#asks from lovely humans

[iceagebaby]

Despondency / Refuge

that's supposed to be Bennys lighter, the Courier is dealing with cosequences of being thrown into a mess they had nothing to do with

the halo was something that turned out on an accident but i love it

Rant below

[deikshen]

More DILF Shen Yuan because I woke up from that mood

Shen Yuan has an ex-wife with whom he gets along well, an older daughter who is already of legal age as geeky as he is, two younger thirteen years old twin sons, and his daughter under ten years old. He is closer to fifty than forty, and apparently a traditional life with a wife and children was what was necessary for him to accept how terribly homosexual he is.

But that's okay, he supposes. Accepting his sexuality, learning to communicate better... Necessary things. His ex-wife is now his friend, his children are well raised with lots of love and patience. Shen Yuan does not consider his divorce a failure, as his brothers accuse him, just another experience. He was not happy in his marriage. Why should he remain in a place where he was not happy?

Then one day, Luo Binghe knocks on his door.

Shen Yuan looks at the haughty man dressed in xianxia robes, a sword on his back, says "fuck not today" and closes the door in his face. Luo Binghe enters anyway. Look, Shen Yuan may enjoy the habit of reading and trashing web novels... That doesn't mean he accepts web novel protagonists ending up at his doorstep! Really!!

Luo Binghe looks shocked to see him, Shizun this, Shizun that. He looks at him as if Shen Yuan in his haughty fifties with gray hair and a tired face had two heads or four arms.

Well, it's Luo Binghe. Shen Yuan knows that he has no chance to fight him. It's not even opposed to the idea of fantasy - age drains one's imagination. If Luo Binghe is there, great, damn, he really is there.

Shen Yuan takes a deep breath, scolds him for breaking his door, tells him that he's really not in the mood for games or riddles. He has to finish correcting some important files which must be delivered no later than tonight. Luo Binghe is invited to stay as long as he keeps that sword away from his children. This week they will be with their mother, but not the following week, and that is his only condition. He's not going to let the kids near that sword.

... Luo Binghe surprisingly accepts it.

In reality, Shen Yuan is concentrating on his work so as not to think that there is a xianxia protagonist inspecting every aspect of his house. By the time he submits the corrections he owes, it's not even dusk yet and Luo Binghe is sitting on the sofa in the living room, watching a historical drama that Shen Yuan sometimes watches with a look of surprise. Shen Yuan explains the plot to him a bit and when it seems that Luo Binghe is more lost than found, he actually asks him what he wants. How did he get there? Why to his house? What does he want?

Luo Binghe looks annoyed that he has to explain - as if Shen Yuan should know beforehand or just agree to Luo Binghe's demands without asking! He explains about opening portals with Xin Mo, a strange world where there was another him, a kind Shizun married to another Luo Binghe. Something about a soul exchange, tracing the soul back to... him. Luo Binghe wants that kind Shizun for himself. He wants what is rightfully his. Why would a Luo Binghe have someone like that in his life, and he wouldn't?

Shen Yuan tries to be open-minded enough. Well, it's not like there's any other explanation. Luo Binghe shows him his claws, his zuiyin, and it's clear that he really is who he says he is. Shen Yuan assumes that a version of him (different? Who came out of the closet before marrying a woman?) transmigrated and took his favorite character as a husband, even if it is from the skin of the scum villain. Well, congratulations to him. Shen Yuan wishes them all the best.

But now there is a very real, very demonic, very traumatized Luo Binghe in his living room, watching a transmigration drama, trying to understand everything. Shen Yuan feels sad for him. He definitely needs kindness, good treatment, better care. These are not things he gets in the harem! Always having to be the provider, the protector, the one who gives his all. Shen Yuan had always been annoyed by that part of the story.

Well, now he can change that, can't he?

He tells him that he is not willing to go with him. He has a very good job as an editor, his children have an arrangement to spend one week at his house and one week at their mother's house, he has a good relationship with his ex-wife. Going to another universe would complicate his life as long as he doesn't do it during his vacation season.

However, Luo Binghe is welcome to stay. Shen Yuan will be kind to him, but if Luo Binghe wants to, he must communicate about it. And he cannot talk about other worlds, demons, harem or emperors when his children are at home. Luo Binghe doesn't quite agree, but he agrees. Shen Yuan promises him that he will take a vacation and go to that world of his to meet him, but it won't be right away. Luo Binghe is a little appeased by that.

And so, a few days later, Shen Yuan picks up his children from his ex's house and tells them: "I've brought a friend to live with us for a while."

He explains to them that he comes from far away, that he doesn't know much about the city or technology, that he speaks strangely and that it can be overwhelming. But he is a good friend, he cooks exquisitely, and he will enjoy spending time with them.

(Luo Binghe would not agree to that last point.)

They are somewhat wary, a wariness that goes away when they enter a house that smells of delicious, unburned home-cooked food. After dinner, they are more willing to accept Luo Binghe into their home and their life. And Luo Binghe does his part well: he behaves pleasantly, speaks casually, does not terrify or intimidate the children, he is a functional adult... As soon as the kids go to their rooms he looks up at Shen Yuan with big puppy eyes waiting for pats on the head for being good.

Sweet Jesus. Shen Yuan is too out of the closet for this. How will he survive this Luo Binghe who just wants to be treated kindly without spoiling him and showering him with all the love he deserves?

[anonymouscheeses]

Gimme them gimme them dope and diamonds

Diet Mountain Dew, baby, New York city

Never was there ever a girl so pretty

Do you think we'll be in love forever?

Do you think we'll be in love...?

[keferon]

May I ask what were the best transformers media you ever saw/read?

Well Transformers Prime, Transformers 1986 and IDW comics are having the first place that’s for sure

And then the second place is kind of shared by Fall of Cybertron, Exodus, Prime wars trilogy, Robots in disguise(2001) and Transformers One.

The third place goes to G1, Animated, Earthspark, Armada, War for Cybertron Netflix series, Aligned Robots in disguise, Bumblebee, Rise of the Beasts and Cyberverse because I only liked some little parts of them.

And then I also saw some of the Bay movies, Victory and Headmasters and didn’t like them at all.

Separate first place for J-Decker. It is not exactly Transformers but it is a show about giant robots and I loved it

[kettle-bird]

Can we get some pre-god of love story? They’re so cute in your art style.

I always love a good excuse to draw these guys- here they are a little younger, before they made it big. There's something so charming about amateur poetry, isn't there?

[r-aindr0p]

Border Leicester sheep for you

They're cute

Rare sheep breed, difficult to raise apparently

Look like sheep rabbits

Ah yes the shrabbit, a wonderful creature

[54625]

"Have you no more memories?"

I am made of memories.

"Speak, then."

[paracosmicka]

can i . can i draw our sonadow fankids together 😔😔🙏

OH MY GOD YEAH DUDE GO FOR IT!!!!

Just know that if you do I will explode and die unfortunately

[ruporas]

cheers to the future of humanity (and the future of us)

[ID: Digital illustration in color of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun. The illustration takes place during the ship/home arc, specifically chapter 21. At the center, Vash is grabbing Wolfwood by the collar and pulls him into a kiss in the middle of a celebration. The pair is colored in vibrant warm hues while their surroundings are colored in cooler colors like green and teals. Luida, Brad, Meryl, and Milly are shown amongst the crowd, occupied in the celebrations as Vash and Wolfwood share a moment by themselves at the center. END ID]

[juan-francisco-palencia]

For all mercy hearts please

Save us from the genocide

Share my post and donate if you can

I'm vitted by 90ghost and northgazaupdate

https://www.gofundme.com/f/save-mohamed-and-his-elderly-parents-from-genocide

Well, I think I understand that in some way you ask for help through me and everyone. Honestly, I don't have many resources, but I offer my help by providing first aid to injured people, since I have medical knowledge, and my specialty is channeling those who have suffered first and second degree burns. If you feel that my medical knowledge could be of use to you, I am more than willing to help.

I wish you good luck. ⚘👋

[thorough-witness-enjoyer]

I think an severely underrated perspective of the Traveler comes from Peach the ghost and I think she’s the best for being something along the lines of an atheist /lighthearted

Like you’re so right girl, we don’t know much about the Traveler and probably never will, so we probably shouldn’t make our speculations into divine scripture.

I enjoy how her criticism points towards the Traveler not being much of a god people would want, much less an all powerful god who is so wise and knows so much about what it’s like to be a sentient human/ghost/eliksni/uluran/etc., it can predict the future and create a perfect predetermined fate for everyone.

She’s also right that if you cling onto the idea that the Traveler is an omniscient being that can craft purpose, without ever considering other perspectives on it, you’d have to come to terms with the fact that it would be an intentionally massive jerk for its behavior (and you’ll probably want to cut away at the imperfections of your people and combine their will into a single being who will hunt it down)

And above all, she’s right that we really shouldn’t hold what we think the Traveler would want for us above what we want for ourselves and we shouldn’t hold narratives we crafted of it to fit our feelings towards it as a singular, indisputable truth. We live for ourselves first and foremost, not for the Traveler’s approval. It’s probably just as lost as we are.

Also in regards to some recent lore about her watching Osiris with strand:

I love, love, LOVE when Destiny drops what seems to be a throwaway line in lore that came out years ago, only to revisit it later and turn it into something meaningful for the future. I start jumping up and down when I’m able to spot connections to old lore, I love it!

Guys make sure you think about how awesome Peach is at least once a day and remember, be a gardener when it comes to other perspectives on the nature of existentialism/spirituality/religion/divinity! It is our ability to share how we perceive reality that helps us appreciate cultural similarities and differences, even if you don’t agree with them, which makes us stronger and helps us break down harmful, dogmatic thinking.

[lorebird]

In which Ford struggles so badly to relate to other people that he wonders if he’s really human at all. The more isolated he becomes, the harder it is to reconcile with his own humanity.

[stubz]

"Teacher! When is it your planet's hero day!" the little ones shouted

"And by hero you mean...?"

"The day you celebrate your important people!"

"Oh, well we have lots of heroes. Did you kids have one in mind?"

"The one who saves people!" smiled the youngest.

"Okay...and what else do they do?"

"He makes people laugh." point out the middles.

"So he saves people by making them laugh?"

"Yeah but he also fights bad guys." reply the eldest.

"Uhh...okay I need another hint."

"He uh...he's super strong!"

"He swings around!"

"He wears red!"

"...are you talking about Spider-Man??"

"YES!!" they scream.

"Oh...pfft....okay...kids I'm sorry but he's not real. He's a story character."

"..." "..." "..."

"But we can make a Spider-Man day?" they quickly said.

The younglings cheer and talk amongst themselves about what day would be the best day and what should they do for it. Obviously consulting the experts first which was Stevie, Oscar, Oscar K. and Theo who proudly stood to the side wearing their Spider-Man shirts, jackets, or sipping from their Spider-Man water bottles.

"...of course they were ones who told them about Spider-Man." the human sighs smiling.

[hcnnibal]

do they both patch each other up, or is one angel a better medic than the other?

theyre both pretty decent medics but a2 is a little more gentle w it

[hitsuyou-fukaketsu]

yet another interpretation of little ittosara you didn't need

[bucketsofmonsters]

Deep Water - Part 5

cw: the ocean, begrudging kissing done for practical reasons, discussions of drowning, blood, malnourishment, more tags to be added as the story continues

merman x fem reader

Word count: 3k

read on ao3

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Simon wretched. He wretched in front of them and it burned his throat and stung his ego as he emptied his stomachs of human food in front of his human and your awful little friend.

Finn had brought him this. Maybe if you'd brought him food it wouldn't make him feel this awful.

Probably not, but maybe.

He didn't like being brought food by this man anyway. It felt too much like courting. 

He would preen at the idea of you bringing him food if he weren't currently emptying his stomachs in uncomfortably shallow water

Shallow water he bore for you. Not for him. Stupid little man.

He hated that he needed him. Needed him to bring him fish and these horrible toxins they’d decided to try. 

“Probably not bread then,” he heard you say and he shook his head

No. No more of this bread. Not if he had anything to say about it, thank you very much.

“Okay,” your stupid little human said, still looking nervous. As he should be. If you hadn’t stood between them, he’d be dead. Even in the state he was in, he could lure him right in past the rocky shore and into deeper waters. 

But he wouldn’t, for reasons he didn’t like to think about, his stomachs turning again as he did. 

The two of you exchanged words once more, ones he hadn’t been paying attention to, before the stupid human left again. 

You sat on the shore beside him and he pulled himself out of the water next to you. 

His gills ached a little as he shifted so frequently from water to air but he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to lay beside you. 

You stared out at the sea, eyes a little distant and yet still warm. Even when they weren’t looking at him.

He couldn’t bring himself to feel jealous, not when he got to look at you like this. Even if that look wasn't directed at him. 

You spoke softly and contemplatively when you did. “They were together. Finn and Isobel. She was my sister, I don’t know if I ever told you about her.”

He shook his head, wishing he knew more of you. Wishing you’d share more of yourself with him.

But he couldn’t really blame you, what had he told you of himself?

“She’s smart,” he said, contented at the fact that Finn had apparently already been rejected by one of your own. 

“Smart?”

“You said were. He is not a suitable mate.”

You shifted on the rocks, something he’d come to realize you did when you’d been made uncomfortable, usually by him. He could rarely understand why, despite how frequently it happened. This was one of those times and he waited, patiently, for you to make it clear to him what he had done. 

“She never left him. They were together until she died.”

“Oh.” A horrible sense of dread overwhelmed him. “How?”

“She drowned,” you said, picking up a rock and throwing it out into the water. 

He was glad you weren’t looking at him, eyes locked into the horizon as you spoke. He was certain the worry was written across every feature on his face. 

Did he do that? He didn't know. That felt worse almost, that someone so dear to you could have been so insignificant to him that he may have killed her without even knowing

“Simon?” you asked, words fading in past the intense, buzzing panic. 

He wasn't sure how he felt when you called him that. A foreign, half-remembered name. You'd seemed displeased the first time he’d told it to you but you continued to use it so it couldn’t have been that bad. 

He’d caught himself calling himself that in his own mind, of late. It was easy to when your voice was the only thing that filled his head. 

He wished he had a name like you did, one he’d been given at birth so that when you said it it felt as if you were speaking him, like you could pour his essence out of your mouth with the affection he often heard in your voice. 

As he focused once again he saw the horrible human, holding a fish this time. He looked worried too and Simon wanted to snap at him for the look. How dare he pity him, he wasn’t to be pitied. He could swallow him up, could fix this problem easily, all on his own. 

And then your panicked eyes under choppy water filled his vision. 

He lowered his head, violence seeping out of him, sufficiently cowed, and took the fish. 

They’d been dead a while and he took no satisfaction in sinking his teeth into the soft flesh. 

Eating above the water was messy. The blood clung to his jaw, dripping down his face as he tore a chunk out of the creature.

If he weren’t so hungry he might’ve cared. 

A ravenous force took him until all he was left with was stubborn meat stuck on bones. 

Only then did he look at you. You looked disgusted with him, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. He shied away from your gaze, tears welling up in his eyes. 

It felt like everything he did was wrong, displeased you and made you look at him like that. 

He slid wordlessly back into the water, not emerging onto the shore until all the blood had seeped into the water.

The concern was back on your face when he returned. 

“Was that okay?” you prompted him gently as he stared up at you. “You feel a little better now?”

He nodded, eyes locked on yours. 

A soft sigh escaped you, lips barely parting to let it leave you. He wanted to feel it, the gentle air passing over his skin, the soft lips he’d felt against his before. 

“Good,” you said, and your smile reached your eyes. 

It didn’t take long for you to depart, leaving to sleep far away from him. 

He did his best to rest and then he did what he’s begun doing most days, he milled about in the water, lonely and near the shore.

He felt an intense panic when he didn’t have eyes on you. If he could get his hands on you, cold and vulnerable in open waters, so could someone else. 

He wondered what he’d do if someone pulled Finn under. He liked to think he’d be noble and protect him, save someone so dear to you. Or at least that he’d turn and choose to let him go, allow him to be dragged under.

He knew that in all likelihood, he would freeze. He found himself doing that a lot lately. It seemed to come alongside the panic more often than not. 

Later, you came to the shore with your soft eyes and he did what he always did. He fought down overwhelming urges to pull you under, to drown you and feast, to protect you as his mate, to beg you to hunt for him as his body became more and more convinced he had lost the ability to do it himself, to do any number of things you’d despise him for wanting. 

He lay on the shore, frozen, until he felt his mind come back to him. 

The fish had helped, he thought. It didn’t take quite as long for the urges to leave him. 

You came bearing more of them. 

Well, you didn’t. Finn did. But he could pretend, think that maybe he was just carrying them to the shore, that really they were from you. 

He knew that they weren’t but he was no stranger to trying to read intention into the things you did. 

It was so easy to slip into, to pretend every action was a secret message of adoration, just like his were for you. 

But they weren’t and when he allowed himself to pretend all he’d done was hurt you, so he needed to be done with that now. 

If you wanted something from him, you’d tell him. 

If you felt something for him, you’d tell him. 

But you hadn’t, and that was fine. He wouldn’t push. 

But he couldn’t quite stop himself from pretending. Surely it was fine, so long as he didn’t act on it. 

Finn dropped the fish on the shore and Simon dove for them. 

It was unseemly but he couldn’t help it. The hunger had left a steady ache inside him and he would take any chance at relief. 

The basket held a few fish, five or six of them strewn inside. 

It was enough to be full. He could’ve cried at the sight. 

But he had more important things to be doing and so instead, he grabbed the basked firmly and slid back into the water, dragging them under. 

He flipped the basket as he immersed himself in the water so the fish wouldn’t escape him and rise to the surface, holding them protectively to his chest. 

He’d wanted to tear into them on the shore but he’d seen your face the last time. He could not see it again, the revulsion that had painted itself there. 

So instead, no longer dissuaded by your presence, he devoured them.

Blood clouded the water as he ate, swallowing mouthfuls of flesh one after the other.

It wasn’t the safest way to eat, could surely attract attention from other hungry creatures, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d done as much caring as he was capable of. 

When he was done, he returned to the two of you. 

Some of the foam lining the gentle waves ran red, stained by remnants of blood washing to shore. 

You both had the decency not to comment on it, though he watched your eyes flick down and then quickly back up. 

He wondered if you’d begrudge him this too. Your food wasn’t quite as messy as his was, was further from the creatures you ate, even when you ate meat just as he did. 

He’d seen it before, basically unrecognizable, no blood pooling or ripping out bones as you ate. A more seemly affair. 

Finn’s eyes lingered longer on the red, something quietly sad in his eyes, before they darted up to Simon. 

As you sat, fawning over Simon and ensuring he had enough to eat, he found it difficult to bask in your attention the way he wanted, that gaze remaining steadily on him. 

He tried not to notice Finn as often as he could. He brought about feelings that were better avoided, especially in front of you. 

Currently, that was difficult, due to the fact that he was staring Simon down, some horrible thought forming behind his eyes. 

“What’s it like?” he blurted out, cutting you off in a way that made Simon want to snarl at him. “Being under the water like that?” He sounded eager.

“Horrible,” you said with a little huff, your words turning bitter. 

He did not begrudge you for the harshness of your words. He would move to land if he could, to prove to you he held no loyalty for the ocean. 

“No,” Finn tried to clarify. “Not just swimming, actually being able to stay down there, to breathe it and live it.”

“I know,” you insisted. “I’ve been down there. It’s awful.”

Finn’s eyes flicked between the two of you like he was trying to decipher something. “How do you… please tell me you're human. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

You reeled back a little at his words, like the thought of you being like him had never occurred to you. He supposed maybe it hadn’t, maybe the possibility of what things would be like if you were the same hadn’t haunted you as it did him. 

“No,” you said with a swift, decisive shake of your head. “Nothing like that. He just does this strange thing where you can breathe underwater. It’s happened a few times now. It’s awful, I don’t recommend it.”

Your unfavorable words did nothing to snuff out the excitement blooming across his face. “Could you do that to me?”

Simon’s nose wrinkled at the thought. “I’d have to kiss you.”

“Oh. Well, it wouldn’t mean anything, it’s just practical.” 

A spike of panic shot through him at the thought that you believed the same about the kiss you had shared with him. That second one that changed his life.

It was practical, he supposed. At least the first one, underwater with panic in your eyes. The second couldn’t be. He couldn’t make sense of it, refused to accept it. 

But this one could be, he supposed.

He turned to you, unsure what he was looking for. 

You seemed just as uncertain as he felt. You spent a while searching for words, mulling them over, before settling on, “It hurts like hell.”

He was quick to reassure you both that it was fine and he didn’t mind. Simon didn’t much care what he minded. 

But then you sighed, slow and resigned, and gave him a look that if he was reading your expression right, which he’d discovered he often wasn’t, was saying ‘please.’

And he couldn’t disappoint you. 

With a huff and a frustrated look directed at you, he grabbed Finn’s hand and began yanking him back into the water. 

Of course, it would have been easier to simply lure him in, but he had a feeling you would not have approved of that.

So instead he yanked him, slowly but surely, into deeper waters. 

The brush of his lips, however brief, revealed rough lips, not like yours, not soft and sweet and so dear to him.

He did his best to lose the touch in the scramble of pulling him into the water. 

He watched the fight that went on in Finn’s eyes as he tried to convince his brain that he was allowed to breathe, saw the moment of panic when his breath could be held no longer and his body forced him to inhale a heavy breath. 

He knew it was wrong to feel a little swell of satisfaction now that he knew that it hurt to suck in water where air should be, and yet he couldn’t quite muster the shame that should follow such a feeling. 

Only as he saw the pain in his eyes did he realize how horrible of a decision this was for Finn. He’d put himself in so much danger, offered himself up to a siren, for what? To be able to see under the waves for a few more minutes? Surely the man could just go for a swim. 

He didn’t know the truth, that he was probably safer with Simon because at least this way, he’d be left alone by other creatures. He didn’t know that his devotion to you kept him from pulling him down and calling it a freak accident. 

All he knew was that he’d put himself in the water with a starving siren. 

Finn left him behind pretty quickly, moving to investigate the floor of the ocean, trying to look at fish before they swiftly swam away, leaving him behind in cloudy water. 

It felt like an uninteresting affair to Simon but Finn seemed to be getting something from it. 

Some amount of time passed, slipping away as Simon distractedly followed the irritating little human around. 

Eventually, after far too long, he appeared to be done. 

Or maybe he didn’t. Maybe Simon pulled him to shore without a signal. It was hard to read body language when one was irritated. 

With another burst of satisfaction, he pulled Finn onto the shore and watched him heave water from his lungs, some of the embarrassment from the human food incident sinking away. 

Strange. He’d never thought it embarrassing when you’d done it. Now, watching Finn deposit ocean water onto the sand with wet hacking noises, he thought that it was a shameful affair. 

“That was incredible,” Finn managed to gasp out after a few minutes of heaving. 

It didn’t feel right, that he’d taken him down there. That his lips had touched Finns.

He turned to look at you, sitting beside him on the shore, a sympathetic grimace on your face as you watched Finn. 

And then he leaned in and kissed you. 

Not a practical kiss, with no intent to put you anywhere near the water, but one born of only affection. 

It was a brief thing and when he pulled away, you looked almost panicked. 

His heart sank at the realization he’d messed it up again, done something strange and wrong and made you afraid of him. 

But then the tension began to fade from your body, panic shifting into confusion.

“Why did you do that? Am I going into the water?”

He shook his head, face still inches from yours. “I just needed to. I’m sorry if I was wrong.”

He heard something from Finn and refused to turn and look at him when you were so close. It sounded almost like a cough, but not the painful, wet coughs of breathing air once more. It was a short stunted thing. 

Simon, without turning, announced in response to this strange noise, “You can leave.”

A fit of laughter escaped you at his words, burying your head in your hands as you giggled.

He hadn’t been joking.

That was fine though. He liked it when you laughed, even if it was at him. It was never cruel, always soft and with nothing but shining amusement in your eyes.

He wished he was better at making jokes.

When he tried you just stood and stared and when he did not you laughed.

But then, he was never the best at knowing when to laugh either. There was a kinship in that, at least.

When he thought he might be laughing out of turn too much, he suppressed it. You didn't. He thought maybe your smile was too bright to keep down, that maybe it would hurt you like keeping in your air did.

His heart sank a little as he remembered.

Hurting you. The horrible realization that he'd hurt them all.

Maybe some of them laughed out of turn too. He'd never know.

Maybe your sister had.

He turned to leave. He couldn't stand to be here any longer.

He should tell you. He knew he should. But his jaw felt locked shut and his body felt like it was being pulled away, out of his control. 

And so, like a coward, he fled, the water drowning out the sounds of laughter that he left behind.