ it, Mon. Now, I've got to see to snoggin’ your mum.” A loud guffaw leaves you at his words and you gape at him incredulously while he jogs over to you, your children and Riri giving him a collective number of boos which does nothing but make him laugh and wiggle his eyebrows at them. You can see your reflection in his golden gaze when he's finally close enough, eyes warm and glittering with affection. Dark flawless skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat and piercings glinting in the sunlight, you have to reign in the way your eyes dare to stray lower down the opening of his loose white cotton shirt. His hair spills over his shoulder, crystals in his hair clinking together softly.

Hobie smiles down at you and places his hands on your hips, fingers looping in your belt loops and tugging you closer to him. The action alone makes your breath hitch and the way he looks down at you through his long lashes is enough to make you almost swoon. You reel yourself in, however, crossing your arms and giving him a pointed look. It makes him pause, stopping himself from leaning further down and raising an eyebrow in question at the look on your face.

“Wha's the matter, lovie?” Hobie asks curiously, fingers fiddling with your belt loops still. Narrowing your eyes and letting out a huff, you sweep out an arm to gesture to the ruins of your backyard. Gold eyes sweeping to survey the damage, he winces slightly, lips turning up into a sheepish, apologetic grin.

“O-Oh… We got carried away, huh…?” Hobie chuckles softly, biting at his bottom lip and batting his lashes down at you.

“Don't try getting cute with me. Look at this! I thought I told you I didn't want you sparring with the kids. What if someone got hurt?” The words make your demon scoff, shaking his head as he leans in closer to you, cool breath fanning your heated cheeks. You could tell what he was trying to do and part of you was certain you could resist him. A very small part, though.

“You know I'd never harm my monsters, yeah? Nothin’ happened, love. Nobody got hurt, promise”, Hobie mumbles as one of his hands move to tenderly grip your chin, lifting your face up closer to his, lips just inches from your own. The tip of his nose brushes lightly against yours and you smile up at him so sweetly, so tenderly, your hands moving to wrap around his waist, fingers drawing little patterns on his sides. Your eyes flutter as he presses a sweet kiss to your cheek, your forehead, your nose. As he peppers little kisses on your skin while trying to work you into letting him fully kiss you properly, your fingers trail lightly up his side. Brushing them along his chest, you gently poked right at the space his ribs would be, smirking up at him knowingly when he inhales sharply.

“Nobody got hurt, huh…?” You whisper softly before leaning back to gaze up at him with a raised eyebrow. Hobie lets out a huff of a laugh at being found out before shrugging.

“She got me good, wha’ can I say?” You scoff and roll your eyes.

“They're all getting stronger, Hobes. One of these days, they're gonna give you bruises”, you mumble as you gaze up at him.

“That just means I've gotten sloppy”, he says with a cheeky grin that irks you, a little annoyed that he's still joking about the fighting. Pursing your lips, you pull away from his embrace and fold your arms. Hobie lets out a confused hum, quick to loop his fingers back into your belt loops and gently tugging to pull you back to him. You don't budge, shooting him a glare.

“Nope. You lost kissing privileges.” Hobie's gold eyes widen slightly before a pout forms on his lips, fingers tugging you closer still. He leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder, hands slowly trailing up your hips to your waist and thumbs rubbing tender patterns on your sides. His voice is a low whisper, a whiny mumble that makes your heart ache and your slight resolve to punish him falter.

“I really can't get any smooches? ‘M really sorry, lovie. Gimme a kiss, please?” And now he was asking politely? The stern expression on your face was breaking and you shiver as you feel his lips press tenderly against your neck, piercing cold against your flesh. Hobie's kisses move up higher towards your jaw, as soft as silk and enough to send your heart thundering in your chest.

“Let me kiss you, angel, please? My pretty, pretty, angel”, he murmurs between kisses, effectively melting your heart and shattering your resolve. You sigh and gaze up at him with dreamy eyes as he pulls back to look down at you properly, one of his hands guiding yours to rest on his chest while the other gently cups your cheek. You can feel the fluttering of his heart beneath your palm and Hobie gives you such a dazzling smile full of warmth and adoration that you swoon. His lips press against yours then, soft and sweet and making your heart soar into the clouds. Your eyes flutter shut and you lean into him more, never able to get enough of him it seems. His pounding heart beneath your fingers makes your brain short circuit and the breathy chuckle he gives against your lips makes you weak in the knees.

“Am I forgiven”, Hobie mumbles against your lips, voice deep and low and like the smoothest of chocolates. Damn him for being so utterly perfect, for making a home for himself in your heart and soul. And when he looks down at you with sparkling golden pools of devotion to you and only you, you're reminded of just how much of a goner you are. You softly nod your head, leaning in for another kiss and melting at the pleased hum that escapes him.

“One of these days, I'll stop giving in to you so easily.” You whisper, which makes him chuckle and adorn you with more affection. Only for you both to yelp at the cold splash of water hitting you both. Eyes wide with disbelief and now dripping wet, you both whip your head towards the direction it had come from before glaring at your twin daughters. Billie and Ramona are quick to shake their heads and point over to a sheepish looking Aiden holding a water balloon in his hands.

“Terror…” Hobie warns as he shakes his head free of water, narrowing his eyes at his son who drops the balloon on the ground and holds up his hands pleadingly.

“Wait, wait! Auntie Ri told me to do it!” Aiden cries while pointing to Riri, who gives him an incredulous look.

“You little snitch!” That was all Hobie needed before he bolted towards them, both Riri and your son screaming and running away from the soaked demon King who was hot on their heels. The sight sends you keeling over with laughter, tears escaping your eyes and chortles leaving your lips as you grip your stomach. You'd never tire of moments like these. Not when you finally have an eternity to make more of them.

#hobie brown x reader #hobie brown #fanfic #hobie x reader #demon hobie #angel reader #billie and ramona #the demon i cling to #nephalem children #atsv hobie

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cicadabooks · 11 hours ago

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aaaaa finally i feel justified for reluctantly finishing the first Monk and Robot book with a :/ face, and then feeling even more :/ :/ :/ about reading the 2nd book. Which I did not read, and it looks like this was the correct choice, for me.

"Underbaked" is a decent summary of the first book - people (....often white people I feel like....) would recommend the book and how they loved it, and when I finally read it, I was just like.... This author is over-reaching and floundering around in areas she doesn't know much about. (And also this book felt very White Person writing world building to me.) Even the final pep talk by Mosscap rubbed me the wrong way. It was obvs just Not the Book For Me. (Also winning a Hugo.... It's not the worst book, but...? I think people are being bamboozled a bit.)

I remember the author's approach to nature was weird. I remember thinking "people live in nature, we're part of nature, and to just have the two drastically split is disturbing. Also I don't think this author has ever actually walked through the woods, or at least not more than three times."

OP's line above ("The Robot Side is kept wild and humans are discouraged from going in there because humans can't be trusted not to ruin Nature.") is making me specifically remember what I didn't like. :( wtf. Are indigenous people and their land stewardship a joke to you. Where were you when the Dakota Access Pipeline protests were happening last decade. That was a large amount of news. At this point, this is a you problem, Becky Chambers.

Also shoutout to "also tbh I think Becky chambers has also just never gone fishing in her life and was not curious enough about her own concept to research how you're supposed to kill a fish" in the comments section from OP -

Because, as I mentioned earlier, I had the same reaction even in book one!? About doubting if the author actually spent time in nature, or considered nature a lot, or knew much about nature (for a book that... spends time in nature...). Neither the first book's vibes, or this wretched fish thing, are the vibes of people I know who spend time in the wild (as a hobby or professionally).

(Also, I think those people I know, and me, and many other humans, would be miserable being cut off from wild nature. Some things are just in the blood. I was always yearning for the ocean growing up, and I swear it was handed down to me by blood from my mother who grew up on an island. When I finally lived in a place near the ocean and got to be in ocean waters a lot more, I was like YES I AM HOME and happy in my bones. Every time I get too sad it's because I have spent too much time away from ocean and some proper wilderness.)

(and we're not even getting into how much human culture, esp indigenous cultures, have cultural transmissions tied in with nature.)

(Like I know OP's essay was more examining passivity and the implications at large in these books.... Whereas looking back, I think I got stuck on "Humans aren't allowed to go into nature" in book one and I was horrified by this and I never got past this part. This book was a dystopia for me.)

Anyway OP thank you for summarizing the 2nd book, yikes and also that was fun to read.

Also this is all ironic/sad because I actually liked the author's first book! When I read it years ago. (A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet) It was fun! I love me a motley crew of people in space ships becoming friends and having adventures. I had issues with the handling of sex/gender stuff, but at the time I gave it a pass. The rest of the books in that series didn't stand out to me, but I picked up whatever the author wrote anyway. I was disappointed when I picked up these monk robot books more recently. We're not even having, like... having that much fun here :( There's apparently fish dying in bizarre ways.

ykw i am having so much fan watching you be a hater, that i’ve decided to ask for more. PLEASE give us a rant about a book you hated.

Haha aw I'm honored. And uh I hope you don't have any particular attachment to Becky Chambers. Sorry in advance.

But A Psalm for the Wild-Built won a Hugo and I do not get the love. Book 1 was nice enough, yeah. Book 2 had me tearing my hair out.

Sibling Dex is a restless Tea Monk who serves the God of Small comforts on the science-fantasy planet of Panga. I genuinely love the idea of a tea monk - part therapist, part confessor, travels around to the different towns, mixes tea blends for people, lets them talk about their worries and fears and stresses, and gives them, if not advice, then sympathy and a listening ear and some calming tea. This is meaningful work but they're unhappy. After doing this for a while they're still unsatisfied with their life, so they go into the woods searching for self-actualization, and meet a robot named Mosscap, a wild robot that lives in the woods. See, hundreds of years ago, all the robots "woke up" and became sentient one day, then they staged a quiet rebellion against humanity's greed and industrialization by walking into the woods and never coming back. Now, the continent is split in half: humans stay on the Human Side, and robots stay on the Robot Side. The Robot Side is kept wild and humans are discouraged from going in there because humans can't be trusted not to ruin Nature. The rpbots are welcome to come to the Human Side, they just never have. Dex is the first person in a While to venture into the woods of the Robot Side, and the first human since the great walkout to see a robot. Mosscap gives Dex a lot of philosophical pep talks about not pushing themself so hard, about allowing themself to just rest and appreciate the world without feeling like they need to be Providing A Service to justify their existence. It's a nice theme. Underbaked, imo, but nice. Relateable.

Book 2 was a goddamn mess.

Book 1 mostly takes place in the wilderness of the woods, so it's okay if the nice utopian human community Dex comes from was sketchily-built. It Just Works, and everyone Is Just Nice, this is a science-fantasy parable. There were some issues I had with it - like the strict ideological and physical divide between Nature and Humans, and the fact that Dex's religion seems to be the Only Religion In The World, and it's vaguely secular-humanist with the gods being not "really" gods but names given to primordial forces and philosophical concepts, and the religion not really making any demands of its adherents in any way except to become their best selves and devote themselves to what they like... it's potentially interesting, but overall kinda lazy. It felt like Becky Chambers was aware of the idea that having an enlightened-atheist sci-fi utopia is Problematic, so she made there be a central religion, but she also didn't want it to have any of the ~icky~ things religions have, like belief in anything supernatural, or dietary restrictions, or creeds, or codes of behavior, or expectations to make any kind of sacrifice in any way. All the gods "ask" is that humans observe and appreciate the world. But whatever.

In book 2, Dex and Mosscap return to Dex's society, and the book seems to want to explain how the world works, and oh my GOD is Chambers not prepared to do this.

"Observe and appreciate" is all anyone is asked to do. Book 2, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy, is an ode to ultimate virtue of Doing Nothing. There's this attitude I see in a LOT of utopian fiction, where the author is bluntly just not a good enough author to imagine a utopian society where people act like people, so in the world of Panga, utopian society is achieved through 1) homogeneity 2) no one giving a crap about anything.

As far as I can tell, there is the one religion. Most people are Fine with this. Most people are Fine with anything. There are no characters with distinct personalities. There's no money, except there is, except it's not real money and no one will deny you anything if your balance is in the red, even though your balance is available to be seen by anyone - this does not cause any kind of shame or pride or competition in any way, and Dex doesn't understand why it might. There are no hierarchies or governing bodies, people just volunteer to step up when things need doing (this is portrayed as great and not deeply concerning). There are different communities, but in them, everyone is uniformly nice, friendly, and helpful at all times. There are some parts of nature, like the seashore, where people are not allowed to go because they'll ruin the environment, and this is accepted as correct and necessary. Most people live in hippie, pro-recycling, high-tech, end-of-history green communities; there's one group they visit, however, that doesn't trust technology, and lives in a vaguely sci-fi-Amish way. You might think, Dex travelling around with a robot, this might cause conflict! It does not. The people from this community calmly explain their anti-technology position, Dex calmly explains their pro-technology position, and they politely respect each other. "Not bothered either way" is a phrase that turns up in various permutations a lot and is held up as the good, mature, responsible way to be.

There's a scene where they catch a fish for dinner, and instead of killing it, the scifi-Amish guy says "We let the air do that for us, and they let the fish slowly suffocate to death in the air while they all look on solemnly and sadly. This is portrayed as a deep, beautiful moment of them witnessing and honoring the final moments of a living being's life. And not. y'know. them torturing a living being to death so they can keep their own hands clean.

This is what I mean about the valorization of passivity: observing is all you are ever obligated to do. Letting a fish die in the air is better than killing it quickly and humanely, because doing things gets your hands dirty, while letting things simply happen is the Correct way to do it.

At the end, Mosscap and Dex blow off all their promises and appointments and just hang out at the beach chilling out instead, because do what you want forever, you don't have to do shit. This is the happy affirming ending. Mosscap you fucking said you'd meet with the city leaders as the robot ambassador to the humans, did you tell them you were blowing off this commitment because you didn't feel like doing that anymore??? Did you even let them know??????

It is SUCH a baffling book. The theme wants to be "you are more than your job, you deserve to just Be" and ends up feeling like "you don't have to do anything ever, and no one can make you do anything you don't want to do if you don't feel like it, and you don't owe anyone anything and searching for a purpose in your life is just making you stressed out so chill at the beach instead."

The thing that drives me crazy is like. Mosscap cheerfully tells Dex about robots that spend twenty years in a cave watching stalactites form because they think it's beautiful, and those robots are just as much a valued part of society as anyone else. Appreciating beauty and wonder is good enough, you don't need to be productive. And I'm just. fuckin. like. Humans are not robots! Robots don't need to eat or sleep! Humans need food, and clothes, and shelter, and medical care, and if we don't have SOMEONE working to provide that, we Die! Nice as it would be, we CAN'T just all do nothing forever until we feel like it! We can't do that!

And at the same time, the book bizarrely treats wanting a purpose in life as like... almost disordered. If you are seeking a purpose in life it's because you just haven't let go of your guilt and relaxed enough. It's bizarre. Valorization of passivity. Humans aren't meant to be in nature so we just Shouldn't. Doing nothing and having no strong opinions is the most self-affirmed you can possibly be. Letting a fish suffocate is more moral than quickly breaking its neck or spiking its brain. Someone else will do it. Who, if we're all supposed to be resting and only doing what we feel like? Don't worry about it.

"The heart of this book is comfort [...] There is nothing in it that can hurt you." YOU LIAR BECKY CHAMBERS THE FISH SCENE STILL DISTURBS AND UPSETS ME TO THIS DAY

#becky chambers #it just felt kind of like - author takes a stab at writing a Deep Book - and its fine as like a writing project she tried - but a Hugo?#also when i have to kill some poor critter I give it a prayer / thanks / apology and then I kill it asap

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magpie-come-east · 3 days ago

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1 + 16 + 17 for the ask game!

16) You can't understand why everyone likes this thing...

IF MESSMER HAS 0 HATERS THEN THAT MEANS I'M DEAD!!!!

Jk (kinda). I do genuinely like his character's place in the Shadow Lands canon. But I don't really understand his explosive popularity. Like Tarnished/Messmer is going to overtake the top ship on AO3 (Tarnished/Morgott my beloved) any day now. He wins just about every Demigod based poll I've seen of late. I'm genuinely not being edgy or contrary here, but I don't see it.

The fandom is very based and sexy for drawing this hideous man weepily draped on beautiful women's laps as if he were a woman beholding Christ in a Renaissance painting. Meanwhile I feel like the only one that can see all the grannies and babies and sisters and husbands skewered through their assholes and set on fire every 10 feet by the world's most racist shrike.

Maybe I'm just bitter because the love Messmer gets comes at the expense of the hornsent. I'm so attached to them and their conflict and their culture. Their lore is some of the coolest in the game and the fandom has just swept it entirely aside because heaven forbid the genocide Messmer helmed gets addressed at any point while he gets fixed/saved/healed/pegged.

1) The Character Everyone Gets Wrong

Mohg and Miquella are holding hands.

I dunno man. The asinine Mohg and Miquella drama has made me pull away from this fandom a lot in the past few months.

Obviously there's a lot of wiggle room in characterizing both of them! A villainous Mohg is canon compatible as is a Mohg that suffered more under Miquella's charm. Miquella can be a naive figure doing his best or a more manipulative power player. There are wide margins here! But not wide enough for this fandom! I'm still so... baffled and bummed out FromSoft handed us Mohg fans a canonical sympathetic angle to his story on a silver platter and so many Mohggers slapped it to the ground in a tantrum because it wasn't good enough. Because I guess Mohg victimizing Miquella was hot and cool but Mohg being victimized in turn is despicable and traumatic? Whatever.

To fandom, Mohg is either a silly, campy, gay uncle goofball drinking bloody marys and getting manicures from Varre or an irredeemable rapist that deserved every bad thing that ever happened to him. Or- third option- he was the secret hero of the Lands Between, as virtuous and honorable as they come before that wretched Miquella ruined his life!

He's the Bad Guy of Elden Ring. He's Miquella's victim that did no wrong. He's the obnoxious comic relief because people don't want to touch on any of his unsavory aspects.

Like fuck me, he's none of these things. He is a powerful, charismatic cult leader with a devastatingly tragic past. He is worthy of sympathy and dignity, but he was also the literal vassal of an Outer God of blood and pain. I wish his character was treated with more depth. I wish his pain was given weight and his rough edges weren't violently sanded away.

Then there's Miquella. Who, fandom has decided, is either a horrible manipulative monster or a literal infant with no agency. It's tragic how illiterate this fandom is regarding Miquella. Claiming everything that doesn't corroborate the Messiah figure they invented in their head is a retcon or bad writing. Claiming that Miquella gave up on Malenia when that is straight up not true at all. Claiming that Miquella trying to lay Godwyn to rest meant he wanted to marry him all along. Claiming that Miquella is literally charming half the cast into doing his bidding just to make him more evil. Claiming Miquella would have been better off as Mohg's hapless victim rather than the richly nuanced and tragic character with his own faults and goals that FromSoft wrote him to be.

The hard pill for ER fandom to swallow is that Mohg and Miquella are just like all the other Demigods: flawed but compelling in their tragedy

#elden ring

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acapelladitty · 19 hours ago

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condemned

Pairing: James Sunderland/Pyramid Head

Summary: Confronted by his red-helmeted pursuer, James finds that the monster has a different punishment in mind for him.

(tw: restraints, blood, assault, rough sex, handjob, non-con, anal sex, monster cock, knife play, unreality)

Fic Masterlist ☆ Link to AO3

From the moment the red helmeted monster had appeared within the room locked off by the door with the 'S' carved onto it, a childish fear had seized James' chest in such a way that he was impressed that his knees were keeping their strength. He ducked. He dodged. He wove amongst the gathered piles of crates and abandoned boxes which were littered across the space, stacked in such a way that he could maintain line of sight with his pursuer.

In that corridor, when he had first laid eyes on the monster, he knew that it was coming for him. He knew it in his very bones as its sheer presence caused his heart to pound and his stomach to gut itself with a wicked mixture of anxiety and anticipation. It wanted him and him alone and that understanding was terror itself.

Adrenaline powered him. The handgun in his hand almost shaking too much to be of any real use as every third bullet missed its hulking target each time the monster advanced on him with its single-minded purpose. Its stained blade, sadistically sharp and bigger than James himself, was wielded with a casual familiarity that spoke of just how deadly it would be and each overhead swing pulled an intake of horror from his lungs.

Firing off another shot, the pinged ricochet of it telling him that he had struck the monsters' helmet, James felt his heart drop into his stomach as he stumbled on a small box which snuck under his right foot in his attempt to back away. It was all the opening the monster needed and, rather than strike out with its blade as it quickly caught up with its scrambling prey, it struck out with its hand - a movement which knocked the small handgun in James' hand free.

James watched the gun skitter across the floor with a metallic grind and he swore his heart stopped for a moment. The wooden plank he had acquired earlier felt heavy against his back, the nails sharp as they faced away from his skin, but such a weapon would be absolutely useless in the face of such a brute.

Left with no other choice, James ran.

Making a break for the 'S' door he had entered through, James' sweat-slicked fingers found it difficult to grasp around the handle and he swore as it slipped free of his grasp. Heavy, purposeful footsteps paired with the shriek of scraping metal pursued him and James unleashed a frustrated growl as he attempted to pull the door open once more.

Locked.

Staring dumbly at the handle for a moment as the gravity of how fucked he truly was settled in, James didn't have long to mourn his plan as a thick hand wrapped around his upper arm and threw him backwards with enough easy strength to launch him through the air.

James sailed backwards until his back collided with a solid wooden crate, his impact causing a scattering of dust from the wood as he groaned in pain, his back flaring up in agony as it bore the brunt of the assault. He also heard a solid crack and it took him a moment to remember the wooden plank which was strapped to his jacket and a quick glance to the floor revealed the top half of the plank, broken off and utterly useless.

Disorientated, James barely had time to attempt to push himself off the ground before the monster had descended on him once more. Its presence reeked of blood and decay, a scent of death that made James' throat constrict and recoil as it washed over him while the monster stood so painfully close that James could feel the heat of its bare torso almost touching his.

Bringing his hands up in a childish attempt at defence, James pressed his back into the crate - the top of which only really came to just above his lower back - and fought the urge to slam his eyes shut as he awaited the death blow from that wretched blade. Slowly, the monster pushed its blade towards him and James held his hands firm against it, whimpering as the sharp edge cut a solid line across his exposed palms.

He wanted to be brave.

He wanted to live.

He just wanted his fucking wife back.

It should have hurt, he was ready for it to hurt, but with his heart pounding in his ears and his legs feeling weak, the slice of his hands barely registered in his scattered mind. That was until he felt the tickle of liquid running down his wrist. Blood. His blood.

Breath catching in his throat, he awaited the killing blow as every inch of his body trembled.

It wasn't to come though, and James blinked rapidly as he dared to stare up the monster, dragging his eyes across the red helmet which glared back at him with unseen eyes. Despite the pause in violence, James could feel nothing but fear as he sensed that the monster was only toying with him, taking its time to really consider what it should do next.

Defenceless and wracked with terror, James knew that, no matter what, he wasn't going to like the answer as this monster awakened some primal part of him, unlocking a fear which had him, oddly enough, thinking about Mary and how he wished that she was here to save him.

Finally, after a painful moment of inaction, the monster made its move.

With his hands still outstretched, James found his wrists snatched up in a grip so painfully tight that he could feel his bones creaking beneath the rapidly reddening skin and he howled as his hands were wrenched over his head, pulled backwards, and held firm against the steel cage which stood behind the crate he was currently pinned to.

Something cold and thin slithered across his wrists to replace the thick fingers and quickly secured his hands in place, cutting into his delicate skin in such a way that James instantly understood that wire was being used to hold him in place.

Yanking against the wire proved ineffective and only caused the metal to bite harder into his screaming wrists so he stilled his hands and instead attempted to kick out at the monster - his foot connecting with a solid thigh that may as well have been made of steel for all the damage he did.

The monster, unaffected by the desperate attack, bore down on him like the darkness that filled the corners of the room and James hissed as a wide hand shifted to lay flat against his upper thigh. Curling its fingers against his jeans, each ripped and grime-coated fingernails pressing into his leg, the monster ripped the fabric from James' legs as though it were paper - the seams giving way under the pressure as James gasped in open shock.

Vulnerable and struggling more than ever, a primal fear shuddered through James' skin as his pale, slightly bruised legs were exposed to the cold air of the storage room. Shame and terror made his movements jerky and his voice was painfully high as he asked a question he knew he would receive no answer for.

"What are you doing? Please, no. Let me go."

The monster ignored him, instead thrusting its thick hand down past the barrier of James' boxer waistband and he held back a scream as hot fingers wrapped around his cock and wretched it free. Feeling faint as his throat constricted, James wanted to wake up - to startle himself awake in a bed and let this horrible nightmare end before it went any further.

But no such mercy seemed forthcoming.

Its hand engulfed his cock, needing no effort to feel like it was suffocating his sensitive nerves as it enveloped him and twisted its hand along his shaft. James hollered, a guttural noise which would send a chill down any passerby in its desperation, before attempting to pull away but his bindings were too tight to allow any real escape.

It was too much. Too invasive. Too harsh. Too intense. Every pull of the monster's roughened hand felt like sandpaper against his cock and James bucked against the crate unintelligible please whimpered free of his cracked lips.

The worst of it was how his own body responded to the assault as his cock slowly grew firm under the vicious hand. Shame gutted him, carving out what little light was left in his chest, and his neck ached as he glanced down at his quivering thighs and hardening cock.

Despite the chill which seared his bones, a flush of colour dragged across his face and sweat forced his hair to flop across his forehead.

"You can't. You can't do this. I won't- I haven't, fuck!" Gritting his teeth as tears threatened his eyes, James thought of Mary. Thought of their last time together. She had only just started to feel sick, her headache making her come onto him as he lounged in their bed - hoping that a quick fuck would get rid of the tension that refused to leave her temple.

It hadn't been great but it wasn't bad. Sex with his wife was never bad, and James finished quicker than she had, resorting to using his hands to get her off before they both settled in for a long sleep.

Before her, there had only been two others. One short-term college girlfriend and a drunken hookup when that same girlfriend had blown him off for someone else. Nothing ever like this. This wasn't sex, it was punishment, and a small part of him - the part that haunted his actions like a spectre - told him that he deserved this.

Just like before.

But that little voice was quick to be silenced as the monsters’ hand released him and instead tore his boxers free of his skin like they were nothing. A move which left his cock, hard and curving towards his trembling stomach, exposed and bobbing in the cold air.

His final line of desperate defence now stripped, a cruel hysteria entered James' actions - his body writhing and throat making a panicked noise which was more akin to an animal’s cry as he finally noticed the tent of the monster’s apron. It was aroused and, as the stench of blood and decay strangled his senses with greater intensity, James could only watch as the beast made its next move.

With a single swift motion, the creature hitched its apron high to reveal the monstrous appendage below and the sight of it was enough to spark James to begin his struggle anew. A flush head, the colour a livid and reddened shade, mushroomed from a thick shaft - the heft of which was marked by deep purple veins that stood so stark against the skin that they almost appeared to throb in the bare light. Its size was equally as horrifying, easily dwarfing James' own cock as it jutted free of the strained apron.

"No, please! Please, fuck. That'll- that'll kill me!" James stuttered, panic making the wounds on his wrists sting and bleed anew as he pulled against the thin wire which garotted his skin. "I'm sorry, I won't-"

The red metal of the monsters helmet flashed as it tilted his head, drinking in the desperation that had soaked into James' voice as it observed him with unseen eyes, and James shuddered as he felt the sudden surge of malice that omitted from beneath that same metal. This was a monster without mercy and the inevitability of what was to happen struck James like a splash of freezing water across his aching spine.

In a final act of defiance, James lurched forward and bit back a scream as the movement forced the wire around his wrists to cut deeper. His head collided with the side of the metal pyramid with a loud clang that sent his thoughts reeling as pain exploded behind his eyes and he fell backwards once more, dazed. Through bleary eyes, he saw that his efforts had been for nothing as the monster didn't even flinch.

Instead, the creature tilted its helmet forward, pushing the point of the sharp metal towards James' chest and James yelped as it tore through his t-shirt, the very tip slicing into the skin of his chest like butter as it carved a thin line into his writhing body. It was a warning and as the sharp sting of the cut joined the other pains which wracked his body, James took it to heart as he berated himself for the stupid decision in the first place.

The head of its cock bumped against his unprepared hole and James dry-heaved once more as helplessness clawed at his chest. The pressure was unbelievable, his asshole stretching mercilessly as it bowed to the sheer strength of the attempted invader. A low, keening noise slipped free of his chest - the searing pain of his sensitive hole being forced open an aching burn that made it impossible to shy away from as his entire lower half felt as though it were going to snap in two at the rough treatment.

With an unheard pop, the flared head of the creatures’ cock breached his hole and James screamed as his vision whited out for a moment, every nerve in his body tensing in agony in such a way that it only made his plight worse as his hole clenched even more tightly around the thick invader.

"Mary." James sobbed, her name the only thing to break free of his lips as he suffered, his body jerking uncontrollably.

The pain was indescribable, his dry hole utterly unprepared for the size of the cock that was now pushing deeper into his guts - every movement feeling like it was tearing his walls as they woefully stretched around the inhumane cock. Blood was his only relief, the cool sensation of the trickling blood of his wounded wrists trailing down his arms giving him another, less terrible sensation to focus on.

His thoughts as shattered as his broken body, James' eyes clamped shut as snapshots of his wife flashed across his mind. He tried to focus on her, focus on the good times they'd had, but every attempt was ripped apart as the monster continued to push itself deeper into his hole - the heat of its body as it drew closer to his own making bile rise in his throat.

With a final thrust, the monster sheathed its cock within him and the sensation of its balls, the skin hot and weight deliriously heavy as they slapped against his ass made the fresh rise of bile in James' throat spill over and he tilted his head, afraid of soiling his clothes any further as he vomited off to the side.

His throat burning, a delightful darkness touched at his senses as the monster started to pull free of him – its massive girth almost feeling like it was ripping the insides of him with it as the friction robbed him of his sanity. However, a sharp growl from the creature chased the darkness away, alerting his senses and forcing him back into painful consciousness.

The sharpness of the pain as the monster fucked him told James that he was injured, the friction growing less intense as the creature’s member was slickened by whatever blood it had torn from him and James shuddered as the monster huffed in pleasure – the first vocalisation it had made which was not a direct threat against his person.

And all the worse because of it.

Cock bouncing against his stomach with every punishing thrust, the shame which gutted James only grew as a traitorous arousal softened the edges of the torment he endured. The monsters cock was relentless as it invaded him and stretched him beyond reason, but every snap of its hips also forced its cock to brush harshly across that sensitive bundle of nerves that made James’ toes curl against his socks as a small bead of pre-cum wettened his stomach.

As though sensing his thoughts, the monster made another sharp noise and the sound of it snapped free of its unseen mouth like a noose as the shame of it wrapped around James’ throat and choked up his erratic breaths. While it was barely human, James knew that the creature was laughing at him – mocking him for his weakness. Its sightless helmet and rippling muscles were as blank as fresh canvas, decayed and left to ruin, but James knew.

With each thrust forcing a terrible fusion of agony and arousal to fry his nerves, James lost much of the fight which had clung to his chest. Instead, he tugged at the wire which encased his wrists and slammed his eyes shut, wanting this hell to be over even if the blood loss from his wrists killed him. It would be better than having to live with what he knew was inevitable.

James sobbed as he came, his cock spurting its release across his tensed stomach as he threw his head to the side once more and allowed the shame to consume him.

It was sadistic, how hard his cock remained as pleasure surged through his destroyed body, sitting alongside the intense pain that wracked every nerve and stole his will to endure it even a second longer. The arousal was worse than the agony, forcing him to confront the fact that, on some level, he was enjoying this punishment - taking pleasure from being so thoroughly abused.

His cock remained hard as it bounced across his stomach, spreading his own mess across the skin there as his chest rattled with sobs. Between the tears, his vision blurring into a muted palette of colours that was stained red by that fucking helmet, his head pressed from side to side as it sought to escape his pains – his damp forehead plastering his hair to the skin as his throat grew hoarse from his mewling groans.

Before long, the bucking pace of the monster grew even more erratic. More beastly than ever, James felt the twitch of his cock within his destroyed ass and knew that it was almost finished with him. Knowledge that made him hopeful that the monster would simply kill him and end it all.

With an inhumane growl, the monster thrust itself as deeply as possible – its cock impaling him so roughly that James’ was surprised it hadn’t killed him.

The release of the creature was scalding, burning him from the inside out as it coated his torn skin like a hellish inferno. At it came, it made another throaty noise, and James screamed as he found himself being filled beyond the point of reason - every inch of his ruined ass being set alight by the heat of the beast’s rancid release - and it was just an added damnation to the other hells that tore at his frayed nerves.

Beaten, abused, degraded, and destroyed both inside and out, James could only sob freely once more as the monster pulled free. A movement which sparked fresh agony across his body as it felt like his inside were being torn free and James retched again as he felt the release drip free of his ass to fall messily to the floor.

“Kill me,” James demanded hoarsely, his voice empty of anything human. “Just fucking do it. Kill me. It can’t be- can’t be worse.”

Trembling and feeling faint as the darkness once more touched at the edges of his vision, James swore the darkness was tainted by a faint pastel pattern which felt frighteningly familiar.

A flash of metal ripped him from his thoughts and James only had time to slam his eyes closed with a cowardly scrunch of his features as the oversized blade of the monster bore down on him and finally put him out of his misery.

x-x-x-x-x

Awaking with a retching cough, the cold floor of the storage room pressing against his cheek was the first sensation which wormed its way into James' fried thoughts. With a sharp gasp, he pushed himself from the floor as his chest heaved with sudden, erratic breaths.

Alive, was his first thought.

Cold, was his second.

Glancing down at his jeans and boots, a wave of relief swept through him with such intensity that his arms instantly wrapped themselves around his chest as he provided himself with comfort that would not be found elsewhere. His breathing eventually slowed enough that he released his torso, bringing his hands up to his face to rub at his eyes and cheeks.

But his hands stuttered before they could finish the short journey, his gaze immediately drawn to the sharp, scarred line which ran across both palms. Marks which could have only come from his steady grip of the monster’s blade as he snatched it in his horror.

Panic making his chest tremble, James quickly rolled the cuffs of his jacket up to expose his wrists and what he witnessed there made his breath catch in his throat.

Ugly purple bruises circled his wrists like a lover’s fingers, the marks livid and fresh even though the skin was unbroken. Thin welts sat in the centre of the bruises, the colour standing out bright against the purple, and James dropped his hands to the bottom of his t-shirt as he hiked the fabric high. His neck strained as he glanced down, a dumb shock playing in his mind as he took in the sharp red line which was carved into his chest.

It had been real.

What that-that fucking thing had done to him.

It was undeniable.

And yet, he wasn’t dead, and the pain of its assault seemed to be lessened in his wakened state as the raw wounds appeared somewhat healed and unlikely to impede his hunt for Mary.

“Is this real?” James whispered, mostly to himself as he released his t-shirt and instead glanced at his palms and the grime which had steadily accumulated under his nails as he worked his way around the filthy apartments.

Knowing that no answer would be forthcoming and once again struck by the insatiable urge to keep moving, to keep looking for his beloved wife, James pushed himself free of the flooring and startled as a loud siren started wailing overhead.

Illuminated by a flashing red light, the room felt as cold as ever as James dragged himself towards the room exit, his experiences in this room being pushed into that dark part of himself that already knew the answers to the questions which he was forcing himself to seek out.

#james sunderland #pyramid head #silent hill 2 #james x pyramid head #pyramid head x james #james sunderland fic #pyramid head fic #sh2 #sh2 remake #sh2 james #sh2 pyramid head

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kiryoutann · 21 hours ago

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another sneak peek because i have yet to find it in me to post the full thing. warning(s): MDNI, sexual contents, graphic description of blood, wounds, burn scars, and violence. past-torture, possible dacryphilia.

“Those scars…” Your voice wavered, and you had to pause to steady it. “Were they from your time in the military?”

Watching those pretty lips tremble, tears marring your beautiful face, he felt a sickening clench in his chest. Part of him hated seeing you so sad, while another swelled with something akin to misplaced pride – that this angel was weeping over scars so old they had long since stopped hurting him.

Scars from battles the old Simon had fought years ago. Scars he had seen as part of his creation, marks he bore without feeling.

“Some from service, yeah. Others… more personal-like.” He said it nonchalantly. In his perspective, as proof that it didn’t hurt anymore, didn't need to numb it with ice like he did in the past—so, sweet thing, stop crying over him.

As if that were possible. He could tell you that it happened years ago, but it doesn't matter; it wouldn't lessen the pain even if your human life spanned a hundred centuries. Your tongue seared, heart sliced—someone touched the one you love with the most brutal violence they could choose in this world.

The image must have been absurd—the two of you completely naked in front of each other, yet instead of continuing, you weep over him. But now that you’ve seen it—those scars etched so cruelly and eternally upon his flesh—how do you look away?

"Why... why would anyone want to hurt you?” Your voice trembled, tracing that scar near his ribs that had caught your attention since you first saw it. It stood out, raised and knotted in a way that spoke of a cruel blade—making you wince at the thought of the pain. “Is… is this from your time in the military too?”

“Yeah,”

“What happened?”

Without any real weight, he said, “Got meself ‘anged by the ribs once,” in a light intonation as if it were some kind of joke.

But it wasn’t. My God, you wished it was, but it wasn’t, judging by the scars.

Despite his effort, it couldn’t mask the horror he’d experienced. Your breath hitches in a sob, your hand trying to cover your mouth. Your airway constricts as you imagine how it must have felt for him then. Hanged by the ribs, feeling your skin tear from holding your weight, flesh on display like they do in a slaughterhouse.

And he still manages to shush you, drawing your head to his chest in a tight hug like you’re the one who’s been through it all.

“Twern’t nothin’ – doesn’t even ‘urt no more.”

Pressed against his skin, you seek the usual solace that his heartbeat brings. But your heart remains unsettled, a lingering question nagging at your mind and tongue, refusing to let you find peace until it's voiced.

Raising your head slightly, chin resting upon his chest, you meet his gaze with red-rimmed eyes. "And... and the burn scars?”

“House fire during a mission.”

You know that’s not the full truth, but you don’t dare to press it, choosing to spare your heart from more details of his agonies.

“I don’t like seeing you hurt.” You said.

Simon gave a small hum in response. Reaching up, he wiped away your tears with his thumb. “Then stop cryin', love. 'Urts more to see yer pretty face all red and puffy.”

The hands around your jaw bring you closer. This time, he's the first to initiate this new kiss, closing his lips around yours with almost hesitant caution. And you want to cry—you want to cry from how gentle his touch is, and yet someone has handled him in the cruelest way possible.

[sneak peek of chapter 10 of "A MAN'S HEART IS TRULY A WRETCHED, WRETCHED THING."]

#𐙚 — a man's heart is truly a wretched wretched thing #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x fem reader #x reader #reader insert #cod men x reader #cod x reader #call of duty men x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley angst #simon ghost riley angst #simon riley x reader angst #simon riley x reader fluff #simon riley smut

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silentgravesdontexist · 6 hours ago

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It has taken me a while to read this fic since I really wanted to sit down and give it a good read rather than just skimming through it.

To anyone who hasn't read it yet— there will be some spoilers under the cut:

*deep breaths*

This made me feel as though I'm grieving.

To grieve for someone that's still alive yet now far out of your reach. To grieve for a love that can no longer be. To grieve for a life that could've been if fate had been kinder. And to grieve for the regrets over decisions we believe to be the best one.

After reading the fic, I just had the urge to lie down in bed and stare at the ceiling while listening to a depressing song...

Ohhh, I do kinda wanna comment that I liked the way you formatted it in a dialogue - inner thoughts - dialogue kind of vibe. It gave off this feeling that lets the readers know about the contrast to what the character feels and what they are saying.

The way I could literally feel the yearning, anguish, and greed from Suguru is just gut-wretching. It's in the knowledge that it's time to let go while still feeling that greed even then. And the way you wrote how he copes is just chef's kiss. Immaculate.

Also, I have the inexplicable need to grab a pen/highlighter to annotate this part:

The boy with a silver spoon has become a man with a gilded tongue.

(Note: I really do mean everything that I said. It felt...human to me. I'm not really sure how to expound on that so take it as you will but positively! Just didn't want you to think I'm gassing you up or smth with flowery words and such.)

canon au. cult leader!geto x f!reader. | word count: 762, reading time: 3 minutes.

“Did I ever matter to you, Suguru?”

In a different life, the fact you’ve even asked would have crushed the man standing next to you. In this imaginary reality, he’d ask how he could show you differently that he cares. He would reaffirm that the attention you spent almost a year of your life extending to him was worth it and helped him through the worst times he has ever experienced, but in this one he knows better.

It doesn’t matter if you did or not. His feelings won’t change the fact you will never be his, your noble choice to do good far more important to you than any lingering feelings you may have for him.

“No, I guess you didn’t.”

The words taste worse across his tongue than any curse he’s ever ingested. He’s a liar, damned to hell for more reasons than just dishonesty, but he has to finally let you go; to let you walk back into a crowded club with tears blurring your vision because his words cut to your core. You told him years ago you fear being forgettable, someone people can let go of without a second thought, and it’s the sharpest knife he can press into you in some ill guided attempt to get the last word.

“I’m glad to finally know.”

A chance encounter in a club closes out a chapter in your life you thought you’d stay suspended in forever and your stomach turns, your hands idly resting at your sides while your thoughts race. From “does your boyfriend know you’re out dressed like that?” to turning your head with a grin that swiftly fell as you weaved through the thick crowd to end up out here.

You sniffle and what’s left of his heart breaks, wondering for a moment if he can’t take it back. If he can’t replicate the grin of his former best friend, jovial and wide enough that you believe he’s joking. He could toss you a sardonic, bitter chuckle and you’d roll your eyes but who would it help?

It’s not like you’re going to return to him, it’s not like he can undo this.

“Thank you for being honest,” you mutter quietly before turning on your heel to leave.

Words sit heavily in his mouth but they disappear with each step you take, putting distance between the two of you before you glance over your shoulder. He’ll try not to remember the look in your eyes while they dance over the entirety of his form as though they’re seeing who he really is for the first time.

He’ll fail and it’s why he accepts that tonight you’ll return to Satoru, begging for affirmation that you aren’t as worthless as you feel and he’ll almost certainly give it to you, eager to please with sweet words and teases. Reassurances you aren’t nothing, that you’ve made a mark on his life he won’t soon be recovering from. The boy with the silver spoon has become the man with a gilded tongue, the one who always inevitably gets what he wants.

God knows Satoru has wanted you for long enough, since you first stumbled into his life at fifteen, it’s only right he gets to have you now despite Suguru’s selfish wishes that you stay affected by him forever.

He’ll fail and that’s why he knows he will return to the compound, a failed scouting mission in the city under his belt, but he’ll slide into someone’s bed regardless. There’s a woman who looks enough like you when the lights are low he can pretend, it’s the reason he recruited her in the first place, a poor imitation of the real deal. He can press his hand over her mouth to keep her from speaking pleasured babbles in a voice that doesn’t belong to you and he can close his eyes and pretend the smack of skin on skin is yours on his. He’ll ask her to flip over to her belly so he doesn’t have to look at her but he can imagine that the hair that’s a shade too dark to belong to you is still yours, looped around his fist while he fucks all of his angst into her, pretending he’s another man living another life.

Your retreating footsteps continue and his traitorous mouth opens, gasping quietly enough it doesn’t grab your attention over the sound of pouring rain and thrumming music behind the entrance to the club, and he closes it wordlessly, grateful he’ll never have to see you look at him like that again.

#geto suguru #geto suguru x reader #jjk

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kickthecan-revolution · 2 days ago

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Elon Musk is going to be the guy who negotiated the interest that’s 10% of inflation with the banks? 😂

People in San Francisco know Elon for the truly broken, sad, wretched person he is. He hates trans people because his daughter who is incredibly courageous no longer takes money from or speaks to him. The degree of abuse he leveled in Twitter employees was settled out multiple times. He’d go hang out in bars by himself because he was such a dick, he’d have no friends to spend time with. Out here you leave these wealthy tech people alone if you see them in public, it’s true of all of them. San Francisco is a tiny little town, I sat next to the big Oracle guy once at a music festival, I can’t even remember his name. No one really cares.

I remember seeing Elon at a restaurant, desperate to talk to a group of people and they were politely distancing and disengaging, I felt sorry for him.

Elon was so abused as a child, he can’t help but self-destruct. The arrogance to think he can get banks to negotiate with him when he has very young billionaire money in this country - that’s what it’s called in Silicon Valley - is delusional. Money is frivolous to these institutions, they have so much of it, they could burn it. What the banks love is power and that comes from old money. The old, often evil families who they have been in bed with for decades. That’s who the banks answer to, not this guy.

I don’t understand the FAFO videos. I get them intellectually but they make me feel queasy. Walmart raising prices due to tariffs hurts everyone and you’re excited about it? Doesn’t this hurt you and your community too? I truly don’t understand.

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adhdandcomics · 2 months ago

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perhaps the most important question i’ve ever asked:

does anyone have tips for people trying to stop being chronically late to everything in the world that aren’t weirdly judgmental and aggressive or flat out lies

#when i tell you every single resource i’ve ever found or tried to get through or anyone i’ve ever asked #has been just so. mean about it #not even intentionally #not always at least #but there’s so much inherent shame tied to being late to things or being a person who used to be late to things #that i don’t think people can untie that from their ‘helpful tips’#it’s all ‘i used to also be a lazy uncaring piece of shit! you don’t have to be a horrible wretched loser anymore!’ and it’s like. okay.#you see how that’s not helping. right.#making me feel worse about it is NEVER helpful. i promise you i already have tortured myself over it FARRR more than any ‘on time’ person #ever had #this has been a comic i’ve been stewing on for ages as well but. well there’s of course the shame #idk it’s something that people are always despicably mean about bc fundamentally people who have never struggled with it #see it as a personal choice to be late #and as something one needs to just ‘try harder’ to fix. and that if you don’t #you inherently don’t care about other people’s time or even other people in general #and that feels horrible! it feels really bad!!#i mean i’ve got it from EVERYONE. disability allies. other adhd folks. disability resource offices #it’s something that nobody ever cares to acknowledge or try to accommodate for #bc time blindness and exec dysfunction are NEVER taken seriously as disabilities. they’re always always viewed as a personal failing #and i’m sick and tired of it. bc all this does is make people struggling with this Hate themselves #and worry endlessly that maybe they Are selfish and actually Don’t care about anyone else #there’s a bit too much here to keep in the tags i should really do the comic for adhd awareness month

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elklounge · 14 days ago

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Travis Hackett/Ted Raimi was originally supposed to have a scene/script part mentioning that Travis is a romance novel enthusiast. Here is the concept art of it done by @/wes_nike_illustrator on Instagram.

Thank you to discord user: cleucas for showing me this omg.

Close up of both novels.

#ted raimi #travis hackett #supermassive the quarry #supermassive games #the quarry #hacketts quarry #quarry #this is so sad?#and sweet #he has escapist fantasies because he knows he’s also tangled up in this wretched curse #oh I feel ill

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 9 months ago

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Steddie Upside-Down AU Part 96

Part 1 Part 95

Mom makes him go home when he starts dosing on Steve’s hospital bed. But it’s okay because she kisses Steve’s cheek before she leaves, and Eddie and Wayne stay parked by his side.

The connection’s easier now. It’s like all that time straining for Steve has snapped something into place. He can feel them all the time, a warm buzzing in his chest. He wonders if he runs hot now. If the warmth will diffuse through his whole being, make coats obsolete even in the dead of winter.

Hopper is waiting for them in the waiting room, El burrowed into his side. She looks wan, and tired, drooping into her extravagant coat, eyeliner running down her cheeks like she’s been crying. Something inside him twists when he looks at her.

Before he can untangle that knot of emotion, Hopper stands up, both hands slapping against his knees first the same way Mike’s dad does before he gets up from his recliner. “You ready to go?” he asks, not looking away from Mom.

When Will glances up, Mom’s smiling up at Hopper in a way he doesn’t want to think about. The adults talk quietly in front, leaving El to stumble tiredly along beside Will. She’s staring at the side of his face. Will can’t bring himself to look back.

“Steve,” she says, sounding the word out and making it longer like it still tastes foreign on her tongue. “He is okay?”

When Will gets up the courage to look over, her eyes are big and worried. He smiles at her helplessly. It’s almost funny how innocent she looks; like she’s a bunny dressed up in punk clothes. “He’ll be okay.”

She smiles, small and close lipped, but it still beams out of her like the sun. Will tilts his head to the side and tries to see what Mike sees in her. He wants to hide her in Castle Byers, build a fortress around her, and keep her away from all the lab people for the rest of her life.

Is that howMike felt, hiding her in his basement, giving her frozen eggos and keeping his mouth shut?

But then her lips thin and she looks forward again. The feelings vanishes. It’s just El, hia friend, despite how much of Mike’s attention she’d snapped up just by being herself.

“I’m glad,” she says, looking at Hopper’s broad back as she takes two steps for each one of his.

It’s quiet after that, the way it always is after; all of them too brittle and bruised and bone-deep tired for conversation.

Hopper’s truck rat-a tat-tats itself to life in the hospital parking lot. The radio croons out something quiet and thrumming until Hopper reaches over to shut it off.

El’s heads smushed into the window, vibrating against the pot-holed roads of Hawkins.

Will’s so tired he’s wide awake.

He watches the familiar buildings of Hawkins flicker by. It's been a long time since knowing his surroundings brought any comfort.

Monsters could live behind every door, every tree, every smiling face.

He’s not sure any of them will ever feel safe again.

Will closes his eyes, locking the scenery out so he can focus on the bundle of warmth in his chest. They’re still huddled together, two sparks merging in his chest.

The past couple days have been a necessary violation of Eddie’s private feelings. He’d bared them all with love confessions and grasping hands, trying to pull Steve back from the edge of immolation.

He’s not even sure Steve knows, hopes he does. Steve deserves to hold that love delicately between his palms and choose what to do with it.

He won’t crush it, even if it’s unreturned. He’ll hold it gently like he always does.

Will doesn’t realize he fell asleep, or that they’d arrived home until he’s in free-fall. It feels like one of those falling dreams where you wake up solidly in the middle of your bed, but this time he really is tumbling, only Jonathan’s arms keeping him from hitting the gravel.

“Are you okay?” he asks shakily as he pulls Will into his chest, holding him tight enough to hurt. “I’m so sorry.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Mom murmurs, wrapping them both up in her arms, chin landing solidly on Jonathan’s shoulder, sandwiching Will between their bodies. “Everyone’s fine, right Will?”

Will murmurs his affirmation, feeling groggy and confused in the light of day.

“I was with Nancy,” Jonathan whispers. “I was just with Nancy, and you were–I almost–”

“Shh,” Mom cuts him off, reaching up to cradle his face and smile up at him. Will barely catches the edge of his watering eyes from his restricted vantage point between them. “Everyone’s fine.”

“I should have been he–”

“Jonathan,” Mom interrupts again, sharper this time. “Everyone is fine. You deserve a normal life.”

“But Will–”

“I’m fine!” Will cuts in this time.

Jonathan pulls back, looking down at him with worried, droopy eyes. “And Steve? Mike said he was possessed.”

Will feels that bundle of warmth in his heart, lets it shine through his smile as he looks up at his brother. “He’ll be okay.” As Jonathan droops with relief, Will feels his smile turn cheeky. “Eddie will never let you forget that you were on a date while we were fighting monsters, though.”

Jonathan closes his eyes, pained while Mom laughs.

It’s not until they’re walking toward the front door that Will notices the lack of demo-dog bodies. There’s still puddles of black oil-slick blood, but everything else looks normal. Who covered their tracks? The lab? Hopper?

He settles down for the debrief, pillowing his head on Jonathan’s shoulder as Hopper’s even tones flit through his brain.

Maybe familiar places no longer hold any comfort, but Jonathan’s bony frame is enough to lull him into a peaceful sleep.

Part 97

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#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #will byers #steddie upsidedown au #my fic #Steve pov: I'm a wretch and a monster and everything is my fault #will pov: steve's so comforting :)#also Jonathan freaking out because he missed everything is something that is so fun to me. He's like. I'm a terrible brother!#Meanwhile Nancy only has low stakes in the whole thing. And she never got involved so by the time she knew to worry about Mike.#She already knew he was fine. so her main reaction is feeling left out.#Nancy is so fun in this AU because her inciting character incident (Barb's death) shapes so much of who she is #that we have like maybe one episode of characterization to work off of wrt what she was like before #anyway I'm sick so we'll see how much writing I can actually get done while feverish!

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