#but 'wanting to fuck something so bad it makes you look stupid' is like. very specific as a phrase

[sim0nril3y]

Stupid Joke

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: You see a trend on social media and make a stupid joke, Simon responds in a very Simon way. Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), humour, mention of cheating, anxiety, mention of smut punishment, one spank, very old TikTok trend that I'm only getting around to writing now, canon-typical swearing.

If there was something that Simon hated more than anything it was texting. It grated him to no end. The letters on his phone were too small for his thumbs and it ended up a garbled mess on the screen. He loathed texting. Simon also hated it when you didn’t answer your phone because that meant he had to text.

He’d been up early to go visit the base for some information that Price had needed and now he was on his way home, he’d left you snoozing in bed this morning, always such a shame to leave your beautiful body without his own wrapped around it.

morning babe, want anything from the shop? on my way home x

That single text had stolen 10 minutes of his life, 10 minutes of driving time when he could have been coming home to you.

She’s busy.

The text had come back only seconds later and caused every muscle in Simon’s body to lock up. He stared at the screen. Numb. Blinking. Once. Then twice. Then throwing his phone aside to start his car aggressively, speeding the entire way home. Fuck the shop, he needed to get home.

From beside him his phone was dinging and buzzing, but he seethed sped home, pulling up outside the house. Stalking inside as you came flying downstairs in his direction. “Simon, it was a joke. It was a joke. You tried to reason and warn him, but a noise in the kitchen caught his attention, moving past your pawing hands to find the source of the noise.

Inside a bloke stood checking the boiler, minding his own business. “Oi.” He said with a level of gruffness to his voice you hadn’t heard before, the man spun suddenly with wide eyes. “You fuckin’ my wife?” He spat out venomously at him.

“What?” The man hiccupped out. “Simon, no.” You called out from behind him, pawing at his shoulder but Simon just continued. “I said, you fuckin’ my wife?” The poor man practically paled seeing this hulking man standing before him, anger painted on his face.

“Sir, I’m sorry. I’m just here… the boiler… I’m… servicing… I’m checking the boiler.” He stumbled out quickly motioning to his toolbox and the opened boiler cover.

“Likely fuckin’ story-” “Simon. Simon, stop.” You quickly said, moving around in front of him and looking up at him. “Please, stop. Listen to me. Please.” You begged and looked over your shoulder. “I’m sorry. Just… one second…” Firmly placing your hands on his chest you moved Simon backwards from the kitchen. “Simon, it was a joke-” You cupped his face to ensure he was looking down at you. “It was a stupid joke.”

His brows furrowed, confusion evident on his face. “What?” He muttered. “I saw this stupid trend online of people texting their partners ‘I’m busy’ to see how their partners react. I didn’t think you’d show up here to skin the bloody boiler man alive.” You said in a whisper. “I’m really sorry. It was a stupid joke. I tried to call you and text you to explain…”

In his red hot rage, he’d thrown his phone aside in his truck. He hadn’t seen your explanations. “So, you’re not fuckin’ the boiler man?” He asked in a smaller tone. “No, absolutely not.” You replied with earnest. “It was just a joke and a really bad one at that.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Simon huffed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head. “Fuckin’ hell.” He repeated in a small tone. “Almost beat that bloke to a pulp.” He said in a harsh whisper. “I’m deleting that fuckin’ app from your phone.” You nodded your head quickly in response. “That’s fair.” You agreed and reached up to rub his shoulders and upper arms. “I’m really sorry.”

Simon glanced over your shoulder to where the man continued to very quickly return to servicing the boiler, clearly wanting to get out of here as soon as he could manage. “You’re sorry?” His dark eyes then turned down to you and his lip curled up softly at the corner. “Oh, you’re gonna be sorry. I promise you…” Turning you around he brought his hand down firmly on your rear so much so it shunted you back in the direction of the stairs. “Why don’t you wait upstairs for me? I’ll be up to deal with you soon…”

Now, you knew some part of you should have been scared, but fuck if you didn’t feel excited in that moment too… maybe it wasn’t such a stupid joke afterall.

Masterlist | Ask | 27-01-2025

[cthulhus-curse]

Play-Pretend

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,016

Warnings: Mommy Kink, Agatha has a penis, Blow Jobs, Exhibitionism, Public Sex, Degradation, Dom/sub Dynamics, Breeding | 18+ Minors DNI

Summary: In which you and your girlfriend find yourselves in quite the sticky situation in the middle of a club.

You should have known better, really. But then again, you always did like it rough. Well, she always gave it to you in such a way. Not that you would complain — never again. 

The lights scatter over your skin. At times they are red while others come as purple, but they don’t help you enough to see through the crowd. You blindly stride through it, head held up high as you make a frail attempt to catch a glimpse of what is far from you. But all you can see is a head of brown hair you know so well. Strands that you often run your fingers upon on display.

“Fancy seeing you here,” You almost have to scream. The bustling club is one your partner had picked out, and all you had to do was show up and sit pretty.

But Agatha is not amused. Quite frankly, she doesn’t tear herself away from the whiskey on her hand until she fully downs it. Minutes pass and you remain standing there, curious eyes gawking at your outfit that leaves little to nothing for the imagination of others. 

It is a game the two of you play. Something of a distraction from your busy shared lives that leave you going to bed as early as you leave the house in the morning. Roleplaying of sorts, Agatha had called it, and you went along with it joyously. Because while she often presented herself with unabashed sweetness and softness, when it came down to your shared pretend-time, she let go of any inhibitions. 

“You look like a whore,” she spits out, and your knees just about buck. 

“Well, I-”

“That wasn’t a question,” Agatha husks, her tone fueled with pure disgust. But by the gods does it do wonders to heave your chest. “Nor did I give you permission to speak. You’ve been a very bad girl today, Y/N. Looks like someone will have to make it up to mommy.”

The club suddenly goes quiet as your sole focus lands on the other woman. She stands tall over you, her heels high enough that she is able to tower over. A predator hunting its prey. And all you turn into is a frail little gazelle who instead hopes to be devoured all night long by the demanding lioness that is Agatha.

“I-”

But before you can dare respond, a hand moves to your throat. Its grip is strong on you, holding on for dear life as fingernails dig into your skin, forcing bits of blood to decorate your flesh. You try to break free, to challenge Agatha, but the woman refuses. She won’t let go, especially not when you so pathetically try to get her to do so nor when the bartender eyes you both curiously from afar. 

The crowd around you both is loud enough so your gasps for air are drowned out. No one is looking, nor would they care much, as Agatha pushes you away into the depths of the club. Far enough where no one can hear you, but still somewhat visible if one were to wander far beyond the life of the party. 

“I want you on your knees,” Agatha orders. She isn’t asking, but instead forcing you downwards in a matter of seconds. “It’s not a fucking question, Y/N. Get on your knees for mommy now.”

Sinking down to the floor, your knees gathering dirt from it, you nod. Your mouth salivates as you look up at the older woman with a fire in your eyes that she shares. Not even as she begins unzipping her formerly tented pants do you break eye-contact. Those icy blue orbs have a magical way to hypnotize you without even meaning to. 

“How dare you? You’re my property, understood? And only I get to see you like this,” Agatha growls. “Stupid pet. I’ll have to remind you who owns you, huh? You’re far too stupid to remember it on your own. Doesn’t surprise me.”

And for good measure, Agatha spits upon your face. The saliva lands right on your cheek, instantly making quick work to travel downwards. But you don’t clean it up – of course, unless you want your girlfriend to truly give you something to cry about. 

The sight of her cock springing free from the violet pair of briefs makes you hazy. It is semi-hard, enough that it slaps your cheek slightly before remaining halfway standing. But the more you bore your eyes into it, hungrily planting little kisses along its head, the further it grows. Agatha can only stare down with pride at her girthy member that her hand can barely wrap itself around. 

“Open up, sweetheart,” Agatha says, this time softer than the last. But she doesn’t need to say anything as you already kiss your way up and down every single inch of her dick. Kissing the small veins that make themselves known, fondling her balls before oh-so gingerly sucking them. You give her the utmost attention she requires. “There’s a good fucking girl. Just like that, baby. Worship mommy’s cock.”

And that you do. 

Your mouth opens wide enough to invite the massive intrusion inside. The salty taste of pre-cum becomes apparent on your tongue as it begins leaking from the rosy tip you enclose your lips around. Grabbing onto her thighs, you steady yourself before slowly moving your head forth. Every passing second, it is as though you take an inch, then another, then another.

Bobbing your head back and forth, you find yourself easily taking almost all seven inches given your years-long preparations. A hand moves to the top of your head, sitting there at first before following along with your movements. Back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Until it forcefully moves you further down Agatha’s penis, your lips brushing along her pelvis before you begin to gargle. And even then, she forces you to enjoy it before letting you find a breath of fresh air. 

“You look so pretty, baby. You weren’t meant for this. Only to suck off your mommy where anyone can see,” Agatha teases. For added measure, she thrust her hips forth slightly, forcing her thick penis further down your throat. “Mommy’s little dick-sucker. Now that’s a fitting name for a slut like you, eh?”

Her balls ghost over your chin as you vigorously suck her off. With your relaxed throat, you are soon able to take more than she can give you, and you want it all. Her dick begins twitching wildly inside you as Agatha holds onto the nearby wall for dear life. Yet none of it dissuades you. No, you keep drilling her cock into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you tease her flushed head with your famished tongue. 

It does not take Agatha long to cum, and by the time she does, your head is left pinned between the wall and her body. Copious drops of cum ooze out of her tip, every single one forced down your throat. And you take them all, not daring to waste even a smidge of the special treat you adore tasting. Swallowing it whole to make your girlfriend proud. 

“Did you take all of it?” You watch the woman raise her eyebrows even with the near-lack of light around you both. 

“Yes, mommy,” you promise, opening your mouth to show off its emptiness as you took all her cum for yourself. “I’m a good girl.”

“Uh-huh,” Agatha, with flushed cheeks, hums. She motions you upwards, holding out a hand to help steady you along with the wall. “Now, turn around for mommy, baby.”

Frowning, having thought it was over, you begin to protest. “But-”

“Now, Y/N. Mommy still wants to use her best girl,” Agatha feigns a pout. “Be a dear and let me use your pussy, yeah? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” Her arms help you face the wall, hugging you from behind as she presses her messy dick against your ripped jeans. “Mommy just needs to use her little whore for a bit. So stand there and look pretty for me. Maybe put on a show for anyone that wants to watch.” She nearly tears apart your clothes, ensuring that your backside is clear of any fabric while having tugged on your see-through shirt enough, your breasts jiggle out. “Sharing is caring, after all.”

You would be lying if you said it didn’t make a jolt of need flow down your body. “Of course, mommy.”

The bulbous tip of her dick spreads your juicy folds apart as soon as it touches you. Agatha is desperate, refusing to take it slow let alone for wishing to admire her handiwork. To see you so wet, your slickness drifts down your shaky inner thighs. She smacks your cunt with her meat once or twice, giggling at the lewd noise it makes. Yet still not nearly loud enough compared to the music the club plays. 

The remainder of the club-goes are oblivious to the way Agatha slams her cock inside you with one swift movement. Such roughness is one she has leisurely been building up to. Her fingernails dig into your hips as every delicious inch of her penis forces itself into your pussy which welcomes it with a tight hug. 

“Fuck,” Agatha grunts, a sentiment you soon echo. “Oh baby, your pussy feels amazing.” Her curious hands begin traveling upwards, not ceasing their movements until they find your breasts to grope. “Look how well you’re taking me. You dumb cock-whore.” She slams her waist forth, the head of her penis hitting your sweetest spot. The mewl you let out only heightens her pleasure. “Mommy’s fleshlight.”

The two of you are lost in your own world as you become one. The moist sounds of your pussy being repeatedly abused by your girlfriend’s cock booms across the remote corner of the club you share. The thought of having anyone simply walk far enough to see you being destroyed makes you moan. To be shown off to the world as nothing but a brainless toy for your mommy to use. 

Finding the proper tempo, you begin matching Agatha’s ministrations. At first you are awkward, but with each harsh thrust that comes, you grow more confident. Your skins slap together as nails scratch hips further. A haze overcomes your sights, not that you can see anything around you in the first place, as a warmth settles on your lower belly. 

“Harder,” you plead, and Agatha is more than willing to listen. “Please, mommy.”

“Anything for you, my girl,” Agatha mumbles, gripping your tits as she fucks into you with might. Slow, yet harsh attacks which stretch your cunt out further. “I’ll fill you up so well, baby. I bet your pussy will look gorgeous. Nice and full of mommy’s cum.”

She explodes within you, her cock jittering once against as it begins spurting out drop after drop of white. You try to move away, to find some solace from the warmth that seeps into your cunt which you are to take. But Agatha does not allow you to do so. Instead she continues moving her hips, forcing her penis to your depths as you are fully bred with her seed. 

Her breathlessness is apparent as she stands behind you, peppering sweet kisses along your shoulder. Agatha is quite touchy after the matter, always enjoying a closeness to you after having played pretend with such roughness. And as she moves away slightly, her cock gradually slipping from the hold of your cunt, small droplets of cum begin oozing down your thighs.

“Oops,” Agatha chuckles, shaking her head as she admires the mess the two of you, primarily her fault, created. She rubs her dick over your slit once more, this time garnering an obscene amount of your juices mixed with her seed. “Looks like mommy made quite the mess. Nothing short of what a slut like you deserves.”

With your head already high up in the clouds, you share her amusement. “And who is to say we should stop now?”

[drleggman]

Otoya Eita x reader

summary: Otoya learns that you had sex with his best friend, and the envy he feels isn't towards who he expected

tags: bi/pan!gn!reader, no physical descriptions (character & reader), established relationship (fwb), vague descriptions of sex, 18+ minors don't look or I'm telling your parents

wc: 1.9k

a/n: this is mostly just a convo between Otoya and reader, and the horny bits don't even directly involve him rip. it's very silly and unserious! sorry if you were expecting more

“Curve or no curve?”

Otoya’s question catches you off guard. You’d been sitting in relative silence until now—both reclining on his couch, legs intertwined between you with only the soft sounds of your respective video games filling the otherwise quiet room.

“What?”

“You prefer your cocks with a curve? Or without one?” He asks again like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

The music pouring lowly from the console in your hands stops abruptly, your game momentarily paused. “My bad for the confusion? I don’t always have dick on the mind, unlike you apparently.”

“Answer the question, will you?”

You take a moment to consider. And then another. Is one better than the other? This isn’t something you’d really put much thought to until now. “I… don’t think I have a preference.”

“Oh bullshit.” You can tell he's rolling his eyes without even seeing them.

“I don’t! You know what people say, it’s about how you use it or whatever. As long as your stroke game is good, it doesn’t really matter what your dick is like.” You shrug, and just as you’re about to return to your game, he pipes up again.

“Well Karasu said-“

“You talk about dick with Karasu?” You grin. This is more entertaining, you decide: fucking with him. You set your Switch on the coffee table beside you and give him your full attention.

“Will you shut the fuck- Ugh.” You hear a long exhale, and he sets his controller down. "Karasu said," he turns to you, eyes squinted and brows pinched together, “bottoms prefer it with a little curve. To hit all the good spots or whatever. I told him the same thing you told me, that it doesn’t matter.”

You blow air through your nose, grinning to yourself. Oh you know exactly why Karasu said that to him.

“He’s had a big head ever since I told him that,” you murmur.

“What?”

Your brow furrows. “What?”

“Since you told him what?”

“That the way his cock curves feels good…?”

He makes a face at that, pained and something else that you can’t quite place, and you hide behind your hand so he can’t see you snickering.

“Hated that.” He says, but you can’t help but notice that he’s blushing, though just barely. Almost as if he’s flustered. “How do you know what his dick feels like?”

“We’ve… had sex?” What kind of question is that? Is he stupid? “How else would I know that?”

He straightens up, noticeably more invested in the conversation now that you’ve divulged this information to him. “ When did that happen?”

“Why are you interrogating m-“

“When??” His tone is by no means stern, but he’s insistent. You’ve always known this to be true. He’ll pester you til the end of time if you don’t tell him what he wants to hear.

“Like, five months ago?”

You’re not even sure exactly. It happened when you and Karasu were both a little tipsy at a birthday party. Whose it was, you can’t remember. You’d been complaining to him about being pent up, and Otoya had chosen to spend the night with another girl. Karasu offered himself up, cozying up to you and whispering low and raspy into your ear, “How about I take care of you tonight, then?” He’d had his eye on you since you were first introduced to him, seizing the opportunity to finally get a taste of you as Otoya usually doesn’t let you out of his sight when he’s around.

“We were fucking then.” He states plainly. His expression is unreadable, ever the face of indifference even as his words contradict that sentiment.

“Otoya. Since when do you care about the other people I sleep with?”

“I don’t care. I’m just… curious.” You don’t think he’s even trying to be convincing. He won’t even look at you.

“It seems like you care.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, gathering his thoughts. “I’ve never cared less about anything, actually.”

He does care. Obviously. You’ve talked to him about all of the women you’ve slept with since the two of you had started your relationship, if you can even call it that, and never once has he been this weird about it. It’s something you bonded over, in fact, because of course he’s sleeping around too. Sharing the intimate details of your trysts with other girls is a favorite pastime of yours. At some point Otoya started to wonder if he’s the only guy you’re actively having sex with, so to hear that not only is he not the only guy you’ve fucked recently, but that the other guy was Karasu Tabito, of all people, has him feeling. Feeling what, exactly? He’s not sure.

You know full well about how he likes to fantasize about you with your other partners after you’ve recounted every last detail to him, just as you do with him and his. He’ll let his hand slip between his legs, lazily pleasuring himself as he imagines you with the pretty girl you’d shown him a picture of—sometimes in front of you as you tell him about her, sometimes when he’s alone and too lazy to find a video to jerk off to.

Is it okay for him to think about Karasu like that? What exactly would it mean if he does? God, he has so many questions.

Were you a bit more dominant with him like you are with those girls he hears about? Or did his friend have to put you in your place after you started acting bratty like you do when you're with him? Karasu is a charmer though, and a sweet talker too. Maybe you didn't want to be bratty at all. Karasu has always had that subtle air of dominance about him. He knows how to get his way with people. He’s more than capable of teasing and talking down to you in a way that would lull you into a sense of submission. Otoya has seen it before, both on the field and off, the way that Karasu commands obedience.

He lets his mind wander further. He pictures you with Karasu. You're sweaty and panting, your hips grinding together and hands groping and tongues down each other’s throats. He can hear you so clearly in his mind. Can see the way your face scrunches up in pleasure. If Karasu’s dick really does feel as good as you say it does, it must leave you a whining, overstimulated mess by the time he’s done with you.

The image of Karasu is just as vivid. He can see the cocky smirk he wears as he comes undone underneath him. He can see the sweat beading down his forehead, his neck, and his chest. How he’s glistening with it as he puts more and more force into each thrust. He can hear him too, his honey-slicked words spilling from his lips that are pressed against his neck. And his cock… the ease with which it hits all of the right spots inside of him.

It’s gotta feel so fucking good, Otoya thinks to himself. And I bet he’s hung-

He cuts the thought off immediately once he realizes the gravity of it. He crinkles his nose as he wills away the image of his best friend on top of him.

“What is this?” You say, and suddenly Otoya is reminded of your presence.

He can pretend not to care about Karasu all he wants, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s visibly unsettled by what you’ve said. After knowing each other for as long as you have, you find him easy to read. The way he fidgets with the frayed fabric of his beanie, the way he refuses to meet your gaze. All easy tells. He’s lost in thought, and you think that whatever image he’s conjuring up in that pretty little head of his must be really good to get him to shut up for this long. “Are you… jealous?”

You’ve never seen him react like this to hearing about you fucking someone else. Otoya doesn’t care about exclusivity. He never has. You two sleep with whoever you want, whenever you want. You have a feeling it’s not the fact that it’s a man you slept with that’s getting to him, but rather because it was Karasu specifically.

“Why would I be jealous? I get to fuck you all the time.” You just barely catch the way his voice quivers.

Oh. He doesn’t even know. He’s got that look on his face, the one you’ve only seen a handful of times. It’s the face he makes when he wants something that he thinks is out of reach, and he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. His genuine confusion is almost endearing. He’s seemingly blissfully unaware of his own desires.

“I didn’t mean jealous of Karasu.”

He’s stone faced as he finally looks at you now. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head.

“You are, aren’t y-“

“Shut up.” He doesn’t let you finish. He doesn’t like what you’re implying, and he doesn’t want to unpack that.

You bark out a laugh. “Why were you even thinking about that conversation you two had anyway?”

“Shut. Up.”

You listen, though only for a moment. There’s a pregnant pause, and he’s daring you with his gaze to keep pressing.

“His cock does feel good-“

“Stop that.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning confusion.

“Stop talking about my friend’s cock.”

Oh, but that wouldn’t be any fun, now would it? You have to push his buttons some more. “It’s not like it only feels good because it’s curved, though it does help.”

He says nothing, giving you one last opportunity to drop the topic before he turns his attention elsewhere.

“He just knows how to fuck, I think.”

Another sigh, then he turns back towards the tv and mutters, “I’m done with this conversation.”

He picks up his controller and unpauses his game, and the rhythmic sound of him tapping buttons fills the space between you. He’s getting his ass kicked, not that he doesn’t usually, but right now he seems to be particularly incapable of defending himself from the ai enemies on the screen. You can tell his focus is elsewhere, try as he might to pretend he’s more invested in the game than whatever thoughts are swirling around in his head.

Your lips are pursed as you hold in the words threatening to spill from you. He’s aware that you’re watching him, he can see you in his periphery. Your self restraint is running thin, and he’s started to squirm in anticipation, knowing full well you have some more bullshit to say.

“Have you ever played with your ass before?” You blurt it out before you’ve even realized it, hands clamping over your mouth as if you can’t believe you just said such a thing.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Again, he sighs. The game pauses and he briefly tightens then releases his grip on his controller. He sits on his answer for a moment, not yet sure if he should indulge you further. Maybe if he imagines it hard enough, he can explode you with his mind and be done with this.

“Yes, I’ve played with my ass before.”

You beam, the part of you expecting him to just call you a freak and disregard your question entirely put at ease. “Did you like it??”

You're much too excited about this for his liking. “I- yeah… I did.” Head rolling back onto the couch and his whole body slackening, he looks utterly defeated. You, on the other hand, are basking in your victory. You’re peeling away at him, layer by layer. Unveiling his desires that he’s kept hidden so deep within him he may not even be sure they’re there. “It’s just usually too much of a hassle to do it most of the time...”

Your tongue pokes out to wet your lips, and he watches the movement with rapt attention. “I have this toy… It looks a lot like Karasu’s dick…”

His eyes snap back to yours in an instant, and you continue on as if he’s not silently pleading with you to have mercy on him. To stop implanting these images in his head.

“It’s not quite as thick, but it’s got the same subtle, upward curve~” Your bottom lip is pulled between your teeth. Otoya watches again, letting himself get lost in the visual to distract from what you’re saying to him.

You feel his leg shift between yours. His foot trails up, settling just shy of the apex of where your thigh meets your hip. “Okay… You’re telling me this why…?”

“We should try it.” You grin. His face goes flush. “On you, of course.”

“And why do you think we should do that?”

You sit up and push yourself towards him. He tries to back away, but there’s nowhere for him to escape to.

“So you know what to expect when you finally decide to ask Karasu to have his way with you.”

divider by @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more

[luck-of-the-drawings]

smth smth about 'the thing that the character did that you thought was rly rly funny in the moment is actually linked to a terrible trauma that lies within said character.' or wahtever.

[macbethisms]

underrated thing about wang baoxiang is how utterly pathetic he is. intentionally provokes his brother every time they interact because having esen be mad at him for something he did on purpose is easier than being vulnerable and then is like how could esen think i hate him :(( goes around rolling his eyes at all these Idiots who don't consider the Needs of the Common Folk and then gets grossed out whenever a servant dares to speak to him. constantly thinking about Hot Men Exercising and how much they all want to fuck each other probably. hasn't emotionally matured past the age of fifteen (he is twenty-three). thinks of himself as a Character instead of a person so much that he gets surprised whenever the things he did for their narrative significance have actual real consequences. while being quite literally haunted by a specter of his own guilt is like hm what could this mean. well time to not sleep for another 36 hours. kills people and then throws up about it and then goes off to kill more people because surely this is the one that will fix everything right. wants to be punished for what he's done because it's the closest he can get to admitting he feels remorse. looks for his brother everywhere but only ever finds himself.

which of course culminates with him stalking miserably through the hallways looking for someone to be mad at because there needs to be someone else responsible for making his life suck but there isn't anymore because no one has power over him anymore. and he can't go back but tries to convince himself that he doesn't want to because he also needs to see himself as being In Control of Everything That's Ever Happened to Him. he wanted it all along and he likes it here actually. and he won fratricide chicken and got himself tortured and tried to show mercy and did every evil dishonorable thing and now he just has to live with it all forever. loser!!!!

[b4kuch1n]

tdov was like a week ago already but I just wanna say when I came over to vacation slash help my sworn brother move flat he told me, "ever since you said you wanted to get top surgery I've been thinking about it. it's straight up number two on my bucket list"

[honeyconez]

guys hear me out would painis cupcake pay taxes? Because he’s not like mega insane like ass pancakes I think he’d pay his taxes in my professional opinion.

[squeakadeeks]

if i had a dollar for every time a religious missionary knocked on my door to "spread the good news" while i was actively in an acute mental health crisis i'd have 2 dollars, which isnt a lot but also. how many times does this have to happen before they stop coming.

[thedreadvampy]

it's been a strange arc so far

when I was 19-21 and having an extremely imbalanced relationship with someone in their mid 30s I was like 'we are both adults so the fact that this is fucking me up is my fault'

when I hit my late 20s and saw how young people in their late teens and early 20s seem now I was like 'oh wait I was so fucking young I didn't know shit about my own limits or about managing relationships and I don't know why someone in their mid to late 30s would be into that except for nefarious purposes'

the weird bit is now I'm into my 30s - not even that far into my 30s - and while I still wholeheartedly believe that last thing about how young (and self destructive) 20 year olds are, I'm also kind of like 'huh, actually nobody I know that age has their shit remotely together and frankly the reason this fucked me up is because NEITHER of us knew what the fuck we were doing it how to cope, for different reasons and at different life stages, and there probably wasn't any malice or intent to control as much as there was Blind Flailing.'

[throughdarkeningskies]

fascinating to see posts where it's like. someone taking a phrase with a specific meaning and insisting that it can actually mean Anything At All Whatsoever. i get what you're trying to do here but words have meanings for a reason

[termagax]

like i think to fish theyre just both people who shouldve died a long time ago and now they arent allowed to. because they need each other. and they both crave that and resent it.

[milfronin-archive]

we as a society need to stop automatically associating stupidity as being a bad thing. i say this as someone who is completely genuinely a bit stupid i am like . i take a lot of time to pick up on things i am incredibly easily confused i will very very very easily assume things wrong or forget things and it is not necessarily a bad thing and whenever i call myself stupid people are like "oh you're not stupid youre smart" like no, it isnt a self deprecation thing, it's a statement of fact. I Am A Bit Dull And That Is Okay. Don't call me out for using the wrong language or whatever it's late at night and i'm really muddyminded right now but i want to . make a post about this and kind of get it off my chest

[seventh-district]

of course i finally write something for the first time in nearly two months and it’s the most fucked-up, self-indulgent thing i’ve ever written

[slimyenemy]

i'm not doing any nightmares i'm being nice to you in case you care to some extent for as long as needed before it turns into an abuse apologism circus and then if it does i'm doing curses! like i said!

[medicinemane]

The problem with a lot of body horror for me is it's just gross without being compelling

Like yeah you had that person tear their leg open and pull muscle away from bone in a way that's very uncomfortable... but I don't care. Or a lot of Hostel style horror for me it's just kinda... yeah... grossing me out isn't some kinda win

Cause it's not that I don't like body horror, I love Dead Space for instance which... kinda the core pillar of that is body horror if we're honest

Could be a matter of that that kind of body horror is more fantastic making it easier to digest, I will advance that as a theory, but personally I kinda think that it's more that they do something actually interesting with it

Like if I wanted to I could probably see a really fucked up leg wound (and worse) in looking online about this shitty world

Can't really find dead bodies contorted into killing machines though

So I kinda feel like it's my problem with a lot of horror, of that it's horrible in a mundane way where as I'm looking for some unfathomable secret out of horror

So there's a difference between some stabbing a person in the eye cause they're just a shitty person, and doing it to try and create a replica of an alien artifact that gives unlimited energy but also drives people crazy and then turns their bodies into horrible monstrosities

One is just way more interesting to me

[inbabylontheywept]

The Motherfucking Lizard King

No one at work trusts my boss. 

He's smart. He works hard. He's not trustworthy. He hasn't actually fucked anyone at work over, but he's ruined his last two marriages with affairs, and got dumped by his third fiance when he wouldn't sign a prenup. The fact that we all know this is just a hazard of working in a small town. 

Anyway: The thought process of the people in the lab is that if he screwed over his first wife, and his second wife, and was probably planning on screwing over his third wife, it would be insane for him not to screw us over. After all, what kind of idiot treats their employees better than their spouse? 

I dunno. His kind, I guess? He's had a few chances to fuck us over, and he hasn't taken them. Opposite really. When our parent company was doing furloughs, he stayed in the office almost a hundred hours, talking and talking and talking his way up the corporate ladder. And in the end, no one at our site got furloughed. 

He's pulled strings like that before. And it baffles me, right? Because it really does make zero sense. He'll move the heavens and the earth for us, but his wife and kids are afterthoughts. It feels like any moment, he's going to look into the mirror and realize how stupid that is. It feels like I'm betting on him making the same stupid mistake again, and again, and again - like it would be less cynical to believe he was, eventually, going to stab me in the back. But he hasn't yet, and as far as I can tell he's been making that mistake for close to fifteen years, and it's already cost him everything it can. If he was going to learn, he would have by now. 

So my position on him is that if he wanted to date someone I cared about, I'd warn them off. I don't trust him there. But I tentatively trust him to be my boss. Maybe one day he'll stick the knife in and twist, and everyone will say Ah, Babs, we warned you, but for now, I accept that he's doing a very predictable, very irrational thing, and I've made my peace with it. 

---

My job has glue traps. 

No one likes the glue traps, but we don't have a lot of options. Poison's banned by state law, spring traps are banned by company safety, and several non-lethal options tried in the past failed to work. The mouse problem can get pretty bad if it's ignored, and there's some real health hazards in that. Our site has never had a positive hantavirus test, thank God, but the big base about a half hour away has. That guy's gonna be on oxygen the rest of his life. 

If a mouse gets caught, we just euthanize it. But more than mice get stuck. Lizards can wander into those traps too, and the people working there have different feelings about the lizards. They don't pose nearly the same kind of risk mice do. They're chill little guys, and they keep the moths away, and they're just 

You know. They're friendly. There's something to be said about walking into a room, and hitting the light switch, and seeing two little guys on the wall start to do pushups as soon as they see you. 

People used to just euthanize the lizards too, but I had pet leopard geckos as a kid and I couldn't take that so I wound up googling how to free animals from glue traps. Now, when a lizard gets stuck in a trap - which happens once or twice a week - I get some vegetable oil from the breakroom, and a little plastic fork, and I'll spend fifteen to twenty minutes just kind of gently prying the little guys out. 

I have a team of technicians that help me operate one of the larger machines. They're real blue collar guys, ex-airforce, and they make me look like a little kid. Being an engineer means they'll look to me as a leader sometimes, which is a wild experience. And I started helping the lizards for my own conscience, but one of the crazier consequences of it has been that it seriously boosted my leadership cred. Because those guys see me, and they go: Hey. If he's willing to fight for a lizard, he's gotta be willing to fight for me. 

I cannot overstate how nice that is. Most engineers that want to make a change to a maintenance practice, or try an upgrade, they have to work their asses off to get the techs to buy in. But I can just ask. They already trust me to do good. They know I'm new, and they know I'm not the smartest engineer in the building, but they also know I'm the one who gets lizards out of the glue traps. 

And just because of that, they're willing to follow me. 

---

My boss has a meeting every month or two. It's typically basic house cleaning stuff - reminders about routines we've gotten lazy on, and updates on future projects. Maybe some warnings about problems coming from higher up in the company.

People are, in my opinion, a bit too cynical about the meetings. It stems from people not trusting our boss, which again, I understand, because it would make so much more sense if he wasn't trustworthy. It's a testament to the man's incredibly unhealthy priorities that he is. But as we made it to the end of the meeting, one of bullet points was: 

Do NOT mess with animals in the building. 

So I looked at my techs, and they looked at me, and when he got to the point, he was so scathing I actually just wanted to crawl under a rock and die. He said basically that he'd heard some reports about someone in the building handling animals that found their way in and got stuck, and that he just wanted to emphasize how insanely inappropriate that was, not to mention dangerous, and that if he needed to speak to anyone about it again, there would be severe consequences. 

I was willing to just take the shame and move on. I was. But one of my techs is old. Old enough he could've retired two years ago. And his actual literal goal is to one day get angry, yell at someone, and storm out. That's how he wants to retire. So instead of biting his tongue like everyone else, he stood up and said: I hate the glue traps. You hate the glue traps. We all hate glue traps. But we've all sat here for years, ignoring the little things that get stuck in them, watching them die, and then Bab's comes in, and he is the first person in decades to give enough of a shit to start pulling the lizards out. And I don't want him to stop. 

Get humane traps or shut up but we are not going back to the old way of just letting things starve. 

And my boss actually froze up. He got all wide eyed and stared at Marc, and then the other techs jumped in, and there was a very small but intense rebellion in the meeting and my boss kept trying to interrupt while getting absolutely bowled over by this gang of angry middle aged air force vets, and eventually he just went 

I will speak with Babylon about this afterwards! After! And then he will speak with everyone else, but I have more points to cover. 

So they went silent, and my boss rushed through the last five minutes, and we all adjounred. The techs really didn't like that I was going in alone - they thought our boss was going to try and shout me into compliance. Marc in particular was like, Look, if he tries bullying you, stand your ground, and if he threatens anything, just come get us, and we'll give him hell. 

So armed with that, I went to my boss's office. I sat in the chair across from him, and he kept his composure for maybe five seconds before just flopping back into his chair. 

I had no idea you were saving lizards, he said, but I'm glad you are. I always hated seeing them die in the glue.  

I wasn't expecting that. I was about to ask him what the comment from the meeting was about then, but he answered that before I even got the chance.

A snake got into the building last week, and - someone picked it up and chased a coworker around. Turns out that coworker was severely afraid of snakes, and now it's a shitshow. We're a small site, and now I can't ask those two to work together anymore, to say nothing about how the snake fared after all that. Being upset about that is a reasonable thing, right? 

And he gave me a look like he actually wanted an answer, so I said Yeah, totally, chasing a coworker around with a snake is a dick move. Especially if that coworker is already afraid of snakes. 

And he said Exactly! and then we sat there a few moments longer. He looked so incredibly tired that I did, actually, feel kind of bad for him. And then he somehow managed to sink even further into his chair, and said

Look, I know I'm not a good guy. But I'm not evil. I'm not some sort of crazy asshole that's going to demand that everyone watch lizards starve to death. When you go back downstairs, could you try to pass that on? That I'm not evil? 

I said Sure because it wasn't a hard request, and he looked relieved. I actually made it halfway out before I realized I had a question. 

Who grabbed the snake? I asked. 

Not supposed to talk about it, he said. But whoever comes to mind first is probably right. 

ThatGuy? I asked. And he looked me in the face, nodded his head yes, and said No. 

---

The techs seemed a little disappointed that they didn't get to storm the boss's office, but were otherwise in good spirits. They were actually a little bit embarrassed to hear about the snake story - apparently, it wasn't much of a secret. It'd just slipped their minds because it happened three weeks ago. 

We did maintenance after that, the same basic repairs we did every week. The meeting had been stressful and it was a relief to work with my hands. When the parts were reinstalled, everything cleaned and smooth and ready to go, Marc found me again. 

You know what the lesson of today is? he asked. And there were quite a few answers to that that I could have taken - from don't assume the worst of people to be careful with how you spend your trust - we all need it more than we think. 

But instead I said what? because I wanted to hear what his answer was going to be. 

That I got your back, he said. Then he clapped one very, very large hand on my shoulder, gave it a good squeeze, and walked back to dosimetry lab.

---

The next day, Marc gave me a package and told me to open it in my office. I was suspicious, but I followed the request.

Cardboard gave way to a small baggie, obviously full of fabric, which opened to reveal a t-shirt that read

"I Am the Motherfucking Lizard King."

I looked at it, I loved it, and then I got an idea. I went to my boss's office and knocked on the door. When he opened it, I asked him if he would be willing to allow something very unprofessional to happen for morale building purposes.

How unprofessional? he asked. I held the shirt up in answer. He gave the shirt a short look over and snorted.

You can wear it on weeks without customers, he said. Which just so happened to include that week.

I'll pass on that it came with your blessing, I replied, and he looked oddly relieved.

Thanks, he said. And then I went downstairs.

---

The techs were very, very happy to see the shirt. And while my boss's reputation remains in tatters, and probably will be until he moves (or dies), the next time there was a meeting, there was quite a bit less complaining about how mere presence. Which is, I guess, a start.

We'll see if he squanders it.