#news you can use (for horrifying construction)

[vaguegrant]

Let's check in on science today and

huh. okay then:

Astronauts probably don't want to be living in houses made from scabs and urine.

Science says so.

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Art the Clown x Reader SMUT • headcanons, how Art fucks, what he gets off to, etc

big content warning! contains some stuff that may gross you out; read at your own risk: menstruation kink, piss kink, oral sex, anal sex, object insertion, blood kink, various weapons mentioned, bondage, human hair and bones, butts and what comes out of butts, public sex, cockwarming, mostly dom!Art and sub!reader

🔪 Remember the work desk with all of Art’s weapons and tools on it? He knows you want him to fuck you, but he’s got shit to do (meaning weapons to build) so he lets you sit under the desk, cockwarming him while he works. You’re on the ground between his knees, patiently holding him in your mouth. When he finishes constructing his latest instrument of torture/slaughter, Art pats his palm against his thigh, wordlessly telling you to climb up into his lap and ride him.🩸

🔪 Art enjoys blood and guts, so it goes without saying that during your period, he’s particularly eager to fuck you. He can detect the slight change in your scent, usually aware you’ve begun to bleed even before you know. He plays with your pussy like it’s a new, special toy when you’re bleeding, spreading your lips and tracing his name on your inner thighs in red. Seeing/touching/tasting blood that comes from you is special to Art. It’s the only time he gets to play in blood without it being the result of him hurting someone, so that makes the experience unique for him. He saves your used pads for ‘alone time,’ using them later as a ‘sleeve,’ to masturbate with.🩸

🔪 Art sometimes fucks you with unconventional objects, like the handle of one of his weapons (knife, axe) or the neck of a bottle. If you’ve displeased him but he still wants to fuck you, he might deny you his cock and instead use something else, like the handle of one of his knives or the barrel of an (empty!) gun, to make you come instead of his cock, as a degrading ‘punishment.’🩸

🔪 Art loves bondage. He knows what he’s doing when it comes to tying knots, as evidenced by the multiple victims you’ve watched him restrain. He enjoys the power dynamic of being in absolute control of another person. When that crosses over into sex, you both get off on him tying you up and doing whatever the fuck he wants with your body.🩸

🔪 Art’s methods can border on sadistic at times (I mean how could they not??) but because he wants to keep you around to play with for the long haul, he never pushes you beyond the limits of safety, no matter how many new ways he comes up with to plug every hole in your body. If we know anything about Art, it’s that he’s perceptive. He studies the way your body responds to different forms of stimulation and mentally catalogs the information for later. All of his skill in crafting tools of torture means he’s able to create customized ‘toys,’ to fuck you with. But the thing is, they’re never normal, or sweet; they always contain something fucked-up and sick. Art once surprised you with a whip he’d put together for you. Its strands were soft and felt so good gliding over your clit. You came so hard when Art whipped your pussy till it was puffy and leaking. It would have been a wonderful gift, if you hadn’t realized later, upon closer inspection, that the strands now wet with your cum were in fact strands of human hair. And the custom dildo Art made for you, the one that was so smooth and colored beige/white? You later found out Art had chiseled and smoothed down a human bone to make it for you. The information almost made you sick on the spot. Art found your horrified reaction hilarious, of course, and it didn’t stop him from laying you down and fucking you with it all the same…🩸

🔪 ANAL ANAL ANAL ANAL ANAL ANAL …

He loves to fuck you in the ass. Art’s a nasty little motherfucker when it comes to the stuff that comes out of butts, and I’m not gonna elaborate here, but you can use your imagination to follow where I’m going with this…🩸

🔪 Art has zero inhibitions: he kills anyone, anywhere. Imagine that relating to sex; of course he’s going to fuck you wherever he wants, including places where you might get caught. Sex in public/risky spaces feels natural to Art, because he literally does not give a single fuck. Remember the first time you ever saw him? When you stumbled out the back door of that sleazy little bar in your home town, so drunk off your ass you thought you were leaving through the front? Art was in the alleyway behind the bar, black garbage bag hoisted over his shoulder, not even looking for anyone to fuck up but when he saw you, he knew he’d found a victim for the night. He’d planned to stalk you home and do unspeakable things to you-but as you took the lead and approached him, there in the alleyway, he was caught off guard, his whole plan upended the moment you slid your arms around his waist, stood up on your tiptoes, and placed a soft, sloppy kiss on his cheek. He was awestruck, and even if he could speak, Art would still have been at a loss for words. You walked him backward a few steps, lining him up against a dumpster in the alleyway. You began fondling him through his costume, grinning when you realized his body had already begun to respond. One thing led to another, and within minutes, Art had you bent over that dumpster, with a fresh hole torn in the front of his costume where your bodies were joined…🩸

🔪 No one would associate The Miles County Clown with tenderness, but if they knew Art, they would see a softer side of him only you do. He’s still fucking deranged, don’t get me wrong. But Art also has moments of vulnerability, when there’s nothing he wants more than to hold you. Sitting in Art’s lap, he wraps his arms around you and stays still, so still, just enjoying the soft thump of your heartbeat against his, and the low hum of your breath on his chest. Your nearness calms the monster inside Art so well that sometimes, he forgets he is the monster itself…🩸

🔪 Another benefit of having you in his lap? Art realized he could use his strength to make you stay in his lap no matter how badly you had to get up and take a piss, forcing you to wet yourself all over him. You felt him gradually getting hard under you as you began to wriggle on his lap. Art could see your discomfort, and when you told him you needed to get up and take a piss, he refused to release you. You’d expect him to be smiling at you at a time like this, silently mocking you; but the look in his eyes was deathly serious, pitch black and full of a demented lust that would have had you locked you in place even if his arms hadn’t. Blushing into his shoulder, you accepted the fact that Art wasn’t letting go of you any time soon, and that he really was into this. He wanted this to happen. You allowed your bladder to empty, a soft trickle saturating your panties, followed by a steady stream of hot piss that spread over Art’s lap. His clothes were soaked through below the waist, your piss running down between his thighs and dampening the couch cushion beneath you. Art was rock hard by this point, his wet cock throbbing against your pussy. He lifted you off his lap just enough to reach between your bodies and position his tip against your entrance, then used your piss as a lube to slide inside you…🩸

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.0k

Summary: In which your friends are idiots who think gallivanting around a haunted castle surrounded by lava is a great idea. And then there's a dragon.

ie. Or, I watched Shrek this afternoon and could not stop thinking about the memes of the Prefect being Donkey and Malleus as the Dragon.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

‘Treasure beyond your wildest dreams!’ Ace said.

‘Knowledge long since lost to time!’ Deuce corrected.

‘Yeah, okay, but what is it,’ you asked.

And neither of them had an answer.

Abandoned castles suspended over a sea of bubbling lava were not your preferred holiday destination. You’d told Ace this several times. You’d begged, pleaded, to please just be normal for once. But noooo. Both the snarky, ginger, bastard and the other half of his singular brain cell had apparently decided that suicide ala boiling rocks sounded like a perfectly lovely plan for your Saturday evening.

“I’m just saying,” you huffed as the rope bridge swung worryingly beneath your feet, “taverns are a thing. Faires. Market runs. Casual side quests that won’t wind up with us being flambeed alive.”

“But there’s treasure!” Ace complained, the muddled light off the lava below illuminating his pout in a way that made it look especially punchable. “I heard there’s this really awesome magical sword! Or maybe it was a shield or something—”

“Or something,” you grit out. “What if it’s a book, huh? You can’t even read.”

“We can try!” Deuce returned, a spark of that familiar determination zipping through his blue eyes.

“Or we can sell it,” Ace said, which was certainly the more likely option of the two.

One of the rickety, wooden, slats cracked beneath the low heel of your boot and tumbled down into the lava below. Maybe it hit the gurgling pool of death with a hiss, or a whump, or some other cool sound. But all you could hear was the ringing in your ears.

“Oh my god. I’m going to die.”

“I mean, maybe,” Ace shrugged. “But at least you’ll have a cool new sword propped up at your grave or something.”

You managed to make it all the way to the other side of the horrible death bridge without plummeting to your doom. Except now you were standing at the foot an equally horrifying castle. It was massive—grand on a scale that seemed entirely impossible for something constructed in the heart of a volcano. Its dozens of ebony spires clawed at the sky. The walls crawled with grey ivy and thickets of thorns so dense that you couldn’t see even the barest hint of brick beneath. It looked evil in the way that cursed tombs felt evil—eternal, and still, and oppressive. Like a creature in its own right rather than just an agglomeration of black stone.

Ace drew his sword and Deuce readied his axe. You sighed and plucked at the strings of your stupid fucking lute, and wished once more that you’d had the foresight all those moons ago to take the cushy internship position Lord Crewel had tried to offer you. But, no. You’d wanted to be an adventurer.

The massive double doors of the entrance swung open with an eerie groan. A pair of stern looking gargoyles stood guard as the three of you cautiously made your way into the castle. You swore you could feel their eyes following you—that you’d seen them flex jagged claws into their stone perches in an aborted attempt to dive after you.

The inside of the looming fortress was no more welcoming than out. Dark, emerald, stained glass windows lined the walls—smothering any of the warmer light from the volcano and tinting the entire hall a sickly green-grey. The stone floors and walls were elaborately carved with the faded stories of dynasties long since passed, but what had once surely been immaculate craftsmanship had shifted and cracked with age—crushing floors into tight slopes and littering already narrow walkways with heavy debris.

“We just have to find the tallest tower,” Ace hummed, swiping at a few dangling trails of thorns with the blunted edge of his blade. “And then the highest room in that.”

“The treasure is never in the highest room in the tallest tower,” you complained. “You just heard that in a drinking song once.”

“Is that true?” Deuce frowned, looking terribly betrayed.

“No way!” Ace snipped. “I told you! An old crone read my fortune in her bone dice, and she said to always check the highest room in the tallest tower! Because that’s where I’d find my greatest treasure!”

“Maybe the greatest treasure is the friends we’ve made along the way?” Deuce suggested helpfully.

“No.”

So you split off from a grouchy Ace and dejected Deuce to try and find some stairs. Every room in this stupid castle was swimming in so many shadows that you could hardly tell right from left, let alone if there were any kinds of secret doors or passageways that may lead to an equally secret tower. The chamber you’d found yourself in now was gigantic, and each tentative step you took echoed discordantly through the ashy gloom. You kicked miserably at a loose rock and it skittered off into the darkness with a dull thunk. And then something… odd, began to happen. That darkness began to move—to rise and unfurl like a great set of wings on a beast. And—oh. Oh no.

“Would you look at that,” Ace whistled under his breath, neck craned all the way back as he squinted at what was most definitely the tallest of all the towers this creepy castle had to offer. “Guess what, nonbelievers. I found the—”

“DRAGON!”

Whoosh went the great swathe of emerald fire as it exploded down the barren hallway and nipped at your heels. You dove out into the open courtyard just in time to avoid being roasted alive, and the gargantuan monster behind you let out a roar fit to shake the earth. A quick tuck-and-roll left you crouched behind a fallen pillar, and the dragon’s bright, green, glower turned on you and your garbage hiding spot with a rumbling snarl. Its rows of sharp, white, teeth closing just above your head—missing its mark by barely a hair’s width.

“Gotcha!” Deuce snarled, his armored fists dragging the dragon away by its tail. Or, well, tried to. Because the dragon was a hundred feet long at least, and your blue haired friend probably looked like nothing more than a pesky rat darting between its feet. It turned and snapped at him irritably, taking a great, big, step forward in a bid to get a firmer stance to attack. You threw yourself in the other direction to avoid being trampled.

“Go!” Ace called, charging in from the other side. “Quick!”

Because at the end of the day, they were still both your brave, tanky, warrior, friends. And you were just a very, very, squishy bard who really would not fare well against a particularly motivated goose, let alone a dragon. So you skidded through the rubble and onto your feet, and started to sprint back into the castle’s halls—hoping maybe you’d be able to find a bit more cover.

There was a great clatter, and both Ace and Deuce yelped. You looked back hurriedly to see the pair of them clutching onto the dragon’s tail for dear life as it whipped them back and forth through the ash and debris cluttering the ground. With one, final, great, sweep, the dragon pitched them into the air and sent them careening through the roof of that ‘tallest tower.’ You muttered a hasty incantation and the sparkling outlines of soft feathers danced along your fingers. You hoped you weren’t too far. You were probably too goddamn far. But you hummed frantically under your breath nonetheless and entreated your middling magic to give them a soft landing.

And then there was another wave of green hellfire raining down over your head and you turned and ran.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

Even if you’d been a champion sprinter, there was little good it would have done you against a beast whose stride was longer than you were tall. You made it back into some hall or other, and into another cavernous room, and then you were pinned into a corner—the dragon looming over you like a vengeful wraith come to take its due.

It was gigantic. Probably the biggest creature you’d ever seen. And it was sleek—all lithe muscle and glossy rows of black scales that glittered oddly in the dull, grey, light. Its wings spread wide behind it, spanning the entirety of the vast chamber. They looked like the sort of wings that could stir up a hurricane. The curling horns atop its head seemed sharp enough to gore a man or twenty, and the purple crests lining its skull were tapered down flat in a way that reminded you a bit deliriously of a pissy cat pinning its ears back before it swatted at you.

Its lips curled back over pointed canines as it snarled at you, and you were showered in a swathe of hot sparks.

“Oh, what large teeth you have,” you squeaked, and when the dragon dipped closer to bellow into your face, your reeled back with a splutter. “I—I mean white, sparkling, teeth!” you rattled, nearly incoherent. The dragon’s snout twitched away, almost like you’d startled it. “I mean, I’m sure you hear this all the time from your food, but—wow! Just! Very lovely! Definitely the prettiest smile I’ll ever be eaten by!”

Slowly it lowered its great head, and you could see the neon glare from its narrowed eyes.

“Not that you have to eat me,” you added hurriedly, hoping to whatever Gods could hear you that your smart mouth could finally be useful for more than just talking circles around assholes in bars or weaseling your friends out of shitty contracts. “I’d very much like not to be eaten. But all the same, we did intrude in your home—and it’s definitely a very nice home—so I’d totally get it. And I guess if I did have to die today, knowing that my life would be in the hands of something so magnificent is certainly reassuring.”

The dragon seemed to preen a bit at that. You could see the sharp crests beneath its horns soften as tension bled from the beast’s posture. It ducked in close again, and this time you felt a sharp pull of air rush past your cheeks as it sniffed you. Its nostrils were the size your head—bigger even, maybe. You didn’t want to think about it, but the dry heat of its breath puffing into your face made the entire thing a bit hard to ignore.  

“Did I mention what a charming home you have?” you rambled on. “Very aesthetic. The gargoyles at the gate were a lovely touch.”

The dragon made a low, warbling, noise in its throat that wasn’t quite a growl, but wasn’t particularly… reassuring, either. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

It ducked away—not far, just enough to reach one of the large, carved, walls at the outskirts of the room. Its long neck slithered out before pausing pointedly over an archway. It took you a long moment to realize it was gesturing to something. Another gargoyle from the looks of things—this one almost entirely crumbled away under the strains of time. You could just barely make out the shape of its square jaw and taloned fingers.

You nodded so hard you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

“Yes! I see! Very beautiful! Such fine craftsmanship!”

The dragon cooed at you. Swear on your life and all the money in your back packet. An actual, honest to God, coo. Fuck, maybe you’d managed to charm your way out of imminent dismemberment and death after all.

It ambled closer once again, a curiosity lighting its eyes and warming those neon irises into something that was less poisonous-hell-fire and more mellow-evening-in-the-forest.

Amidst all the rippling waves of ebony scales, your eyes caught on the smallest smear of crimson. Just a touch of red—right along the spikes of its tail. Carefully, cautiously, slower than molasses, you stepped forward with your hands raised. You whispered a handful of familiar words under your breath and your palms glowed fuzzy and blue. Dragons were supposed to be inherently magical, right? So this one would certainly understand that the string of syllables you’d babbled out were good, and helpful, and not at all a provocation. The dragon was looking down at you with lidded eyes, its gaze a bit unfocused. You gulped.

“I’m sorry my friends messed with your tail,” you apologized, gingerly holding your fingers out to hover over the abrasions without actually touching. “They were just trying to protect me. If—if that makes it any better.” The minuscule wound began to knit itself back together neatly beneath the pulses of your magic. “I do tend to need a lot of protecting—I’m not much a warrior, if that wasn’t completely obvious by the everything about me—so I can’t really blame them for being a bit gung-ho about it.”

After a moment or two, the scratches had faded back into solid, matte, black and you drew back with a content hum.

“There! All fixed!” You gave your most winning smile. Please don’t eat me, your brain chanted on endless repeat. Please don’t eat me please don’t eat me please don’t eat me—

The dragon reared back and settled on its haunches with another heavy puff of sweltering breath. You could feel the heat of it prickling all the way up your arms. After a long, long, moment of silent consideration, the dragon leaned forward again and rumbled deep in its chest. When you only stood there, properly petrified, it huffed again and bumped its nose against your sternum, nearly toppling you over.

“I don’t—” you started, nervous. “I’m sorry. I don’t really get what you’re trying to say.”

With another sigh that sounded entirely too put upon, the dragon lowered its great head. The air itself seemed to grow heavy against your shoulders, and you could taste the cloying bitterness of strong magics on the back of your tongue. Black miasma oozed from beneath the dragon’s talons and melted along its scales. The caustic scent of ash and petrichor burned along your nostrils, and you had to pinch your eyes shut and cover your nose to keep from coughing. You managed to sneak a peek past your fingers just in time to watch the shadowed outline of the beast collapse. And out of that puddle of black goo emerged a man­. He was tall and lithe, just as the dragon had been, with glowing green eyes that were terribly familiar. They were framed with thick, dark, lashes and sat perfectly on a face that was nearly too handsome to be human (well, it really wasn’t human you supposed, so that little tidbit probably accounted for said inhuman beauty well enough). Recognizable eyes and stature or no, the curling horns atop his head would have sealed the deal plenty well enough on their own.

He shook off the shadows twining around his ankles with a lazy twist of the hand and then turned to you with a curious little hum.

And holy fuck Mister Dragon apparently had no sense of shame, or maybe just no qualms about social niceties and practicalities, because his human self was wearing about just as many clothes as his lizard form had been.

You squeezed your eyes shut with a squeak, and then double covered them with your hands for good measure.

A chuckle rolled through the air—as dark and pleasantly rich as the finest of chocolates. And then there was a clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back, and back, and back until you were at least half-way sure it would probably be safe to open your eyes again without infringing on his decency.

“You are fascinating, Child of Man,” it—he—hummed, low in his throat. His thumb dragged down to hook beneath the curve of your jaw and support the finger tucked up under your chin. “And it’s been so, very, long since I’ve been fascinated by anything.”

“Uh,” you replied, like a perfectly functional human being.

The dragon’s lips curled up over his pointed teeth—still just as sharp and white as they had been when he’d been so much bigger and scalier.

“I think I’d like to keep you,” he said with a nod to himself, as casually as one may talk about picking up extra groceries from the market.

“Uh,” you said again.

“You did mention that you needed protecting,” he continued, tapping a clawed finger against his own chin. The small smile quirking his lips twisted into something smug. “And that is certainly something at which I would excel.”

Your head was swimming.

“I—I mean. I’m honored that you—that… you—” You couldn’t even think the words, let alone get them past your brain and out of your mouth. You cleared your throat and fought to keep your eyes level with his clavicle and nowhere else. “D-Don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast?” you laughed nervously. “I mean, I’m sure my friends will probably be on their way back down soon—and—I mean, we haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I don’t even know your name.”

He blinked, slow and serpentine.

“Oh. I suppose you wouldn’t.” He canted his head to the side, long strands of that inky black hair of his spilling across his shoulder. An amused sort of grin worked its way along his mouth. “Dragons are not keen to give out our true names so readily, but you seem like a clever one. Tell me—what do you think I’m called then, hmm?”

You glanced up quickly at the horns atop his head and couldn’t help yourself.

“Tsunotarou?”

He let out a bark of laughter that seemed to shake the walls.

“Oh,” he trilled, looking positively delighted. The hand not curled beneath your chin reached down to snag your own, and he brought your wrist up to his lips. You could feel the imprints of his canines against the soft skin there. “I’ll definitely be keeping you.”

[bots-and-cons]

Howdy again! Is it possible you could do the same prompt l asked last time (reader dies and turns cybertronian) but with Autobots instead of cons? Thank you so much!!!!

A/N: If someone’s interested in the decepticon version you can find that here. Ratchet has morals, hence no human experimentation on the autobots’ part

•You were taken by the decepticons and experimented on 

•Ever since the whole thing with Silas, Knockout and Shockwave were both interested in if they could repeat the experiment

•It was mostly Shockwave though, Knockout thought what happened to Breakdown was absolutely disgusting, but he also wanted to know how it was done, so repeating the experiment on you was a chance for that

•So, they did their experiment, constructing you a body from vehicon parts and putting the necessary parts from you into it

•Anyway, the cons returned you to the autobots in a rather cruel manner, basically Megatron just tossed you at their feet saying something like “I believe this is your pet”

•Ratchet worked for days to make sure you would survive in your new body, but he had a lot of trouble, because he didn’t know how much at all about human anatomy or biology

•Shockwave and Knockout had already done most of the work for him though, so he just had to finish the job and make sure you would continue to stay alive

•When you woke up, you were very confused, and scared too

•Your head was all foggy, you couldn’t remember much of anything, certainly not how you’d come to be this way

•It took a couple of days for you to be even able to move your arms or legs, and being able to stand and walk took much longer

•Ratchet was there to look after you the whole time, someone had to be, because you were pretty confused most of the time

•You had a lot of gaps and holes in your memory, you knew things like your name and you knew the autobots were friendly or at least not a threat to you, but you didn’t know who they were or what they were like

•You also didn’t remember anything about how you’d been made into this thing you now were

•You knew you used to be human, but it felt like it had been a dream

•Optimus was of course furious that the decepticons had done this to you, but he kept it under control, so hardly anyone noticed

•Except for Ratchet of course, he was also horrified by what had been done to you and he honestly just tried not to think about it most of the time, because you were still alive

•Arcee was probably the most visibly furious about the whole thing, she even ranted a little about how this was the last straw, etc etc

•Bee was also seething, but his anger was more mixed with this overwhelming sadness and confusion, he had seen the decepticons committing countless atrocities, but this was undoubtedly among the worst

•The whole team had a very hard time understanding how the decepticons could do this, you were no threat to them

•They were all furious, but they tried to keep a lid on it, some managed that better than others, because they wanted to aid in your recovery

•Your recovery was very slow, but they all tried to be there for you as best as they could

•You had to learn to control your new body, and all that came with being a pseudo-cybertronian

•Ratchet kept scanning you constantly for the first three months, at least twice a day, more if something unusual happened

•You had a very hard time mentally for a long while, because of getting used to your new body, never being able to see your family/friends again, and the fact that you had been dead

•Even though you didn’t exactly remember how you had been experimented on, the whole thing still plagued you in your nightmares

[genericpuff]

yeah so let's talk about the scenes between hades and thanatos that went from being goofy "haha a boss being hard on an employee" 'jokes' to child abuse as soon as it was revealed that hades was thanatos' adoptive father

and yes i'm putting a content warning jump for ❗❗❗ child abuse and neglect ❗❗❗

so first off, before we even get into the Thanatos / Hades father son relationship thing, I wanna mention a sequence in Episode 39 and why I think Rachel included the scene of Hades reaming Thanatos for being bad at his job.

And it's simply because of what happens the episode before.

Persephone's ableism aside (seriously, I have legs, that doesn't mean I want to walk everywhere, I also own a car, that doesn't mean I have to drive everywhere, maybe flying is tiring? Maybe he's injured and shouldn't be flying? Maybe he has a disability that results in him having wings that can't fly? Check yourself Persephone 😒) this is one of the earliest signs of LO's "Revenge for Persephone" problem which is CONSTANT throughout the narrative - that anytime Persephone is slighted or inconvenienced in the slightest, then the narrative needs to ensure there's some kind of revenge, either directly for her sake or indirectly for the audience's, and it's often always facilitated through or by Hades.

And that leads us to Episode 39, which is when we get exactly that.

Moving onto the scene itself, this is what we call in the work environment a "dressing down". This is not how legitimate employee reviews are given. Hades is not planning on giving him any sort of formal review or constructive criticism. He's planning on tearing him a new asshole just for the fun of doing so. You can even see it written on his face. He's doing this just for the joy of tearing him down. As someone who's been subject to this kind of behavior in previous work environments, I can assure you that this is not normal behavior that's indicative of a functioning workplace, this is abuse.

Taking that train scene into account, it's a way to indirectly "avenge" Persephone. She was slighted by Thanatos, so now Hades is going to make his life hell. But here's the thing - this not revenge for Persephone's sake. Hades doesn't even know Persephone's in the building, and Persephone doesn't know that Thanatos is being berated by Hades. But the scene is here anyways because of course the audience needs to feel "better" about Persephone getting pushed by a stranger at the train stop.

Now, scenes like this have been done in other stories, often times to explain the behavior of bullies/aggressors/etc. because in many cases, textbook bullies, whether children or adults, are abusing others because they're being abused by a higher authority so they take it out on those "weaker" than them.

But this doesn't work in LO, for several reasons.

First off, it pretty much plays it off like a joke, especially when the scene continues after Persephone has walked into Tower 4.

But beyond that, the higher authority abusing Thanatos is someone we're expected to root for. He's the main love interest. While this could be written as a legitimate character flaw, we all know now, in the year 2023, that Rachel sees Hades' behavior as a feature, not a bug. While most scenes written like this would cast a new perspective on a bully and allow some room for understanding and empathy from the audience, in LO's case, we're still not expected to empathize with Thanatos here, they want us insulting him right alongside Hades.

And of course, that brings us to the big blue elephant in the room - the knowledge of Hades and Thanatos' relationship completely re-contextualizes these scenes in a way that's far too depressing and horrifying for a writer like Rachel to be able to wrap up confidently.

Of course, she tried, but her efforts... can't even really be called efforts. For starters, because a lot of it is played off as a joke, as if Rachel can't handle even a single moment of legitimate emotion, she has to "write off the awkward" by making things "funny".

But when she does try to seriously write these scenes of introspection, reflection, and communication, it just winds up turning into the main protagonists going "woe is me, I was the real victim!" and never actually suffering consequences for their actions as a result as they Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss their victims into apologizing to them. It still isn't asking us to empathize with or side with Thanatos, it wants us to end up right back at square one supporting Hades' side of the story.

Literally "well you weren't that bad, at least you were there!" bare minimum accountability, followed by "well I didn't make your life easy so I get it" from someone who was literally a child who was abandoned and left to live with an abusive asshole. It wasn't his fault that he was in the situation he was in, it wasn't his fault that he was a "handful" for Hades because he was a CHILD and Hades was the ADULT, but the comic paints it as Thanatos being at fault anyways for being "ungrateful".

But there are even more subtle signs that point to Thanatos' childhood with Hades that, while not specifically mentioning it, do paint a pretty nasty picture of how Thanatos views Hades and the people around him as a result of his childhood, in a very fridge horror "stop and think about it" kind of way.

First of all, the fact that Thanatos hasn't even been allowed to touch Hades' car. Obviously he's referring to specifically driving it but it makes me wonder what kind of bare minimum accommodations Hades made for his own adopted son. Again, played off for a joke.

And of course we have this one piece of concept art-

Now to be fair, this is concept art from before it was retconned that Thanatos was Hades' son, but it still casts an icky implication in hindsight both because of Hades' treatment towards Thanatos as well as the implication that Thanatos was getting "too close" to Persephone for Hades' liking. This sort of weird dynamic can be found in the actual comic when Hades admits he knows Thanatos was sleeping with Minthe.

And then there was this one scene, which prompted me to write this post in the first place, shared in the ULO Discord.

Thanatos has just met Daphne, so it's not necessarily weird for him to be suspicious of her asking for his phone, but the actual dialogue... doesn't line up with what you'd assume he would be suspicious of.

He doesn't say "you're not going to peek through it, are you?"

He specifically says "You're not going to smash it, are you?"

Now, if this line were intended to be anything more than some throwaway "haha funny" line (which, again, where's the punchline here) then maybe it could point more to something that happened between him and Minthe. But there's nothing that implies she was ever violent towards him, and the one time she IS violent towards anyone, it's implied that's the first and only time she's ever escalated things to that point and that even she's shocked and disgusted at her own behavior.

There is plenty to imply that Thanatos was abused by Hades, though.

So reading this line in hindsight... really just feels like further proof on a growing pile of evidence that Thanatos was constantly being berated, controlled, and abused by Hades, a guy who he never asked for as a father figure, but was still expected to apologize to anyways.

But there is one last thing I wanna mention before I wrap up. One thing that was mentioned by yet another user in the ULO community that really stood out to me because it just goes to show how horrible Hades has been towards Thanatos, both in the past pre-retcon and in the present well after it was established that they were father and (adopted) son.

And that's Hades' two dream sequences that involve him having children with Persephone.

One of these scenes is from before the retcon. The other is from after.

Neither one features Thanatos as a part of Hades' visions for the future.

Hades has been Thanatos' entire life. But Hades doesn't see Thanatos as even a part of his.

[transient-winds]

Wind Breaker Chapter 153: Heat

Spoilers ahead! Also um idk if this gonna be a long one, but this chapter do be wildin'

So, Takiishi's mindscape is...interesting to say the least.

It's completely trashed and kinda looks like a horder's house. Interesting to note is that there's dead trees here, perhaps it wasn't always that way beforehand but a wild fire broke out and made it a wasteland (literally).

The sudden combustion and scorched corpses is such a visual. What a horrifying(ly beautiful) scene honestly. Nii-sensei did such an amazing job, it looked like a horror manga!

Those people in Takiishi's mindscape, I'm assuming they previously fought him but were scorched by Takiishi's flames as he defeated them. None of them, standing even a chance to knock him down a peg.

Speaking of, I don't know if this has any correlation to Takiishi's mindscape but a lot of these visuals remind me of Avīci, aka the worst and most painful of the Eight Hot Narakas. In *Genshin's Buddhist text the Ōjōyōshū (往生要集, lit. The Essentials of Rebirth in the Pure Land), one of the regions he described within this level is the Region of the Bird. It said that within this region, a gigantic bird with a fire-breathing beak would swoop in and grab a sinner only to drop them onto the firey ground, shattering them. Remaining unamed, the descriptions of this bird shares similarities to the Karura (which I had mentioned on a previous post about Takiishi). So um take that info as you will.

*A Japanese Buddhist monk from the Heian period.

The way Takiishi looks at Umemiya is fascinating as well. Umemiya surrounded by flames, either his own or Takiishi's (I'm inclined to believe it's Takiishi's), and yet remain relatively unscathed despite looking charred. As if both of their flames are equally fighting for the chance to consume the other. It's like watching a trainreck in the making wherein you know the aftermath is gonna be brutal but you just can't look away from it.

Or perhaps it's like watching a forest fire. In nature, forest fires are destructive but they can also be a source of rebirth. When the dust is settled, sunlight can penetrate the soil that was once blocked by the leaves and the branches, the ashes from the forest remains becoming fertilizers to breathe life to a new forest and an entirely new ecosystem. A chance of renewal if you will, but will that the be the fate of Takiishi and Endo? We'll see.

I very much enjoy the fire symbolism Nii-sensei is using for both Takiishi and Umemiya because fire can be both destructive and constructive. History has taught us that civilization was built with the aid of fire and it was also used to destory it. So I'm enjoying double entendre of it all.

Honorable mentions:

Sakura "He feels so distant" Haruka. I just want to wrap my sweet child in a blanket, he's so worried guys 😭🤧. I need his face to be happy and smiling again pls.

Endo, a pot calling kettle black much?

–

Thank you Nii-sensei for another great chapter and Jacqueline Fung as well for the official translation! Please go and support them via the official international release in Kodansha.

[uva124]

Hello everyone! As these days I have not been able to draw much I decided to try my first writing for my wish Au, I am very new in these things so if you can give constructive criticism I would appreciate it very much!

But first of all I have to give some warning:

-This is angst

-If you haven't seen some of my posts you probably won't understand much of this, if you want you can take a look at my profile :]

-TW: Blood, character death.

You have been warned, that being said I hope you enjoy the read!

Fear

That's all Haedus can feel right now, he can't think of a solution, he can't move, even if he could breathe he probably couldn't at this moment, all he can do is see Magnifico holding Nembus tightly by the neck with a sadistic smile that reminds him deeply of a monster with sharp teeth.

The whole room is silent, nothing can be heard except for the faint cry of Nembus.

Haedus tries to give a glance to the place where they are to find something that can distract the maniac couple from his little brother, there is nothing, he can only identify the horrified face of Asha on the verge of tears looking directly between Nembus and an unconscious Naos in the corner. To tell the truth he can feel the tears running down his face too, they don't deserve this They are just children for God's sake! I would never have thought the couple could get to this point, but it's too late now.

All he feels is rage and hatred towards Magnifico and Amaya, fear for his little brother's life, but above all frustration with himself, how could he let this happen? He himself promised to protect them at all costs since he met them and now he has failed.

"DON'T YOU DARE DO ANYTHING TO THEM OR I SWEAR-"

"Do what, try to kill me with your useless powers? Or lecture me? Awww you still don't seem to understand the fact that in this world you are a FOOL, you are nobody, so stop pretending to be the savior of a fairy tale" The star was identifying the lord's mood as he said every word, but he couldn't care less when he sees the terror filled eyes of the smaller star as Magnifico tightened his grip even tighter.

More and more you can see Nembus having more and more difficulty to stay conscious, the stars can't breathe and remember hearing that they couldn't be hurt by mortals either, however this guy for some reason has the power to generate wounds to them or in this case axphysize us, or do some damage to their necks, who cares? Haedus has to do something now.

He can hear Asha yelling at the couple and trying to stay as strong as possible, however before he knows it he is already flying at full speed towards the couple, hell his powers are useless, if he can at least get Nembus out of their hands that's enough for him, but before he can even get close Magnifico creates a greenish colored barrier that prevents the passage, the young star can still see the evil expression of the adult.

" Hehe I wouldn't do that if I were you, now that you are close enough let me warn you what will happen if you take one more step and don't do as I say" after saying this sentence Magnifico's face turned into a grim expression as he created an emerald green energy staff and points it towards Nembus.

"NO-" That's all Haedus can hear coming from Asha until he only hears white.

Haedus sees red.

Magnifico stabbed Nembus. The boy's eyes open letting out a scream full of pain followed by a cry that makes a shiver run through the whole body of the young star, if before he was angry now the only thing he can feel is pain ,panic and above all HATE.

"NO NO NO NO NO NO! don't do anything to him please! leave him alone I'll do whatever you say ok?! just don't do anything they have nothing to do with this." That's the only thing that can come out of the major star's mouth at the moment, his panicked look seems to give them a great satisfaction to the maniacs that had Nembus at the moment.

"Oh how sweet, looks like they were family after all wasn't it sweetie?" now it was Amaya's turn to tease the vulnerability of the young couple and the two little stars.

Before the adult couple could continue talking they see the young girl running off in a certain direction.

Oh naive as always Asha.

-ASHA'S POINT OF VIEW----------------------

Asha was sobbing at this point, how could this happen, why of all the people who could help Haedus and his siblings did she have to be the one on the roof that night, now everything is a mess because of her, if she hadn't been so naive, so selfish, so pessimistic-No. she can't be blaming herself right now, there has to be a way to help, there has to be something she can do! Looking around the room she can see Naos unconscious in the corner of the room, without hesitation she runs to his direction, she has to help these children with her life, they can't-.

"What do you think you're doing young ady?" before he can reach towards where the child was there is a green hand picking up the small body of the child with golden curls like gold.

Naos is now visibly awake, but as soon as he regains consciousness his expression changes to one of horror at the sight of the new scenario. Asha can do nothing but stand still in panic "And I thought you were my most faithful assistant Asha, I know you were always....different but I didn't think it would come to this, I feel totally betrayed, after all I did-" The words of the asult man are interrupted with Asha's words spitting like poison.

"DO SOMETHING FOR ME?!!! ALL YOU DID WAS DESTROY ALL MY HOPES JUST LIKE YOU DID TO EVERYONE ELSE, I'M THE ONE WHO CAN'T BELIEVE YOU WOULD GO TO THE POINT OF HARMING TWO LITTLE CHILDREN YOU PIECE OF-"

"Oh please they're just stars! They're not even human or anything, besides being useless compared to us, however they can be a great source of power don't you think? let me show you." The adult's voice is chillingly carefree and humorous, Asha could feel from before she finishes the sentence a shiver running down her spine, something is going to make "No-".

"AAAAAAAHHH" Nembus gives a scream so loud that it runs through the entire room, his golden colored tears slowly turning a dark greenish.

Nembus was pierced by Magnifico's scepter.

No.....no no no no no no no NO! Naos can't get hurt! He still has so much to live for, Asha still has to teach him how to draw like she promised! She still must buy him and his brother candy, she still must take them to that silly parade they have every year in Rosas, please, they need more time, there are so many things she needs to show them.

Asha's train of thought is interrupted by Haedus' scream and Magnifico's uncontrollable laughter as the latter's staff becomes enveloped in a magical golden aura that upon reaching the man's hand causes his eyes to turn a brilliant green. Nembus gradually gets dark scars that resemble the edge of withered tree branches as his screams gradually turn to sobs.

The young lady is enraged, but before she can say anything Magnificent finishes absorbing Nembus' magic as he laughs in satisfaction at having star magic coursing through his body, he grabs his beloved wife's hand as she only has such a delicate smile but one that Asha from afar can identify as sadistic, soon after she too is enveloped in a purple aura as her eyes turn a bright green "I would like to stay to continue enjoying this , but my beloved and I have a party to attend so if you'll excuse me."

Magnifico pulls the staff from Nembus' body with a quick movement ignoring Haedus' screams and the crying of the little stars, then proceeds to make a quick movement with the staff ending with it touching the floor with a sound that echoed throughout the room, now only Asha sees a green flash and then nothing.

Magnifico and Amaya are gone.

The only thing left are the bodies of Nembus and Naos lying on the floor, the latter tries with all his might to go and hug his little brother as soon as he touches the floor but he is too weak to make it. The only thing he can do is to grab the little hand of the other little star before being unconscious again.

Asha comes out of her state of shock quickly to go check on the condition of the two children, but before she gets there someone is already there, Asha can see Haedus panic as tears run down his face with a pained and worried expression.

The young girl can't help but wonder "How could I let this happen?".

HAEDUS'S POINT OF VIEW-------------------

Haedus flies to his siblings, he just wants to hold them in his arms again.

He carries both children as he kneels down, the image in his head where the man stabs Nembus still lingers in his head, but he tries to calm his little siblings just the same.

"You two ere going to be okay! I promise I- I'll find a way to fix it ok? You're going to be fine, we're going to be fine, when this is over I'll take you two to that place they wanted to go so badly with Asha and I, you're going to love it just- please don't leave me...." Haedus at this point can only stammer in panic What is he going to do? He doesn't know how to reverse the wounds of the stars, he knows almost nothing about this world.

His thoughts are interrupted by Asha coming running to see the state of the 3, the older star also notices the panic in his eyes, quickly Haedus passes Asha an unconscious Naos, he won't know how to treat wounds, but at this moment he is desperate, he can't lose Nembus, not his family.

He cradles Nembus in his arms as he tries to examine him, however the sobs and agitation of the little star do not make the task easy "I know it hurts Nembus but you are going to be fine, I am here ok? your brother is going to take care of you but I need you to let me see the wound" Haedus feels his voice shaking but he does his best efforts to make it not so noticeable.

However the little star's sobs are getting faster and shorter.

Haedus manages to see the large wound covered with golden blood covering the small body of his little brother.

Haedus knows what is going to happen to the little star.

Haedus does not want to acept it.

"I know it hurts baby but I have to get you up just- we have to get out of here ok? c"mon, you can baby c"mon, c"mon baby ,c"mon you can we'll get out of this like we always did with Naos remember?" Star tries to carry the child, this only increases his cries "I know baby, I know, I know, I know, I know! Just stay awake yet I- just stay with me please, I know it hurts...."

Again the babbling begins, panic is creeping up on the girl and the star.

"I know it hurts, I know, I know..."

Haedus's voice is getting louder and more desperate.

Asha doesn't know what to do

"Stay awake please I-"

Nembus' cries are getting softer and less loud.

"ASHA HELP ME!"

Haedus turns his head in Asha's direction for help.

"Edus........."

The star knows what the young girl wants to say but can't- HIS LITTLE BROTHER CAN'T LEAVE!

The star turns its head again in the direction of Nembus.

The little star no longer cries.

It no longer writhes in pain.

The kid no longer has the gleam of childish joy in her eyes.

Nembus is no longer there.

"No- Nembus wake up come on little buddy no-just wake up please! don't leave me don't leave me please don't leave me please, I'll be a better brother I promise just-don't go"

Haedus hears Asha's sobs, but soon everything turns to white noise again.

Edus gives his little brother a kiss on the forehead.

"Forgive me please, sorry I'm so sorry, forgive me pleae sorry, I'm so sorry forgive me please…" These are the only words he can articulate as he finishes saying goodbye while his voice grows weaker from crying.

Asha soon kneels down next to Haedus to say goodbye to the little star, but no words come out, only pain-filled sobs.

Nembus is gone.

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

Sorry not sorry :D

So …… I don't know if it's the right thing to do but some of these sketches really took me several attempts to be satisfied, so why not do a DTIYS challenge?

There is no deadline really, if you want you can participate or not, use any material you want, you can draw any of the sketches I used for this scripture and please tag me to see it! I would love to see your drawings.

Again I hope you enjoyed the reading see you later! ✨✨✨✨

@annymation @emillyverse @rascalentertainments @oh-shtars @tumblingdownthefoxden @your-ne1ghbor @signed-sapphire @spectator-zee

[marinettesaltprompts]

In Brightest Day (Part 2)

Adrien Sugar x GLtAS (+ a bit of YJ)

Prompt by @somereaderinblue

Viridian meets Kilowag. 

“This is my son.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“What do you mean, I love him!”

“Was talking to the poozer.”

He was tougher than nails but he never played favourites & he always had Hal’s back. By extension, this meant he had Viridian’s too. He’s by-the-book but he’s also a dad & damn if he’s not unofficially Adrien’s godfather/uncle.

Sure, the Guardians weren’t as receptive, but again, Hal had his back every. Single. Time. There’s also Ganthet who pretty much guessed Adrien was Hal’s & unofficially adopted him as a grandson. He is to Adrien everything Fu wishes he could be.

GLtAS events happen & Viridian is along for the ride. He introduces Aya to anime, cartoons, memes, the works & encourages her to embrace emotions. It’s more awkward with Razer, but one day, the Red Lantern helps him with his homework & they’re discussing abt physics. A week later, Adrien shows off his skills with the staff & Razer teaches him how to throw shuriken.

Adrien mourns Aya’s death & before Razer leaves, he warns him not to lose himself to grief like Gabriel did.

They return to Earth & Hal introduces Adrien to the other sidekicks. Young Justice is formed & during the events of Misplaced, Adrien briefly returns to Paris to help with organization & rescue.

LB doesn’t recognize him until she hears him crack a joke. When she asks, he hesitates too long & she pounces on it like a shark scenting blood. Calls him a coward & a fake unworthy of wearing that ring and showing his face back in Paris and trying to get in her way again.

But Viridian quickly composes himself & even scolds her for acting so unprofessional while they’re in the middle of a global crisis.

All of this is recorded by a bystander & after everything is over, it goes viral. It also doesn’t help that since HM was defeated, LB rarely continued her hero work, opting to focus on her fashion career. Turns out, trying to start a business when you’re barely 15 is harder than it sounds & that the field is a lot more cutthroat than Mari thought. It doesn’t help that Audrey’s forgotten about her. Her new classmates aren’t particularly close to her & her old classmates have left Paris to move on with their life. 

Also, fighting actual hardened criminals who don’t have akumatization as an excuse for their violence is another beast entirely & more than once, she interfered with a police work that resulted in more harm than good. Without the Ladyblog, other blogs have popped up to call her out on her past mistakes, including the mistreatment of CN despite her claims that he’s a joke.

Adrien has Hal, the team & even some Wayne PR lawyers to ensure neither he nor his alter ego are affected in any way. Pitying Mari, he offers to help her smooth things over. She explodes.

“And what do you want in return, a kiss?”

“Not even if you paid me.”

No infatuation, no humour, no nicknames, nothing.

“You must be enjoying this. Heck, you-you planned all this, didn’t you?! For revenge?!”

“How could I plan anything? I’m just a dumb sidekick.”

“And now you’re a suck-up.” 

“And now you’re in hot water with the public. Do you want to get out of it or not?”

She doesn’t. Instead, she demands a spot on the team. She’s frickin’ Ladybug! Hell, she’s not even a sidekick like the rest of them, they should be begging her to join them. She’s the Guardian! She can give them the Miraculous to power them up!

Robin, who deduced LB’s ID in less than a month & took even less time to find footage of Mari stalking Adrien, stealing his phone and even breaking & entering into his property, laughs in her face while the rest of them looked at her in disgust.

Miss Martian later admits to the team that she took a small glimpse into Mari’s mind & was horrified to see the cult grooming Fu put her through, the manipulation the rest of the Order are still putting her through.

Viridian used his constructs to restrain LB & take her earrings. He hands them to Zatana & quietly asks her to put a spell on Mari so she couldn’t spill either of their secrets. The irony of this entire situation was not lost on them.

Su-Han jumps in to snatch the earrings……and leaves Marinette at their mercy. They’d been planning on getting rid of her for a while now, this just sped things up. Him abandoning her was the final straw. Marinette sobbed, whined, bargained, raged at the unfairness of it all & basically acted exactly how she always imagined Adrien would.

Zatana cast the spell & Viridian quietly asked Batman to find a way to enroll Marinette into therapy.

Later, back in Coast City, Hal turns off the TV neither were really watching & asks if he’s okay.

Adrien’s heart hurts a little as he recalls what happened to Mari, his old life & how they still had to stop the Order….but the ring on his finger was warm, the couch he sat on was welcoming & when he looked at Hal, he felt seen, he felt loved.

He tells Hal that he’s okay.

[stromuprisahat]

Second Army disorganization

Siege and Storm- Chapter 14

One of the most frustrating and famously nonsensical passages of Grisha trilogy, easily explained through doylist approach- the author's inability to write strategy or politics and demands of the genre, requiring a weak, unfit heroine to defeat immensely powerful opponent way out of her league:

Alina: Oh no, they dare to oppose me again! :(

Isn't that why would you want to establish a council in the first place? So you get constructive criticism and suggestions to do things better?!

My objections to the notion Alina came up with representation of Grisha can't be more obvious:

Army is a structured organization. There are ranks and councils by default. No amount of ignorant teens will persuade me calling it "Second" makes it otherwise.

Any big organization has a structure. Even if Second Army were only about education, there would be councils and posts on different levels. Hell, school system works that way.

Alina: I'm gonna have the useless ones represented, because we're not doing things like the Darkling, but that doesn't mean I'll respect them myself or abandon my prejudices. Fucking nerds. Weidos...

Another YA nonsense- you cannot put people into categories based on their physical predispositions, and expect the mental ones to fit accordingly. You can have a huge, muscled guy, skilled in delicate handiwork. You can have a tiny wisp of a girl beating the living shit out of you (popular trope by itself).

Now why should sensitivity to metals get you a spot in labs, if you're a strategic genius? Or incredibly skilled, witty rhetorician? Isn't it more likely you'd be required to complete basic training to stay healthy and prevent accidentally endangering others, while being assigned to whatever you're most useful at?

And what about those weak or less intelligent ones? Are they bringing coffee and arranging entertainment?!

It also fits this fan interpretation, that Materialki are often neuro-divegent, so they are tend to be kept away from battle for their own sake.

Alina wasn't involved in practical running of Second Army before. Just because she doesn't know about something, it's not a totally fresh idea.

I'd be afraid of a girl, who almost murdered a bunch of people for asking questions, too.

At this point, I'm gonna run with the idea that all the older Grisha are torn between face-palming and silently laughing their assess off (so Alina doesn't overhear and her clique doesn't resort to violence).

“But what do they do in there?” I asked, not entirely sure I wanted to hear the answer. “Only the Corporalki know. But there are rumors that they’ve been working with the Fabrikators on new … experiments.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 8

... and that says nothing about the field, or the little groups in noble houses. People tend to stick together with their own, when in strange enviroment. I'm sure such bonds dissolve immediately after their return "home".

I've also delved a little into the sitting order here.

A few lines earlier, Alina noted Materialki didn't show up to complain. Who is so horrified then?! Not them, for sure.

Ironically, this fits into Fabricator-brain theory linked above AND the most logical explanation- Materialki have basic self-defense training, but only those, who are able to, continue. Alina isn't particularly friendly with any of them, so how would she know no one had EVER bothered to teach them? Alright, there are none in her class, but as far as we know, it consists of a Squaller, an Inferni and a Heartrender. Not the most saying sample.

Having a third of all Grisha helpless doesn't fit into the picture of Aleksander's leadership:

“That’s what Botkin always says. ‘Not showy, just to make pain,’” I said, imitating the mercenary’s heavy accent. “Smart guy.” “The Darkling doesn’t think Grisha should rely on their powers for defense.”

Shadow and Bone- Chapter 17

You don't have to become another Bruce Lee, you only need a chance, when they drag you out of bed in the middle of the night.

What tradition?

This is rather well-written group of angry, disorganized people. It might start with a reasonable goal, but soon everyone talks about something else than others, and the message gets lost in the noise.

Tradition doesn't equal "the way things are done". Neither of them is the same as "the need for structure and people knowing their places". The third one is a legitimate concern, although one could argue it's exactly what Alina's attempting.

This whole scene very much reads like:

The author is desperate to prove the Heroine isn't quite useless- she has good ideas! Look! *whacks a hundreds of years old stategist and survivor par excellence with stupid stick*

[octuscle]

hey, I think I need some help. I was put in charge of my friend’s bachelor party, but I really didn’t have much time to get things together, so I went online and found a company that offered to plan everything. Had us go with this “mountain cabin” theme. The rep from the company mentioned he needed to talk to my buddy alone and we haven’t seen him since. One of the other guys went to go look for him too and we haven’t seen him in a bit either. Reason I’m asking for your help is because this cabin resort is filled with all these lumberjack types- they all look and sound the same. Plus I just saw them put up a sign about a construction project. Not sure what’s going on, but I’m worried

Buddy, just take a look at it. I would not form an opinion from the pictures on the Internet. However, you already form an opinion on the way to the lodge. In fact, there seem to be quite a few major infrastructure projects going on in the area. Looks like a dam project. In any case, the lodge is not idyllic. The road is churned up by large construction machines. When you arrive at the lodge, your car is splattered with mud. The air is filled with a concert of axes, machine saws and jackhammers. Definitely not the place you want to celebrate a bachelor party.

To your surprise, your friend comes running up to you. So… You assume that it is your friend. The facial features are at least similar. But he doesn't wear glasses. And also otherwise rather little. He shows a lot of skin. And many muscles. Fuck, last week you were just sitting on the couch, shoveling junk food into you and watching hours of Netflix. The fellow hugging you now looks like he feeds on bears he kills with his bare hands.

Bruh, good to see you, he says. Where's everyone else? The party is already in full swing. He and his new friends would have so much fun here already. He whistles impressively loud on his fingers. And your friend Christopher comes running. He also hugs you and almost crushes you. And he looks like a brother if not like his twin brother of the groom. At best, you can recognize him by details of his facial features. Crazy. Absolutely crazy!

Your friend asks Christopher to show you around a bit. He would like to do it himself. But the rocks don't blow themselves up. Christopher and he laugh out loud at the lame joke. And you wonder if your loafers will survive a walk in this muddy landscape. Christopher takes you to the cafeteria first. This is where the party will take place, he says. You look around and try not to look horrified. Bare white tables, long benches, glaring neon light. The only decoration is the hot fellows who are taking a break here. Fuck, do these lumberjacks and construction workers turn you on? Christopher puts a tray with two cups of coffee and some donuts on the table. The donuts are especially for you. Specialty of the chef. The filling is delicious! Well, you first take a sip of the coffee. It is indeed not bad. Strong and hot. Plus a bite of the sugar glazed donut. Fuck, what kind of filling is that? Slimy, white… The taste a bit like… Musk? You suppress the reflex to gag or spit. You rinse with a sip of coffee. Damn, maybe the filling is tasty after all. Christopher looks at you silently, grinning. On the third donut, you suck out the filling. You could get addicted to this stuff.

Fuck, Christopher is still sitting across from you, grinning. Wide-legged. The bulge in his shorts is indecently big. You can hardly take your eyes off it. He stands up and says that he will show you the washrooms next. And then how the donut filling is made.

Hehehe, you guessed it. Christopher makes an excellent filling for the donuts. You wonder if your friend can do it as well. Christopher asks if you would like to see your bunk now. You answer if the number in the washroom wasn't enough for him. He grins and moves forward, you follow and have trouble keeping up with his pace. Fuck, he is really incredibly fit. And his boots are of course simply better suited for the mud than your now completely dirty loafers. Shortly before the barracks, in which your bed stands, you slip in the mud. Christopher helps you up and tells you to get undressed on the verander. The two men who are taking a break there and jerking off don't look as if you should be embarrassed.

Christopher leads you into a wash lock and sprays you with a water hose. He throws you a towel. Your cock is hard as a rock. Christopher gets on his knees in front of you. And for the first time in your life a man gives you a blowjob. And with the load that you cum, two donuts could easily be filled.

Your bunk is simple and cozy. In the bed can easily have two or three men good hard sex. In your closet hang three sets of your work clothes. If you need more, there's a supply closet next to the shower rooms. You're all the same size anyway. Christopher gives you your duty roster. Tomorrow you are scheduled to chop down trees early. And as much as he'd like to spend the night with you, he has to go back to pouring concrete at the dam. It doesn't matter, you are tired anyway and fall naked into your bed.

05:00 in the morning. You don't need an alarm clock, you are a nature boy. Even behind the curtains you know when it's time to get up. A caravan sets out from the barracks in the direction of the cafeteria. If you work hard, you should have a good breakfast. Today you are assigned to the milking for the doughnut production. Some new workers are expected in the afternoon. They are to be welcomed.

And after that, it's finally time to get out into the fresh air and get to work. You love the camp. Lots of hard work for real men. And food, drink and sex. Just like an eternal bachelor party!

A picture of one of the lumberjacks found at @trefoilwombat

[defectivevillain]

this broken design

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader

summary:

“Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried. You quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

word count: 2.3k [ao3 version here]

Reader’s pronouns are unspecified but masc-intended. You take the place of Will Graham, essentially. [Will is the mf blueprint and I love him,, I just wasn’t creative enough to think of a way to fit the reader into the story without replacing him ;( ]

Since Hannibal is your therapist, the relationship [although ambiguous] is ethically questionable. That’s par for the course to many Fannibals, but I’ll put this here in case you’re new to the fandom.

warnings: canon-typical violence, dissociation, breach of doctor/patient boundaries, insomnia, sleepwalking, cannibalism, spoilers for episode 1.

Jack Crawford can’t take no for an answer. That’s nothing new, of course. However, it’s frustrating to constantly be on the receiving end of that disappointed glare of his. You can’t take it much longer. He seems to recognize that you’re beginning to break, because he calls in a doctor for your psychiatric evaluation: Doctor Hannibal Lecter. There’s one unspoken statement lingering in the air when you walk into the room: “You will pass this exam and return to the field.”

Against all odds, Dr. Lecter seems to be one of the more competent medical professionals you’ve worked with. He doesn’t poke or prod at things that make you uncomfortable, testing your limits to the maximum. He doesn’t look at you with the patronizing gaze you’re so used to receiving from your peers. Lecter looks at you and, sometimes, it feels as if he’s looking straight through you.

After passing the psychological evaluation—you have a strong suspicion that Dr. Lecter lied on those forms—you’re back on the field. Before long, Jack Crawford is ordering you to look at mangled bodies once more. You notice that it takes more out of you each time you look. Looking is exhausting and the longer you look, the more time it takes to return to your own body.

You’re able to cope until your encounter with the Minnesota Shrike. You feel your composure beginning to slip as you frantically look through files in the office of his construction site. Thankfully, you can finally put a name to the killer: Garret Jacob Hobbs. He’s a construction worker, a husband, and a father. The guy is entirely ordinary, almost scarily so.

When you arrive at the Hobbs’ residence minutes later, you can’t shake the feeling that he’s expecting you. The house is eerily silent and when you walk in, his wife is already dead. Dread churning in your stomach, you turn the corner, only to find Hobbs holding his daughter Abigail captive. There’s a knife pressed to her neck. The betrayed yet horrified expression on her face cements itself in your mind. You point your gun at him, but he slices her neck before you can shoot him. After firing one, two, three, nine shots, you kneel down and try to stifle Abigail’s bleeding. Your heart races in your chest and there’s a roaring noise in your ears. Amidst all the chaos, however, you can still sense Garret Jacob Hobbs staring at you with a sickening smirk on his face.

“See?” The man had asked, as the light faded from his eyes and his body slumped against the cabinets. You turn your attention back to Abigail, who is now gasping and panting heavily. Your hands shake as you desperately try to stop the bleeding. You’re too rattled to notice the sound of footsteps getting closer until there’s a hand on your shoulder. Dr. Lecter and you lock eyes and, even in the swirling mess of emotions running through your mind, there is overwhelming clarity. Dr. Lecter’s expression is far too calm. Just before you can contemplate that further, he’s gently pushing you to the side and tending to Abigail.

Everything after that passes in a blur. Abigail is taken to the hospital and Dr. Lecter accompanies her in the ambulance. Jack seems satisfied and disconcerted all at once. He pulls you aside and starts talking your ear off, but you admittedly can’t process anything of what he’s saying. Eventually, the agent gives up and leaves you to drive home. Even when you go to work the next morning, you can’t shake the grey haze that clings to your very being. “See?” Garret Jacob Hobbs’ voice rings in your ears. You did see; you only wish you hadn’t.

You begin to have weekly sessions with Dr. Lecter. Jack all but forces you to attend, but the sessions actually prove to be helpful. Dr. Lecter is certainly an eccentric character, that’s for sure. You’ve never quite met someone like him before, and you can’t decide if that’s a good thing or not. The therapist is certainly mysterious. You want to figure him out, but, at the same time, there’s a nagging feeling in the back of your mind that is still wary around him. You haven’t necessarily forgotten the strangely calm look on his face in the Hobbs house, the mechanical way with which he accepted the pervasive aura of death all around him.

As great as Dr. Lecter is, he can’t fix everything. Your sleep, for example, is continuing to tank by the day. Since your return to the field, it’s difficult to fall asleep and even more difficult to stay asleep. After the Hobbs incident, you’re plagued with nightmares of dark crimson rivers. A few times, you’re even forced to relive the encounter: the moment Abigail slumps to the ground, the moment you shoot Hobbs again and again and again-

The moral of the story is that you’re not sleeping well. Your sleep has never been great, but it’s also never been this bad. You muse on that thought as you lie reclined on your mattress, staring up at the ceiling. Exhaustion tugs at your very core, but your mind refuses to slow down for even a moment. A voice in the back of your mind tells you that you shouldn’t even try to go to sleep, unless you want to slip into a killer’s skin once more. After staring up at the ceiling for an immeasurable amount of time, your eyes finally begin to fall shut.

Shadows seep into your eyes, coloring your vision dark. For a moment, there’s nothing but darkness. Garret Jacob Hobbs greets you like an old friend, his whispers ripping through your skin and into your very core. You claw at your head and close your eyes, desperate to rid yourself of his haunting voice. Somehow, your effort seems to work and you can’t hear his murmurs anymore. You want to drown in the shadowed void that stretches around you but, suddenly, there are two lights ripping through the blackness. You put a hand over your eyes as the brightness burns holes in your vision. Your eyes water and it takes several seconds for the graininess around you to disappear. To your surprise, there’s a car parked just to your left. You take a step forward and squint at the driver. The window rolls down slowly and your breath catches. A shiver rolls down your spine, and it’s not just the cold air that causes it. 

“Dr. Lecter?” You blink a few times, convinced that you’re dreaming. The man’s gleaming eyes and concerned expression seem a bit too realistic to be conjured by your sleeping mind, though. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen him look worried, and you quickly decide that you don’t like it.

“Hannibal, please,” the doctor responds nonchalantly. You stare at him in utter confusion. Just what is happening right now? You thought you were dreaming, but this feels a bit too vivid. “What are you doing out here?”

“I-” You try to say, but the words are stuck in your throat. His statement prompts you to look around and find out where exactly here is. Ultimately, you realize that you’re standing in the center of a road. It’s pretty dark outside. You look down and find that you’re still wearing your pajamas—a ragged shirt and sweatpants. Furthermore, there are scrapes lining your arms. You inhale sharply, beginning to feel panic seep into your bones.

Hannibal’s car door swings open and he moves to stand next to you. The therapist is dressed nicely, as always. You’d be more self conscious about your own attire if you didn’t feel so discombobulated. “What is the last thing you remember?” The man asks. You pause to ponder the question.

“Falling asleep,” you answer, after thinking about the past few hours. You were staring up at your bedroom ceiling. You must’ve fallen asleep at some point. There’s an infuriating lack of information- a gap from when you fell asleep to when you found yourself staring at the headlights of Hannibal’s car.

Silence settles in the air, thick and uncomfortable. You don’t know what to do or say, that could possibly justify this. Truly, one moment you were in bed and the next, you were standing in the middle of the road. You don’t exactly want to tell Hannibal that, but he seems to recognize the sentiment anyway. His brows are furrowed and his lips are pursed as he stares at you. His gaze is insistent and heated, so much so that you have to look away—lest you get burned.

“Come on,” Hannibal says. There’s an authoritative tone to his voice and you follow along instinctually. He helps you to his car with a hand on your shoulder. For a moment, you shiver in the passenger seat as he stares at you. Hannibal then shakes his head and takes off his jacket, putting it around your shoulders. You vaguely recognize that you must look truly pathetic, but you’re too cold not to burrow into the smooth fabric.

The moment he starts driving, you begin to remember your exhaustion. In actuality, you never got that much sleep. Judging from the radio in Hannibal’s car, it’s only two in the morning. You were only asleep for two hours and, yet, you walked all the way outside to the road. Gritting your teeth, you decide to look out the window. Despite your fatigue, your body doesn’t want to succumb to slumber. You have to settle for staring bleakly out the window.

“We’ve arrived,” Hannibal later announces. You blink dazedly, looking out the window to find a beautiful gothic home looming over you. Just before you can grab the door and get out, Hannibal is on the other side opening it for you. You fall in step beside him and allow him to lead you down the walk towards his home. He opens the door and allows you to enter first.

You feel extraordinary out of place here, as you usually do in Hannibal’s presence. The foyer has an elegant fireplace and deep blue accents. Paintings decorate the walls and there’s a vase of freshly trimmed flowers on one of the tables. You can see Hannibal having an internal debate with himself about giving you a formal tour or telling you about the pieces. He turns back to you expectantly and you follow him into the living room. You freeze in the doorway, upon realizing that you’re still wearing your shoes (which you don’t remember putting on in the first place). You quickly bend down and try to untie them, but your hands are trembling too much to do it.  

“Allow me,” Hannibal says, getting down on one knee. To your horror and humiliation, he proceeds to help you untie your shoes. You avert your eyes, feeling as if your skin is on fire. He must sense your discomfort, because he arches an eyebrow at you before untying them a little faster. Thankfully, Hannibal doesn’t offer to fetch you clean socks- you’re certain you’d die of embarrassment. Instead, the moment your shoes are off, he guides you to sit on the finely trimmed settee.

For a fraction of a second, when you look up at Hannibal, you see the cold, calculated gaze of a practiced killer. “You’re freezing,” Hannibal remarks. You swallow hard and watch with bated breath as he leaves the room. Perhaps you just imagined that. You look around the room, unsurprised to see hints of animals everywhere—what with the mounted antelope head and various skulls resting on the table behind you.

The Chesapeake Ripper sees his victims as animals, as pigs. You’re not quite sure why the killer comes to mind now of all times. Even so, you try to think about what you’ve gathered about him so far. He’s a middle-aged man with no current family. His tastes are eccentric and his murders are artistic performances. Furthermore, the killer is slippery. You’ve only found clues because, you suspect, he wanted you to find them. The killer is narcissistic; he knows he won’t be caught and prides himself on that fact.

Your head aches with the sleep you haven’t gotten. You rub at your eyes roughly, unable to shake the feeling that you’re on the crux of a realization. The Chesapeake Ripper… The killer refuses to leave your mind. Why is that thought plaguing you here, of all places? You’re in Hannibal’s residence, staring at the rather macabre animal imagery around the space, when it hits you. Everything clicks into place: the conveniently timed dinner parties, the luxurious lifestyle, the entire lack of shock on his face at the Hobbs’ house.

It appears you’ve found the Chesapeake Ripper.

Hannibal chooses that exact moment to reappear. There’s a blanket folded over his arm and a mug in his hands. He seamlessly weaves through the room, coming to a stop over you. You look up at him from your position on the couch. “Are you alright?” You nod mutely, not trusting yourself to speak. The clock on the wall ticks ominously. Your hands are still trembling at your sides, so badly that Hannibal reaches out and cups them in his with a worried expression. You’re certain your teeth are chattering in your mouth. You’re going to die. You’ll be the next Chesapeake Ripper victim. When you close your eyes, you see your colleagues from the Behavioral Analysis Unit staring down at your corpse on the investigation table. You take a deep breath and try to remain calm. Your heart is thundering away in your chest and you know you must look suitably harrowed.

Hannibal extends a hand and you realize that the Chesapeake Ripper is giving you a cup of tea. You watch mutedly as an organ harvester gently cleans the scrapes on your skin. A coldhearted cannibal is placing a hand on your cheek and looking into your eyes, searching for something. A murderer is placing a blanket over your shoulders.

Hannibal sits down after his thorough investigation. Meanwhile, there’s one thought running through your mind: You can’t fall asleep here. You absolutely can’t let your guard down in front of the Chesapeake Ripper, the very cannibal you’ve been chasing for years. You sip the proffered tea and pretend that everything is alright. Hannibal seems content to sit with you in silence, although you can sense his gaze burning into the side of your face. Stay awake, you tell yourself. Stay alive.

Your eyes slip shut of their own accord

chapter two

Mwahahahah. AHAHHAHAHH…. Yes. I had to get that out, lol.

The untying of the shoes scene is a slight allusion to the Death Note scene in which L washes Light's feet. That's one of my favorite scenes in the series, as it hints at the parallels between L/Light and Jesus/Judas and the idea of recognizing betrayal before it comes. [Unfortunately, feet also gross me the hell out, so I settled for the untying of the shoes. Haha.]

This is entirely unrelated, but i got my dna results back and apparently i’m lithuanian 😏 [it’s not that significant or specific of a percentage, but just lemme have this 🙏]. hannibal, if ur reading this, i’m just like you frrrr 😮‍💨 except minus, yk, the cannibalism.

anyway, thanks for reading <3

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 54

First / Previous / Next

Gord's long strides thundered over the deck plates as he made his way up to the Command Deck of Home. Chloe was able to keep up, but a few others struggled, breaking into a trot or even a jog every few meters.

"Do we know who did it?" Gord barked, as he continued walking.

"No, Gord. Nobody has come forward with an admission or claim." Chloe glanced down at a pad as she talked. There were videos of immediately after the impact on Luna. Four massive craters glowed orange red, with text overlaid announcing death tolls. The camera cut to a shot of the former shipyards, debris spreading accelerating away. The announcer was listing off orbitals and stations at risk from the debris. Imperial ships were linking in, attempting to redirect the debris before it could hit anything else.

"Has the Empire stated who they think is to blame?"

"No Gord, not yet. It only happened a day ago though, they're still doing damage control."

"Has Fen said anything?"

"No Gord, the Empress only just returned from annexing her home station. She hasn't made an official comment yet."

On the Command Deck, Gord turned away from the Commander's chair and made his way to the executive meeting room just off to the side. There were already six people sitting, looking worried. Gord sat at the head and Chloe sat next to her.

"Gord! What happened? Was it us?" One of the AIs in the room, a young looking man spoke up, his eyes wide with worry.

Gord shook his head. "I don't think so. Nobody came to me with a request for a mission like that - not that I would ever approve it. We don't know who did it yet."

Another one, a woman with fiery red hair done up in a tight bun was next. "What about images or video of the launch? Do we have anything like that?"

Chloe shook her head. "No. It looks like the impactors each had their own wormhole generator, and they linked into Sol a million kilometers from their target after already being accelerated to 80% C. The targets had less than five seconds to react."

The group was silent. Nobody had realized that the impactors had linked in with no warning.

"T-This is horrible! Who would do such a thing?" An AI at the other end of the table, dressed in a grey suit spoke up. "Was it the Gren? The Xenni?"

Gord shook his head. "I don't think so. This kind of wanton destruction has all the hallmarks of a human attack. There are pockets of humans that resist the Empire, but I did not think any had the means..." Gord stops mid sentence. His eyes widen, but he doesn't say anything.

"What is it Gord? Can you think of someone?" The main in grey raised an eyebrow, curious.

"N-No." Gord quickly looked down at his pad, and flicked to a new page. "Just running things through." He looked back up. "What are we going to do about this?"

The woman in red looked at Gord oddly. "Nothing? As horrific as the attack was, it crippled the Empires war making ability. The most generous estimates are that they won't make another Super Dreadnought for five years. Account for retraining sailors and civilians for construction and it becomes ten years more likely."

Gord's mouth hung open. "You're not seriously considering that we don't do or say anything are you?" He stood up. "How many of you sitting right here were killed by the empire? How many of you were carried in my rucksack for a CENTURY?" Gord roared. The group assembled shrank back. "You all were rebuilt by me and Spyglass. What will the Empire do if they think we had ANYTHING to do with this?"

The silence in the room clanged.

"No. We're going to come out hard. We're going to make an announcement, and we're going to link Home to Sol."

Gasps and murmurs filled the room.

"Gord, are you sure?" Chloe looked up from her pad, worried.

"We must. We have to show the Empire that not only did we not use relativistic impactors, but that we're so horrified at their use that we will come out of hiding to aid the survivors." He looked at the group across the table. "Tell everyone. We're linking Home to Sol in 12 hours." Gord stood up and walked out, Chloe jumping up to chase after him.

They walked for a bit. Home was huge, and sparsely populated. They only had to take a few turns before they were deep in the old, original part of the colony ship. Gord touched a lock and it opened, old relays clicking loudly overhead as the lights came up. It was a running track, 5 lanes wide that seemed to girdle Home. Chloe looked around. "What's this, Gord?"

Gord smiled thinly. "It's part of the gym that was set up for colonists. I like to come here and walk laps when I need a quiet place to think... or a quiet place to talk." He started walking at a deliberate pace on the track. Chloe shrugged to herself and walked alongside him.

Halfway through a lap Gord said "Have we heard from Northern Lights since she and Zherun left?"

Chloe glances down at her pad. "No. Nothing."

"She was at the New Wellington attack." It was not a question.

"Was she?" Chloe looked surprised. "I didn't know she was that old."

Gord nodded."She was. She worked for Parvati then."

"She worked for them? I thought she was just that prototype starliner?"

"Oh sure, that's what everyone says she was. I'm sure she has some very nice cabins too, so that any inspectors who come aboard can see how nicely she's fitted out."

"Gord, you're telling me Northern Lights - Zhe and Fen's friend, who has been on the run from the Empire for more than a Century was a warship?"

"A prototype, purpose built warship. Designed to have the advantages of a Starjumper without the gigantic size."

"Then why did you let her take the ship? We had it here in our holds for decades!"

Gord shrugged. "I dunno. I suppose I thought she had changed. I thought that Fen and Zhe were good for her. Bringing her back to being around people, not always alone, not always on the run." Gord stared straight ahead, not looking at Chloe. "This attack has her written all over it though. She was against the impactor ban. She almost got tried for warcrimes after the destruction of New Wellington."

Chloe clutched the pad to her chest. She wasn't as old as Gord, but she was old enough to remember the war, and the destruction of New Wellington. Hell, she had linked there as soon as word had reached Sol and went to help survivors. It was her second wormhole link ever. In eight hundred years she had never forgotten what she had seen. "I'm going to kill her."

"I'd prefer you didn't, Chloe." Gord smiled sadly. "I'd prefer if you found out if she did carry out the attack, and bring her Home - intact - if she was the one who did it." He sighed again. "Though, I'd bet a gallon of maple syrup she did." Gord stopped right in front of the door to the track. "Take a ship, but go alone. Find her, and bring her home."

"And the K'laxi? Zherun?"

They walked together in silence for a few steps. "I don't care about her. Use your best judgement. But-" Gord held up a finger. "-Northern cannot carry out another attack. Be swift."

Chloe nodded and opened the door. "Coming Gord?"

"No, I'm going to walk a bit more, and then plan for what the hell I'm going to say to the Empire when we link an old lost colony ship into Sol and declare our intentions to help."

[absurdthirst]

The Last Day {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: Secret relationships, fingering, vaginal sex, rougher sex, feeeeeelings, sneaking out.

Comments: The last morning before the world changes.

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Dad!” You jump, startled from sleep and your eyes widen in horror as you look towards the closed bedroom door. Horror filling you as the doorknob rattles. “You overslept!” 

You hadn’t meant to sleep over. It was supposed to be just a few hours, holding onto the headboard so that it didn’t beat into the wall while Joel’s hips snapped into you. Biting down on your lip or having his hand covering your mouth so you wouldn’t be so loud that his twelve-year-old daughter wouldn’t hear. 

Joel grunts, jerking awake and his hold on your body loosens, twisting away so he can look over his shoulder at the clock on the dresser. “Shit.” 

The footsteps fade away, down the hall and you hear her scrambling down the stairs. “Shit, Joel.” You turn back to him with a horrified - yet amused - expression on your face. “Happy birthday.” You hum, unable to resist leaning in and kissing him softly on his sleepy mouth. 

“God.” He groans, shaking his head and pulling away from you so he can roll over and climb out of bed. “We fell asleep.” 

“I’m sorry.” It’s now infinitely more complicated, trying to get out of the house while Sarah is awake rather than slipping out the front door and out to your car in the early hours of the morning. Your own movements are rushed, reaching for your panties to slip on as you stand up. 

“I wanted you to stay a little longer.” Joel argues slightly, rushing around the room and gathering your clothes to shove at you. It’s not like Sarah knows that he’s seeing someone. A single parent her entire life, he was cautious about bringing someone new into her life. 

“I know- I know, I meant to set an alarm.” It’s a frantic rush of trying to get dressed and stay quiet enough that she doesn’t hear you downstairs. The clanging of pots and pans means that she’s cooking breakfast and you smile at the effort. From what he’s told you, she’s a sweet and sassy girl and the light of her father’s eye. “I’ll go out the window.” 

Joel huffs, rolling his eyes and turning to his closet so he can pull out a clean pair of jeans. Last pair so the day after his birthday will most definitely be laundry day. “You’ll break your fucking neck.” He grumbles, pulling them on and hopping around to get them up over his thighs. “Go out the front door, just- skip the third stair. It creaks.” 

You pause, arching a brow at him. Finding it vastly amusing that a man who works construction, who frames and builds houses for a living, has a creaky stair. 

When he catches your look, he flips you a middle finger. “Fuck off, I’ll fix it.” He grumbles, having no interest in doing it, but he knows he needs to. 

“Third from the top or the bottom?” You ask, wanting to make sure that you don’t make a sound as you sneak out of his house. 

You’re putting on your bra when you ask, watching Joel’s eyes focus on your tits with almost laser sharp focus for a moment until you are done, tits covered. “Huh?” He jolts out of his trance and looks up at your face. “Oh, uh, third from the top.” He shakes his head and reaches for a shirt that had been tossed over the footboard of his bed. 

****

“Do you want to come over?” You smirk when you hear the need in his voice, pitching down the raspy baritone into something low that sinks into your belly and sends a shudder through your entire body. You know why he wants you to come over and the heat that pools in your panties and makes  your clit throb tells you that you want the same. 

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” 

****

It’s silent, the two of you moving upstairs. The quiet giggles stifled as you walk past Sarah’s door and he sends you ahead of him to the bedroom so he can check on his little girl. It’s one of the things that you love about Joel, the way he loves his daughter. 

Giving you enough time so that you are naked and waiting on his bed when he opens the door. 

Joel groans quietly, dark eyes getting even darker as he closes and locks the door behind him. Drinking in the sight of your body as he starts to pull his shirt over his head and toss it across the footboard. He had showered earlier, eager to touch you. 

“Fuck, spread your legs.” He grunts, flicking open the button of his jeans. “Are you wet baby?” 

Humming, you shift to obey him, your hand drifting down to lazily swipe through your folds and you show him the shiny slick on  your fingers. “Just a little.” 

Huffing, he starts to shuffle his jeans down, kicking them off his legs and you smirk at the slightly holey boxer briefs he’s wearing. “Should buy you some new underwear for your birthday.” You tease, biting your lip.

Joel rolls his eyes and slips his boxers down to throw them at you. Grinning when you bat them away and eagerly slides into the bed. “You’ll buy me boxers?” He asks, arching a brow before he leans in to kiss you. “Thought you preferred me naked?” 

“I do.” You love the talk that you manage to squeeze in between kisses. Playful and teasing. Easy, even though you know your heart is starting to get involved. It’s hard not to when he’s such a good man. 

Capturing your hands, he brings them above your head, shuffling to where he is laying on top of you and his hard cock is trapped between your bodies. “Keep them there, baby.” He orders, fingers wrapping yours around the wooden slats of his headboard. “Right there.”

It’s his show, just like it always is. Joel is good about giving you what you need, but it’s how he wants to do it. Kneeling between your thighs and grinning down at you as his fingers start to move over your clit. “What do you want, baby?” He asks, knowing exactly what he is doing as your hips buck up. “Do you want me to lick your pussy? Or fuck you?” 

As talented as he is with his tongue, you’re already worked up. Your clit is already throbbing and your folds soaked with arousal. Making you squirm as you look up at his gloriously disheveled face. Loving and hating the gleam in his eyes and the teasing curve of his lips. 

“Don’t tease me.” You beg, arching into his touch and chasing it when he pulls away with a chuckle. 

“So you want me to fuck you.” Those hands of his, rough and calloused with work rub up your thighs and make you moan. “Hmmm?”

“Joel.” You whine softly, conscious that you can’t be too loud. You can’t wake Sarah up and he uses it against you. “Fucking touch me.” 

“Touch you?” His brow shoots up and he slides his fingers against your clit again before sinking two of them into your cunt and curling them up so fast it steals your breath. Making you give a choked gasp as your body responds. “Like this?” He asks, withdrawing his fingers just as quickly as he pushed them in. 

His wet hand wraps around his cock and he immediately lines up, driving deep into you until the coarse hairs around the base of his cock are teasing your clit. “Or like this?” He grunts. 

“Jo-” You whimper, eyes rolling back and you can’t even say a word at the amazing stretch of his cock inside you. Filling you in ways that you’ve come to discover that only he can. You’re a little bit in love with him even though you can’t say that right now. It’s too soon, maybe. You don’t know. 

“Fuuuuuuck.” He hisses, grinding into you and you watch his eyes slip closed in pleasure. Jaw stretched out and the beautiful muscles under the skin taunt, making you want to bite down on them and make him moan your name. “So good baby, fuck you’re so tight.” 

It’s hard to keep quiet when he moves. The harsh snaps of his hips filling you over and over again. Making your tits bounce and your walls flutter around his cock every time he shoves his cock deep. Your eyes are heavy, watching him over you under your lashes. 

His grunts fill your ears, the sweat from his body dripping down onto you and you swear the entire bed shakes every time he thrusts into you. Joel has a determined edge to his jaw, concentrating on you and the way that his cock feeds into your cunt with slick precision. Stealing your every thought but him right out of your head and making you drunk on the way that he moves inside you. 

Building with every passing second into something harsher, brighter. Making your eyes blur and your body tense on the edge of a beautiful precipice, waiting to fall. 

Leaning down, Joel kisses you roughly. His tongue sliding into your mouth and he groans when you fall. Swallowing the breathless cry of his name as your walls flutter around him, soaking him with the evidence of your pleasure. 

His own groans feeding back into you, hips stuttering as he trembles over you. Filling you once, twice more before he pushes deep and floods you with hot ropes of cum. Eyes closing and he drops down to his elbows before giving you all of his weight to take, covering you like a hot, heavy blanket of man. 

It’s on the tip of your tongue to tell him how you feel, actually opening your mouth and starting to form the words but they don't come out. 

“Stay for a little bit.” He groans hotly into your ear, making your entire body shiver with the pleasure of his low, growly voice and the sentiment behind it. 

“Just for a little bit.” You hum, agreeing with him as your fingers trace over the muscle of his back, sighing softly and enjoying the moment. 

****

Sliding your shoes on, you check to make sure you have everything. You don’t want Sarah to find anything of yours in the bedroom and wonder why it’s in her dad’s room. Turning back to Joel, you notice that his shirt is on inside out and decide not to say anything to him. Grinning as you move close and press another kiss to his lips. 

Joel hums, taking the time to pull you close and let the kiss linger for a moment before he lets you go. “I’ll distract her. Remember the third step.” He reminds you as he strides to the door and quickly opens it, disappearing down the hall. 

You wait until you fear the thump of his feet on the stairs and that tell-tale squeaking before you move. Creeping down the hall and listening to his murmurs conversation with his daughter as you slowly descend the stairs - bypassing the squeaky stair - and out the door silently. 

Once you are out the door, you grin. Rushing towards your car, you pull out your phone and send him a text, going through the hassle of pressing the buttons two dozen times to get the message you want to send. 

Hppy BDay. C U later. 

Later never comes, the world ends instead. 

[thedailybullshit]

RDR2 Incorrect Quotes pt. 35

Sean: Are we flirting, or are we fighting right now? Because I’m kind of getting mixed signals.

Karen: I’m gonna sink my teeth into your fuckin’ throat!

Sean: Still proving my point . . . mixed - mixed messages.

John: What’s up guys, I’m back.

Arthur: What the - you can’t be here. You’re dead. I literally saw you die.

John: Death is a social construct.

Arthur: *comes back to camp at 2am*

Hosea: *lights a lantern & turns around in his chair* So, where were you!

Arthur: I - I was with Charles!

Charles: *turns around in his own chair* Wanna try again?

Arthur & Sadie Messing Around:

Arthur: We’re d-d-driving in a -

Sadie: CAR! Destination: drug dealer’s -

Arthur: BAR! Pass the mic right over to -

Both: Charles!

Arthur: *horrified* We forgot Charles.

Sadie: . . . But we can’t turn back, ‘cause we’ve gone too farles!

Arthur: *turning around* We have to turn back, though. W-we can’t leave him. It was a good rhyme, though!

A John: I’m the real John!

Another John: No, I’M the real John!

Tilly: Who do we shoot?

Arthur: There’s only one way to tell.

Arthur: What is . . . seven times four?

One of the Johns: TWENTY-EIGHT!

Arthur: *shoots him* Wrong answer.

Tilly: What? Seven times four is twenty-eight!

Arthur: Yeah, but John does the little finger thing.

John: *muttering while finger counting* Four, eight, twelve, sixteen, twenty, twenty-four, twenty eig - TWENTY EIGHT!! *notices dead imposter* Ooh . . .

Dutch: So, Annabelle is the woman I’ve been seeing recently.

The Gang:

Annabelle: . . . Why are they looking at me like I’m a zoo animal?

Arthur: Well, Dutch acts as sort of the dad of the Gang, so emotionally, this is kinda like being told that you’re our new mom.

Annabelle: But you know it’s nothing like that, right?

John: Absolutely. Do you cook macaroni?

Hosea: *parking the wagon* Hey, can you get us a table?

Dutch: Sure.

~A Few Minutes Later~

Dutch: *sprinting out of the saloon carrying a table* GET THE WAGON GOING!!

Hosea: SHIT -

Hosea: Can you guys just TRY to see it from MY perspective?

Arthur: *gets down on knees*

John: *crouches down*

Hosea:

Hosea: I’m killing both of you in your sleep.

Mary-Beth: Karen, can I talk to you for a second?

Karen: Yeah, what’s up? Lemme guess: you and Tilly are having problems and you want me to teach you how to kiss?

Mary-Beth: What? No, stop that. I know how to kiss. I’ve read books.

[cyber-skeletons]

um um um

Artie introduced me to your age regression Megatron headcanon and ooouuuhh

ummmm i was wondering if maybe you could tell me more? :3

SOOOOOOO SORRY THIS IS SO LATE, my life exploded (with positive things!!!!!) and things have been SO busy

Seriously thank you for prompting me about this because I have a Lot of feelings. For one, age regression is hardly represented positively Anywhere. And age regression isn't to be confused with age play in a kink context or plural systems (like us!) that have younger/child members, either. The former is roleplay, and the latter has actual individual children who don't mainly exist in an adult stage. Age regression is defined by Medical News Today as "when a person's thoughts, emotions, and behavior revert to an earlier stage of development." (Forgive me if you already knew all this ^^')

So onwards to Megatron. Being constructed cold fully-grown during functionism has GOT to do a NUMBER on one's psyche. Childhood is so important to social sapient creatures (i.e. humans, whales, elephants, etc. AND ALSO TRANSFORMERS) and when they have a "wire mother" or no parental figure at all, they come out... really, really messed up. Namely, they have trouble communicating with others, are timid, suffer anxiety and fits of violence, and even self-harm. Now, Megatron's aggression and murderous tendencies can be explained by him being thrown into the gladiator pits of Kaon after an Extremely traumatic event, but being thrown off the factory floor and directly into the mines from his creation couldn't have helped matters. And his original strong aversion to violence and dedication to pacifism could very well be from insecure attachment.

BUT. Megatron sure did attach himself to one bot in particular.

Terminus was Megatron's "cloth mother" (although Terminus sure is INSISTENT that "no attachments" is the only way to go about life, and would be HORRIFIED to think of himself as Megatron's nurturing figure). Megatron is NEVER portrayed as touchy-feely, yet he clings to Terminus, is constantly trying to touch him, sacrifices his own fuel and strength for him, HUGS him. He sought out meaning and affirmation and comfort and affection from Terminus, and Terminus... well, he tried his best(?). But that's a whole other meta.

Finally we're at the actual age regression. I don't think it's a reach that any cold constructed mech would age regress as a response to stress or trauma, and even the mighty Megatron is no different. I think Terminus... would have tolerated it, so long as Megatron understood that it was "shameful" and did it only around him or in private. I can see Megatron regressing to a pre-teen (a la the Earthspark Terrans) or even as early as a toddler, babbling softly to himself, crying, rocking, and sucking on his thumb. He may even have stolen a doll or made one out of ore and carries it around with him and hugs it while regressed. He didn't have a childhood, so his processor makes one for him.

Post-Terminus and as leader of the Decepticons, Megatron has fully internalized that age regressing is shameful and will get him killed if discovered, so he masks and squirrels away behind locked doors to wait for the episode to pass. It would take a looooot of deconditioning to get Megatron to trust someone enough to allow them to see him regressed and let them take care of and comfort him, whether that be Soundwave, Optimus, Rodimus, Minimus, Rung...

I don't limit this headcanon to IDW1 either. Every Megatron age regresses, to me. It just... makes sense to me, and gives me all the feelings.

[here-there-were-dragons]

just read the new hatchling skin rules and am having Some Type Of Initial Emotional Reaction and am now writing down said Initial Emotional Reaction uncensored as i currently Strongly Feel A Type Of Way and Require Venting. i cannot word this more politely. i do not have the capability to render this rage into polite borderline corporate-speak for the sake of the damn rules that act like anything short of apologizing for being alive to make up for having even the most constructive understanding friendly criticism or even personal mild non-critical dislike of something like a color or a breed is tantamount to personal targeted hatemail. i cannot wait until i cool into calm bitterness later because if i think about this enough to write about it again i will just go right back to being furious and the fact that everyone ielse who's complaining is focusing entirely on the lolita fashion thing and not on in my opinion the far more significant and offensive part is pissing me off even more. extremely angry unedited ranting ahead

fr having it's own "female presenting nipples" moment right now, not that i'm particularly surprised, they've been a prime example of "conservative protestantism in a lefty-language veneer" for a long while now.

"don't adultify" is such a fucking vague and easily selectively interpreted rule, not to mention insulting for a number of reasons,

but putting that part aside the whole idea of "nothing that suggests that the dragon is an adult in a young body" is. look, i'm not exactly fond of the "adult who looks like an anime schoolgirl" trope myself, but i fail to see how in the absolute FUCK having it be canon in-universe that it is both possible and legal for someone to be forced to stay as a child permanently, is somehow LESS creepy than just saying eternal youth dragons have dwarfism. also, fuck you to anyone with dwarfism apparently i guess?

and "no zombie baby dragons" is just stupid. even fucking minecraft has baby zombies, and microsoft has steadily butchered that game into one of the most t for toddler babymode things on earth this side of cocomelon.

and "no scars on hatchlings" so fuck you to any kids with scars too apparently, even though that's way more common than anyone seems to realize. you hear that, kids? if you're under 18 and have scars your very existence is too obscene for public view. 13+ year olds will be irreparably traumatized if they have to know you exist at all! fuck you disabled kids and fuck you amputee kids and fuck you any kids that have suffered anything ever at all for not appearing as a perfect unspoiled image of conservative christian child-doll innocent purity. flight rising staff says your body and existence is inherently too nsfw to even be acknowledged as existing much less visually seen. everyone knows REAL children don't get damaged at all, and if they do then they're too horrifying and defective at their job of Being A Child Properly to exist in public spaces! how dare ugly things that might make us uncomfortable with their existence by contradicting out ideals about aesthetic moral purity be allowed where good respectable normal people can see them!

i don't say any of these words lightly, and i'm very much not the type to go around calling people whatever-ists and in fact find that kind of thing extremely annoying, useless, reductive, and more or less only ever see it used as a blunt cudgel to shame people into line so they don't question you, and have historically found it especially annoying when people pull out the accusations-of-ism card on fr staff over things that are far more likely just completely understandable (if dubiously competent) issues of certain things simply not occurring to someone on code and design level due to lack of sufficient exposure to the idea, and have always been of the belief of giving them the benefit of doubt (even if often that just means i think they either most likely made an understandable mistake that i would likely also make, or, when i'm feeling less kind, that they're simply not particularly competent rather than actively hostile) so understand how much it means coming from me when i say- flight rising staff, sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, fuck you, you ableist batch of pricks, so far up your own asses with your performative veneer of vaguely lefty-flavored language that you don't realize how fundamentally extremely conservative all of your actual beliefs underlying them are. for every update you make that i approve of there's another that does twice as much damage as the good update fixed (and i'm starting to wonder if you maybe know what you're doing with that too-always batching the fucked up shit on the tail end of some big thing you know people will be excited about, always hiding these controversial moderation changes under something shiny and new, to the point that now i dread any new good update that genuinely seems a step in the right direction and/or is something we've been wanting for awhile because i'm just constantly expecting the knife hidden behind the footnotes afterwards, the fucking "ban tiktok/gay marriage/strip rights from this population/end net neutrality/whatever/ect" clause stapled onto the end of a bill about something entirely unrelated functionally holding a change people want hostage until they allow the fucked up part through. i've been here most of the site's 10+ years and i've seen this sort of thing happen far, far too often.) and every year the shit that gets pulled on the management and moderation end of things makes me more and more almost glad i've never had an income to spend on this, and the fact that apparently the moderation behind every single other petsite in existence is somehow significantly worse fucking astounds me. the only reason i stay around here is because It's Free Dragon Pictures, because it's literally the only actually good petsite game i've ever played and not gotten sick of within a week or so (and really the only good low-energy game i've ever played in general, which i'm increasingly convinced is in spite of it's management), and because somehow, despite all of this shit, i still genuinely love the game itself, because unfortunately by some accident of creation it seems they apparently stumbled purely by coincidence into making an actually good game idea no one else quite has. and after all the fuckery that gets constantly pulled, i refuse to believe the game being good is anything other than, much like many of the of the incidents i think they're unfairly accused of malice and -ism over, an accident.

Disabled children too obscene to fucking exist. fuck you. good to know half the child population's existence requires a trigger warning to even be allowed to be acknowledged as existing to you. good to know if the heart surgery i had when i was 11 had left any visible external scars i would be considered inherently too obscene to exist to you. good to know if the overhealed and benignly potentially cancerous scar on my back from whatever actually happened when i was a toddler (i don't trust either of my parents to ever be accurate about something like that) was in a more visible spot you would demand i have a trigger warning to post selfies online. good to know if any of the shit that's broken me emotionally left visible physical marks you would think it was good and right for me to be forcibly hidden from good normal people's view and considered too taboo for even the slightest discussion without hiding it with makeup and lies, just so i don't make good, lucky, undamaged, normal people uncomfortable, god fucking forbid. should we hide the gays too, since they also make so many people uncomfy? i imagine it won't be long before disabled adults are too obscene for your polite societytm sensibilities too. i've had the feeling for a long time that amputee and disabled skins were living on borrowed time with your rules, kept technically not explicitly dissalowed where all other forms of injury and ""body horror"" are banned simply out of fear of the backlash it would cause to include them, and well. the doomsday clock on that one just got a little bit closer to midnight, huh?

the only reason i wasn't a (physically, visibly, externally) scarred kid was pure sheer fucking luck. the only reason you weren't a physically scarred kid too is pure sheer fucking luck. the only reason you're not some type of disfigured or ugly or amputated or visibly injured or whatnot is pure sheer fucking luck. you're lucky. nothing more. if having to contend with that fact-the fact of how easily it could have gone a different way and there is nothing they would be able to do about it- makes good normal tm people uncomfortable, then well, get the fuck used to it, other people children very much fucking included don't exist to cater to the aesthetic sensibilities of a lucky perfect few. the only thing that separates you from the damaged ones you find too obscene is a bad day and an unlucky hand. and one day, even if you were lucky enough to escape being damaged when you were young, you and i will both be just like them too.

more festival skin winners slots is good. elemental swords sound fun.