#guts scenario

[loneworldgazer]

@pinkkunt-imagines @dwelleroftheobsidiantower

req :I saw Berserk in your tags, so assuming I'm assuming you write for it. I'd like to request either a headcanon or a scenario about Post Eclipse Guts and Griffith having become parents from a relationship pre-eclipse. Like their reactions, interactions with the child, etc. Thank you, bookie. 💖

pairing: Guts x Reader, Griffith x Reader

a/n: ive done your request but there is so many things i am not satisfied by. there's probably a lot of repetitive words and i deeply apologize, enjoy it nonetheless!

tags: hints of violence and manipulation in griffith's, angst to comfort, fluff,

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────

Guts wasn't one to soften his heart easily, he pushes away people and let people assume of him by his strength and how much of an arrogant man he is. He didn't bat an eye to people who try to cross him again and goes off to his own path to protect others from him.

He felt that he'd let his weakness slip when he had opened his heart to another person.

There was just something about the way you held the baby in your arms. You wonder what type of hell he'd been through to look at you that way. It was a haunting look not one of no emotion but weakness from the facade he had pulled away from.

"Guts?"

Your voice didn't reach him as he runs out the door. Understanding him will always be never ending, there will be more questions you utter than answers he can think of.

Erica holds your baby, her childlike innocence calling Guts such a bad guy for leaving you just like that and you could nothing but chuckle. The chuckle made your throat hurt from the tears that had started pouring down your ears, darting from the little girl's sight to wipe them away quickly.

Your hands extend to the teapot and look closely at the tea leaves that had dwindled down since the trees in these parts were dying to the fast winter that was approaching. It was quite silly worrying about Guts who was running out in this cold, he was a machine. A weapon that wont stop to anything in its path yet the nights of worrying about the sores he had on his feet, the splinters he had from trees he gathered back to home will always stick close to you.

"I have thick skin, don't worry too much."

That soft smirk he had when he wipes tears away from your eyes as the blood just won't stop flowing. Every scar that was stitched was remembered, it came from many brave battles that may have been a breeze for him but an impending ache to you.

Should you rush out the door after him, the wailing of your baby could be heard miles away. A fierce cry coming out from such a small body. All the pain of child birth would come rushing back into you, legs trembling when the throb shoots up your nerves. Oh and Erica who was so observant even if she held the tiny bundle of joy in one arm while stopping you with the other with a pout on her face.

"You don't need to go out for the tea leaves, Rickert keeps them in the second drawer near the dried fish."

You can't help but smile, such a sweet girl. Stepping away from the door, you trust Guts to return. He always does be it battles or training, clenching the necklace you wore, you've convinced yourself.

He will come back.

-------

The storm had particularly been rough tonight though it didn't wake you up but the anxiety had consumed you on why the baby had been silent. The bile in your throat rises up, whipping your head to the baby's cradle. praying that there was nothing wrong when you saw him.

Guts looked down at his baby, the part of his armour on his chest removed where he laid his child against. His hair was wet but he made sure to tilt back so the droplets don't touch what he was holding. His breathing was slow, the sound of the night drowning out in his ears when he focused on the breathing of the baby in his arms. The little bundle of joy nuzzles into his chest, soiled tank top warm enough for the trembling body of his little girl.

You didn't want to see his reaction, scared he will have the same look of horror from the first time he'd seen the baby. Fist clenching the sheets to try to hurriedly wipe the tears from your cheeks, you twitch when he turns towards you.

He holds up the little girl, a look of pure awe and serenity that made your shoulders droop from the tension.

"She has your eyes.."

He cradles him, running a hand through the short patch of hair on his head.

"She also has my hair.."

Coming from Guts was a smile that looked painful to muster but this baby was the best thing that could happen eversince everything. His finger toys with the spikiness of his child's head and you can't help but run to him. The sharp edges of his armour, the ones on his arms that wrap around you slightly pokes you but you couldn't care less.

His reaction was enough, calloused hand wrapping around yours as his eyes speak more to the fear in yours.

This was his baby, his soon to be pride and joy whom he'll fight for.

With you by his side.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

While he focused on his training, he easily brings back kills to feed you as you light up fire for the pot

He spoon feeds the grilled meat in your mouth while he takes the baby in his other hand. Even if you protest that you should hold the baby, he declines that offer

You were a hardworking parent without him and he wants to give his part too if possible, give himself whole for you

Everything was warm enough for you. He pulls that romantic stuff of blowing your hot food for you and you'd slap him playfully when his spit dribbles on to it

When it comes to sleep, he made sure to let you sleep. Ever since he came back, he looked at his baby with a look of longing. like he had lost so much time because of battles, missing the period where you had given birth to a new life.

He traced his fingers against the skin of the girl, she was quite plump. Guts was grateful that you had reside with Rickert and Erica, you look pale, the challenges of childbirth evident on your body but both of his dears healthy and untouched by any danger he had feared of

Small arms wrap around his hand, the swordsman knew he was a walking heater and caressed the little one's face. His palm on her cheek as she gurgles

This is one of the cases where Guts will give you never ending heart attacks when the sun had illuminated the room and his thick body resting down on the baby

You'd pound on his back to wake up, he was a beefcake so your punches barely register not until the baby started crying

"You idiot, you fell asleep on the baby!"

Rickert entered the room to see what the commotion is, he could only chuckle softly but before he asked the couple to tone it down, Erica pulled him out the door with all her might. Rickert nearly stumbled back against the short girl.

Erica shushed him excessively, clutching tea leaves in her hand.

"Shh! Don't bother them."

She huffs, letting go off Rickert's scarf and walked away to start a fire, blowing it a bit before wiping her cheek. That soft look in her eyes wary.

"I haven't seen Mx Y/n this loud before.. not since Guts came back."

Rickert understood the implication, his tense shoulders drooping as he listens to the rattle in the room. Y/n had been restless since the months Guts had been gone from war. Even if Erica had talked with them daily, there's so much a parent could worry about. He clenched his hand, it made sense. Sooner or later, Guts have to leave even if it looked like he won't.

That sword man's always had many things plaguing his mind but for now, he'll stay with his spouse and hold his partner close to his heart.

Griffith

Those sharp eyes look down at his child, sweat running down his face with a tissue lodged in his nose. He held a sword in his hand, one that was in his favourite colours and chattered in excitement on how he won his third fight with the older fighters.

Griffith's eyes slowly trail to the noise of your steps, you looked at your son with endearment but a hint of worry. He was barely bruised and his cuts were covered by bandaids, those eyes of his though were filled with the same fire just like his father's. You adjusted your son's collar to which his eyes follow, whining when you'd pull the ribbons too tight.

"Cmon, dont you want that puff pastry I baked this morning? If you get your teeth knocked out, you can't chew it!"

The little boy lights up to the sound of having a treat after a day of training, he really wanted to bite into something that was as rewarding as his parent's creation. He then runs home, slipping through your fingers to get that bite of pastry. You sigh, holding onto the boy's sword that dropped out of enthuasiasm. When you look back up, Griffith was staring straight at you, a look that sent a chill down your spine before he pulls away.

Unlike Guts, Griffith had already made his plans for his child.

He'll be strong, he'll fight like him but not become just like him

He let his son indulge in human activities like playing about, tasting all kinds of foods, giving him clothes warm and luxurious clothes. Things he weren't able to experience when he was a child

Scratching after scraps of food, the clothes on his back wet from grime and rain and his only childhood friend a sword amongst a pile of dead bodies wasn't something he wanted his child to ever go through

Even if he watches his son play in the garden, he doesn't feel like anything. He would be another weapon whom he can send off into war but he made it count for his creation, the spitting image of him should reign amongst everybody and step on the tombs of his once companions

He does engage in idle talk with his son, maintaining a connection with his creation in order to bring him over on his beliefs. He does find the benefit in attaching himself onto the little one's mind. It was obvious that his normal was completely different from his son, his stories full of sparks of colours while Griffith's was only red

Griffith's fingers occasionally comb through his son's, just what is mentioned prior is that he was a spitting image. It almost seemed like his genes had been more on the dominant side but what was different was the shape of his eyes and nothing more

Griffith smelled the fresh smell of baked goods being made, you had made a new batch instead of reheating the ones in the morning and heads inside. His home was lavish but due to your wishes on wanting to bake alone, the ones under him followed

He follows you and sits down, his hand caressing your face.

"Thank you for this, my love."

He kisses your hand before his son passed his father a piece of puff pastry, putting it on his plate. The dining table was quiet with the clinking of forks and knifes and soft laughter from both of his beloved. He didn't have to eat it, he didn't have to do all of this. He could even succeed without his family.

But maybe, this was a sense of normalcy he always wanted to feel when life was nearly stripped away from him.

[vellichorom]

@satisfiedskye reintroducing me to THE OG fuckable old man

[sidethatyoudontknow]

In the middle of all this 457 chaos there's me that lowkey ships junho and the salesman/ the recruiter/ddakji guy or whatever you're calling him

I mean have you look at them, imagine the banter we could've got

Like there's junho, a detective who's been trying to find his brother only to be led up to a brutal kids game competition in some sketchy island and also finds out the person who controls the said game is his very own brother that he's been searching for a long time that is also a previous winner in the game

And then there's the salesman (some people call him ddakji or dak ho) who's been trained to kill, to see people that played the games is lower than him like a trash since he was a teenager probably, who doesn't even know the purpose of life anymore, a literal mess, a maniac. That's also probably the one that recruit junho's brother into playing the games(a theory not sure if that would makes sense)

Just imagine that, I could write a few headcanons if anyone interested

And yes yes I know they didn't even interacted once for SHIT(and the only time they ever see one another was when one of them already died and the one died never also see him or does he?)

[anna-scribbles]

“He was— He was my ‘buttercup’,” she sobbed out, and his hand gripped her far shoulder, “And I— I never even— I never got to tell him how much he m-meant to me— not even th-the stupid sun thing—”

“Oh… Marinette…” he whispered, his nose brushing against her hair, “The sun thing wasn’t stupid.”

this scene from chapter 6 of drowning (in plain sight) by @buggachat has PLAGUED me since i read it i am deeply unwell

[nombitenary]

Spelunking.

Super short (2.5K) self indulgent story of a borrower!you getting caught by Christopher and swallowed up <3 Maybe bring better equipment next time you try borrowing from a maneater...

G/t, ambiguous ending, rope play in the throat, and mentions of fatal <3 enjoy!

You can’t believe you got caught.

The man who lives in the apartment you’ve been borrowing from is home so rarely that you suppose you’ve gotten careless. After all, he’s never around to hear your heavy footsteps on the counters or the scrabbling of clumsy hands against drawers. His two cats are easy enough to maneuver around as well, seeing as one of them is trained well enough to not go on the counter, and to scream at the other one whenever it gets the bright idea of chasing you along the countertop. 

You’d been testing your new rope, tying it to all manner of things in the kitchen and letting yourself be slowly lowered off the edges of drawers, tables, counters… and hadn’t been bothering to keep your laughter at your successes quiet, nor the thuds of your tiny boots as you’d climbed up the edges of his walls and cabinets. 

Everything had been going so well that you’d somehow missed the sound of the bedroom door opening and the light in the hallway, and by the time you realized that something was amiss… was only due to clawed fingers wrapping around your waist and a soft coo of: “Oh, what do we have here?”

And now, here you are, dangling between his fingers from the rope you’d thought had been such a clever tool to get around the maze of his apartment. You can’t bring yourself to speak as you stare up at him meekly, the light reflecting off his glasses making his eyes seem cold and far away- near impossible to read. 

He hasn’t spoken since his initial greeting, if you can even call it that. All he’s done is stare at you with that coldness in his eyes, almost as if he’s calculating something- blinking every now and again, though it does nothing to set your mind at ease. If anything, it makes you feel worse, and when he opens his lips and finally speaks to you properly-

“Well. You should fit. This should be interesting.”

-it does nothing to calm your nerves. 

Before you can ask him what he means, the air is forced out of your lungs by him tugging on your little rope, effortlessly and haphazardly lifting you into the air above his face and leaving you to stare down at him in terrified disbelief. You’ve never met this human before, but from what you’ve gathered, there’s nothing too horrible about him. 

With your lower lip trembling, you look down into his deep brown eyes, searching for any trace of a joke or flickers of sympathy. 

What you receive in return is a toothy smirk. One that plays out almost in slow motion, leaving you helpless to watch as his lips curl away from his teeth, showing the gleaming, drool-slicked and sharp points lining his gums. Your heart starts racing at the sight of them, and again, you try to find your words- but you’re once again interrupted by something terrifying. 

Those teeth were bad enough on their own, but as you stare down at Christopher’s freckled face… they begin to part. 

A warm blast of air rises from the chasm opening beneath you and you find yourself unable to look away as the huge muscle of his tongue shifts- easily the size of a small mattress and just as cushioned- moving from one side of the pink and dripping cavern to the other. The surface of it flexes in waves, and you follow the muscle back toward the darkest pit in the back of his jaws- marked by a swinging uvula and a streamlined tunnel designed to cram anything it can fit inside down.

His throat flexes, and his whole mouth shifts at once- a mess of moving pieces and parts and flesh and teeth rearranging to allow him a soft swallow- and when it opens again, strings of drool connect the bottom of his jaws to the top like the bars of a prison cell. 

Unable to speak, your own mouth opens and closes as you watch his throat shift with his every breath, the idle motions of his tongue twitching and swaying as more and more saliva floods the cavern. 

You’re transfixed, though the spell breaks when his grip on your rope abruptly falters- sending you falling a few inches closer to the gaping maw with a scream. 

A laugh rolls over you in response, and you gasp, clutching the rope in your fingers despite the knot keeping you secure. You’re spinning now, watching the gullet beneath you pulse as you rotate, unable to keep yourself from noticing that it seems to be pulsing in anticipation, the tongue stretching out from between those lips as if to echo the sentiment. 

He’s going to eat you.

No. No, he won’t. 

Surely he won’t. 

Despite not being human, you think for a moment that you’ll be able to appeal to his sympathy, though when you manage to tear your gaze away from his maw to try looking into his eyes--

The rope slides easily through his fingers, and with a rush of air, you plummet- your scream being cut off and muffled by his tongue greeting you. It all but wraps around your sides, and you feel it constrict, pinning your arms to your torso as its owner tips his head back and allows you to fall backward into the cage of his mouth. 

You scream as the tongue folds over you greedily, drinking in your flavour and slathering you in thick saliva. The surface won’t stop moving beneath your hands- cushy and soft and speckled with taste buds that leave a faint bumpy texture pressing against your palms and fingers- though when he abruptly licks you again, you’re flipped onto your side, helpless to do anything but let his tongue squish tightly against your back. The muscle is hot and explorative, wasting no time in dragging its tip along your flailing limbs. 

Everything around you is hot and slick, but the more you fight against it, the more of his saliva seeps through your clothes, soaking your skin and causing you to slip around easily in the chasm of his mouth. A zigzag of light filtering between his teeth is the only way for you to see the warm pink of his tongue as it continues to effortlessly bat you and part of your flimsy rope around. 

It’s… so easy for him. 

So easy to treat you as nothing more than a sweet treat. You find yourself pushed against his fangs more than once, and each time, you suck in a sharp breath and wait for him to chew you to pieces- all the while trying to peer out past his lips for one more glance at the world you’re leaving behind.

You don’t get one. 

All your squirms earn you is more buffeting from the tongue, more hums of delight from the throat that you know is yawning wide behind you, but you don’t allow yourself to look at it, trying instead to drag yourself forward in the dripping mouth of the beast. You’re close. Your fingers reach the very edge of his gums and you strain to pull yourself up from his gullet even as you feel your legs brush the very edge of his throat.

A throat that twitches eagerly, the muscles there relaxing with a soft slrrrk of noise- and you yelp as you find yourself falling deeper into the squishy tube. 

“NO-”

The tongue that had been idly sloshing you around arches, filling his mouth and squeezing the air from your lungs in a strangled cry- though you don’t have time to be worried about that as you realize what the predator’s doing.

Swallowing. He’s swallowing. The gullet behind you lurches, a tiny hlrk and a bob of the muscles behind you causing you to throw your arms forward as gravity changes- but you’re too covered in saliva to get a grip on anything. Instead, you’re forced to feel his uvula drag across the back of your shoulders as he hums- the noise loud enough to make your chest feel like it’s buzzing. 

You’re squashed under his uvula entirely with another firm swallow, leaving you scrambling against the plush back of his tongue as you try to reach the swinging tab of flesh. Your fingers are tangled tightly in your rope, clutching it in utter desperation. It’s still holding fast. Still tied to something. 

You try to remember if you saw it caught between his molars or canines as you try to hoist yourself further up his gullet- barely able to even paw the backmost part of his tongue in your attempts to reach freedom. It’s still somewhat taut, taut enough that there’s hope…

…as light falls over you, you look up from the depths of his throat, for one fleeting moment allowing yourself to think that he’s about to cough you up. It must be a mistake. He seems like a kind enough man, and you shift your position slightly to see better, wiping a string of drool out of your face as a shadow falls over his jaws. 

His hand. 

And in his fingers…

No…

In his fingers, he’s lazily clutching the end of your rope. He holds it there with a soft chuckle, one that makes the throat around you ripple, before you watch his mouth start to relax as it closes for what you realize in terror is the final time.

“Wait- wait wait wait-!"

When he swallows, the walls of his throat clutch tight around you, rippling with a soft ulp that folds around you and tries to squeeze you down along with it. Your whole body jerks in place, being squashed tighter into the living tunnel before the rope pulls taut and forces you back up- which causes the muscles around you to quiver and the predator they belong to to hum. 

It’s absolutely deafening this close to his voicebox. 

You gasp as the slimy walls finally ease up, trembling at the sensation of something pressing at you from outside of your new prison. At first, you almost think you’re imagining it, but when the throat around you twitches in response to a firmer press, you realize those are fingers pressing against you from the outside. 

You can’t help but imagine yourself as a lump in Christopher’s throat. 

As you struggle harder, forcing your elbows out against the taunting squishes, in you mind’s eye, you see the small flutter of your movements settled just above his collarbone- the way you stretch the freckled skin and wriggle just beneath it- and as you tug on the rope in a desperate attempt to shimmy back up the way you came-

GLURK.

-the throat constricts tighter, and this time you can’t keep yourself from giving a yelp as you’re sucked further into Christopher’s esophagus- settled just beside his thudding heart. The walls of his gullet have grown tighter, as has the knot of the rope around your waist thanks to said walls hungrily rippling around you in an attempt to squeeze you deeper inside. Again, you struggle to haul yourself further up the rope that’s keeping you suspended in his chest. Your saliva slicked hands fumble to get a grip, and you curse yourself for not having tied too many knots in it before trying to use it out borrowing. In the pitch darkness of his throat, you can’t see much aside a very faint red- the light from outside only penetrating deep enough for you to see the faint outlines of the esophagus squeezing around you. 

Your rope is still being held snugly by the gullet’s walls, the red lifeline almost vanishing into the pulsing darkness, but you squint through the saliva running down your face just long enough to realize how far down you’ve been squeezed. Seeming miles of throat stretch above you, and a flicker of light from the top of the tunnel causes your heart to sink. On either side of you, you hear a rush of air filling your devourer’s lungs, and everything tightens as they fill with oxygen, preparing for another-

Gulp.

-for him, it must be nothing. Just soft and lazy bobs of his adam’s apple that allow your rope to fall deeper into the folds of his throat. You can almost imagine how faint the sound of him swallowing must be outside of the sweltering confines you’re in now- but you can’t quite cling to the illusion long enough to mute the disgusting squelch and ULLLLK that draw you deep enough to feel a distinct change in heat.

Heat from below you.

Heat coupled by the sound of an organic growl, and your heart grows cold despite the warmth of the predator surrounding you as you realize how close to the belly of the beast you’ve gotten.

You scramble against the soft walls, tugging on your slack rope more and more as the sound of gurgling grows louder beneath you. You can’t end up in his stomach. You won’t. You’re a borrower, you’re not-

Glmpk.

He swallows once more. 

Firmly. 

Firmly enough that you manage to look above you in terror, watching the tunnel of his throat constrict in a wave that rushes toward you in the dark, too fast for you to do anything but take a breath in before you’re squished firmly into the upper stomach sphincter. 

Then through it.

Your tiny form lands in his stomach with a wet plop.

The walls around you shudder with a gurgle of greeting, and above you, you hear a long and contented sigh breeze up from the throat you fought for your life not to get squeezed down- unable to keep yourself from envying the air for being able to get past his lips.

You’re not as lucky as the air. The stomach containing you groans in emphasis, the organ steadily starting to rock this way and that, the walls rippling inwards eagerly in what you realize are the beginnings of digestion. Your hands find the rope and you pull on it sharply, earning the sound of a muffled glp from above and the sensation of more and more of it pulling into his belly, coiling around you on the fleshy floor, gulp after gulp ushering it down, down…

The piece of yarn bobs momentarily at the back of Christopher’s throat, and it brushes the folds of flesh there as its pulled down his gullet. It isn’t fully soaked through with his saliva, not yet, and as he sits with his jaws open, he gulps, feeling it stick dryly in his throat- though he persists in his task anyway. 

With a few more short swallows, there’s no trace left of you at all. No rope dangles from between his lips. No shape wriggles in his throat, and as he trails a hand down to his comfortably full stomach… he grins at the realization that you fit so perfectly inside that you’ve completely vanished from the outside world. Not even a lump against his middle surfaces to show anyone where you’ve vanished to, and he purrs in delight, trailing his fingers over his middle and hiccuping suddenly when you squirm. 

“Oh, don’t worry.”

His voice rumbles around you, echoing over the sounds of digestion. One of the fleshy walls folds inward with a prod against you and you feel the tip of one of his claws massaging you into the lining. 

“I think I’m going to let my guts take their time with you… best get comfy in there.” 

[the-bloody-sadist]

PART THREE OF WHUMP SCENES FROM The Passenger (2023)

THIS ONE IS MY FAVORITE AND IM SURE ITS OBVIOUS WHY. THEYRE MORE INTIMATE THAN MOST ROMANTIC COUPLES I KNOW

[soundleer]

(To horror raddy) Here is a cookie for you , also the rope and the injuries still hurts you after death?

don't know how he's still holding himself up but he's somehow still breathing?? oh well at least he accepted a cookie from you yee!

yea he's totally fine now :)) 👍

[lord-squiggletits]

I think the key component to my personal reading of post-Delphi Pharma is that he's trying to be a horrible person on purpose. Not "on purpose" in the way that people have free will to exercise their own choices, but in that Pharma's "mad doctor" persona is a performance he puts on to deliberately embrace how much everyone else hates him. Basically, if people already think you're a "bad Autobot" and a horrible doctor who just kills his patients for fun, why try to prove otherwise to people who have already made up their minds about you? Just fully embrace the fact that people see you as an asshole. Don't try to change their minds. Don't plead for their forgiveness or understanding. Just stop caring. If you're going to be remembered as a monster, you might as well be a memorable monster, and eke as much pleasure and hedonism as you can out of it before karma catches up to you and you inevitably crash and burn.

I mean, I guess you could just go the route of "Oh, Pharma was always a fucked up creepy guy and Delphi was just him taking the mask off," but I really don't like that interpretation because, for one, it feels really wrong to take a character like Pharma becoming evil under duress and going, "Oh well clearly he did the things he did because he was evil all along," as if somehow Pharma breaking under blackmail/torture/threat of horrible death was a sign of him having poor moral character. As opposed to, you know, suffering under the very real threat of horrible death for himself and everyone he cares about while being manipulated by a guy who specializes in psychological torture.

The second reason is that it just doesn't make sense to write Pharma as having been evil all along. I mean...

Occam's Razor says that the best argument is the one with the simplest explanation. Doesn't it make way more sense to take Pharma's appearances in flashbacks, his friendship with Ratchet, his stunning medical accomplishments, and the few we see of him speaking kindly/sympathetically (or in the least charitable interpretation, at least professionally) towards his patients and conclude "This guy was just a normal person, if exceptionally talented." Taking all of these flashback appearances at face value and assuming Pharma was being genuine/honest is a way simpler and more logical explanation than trying to argue that Pharma for the past 4 million years was just faking being a good doctor/person. I mean, it's possible within the realm of headcanon, but the fact is Pharma's appearances in the story are so brief that there simply wasn't room in the story for there to be some sort of secret conspiracy/hidden manipulation behind why Pharma acted the way he did in the past.

I just can't help but look at things like Pharma's friendship with Ratchet (himself a good person and usually a fine judge of character) and the fact that even post-Delphi, pretty much every single mention of Pharma comes with some mention of "He was a good doctor for most of his life" or "He was making major headways in research [before he started killing patients]" which implies that even the Autobots themselves see Pharma's villainy as a recent turn in his life compared to how for "most of his life" he "used to be" a good doctor.

And although Pharma doesn't know this, we as the readers (and even other characters like Rung) know about Aequitas technology and the fact that it actually works, so... if Pharma really was an unrepentant murderer, why couldn't he get through the forcefield too? The Aequitas forcefield doesn't require that a person be completely morally pure and free of wrongdoing or else how could Tyrest get through, just that they feel a sense of inner peace and lack feelings of guilt. Pharma has murdered and tortured people by this point, and put on quite a campy and theatrical show of how much he sees it as a fun game, so why then can he not get through?

It circles back to my headcanon at the start of this post that the "mad doctor" persona is just that-- a persona. Delphi/post-Delphi Pharma's laughing madman personality is just so far removed from every flashback we saw of him and everything we can infer based on how other people see/saw him before that, to me, the mad doctor act is (at least in large part, if not fully) a persona that Pharma puts on to put his villainy in the forefront.

To avoid an overly simplistic/ableist take, I don't think Tarn tortured Pharma into turning crazy. To me, it's more like the constant pressure of death by horrific torture, the feeling of martyrdom as Pharma kept secret that he was the only one standing between Delphi and annihilation, the physical isolation of Messatine as well as the emotional separation from Ratchet, being forced to violate his medical oaths (pretty much the only thing Pharma's entire life has been about), etc. All of that combined traumatized Pharma to the point that the only way he could avoid cracking was to just stop caring about all of it. Because at least then, even if he's still murdering patients to save Delphi from a group of sadistic freaks, Pharma doesn't have to feel guilty and sick about doing it. As opposed to the alternatives, which were probably either going off the deep end and killing himself to escape, or confessing to what he did and getting jailed for it.

In that light, Pharma becoming a mad doctor makes sense. It avoids the bad writing tropes of "oh this character who was good his entire life was actually just evil and really good at hiding it" as well as "oh he got tortured and went crazy that's why he's so random and silly and killing people, he's crazy" and instead frames Pharma's evil as something he was forced into, to the point where in order to avoid a full psychological breakdown and keep defending Delphi, he just had to stop caring about the sanctity of life or about what other people might think of him.

Then, of course, the actual Delphi episode happens, and Pharma's own lifelong best friend Ratchet basically spits in his face and sees him as nothing more than a crazy murderer who went rogue from being a good Autobot. Then Pharma gets his hands cut off and left to die on Messatine. At that point, Pharma has not only been mentally/emotionally broken into losing his feelings of compassion, he's received the message loud and clear: He is alone. Everyone hates him. Not even his own best friend likes him any more. No one even cared enough about him to check if he actually died or not. He will only ever be remembered as a doctor who went insane and killed his patients.

So in the light of 1. Having all of your redeeming qualities be squeezed out of you one by one for the sake of survival and 2. Having your reputation and all of your positive relationships be destroyed and 3. People only know/care about you as "that doctor who became evil and killed his patients" rather than the millions of years of good service that came before.

What else is there to do but internalize the fact that you'll forever be seen as a monster and a freak, and embrace it? People already see you as a murderer for that blackmail deal you did, so why not become an actual murderer and just start killing people on a whim? People already see you as an irredeemable monster who puts a stain on the Autobot name, so why beg for their forgiveness when you could just shun them back? You've already become a murderer, a traitor, and a horrible doctor, so what's a few more evil acts added to the pile? It's not like anyone will ever forgive you or love you ever again.

Why care? Why try to hold on to your principles of compassion, kindness, medical ethics, when an entire lifetime of being a good person did nothing to save you from blackmail and then abandonment? Why put yourself through the emotional agony of feeling lonely, guilty, miserable, when you could just... stop caring, and not hurt any more?

[belliesandburps]

Ruggie Bucchi (on command, post stuffing, and soda chugging) please 😊

(This will cover every Ruggie ask variant I got...because a LOT of y'all asked for Ruggie...)

Burping in public

"Shishishi! That's all I have t'say about THAT!"

"Whoopsies! That one just slipped outta me, didn't it!"

"Whew! (pats his stomach) Hehe, I had a BIG lunch..."

(blinks in surprise) "Huh, where'd THAT come from...?"

(smacks lips) "Ahhh, good ol' donuts still taste good comin' up too! Shishishi!"

Burping after chugging a soda

(smacks lips contently) "Ahhhh, that was brisk..."

(grunts) "Ngh, that ain't all of it...(takes a breath then grabs his belly with one hand) ...BRRRUUUUUUUUUPH... HHHUUUUUUUURRRREEEEEEEEUUUUUURRRRRRRPH!!!!!!!! Ahhhhh...THERE it is...(slaps his belly in relief)...WHEW...heh..."

(pats his chest and clears his windpipes) "Oof, heh, that had some POWER behind it, haha!"

(huffs then rubs his belly firmly with one hand) "Ohhhh man-*brruuOoOrruurrp!* Guh...*Urp...BWWOOOOOOOUUURRP!!!! Ooof...so bubbly..."

(greedily chugs the rest of the entire can in one go, crushes the can against his stomach, and lets out the single biggest burp you've EVER heard, then moans with abject relief, patting his belly in a heavily satisfied manner)

Burping after stuffing himself

"Ahhhh...(pats his belly)...ohhh man, I'm STUFFED..."

(snickers as he caresses his bulging belly) "Shishishi...my compliments t'the chef!"

(slumps back, enormous belly jutting up as he does so) "Urrrrgh...s-so...much...meaaaat...BUUUUUAAAAAAARRRRRUUUUUPH!!!!!!"

"Haaaahhhh...hehe...THAT'S where your lunch went, Herbivore...buuuut don'tcha worry...(pats his belly tauntingly)...it went to a worthwhile cause...my belly! Shishishishi!"

(grunts then thumps his gut to knock loose a thick afterburp) "Oof...'kay, maaaaaybe I overdid it, heh..."

Nauseous burps

(groans miserably as he rubs his stomach) "Urrrgh...ohhh that didn't feel good..."

(huffs, then lurches with another, much wetter belch that ends with him lurching and covering his mouth) "Hurp! Oh shit..." (rushes to the bathroom)

(cringes and covers his mouth) "Guh...that one didn't taste nearly as good comin' up as it did goin' down..."

(holds his churning gut with one hand and clutches his mouth shut with the other) "Hrrrmmmp! MMMMRRRRP!!!! Urrrrrgh...oh man, I'm gonna-hrlp-mph...b-be sick...urlp!"

(huffs and firmly rubs his belly from under his shirt) "Ooohhhh man...bruuup...BRRRAAAAAAAP!!! Guhhh...(stifles a large belch behind his fist and thumps his stomach)...oOoohhhh my belly..."

Burping to kink-tease

"Shishishi...ya oughta see how red your face is, herbivore..."

(sighs heavily with his tongue out) "Ahhhh, hehe, didja smell the peppers on that one?"

(snickers and rubs his belly) "Shishishi...loooooots more where THAT came from, herbivore..."

(holds up a finger) "Hold up...got another one for ya... (takes a deep breath, then belches as hard as he can right in your face, sighing heavily and breathing all over you after that) Hrraaaahhhhh...hehe, you're welcome..."

(huffs and grins cheekily at you) "Heh, y'like that...? (swallows down some air) BRRRAAAAAAAAAPH!!!!! Guhh... BRRRREEEEEEEUUUUUURRAAAAAP!!!!! (takes in several gulps of air, before grabbing your chin and forcing you to face him as he lets out the biggest, longest burp he can muster right in your face, intentionally dragging it out for as long as possible, then moaning with relief as his tongue hangs out lewdly) ...Haaaaaaaaaaahhhh...hehehe, how'd THAT one taste?"

Same-Size Vore

(sighs with relief and slaps his big, writhing belly) "Ahhhh, shishishi...ya really know how to kick up a storm, don'tcha..."

(leans back as his globular belly squirms on his lap) "Haaaahhh...I could feel ya squirm around in my tummy aaaaaaaall day long, but that's just gonna keep makin' me BBUUUUUUURRRRRRP!!!!! Guhhh, heh...and I kinda don't want'cha t'suffocate, shishishi..."

(sighs and slaps his gut heavily) "Whew! S'CUSE me! Must'a been someone I ate...shishishishi!"

(laughs and grips his bulging belly with both hands) "Hahaha! Holy crap, didja feel my belly shakin' around with that monster??"

(grunts and thumps his writhing gut) "Mph, hey! Settle down in there or I'mma chug more soda and keep burpin' til you're deaf!"

Burping to irritate

(grins) "Whaaaaaat? That wasn't me! (bats his eyelashes innocently)"

(snickers) "Heh, y'think THAT was bad? Wait 'til it all starts settlin'...(slowly rubs his stomach)...woo boy, I'm gonna burpin' aaall night..."

(mock pouts) "Tch, you're right! Where ARE my manners, huh?! (swallows air and holds his stomach firmly) ...ssSCUUUUUUUUSE......mMMMMEEEEEEEEEEEE-EEEEEEEUUUUUUUURRRRRAAAAAAAAPH!!!!!!!!" Ahhhh...(gives his belly a few pats)...there we go!"

"Shishishi...my bad! I'll hold it in next time...(swallows air and stifles a BIG burp that reverberates heavily in his puffed out cheeks...then blows his fetid gasses directly at the person chastising him)"

"Sorry, I'll try'n keep 'em quiet...(intentionally burps in the person's ear)...well, I hafta make sure ya still HEAR 'em, right?? Shishishi!"

[pfpanimes]

⌕ berserk - guts.

like or reblog if you save/use.

[qiu-yan]

jiang cheng at the club

i answered kind of speedily but hm blorbo should not be at the club

teenage era? the most debatable era tbh. on one hand - for one, if jiang cheng goes, he's going because he thinks that's what the cool kids his age should be doing, rather than because it's what he actually wants to do. for two, if he goes he's certainly going with wei wuxian. there's a good chance he'll have a good time with wei wuxian, but there's also a good chance that he'll spend the entire experience way too high-strung about wei wuxian doing something stupid (guaranteed) that will make both him and yunmeng jiang look stupid (not guaranteed but still likely) and/or put wei wuxian in danger (also very likely). there's also an even higher chance that wei wuxian will end up fucking off to chat/flirt/etc with other people (eg. lan wangji who wei wuxian also managed to drag to the club, who then gets drunk and thus wei wuxian now has to babysit), thereby leaving jiang cheng all by his lonesome. jiang cheng can probably talk to strangers, but he came here to have fun with wei wuxian and now wei wuxian has ding dong ditched. bonus points if wei wuxian promised to be designated driver and now jiang cheng has to uber home.

on the other hand - teenage wei wuxian and jiang cheng are definitely making the club more fun. mostly wei wuxian. and, despite all of the above, jiang cheng is probably having a good time...most of the time...too.

adult era: nah. jiang cheng is busy. it would be nice if he could let loose and forget about everything for a few hours, but he would not do that. realistically he'd just spend the entire time stressing about his growing to-do list, and the music would give him a headache.

also, everything at the club would remind him of wei wuxian. wei wuxian, certified party animal, was almost certainly the one dragging jiang cheng to the club in their youth; jiang cheng probably does in fact have some happy memories of clubbing with wei wuxian. but those happy memories are gonna curdle into depressing ones the moment he steps through the doors and is reminded of wei wuxian again. the photos of wei wuxian doing a keg stand behind the bar are making him miserable, and he in turn is going to make it everyone else's problem.

postcanon era: also nah. mostly because he'd almost certainly run into jin ling et al. sneaking into the club with fake IDs, and now everyone's yelling.

on the other hand....maybe he and wei wuxian can eventually reconcile over a night of partying they're both frankly way too old for. or maybe when they wake up the next day in the same ditch with matching hangovers.

[loneworldgazer]

would u be ok with writing a story of guts being a teen single dad having a daughter that he got as a result of one night stand mom dead by childbirth before he joined the band of the hawks then just show what life would be like if Guts had a kid before and after joining band of the hawk and pre-eclipse and post-eclipse I imagine her to be 1 years old when guts fought Griffith for the first time

break the cycle

pairing: Guts x Reader

a/n: hiii i made this into quite a scenario with some headcannons, enjoyyyy!!!

tags: a bit of violence, fluffy to angst, Gut's child is named, slight x reader (fic focuses more on Guts and his daughter)

This girl whose eyelashes flutter softly when his father had wiped the muck under her cheek, passing her an apple slice to cease the squirming that she was doing on Gut's back. His little girl was starved, he had counted the coins and it was enough for a meal tonight. He only managed to snag an apple from a vendor who was generous enough to congratulate him on his latest victory.

He pulled his daughter's hood down, shushing her when she starts whining again. She had a penchant for horses and Guts had walked past a farmer who brought his horses to a water trough, he had to avert things like this away from his needy daughter.

When he went the hill, he was cautious and tapped Eileen on the lips to stay quiet. There were knights and familiar to him was the hilt of the sword he held as he puts his daughter down to hide behind a bush. For good measure, he tied a cloth around her eyes; he didnt plan to show her any spilling of blood today and he hears the horses approaching. Their hooves thump against the ground and the swordsman struck when they come to him, he pursed his lips and hoped that Eileen didn't pull off her blindfold. The neighs of horses would peak that curiousity of hers. He tried to swiftly end their lives, more soldiers coming to each comrades before an arrow pierces his arm.

The chaos had turned silent when the leader emerged and Eileen whipped her head around under the blindfold. Her father had tied it efficiently which made her thrash around in the dark. The rustling of the bushes alerted the other soldiers that had not anticipated backup with how the bushes shook. Some soldiers had approached it, looking away at the spectacle of the rumoured swordsman and their esteemed leader in a show down.

They draw their arrows to the sound but got flung back harshly when Guts had clasped onto their throats, swinging them away from the little girl. The soldiers simply getting close to his daughter had disrupted the duel him and the leader were having and Griffith didn't show mercy. His sword gleamed in the sun, ready to continue the fight and he raises it to Gut's back. His shoulder pad had protected against and he blocked Eileen, growling at the men.

"Stay away from her!"

That anger had made his brows furrow and nerves stand on end. The clash of metal resumed and sparks fly, pushing back Griffith to the hill. The white haired man had nodded to his men to not touch the child, his fight would not be disturbed because of a minor issue and his eyes gleam with such intensity.

What was in front of Guts was hot stew, it was barely stew but Eileen was slurping it up messily. The woman called Casca had altered it so it'd be easier for the little girl to swallow it. Guts was still apprehensive towards these people who only look for his strength, he didn't quite care for himself but he had to for his kid. It was a pipedream to keep her safe all the time but he truthfully wished that he didn't have to teach her how to fight. He'll be stuck in many battles, trapped in the stench of blood and sin and he was forced to face his daughter in that state one too many times.

Guts gripped his sword, he'll fight until he wins, he will win.

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

But he didn't, unfortunately. His groggy eyes opened and he sat up from his bed.

He thought about you, the person he let tangle his sheets and grab at the headboard. He wished he didn't went through with his base instincts or his curiousity. You were a cherished friend but was a baby really something he wanted to remember you by? She was a bundle of joy too bright for him and he was somebody that will fight hellfire for (change) but he wasn't sure anymore.

He was visibly frowning at his stew that Rickert lightly tapped him on the shoulder. Guts violently jerked back, kissing his teeth before he looked down at his daughter that was looking through his bag for an apple. He sighed, pulling his bag close to look through but Casca had already had one in her hand.

It was peeled, her knife hanging on her belt as she gifts the little one the treat she really wanted. Rickert's face lit up with a small smile, changing Gut's stew. There was no need for Rickert to do all of that, giving him a raised brow and his jaw clicks with tension.

"Relax, Casca said you should have a taste of the stew she made for the little one,"

Casca didn't turn her head, focusing on Eileen who nearly dropped her apple. Her body was rigid, still so enraged over Griffith's instruction on keeping Guts warm two days ago. She had a warm towel, wiping away at Eileen who was making a ruckus.

Guts stood up, carrying Eileen and snatching the towel from the ravenette.

"She prefers if I clean her up."

He marches off to the river far from camp and Casca could do nothing but grunt. Rickert puts a hand on her shoulder, he just tells her to let the swordsman be that it was quite normal for him to be quite standoffish. She turned up her nose, moving to dump back Gut's soup back in the pot to keep for later.

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

Bathtime wasn't tedious. It was quick for the girl to jump out the water because of how cold it is. He stares at the bubbles that fell off her body and the soap he was holding, this was the soap you had made back then. Back then, being a soap chandler had been the moment where you have met Guts. The sweet smelling soap he had was one of your successful projects, spring blossoms being dried up for a long time and being mixed with lye he remembers. Your jumps for joy were ingrained into his head when it actually didn't crumble into his hands like the previous soaps you made.

You had always smelled so nice, spending lots of time collecting flowers and rocks instead of war and it gave him adifferent perspective even if he barely came to see you.

Eileen took a liking to it that it was hard for it to last, Guts chipped bit by bit but she always had some type of problem with being clean, using the soap from top to bottom. The soap was a slippery little thing as it tumbled down the stream. A figure had picked it up, carrying a kettle of hot water, the steam wafting up into the sky. Griffith had came.

He puts down the towels and opened his arms, Guts' eye twitched, was this some kind of joke?

But before he knew it, the little girl had ran into Griffith's arms and hugged him tight.

"Eileen..!"

He called out, her arms fell to her side and Griffith rubs at her back, grinning.

"There's no need for tension, Eileen would like her bath better with hot water."

He takes the time to mix the hot water and cool water together, making it warm enough for her before she pours it all over herself. Guts stayed near and his eyes were narrowed, assessing Griffith. He was too close to his daughter to his liking but Eileen seemed to trust him, tugging on Griffith's trousers for something.

The white haired man held the soap in his hand, washing the girl gently.

"You should stay here, Guts. For a place where you belong, for Eileen."

There was a sharpness in his eyes which meant he'll take no for an answer and suddenly the thoughts of his hands on his daughter made him grow tense. But the girl had nibbled on the leader's finger, wanting him to continue washing her and the light sound of water sloshing about resumed. Guts scoffed, his arms crossed against his chest. Nobody needed to order him around, nobody.

The Band of The Hawks had welcomed Eileen in with open arms

They feel a chill tingle down their spines if Guts regarded them with a threatening look to not fuck with him and his daughter

Casca adored the little one, seeing her to various crafts like origami, flower crowns and such she can do around camp. They didn't need to show violence in front of a child so she stayed here along with the others who opted to take care of her

She glares down at the men who roughhouse each other, not wanting to set an example for the child

Pippin would be used as a lift, the little girl babbling at him for uppies. Guts' job of carrying his child had ceased when the mountain of the man was a playground for Eileen

She liked Pippin's silence, nuzzling into him with incoherent mumbles and brushing into his side when she fell asleep

She was already farmiliar with Judeau when he had cleaned her father's wounds and wiped him in his sleep. He was fond of feeding her, spoon feeding her stew or finely slicing apples for her.

She had recognized him as the cook and he laughs when she points to her mouth, indicating that that was the role she had known him as

She saw Rickert as an older brother, gentle and kind as she walks with him around the camp. It was quite hard for Guts when he wanted to look for her considering they were both so short

Maybe Guts' aggression come from jealousy that his girl had run to and fro with these people and not with her father anymore

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

Eileen couldnt keep still. She knew there was something wrong with her dad when he was unconscious for days. Her childish mind deemed him as sick but sick people could still talk, right?

Rickert consoled her, cheeks full of tears and puffy lips from being bitten down so many times from anxiety.

"Your papa's going to be okay, he's strong," Rickert wanted to be sure when he uttered those words but he couldn't swallow down the bile that was going to be coughed up by him, he didn't want Eileen to have another tantrum from him lying to her but saying the truth was far more terrible.

Tiny footsteps filed into the room and Erica was holding a pail of water.

"Eileen, do you want to see Casca?"

Rickert swallowed down a gulp as he squeezed the water from a rag to clean up Guts. She had been particularly scared of Casca because she was not acting like herself. He wasn't sure what had happened to these two but even Eileen could sense it.

Gut's daughter had some kind of strength that allowed her to know what others are feeling but a weakness to not know how to deal with it, this poor soul couldn't handle change. The sight of Casca not acting like the strong, fierce woman she depended on haunted her.

Miraculously, Eileen agreed and ran to Erica to hold her hand and closed the door behind them.

Guts had to slowly accept that Casca was a changed person due to what happened in the Eclipse

What had soothed him a little is his daughter who had hugged him tight when he came back from outside, she was so confused when he had disappeared from the bed and cried so heavily into his chest

He only rubbed at her back, whispering gently and resting his forehead on hers to stop crying and take a breath

Comforting wasn't his strong suit but he stayed with his baby girl until the sniffles she had disappeared

Though Casca had changed in Eileen's eyes, that caring, maternal affection she had was there but she could see the swordswoman was bearing so much pain from the meltdown she had regularly

When they walked away from the house, waving at Rickert and Erica, there was a chip in her heart when she asked herself what had really happened for her father to shield her away from the truth?

Everything was too conflicting for a mind like hers

Thankfully, she was around people who care about her. Erica made sure she was eating as well as Rickert interesting her in crafting again. She was just like her papa, making big swords out of paper and collecting pretty rocks around the house

He couldn't help but smile, she was still the same even if she grew a little taller or worked up a big appetite

Soon it was time for Guts to move on and she had to go but this time, Eileen pushed for him to bring her. She had been left for so many times because of the battles her father has endured and this time, she'll suffer with him too

[mellowwillowy]

Yan! Sadist x GN Sadomaso reader

Yan! Sadist: Get the hell off from me. Sadomaso Reader: Nuh-uh, I like hanging around you the most!

Yan! Sadist: How about I hang you dead instead? I will hang you in the front gate of my castle if you want that. Sadomaso Reader: I would prefer a more private scenery… wouldn't want anyone, let alone peasants, see me in such intimate way right

Yan! Sadist: …. I suppose you have a point. Even gouging their eyeballs to feed the fishes wouldn't undo anything. Sadomaso Reader: And that's why I love you even mooooooooooore! (hugs)

Yan! Sadist: Get off from me.

Yan! Sadist: Open your mouth. Sadomaso Reader: Aaahh Yan! Sadist: Attagirl/boy. You choose, this juice or a jug of nails with my cum in it? Sadomaso Reader: The latter! The latter!

Sadomaso Reader: I'm bored… Yan! Sadist: What do you expect me to do? Entertain you by juggling your eyeballs?

Sadomaso Reader: I don't mind but I won't be able to see you clearly if you juggle them. Yan! Sadist: So? You want me to walk you? Like a dog?

Sadomaso Reader: I have a collar and leash~ Let me put it on for you~ Yan! Sadist: Oh, you insufferable brat. Go back to your room. I'm not walking you like that.

Sadomaso Reader: Awww…. bummer.

Yan! Sadist: A present? Yan! Twins: Not from us for sure. It's from your damn lover, Scribe. Yan! Sadist: Not even close. Noel: What's that? Erickson: A dildo? Scribe: Can you guys get your eyes checked? Or do I have to check it myself? Erickson: I don't trust you at all. Get the fuck away from me. Noel: If you don't want the present, you can always give it to me- Scribe: Not a chance. It was a dildo.(He was mostly just being petty to the twins)

[lesbianoms]

Something kinda hot about a fairy slurping down an entire hawk that was about to eat her

[alaraxia]

a winning smile

[paint-it-dead]

berserk is just a self insert 1 direction wattapad fanfiction...