#sorry my autism is so strong

[ph0bia-archives]

Interpretation is entirely personable and I do not mean to argue against your own opinions and views but. Personally cannot see DiMA as some manipulative monster. This is just me ranting cause he’s one of the best written fallout 4 characters imo. Obviously spoilers ahead :3

For one— he doesn’t maliciously manipulate Kasumi. From the sounds of it, he just asks her questions that lead her to believing she’s a synth. She was isolated, and felt that she stood out even in her own family. She wanted a reason to leave, to think that she was connected to machinery more than it being a personal comfort. Acadia is a refuge for synths. It makes no sense for DiMA to lure normal people there?

For two— of course he acts like the institute! His whole existence is to form a personality around experience. He grew up in the institute, taking in their methods and morals. The only expressed reason he grew disillusioned to them is because Nick suffered. But that’s still all his first experiences. The institute, and people hurting synths.

For three— I don’t think it’s ever explicitly said what far harbor was like before the sole survivor gets there/before synth Avery. Maybe they were hostile towards synths, or Acadia. At the very least, they’re still hostile towards the children of atom, a group who 1. Before Tektus we’re (if I’m not mistaken) relatively peaceful, and 2. Did not react negatively or with hostility towards Synths. This is a simple baseline, but remember. DiMA went from only knowing people who hurt synths for their own gain to sitting alone in a cave for a year, to people who didn’t want to hurt him. The safety of synths is his first priority. Replacing Avery is extremely fucked, yes, it’s exactly what the institute does. Because that’s the first things DiMA knows. If far harbor was aggressive against Acadia, what should DiMA have done? Probably definitely not murdered a woman and replaced her, but from his perspective, that was probably the least damaging option, rather than letting his synths die, or killing the harbormen. He removed the memories likely because that’s how the institute functions! He was acting like them! The people who hurt the person he considered family!

Four— I didn’t actually choose/explore the routes where you’re with the institute or the brotherhood of steel, so. Can’t really say for certain my thoughts on his reactions, but. I think it would make most sense for him to act peacefully if you say that before giving him the tapes, because he wouldn’t have an idea of how he’d reacted previously. He wouldn’t know he had the experience of combatting groups who’d want Acadia exterminated, he doesn’t know the extent he’d go to preemptively keep Acadia safe.

Five— with the replacing tektus plan, it goes back to perhaps WHY he removed the memory of replacing avery. That’s what the institute does. If he remembers that experience of doing the same thing as his creators, maybe he’d integrate that into his personality. I don’t know if it’s fleshed out HOW DiMA’s mind works, if it’s like an actual person who can pick and choose what they learn from, or if it’s all turned into gained knowledge, or if I’m a dummy who needs to brush up on lore (good time to say that most of my interpretations came from my play through of far habit which I didn’t know existed until I accidentally started it, so. If anything I say or think is in contradiction to another route or such. Blame the naivety). But after he has that tape, he knows this is 1. Something that worked and 2. Something he’s willing to do with all the same reasoning as before. So he does it again.

Over all. I think if DiMA is hypocritical it works. He’s a machine over a hundred years old. That’s a lot of experience for a mfer who’s mind is supposed to develop and base itself on experience! His mind likely grows and changes rapidly based on events that happen to him. I can’t imagine he’s hypocritical without being written that way. Everything bad he does is for Acadia. I cannot interpret him as some malicious leader who wants to wipe out the other factions. Just someone who’s learned that sometimes the ends justify the means.

Anyways sorry autism rant OVER

Fo4 Far Harbor DLC spoilers

Replaying Far Harbor and watching vids abt the different lore it’s impossible to see DiMA as anything but an evil, hypocritical, and downright stupid monster. I don’t get how so many people love him.

He’s a murderer who had plans to obliterate an entire people and who did murder and replace an innocent woman. When you confront him about those memories that he purposefully removed bc he couldn’t live with how evil he is he’s like “I can’t believe I did that :’( we should totally do it again tho that’s a really good idea.” And then you can!!! It’s literally the exact same horrible things that the Institute does! He manipulates Kasumi (who we can determine by talking to the Institute, the people she knows, and by killing her in an Institute quest is not a synth) into believing she is a synth and lures her to the island with this manipulation!! He manipulates many others like this too to get his evil desires done in pretty obvious ways. I would count many of his synths, Nick, and the player among his targets.

If you’re sided with the Institute and you tell him and his synths to come back to it he says no but that he will not run and will not attack you. He condemns all of the synths in his “sanctuary” by taking not action and allowing you to go report back their existence to the Institute so that coursers can come reclaim or kill everyone there!! Same thing happens if you tell him you’re with the Brotherhood and synths existence is an affront to humanity he’s like “okay but we’re not gonna leave still” and then you can bring the Brotherhood forces to murder them all.

If you blow up some of the factions on the island he’ll be like “You’ve only brought death here >:( I hope you can live with yourself you monster!” Like that wasn’t his WHOLE ASS PLAN that he removed his memories of bc he couldn’t live with himself!!! Fucking hypocrite!!! This is only a few of his crimes. He is so evil and stupid it hurts.

[mushie-lol]

first post here lmao uh Luigi and Dimentio

(TW blood!! Not super realistic or anything)

(also TW brainwashing/mind control?)

also Luigi & Mr. L designs!! Wow.

[conanssummerchild]

writing a fic abt rick having an ed bcs why would i recover when i can just project all my issues onto fictional old men in cartoons and pretend everythings better now ‼️

tw eating disorder, minor self harm and vomit near the end

Morty stopped in the open doorway of the garage, watching Rick who was sat scribbling down some kind of invention idea, or equation, or whatever it was he did when Morty wasn't around, for all Morty knew he might well be writing fanfiction.

An involuntary smile pulled at his lips at the idea of his almost 70 year old genius grandfather spending his free time writing silly little stories at his work bench. What would he even write? Ball Fondlers fanfic? Maybe he wrote about his stoic bird friend, Rick had always been touchy with him and Rick wasn't touchy with anyone.

When Morty focused back on Rick he wasn't writing anymore, the slightly crumpled piece of paper shoved to the side as he fiddled with what looked like a small metal box with a bunch of brightly coloured wires poking out of the sides. A small spark shot out of one of the wires Rick was holding and he cursed loudly, shaking his hand.

"Fuck, Morty, are you just gonna– gonna stand there, or are you gonna pass me the fucking, uh– the thing."

Rick waved his hand in the general direction of the shelf nearest to Morty, but there were so many assorted trinkets on the shelves, Morty had no idea if Rick wanted a wrench, or a hammer, or one of his laser guns, maybe the box was like a new battery for them?

"W-what thing, Rick?"

"The thing, Morty! The fucking– the uh, destornillador."

"What? Rick, I don't know what that means. W-w-what is that?"

"Jeez, Morty, what are they teaching you at that crap school you love so much?" Rick scowled, tossing the box to the side and getting up to grab the screwdriver himself.

"I havent been to school in like a month, Rick!" Morty exclaimed. "And even then I only got to stay for like an hour before you were dragging me out again!"

"Whatever." Rick said with a burp, "School's dumb, Morty. I'll teach you Spanish myself. B-but, uh, not now."

He turned back to his box, done with the conversation, but Morty stayed hovering in the room, remembering what he had come for in the first place.

"Okay, um, w-w-well lunch is ready."

"I'm busy."

Morty sighed, having expected that answer already. "When's the last time you ate, Rick? Or slept? Or... showered?" Morty said, wrinkling his nose a little.

Rick ignored him, pulling at a blue wire.

"Rick!" Morty frowned.

"What, Morty? J-jesus christ, what the fuck do you want?"

"I want you to have lunch with the family."

"And I said no, so screw off."

"Rick, come on, it would make mom so happy."

Rick glared at him, not bothering with an answer.

"...Wouldn't y-you do it for your original Beth if you could?" Morty tried.

Rick slammed the box on the table, causing the thin metallic shell to crack, sparks flying from it, the sudden noise making Morty jump.

"The fuck did you just say?" Rick snarled.

"S-s-sorry!" Morty squeaked. "I didn't m-mean– mean it in a bad way!"

"Get the fuck out." Rick said icily, eyes blazing.

Morty stumbled out of the room, shutting the door behind him to the sound of something crashing. Probably Rick throwing the damaged box across the room.

Morty winced. In his defense he was worried about Rick, and sometimes, depending on his mood, something like that would've gotten Rick to cave, clearly he wasn't feeling so sentimental today, more annoyed and angry.

"What was that about?"

Morty startled a little and turned to see Summer looking at her phone behind him.

"Just, y'know, Rick being... Rick."

"Mhm, pro tip, don't bring up his dead daughter to try and blackmail him into something he hates." Summer drawled. "You can only do that if he's already half convinced, or if he's feeling especially depressed sometimes.

"Summer! That's– that's messed up!"

She quirked an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah, so only you can manipulate grandpa Rick?" Summer scoffed. "God forbid women do anything." She said sarcastically and turned to walk away.

"Wait!" Morty fidgeted with his hands. "Can you... help me? To get him to have lunch w-with us? Please?"

"Yes, but not now. He's already upset so if we double down on trying to get him to eat he's only gonna clam up."

Morty nodded. "I know that– but how do you? You don't spend as much time with Rick as I do."

"Because he's like mom. Who do you think got her to stop drinking before parent-teacher conferences at school?"

"Wow. That's pretty fucked up that you had to do that, though, y'know, Summer."

"Yeah, well, we're the Smiths, Morty. Is anyone in this house not disordered?"

Morty winced at the blunt statement, Rick really was rubbing off on her. But it was kind of true.

"Guess it runs in the family." He muttered

"Guess it does."

---

Morty hadn't been planning on seeing Rick again until the next day. He knew that when Rick got upset he needed his space. Morty didn't quite get it because when he was upset all he wanted was for someone to hug him and tell him everything was going to be okay, but Rick wasn't like him he supposed.

If he was being honest it made him nervous to leave Rick alone in those bad headspaces he got into. Rick was volatile and unpredictable and a borderline danger to himself and often others. He'd walked in on a couple... compromising situations where Rick had had to explain away why he was passed out in his chair or why there was blood on his hands and his lab coat despite being the only person in the room.

Morty pretended to believe him when he said he had been doing a messy dissection experiment or that "This isn't blood, this is Balorkian dust I mixed with red Squanchenite fluid from Planet Squanch, Morty." But truthfully those moments haunted him.

However, he didn't want to invade Rick's space, so he let him be and tried to eat and sleep until Rick emerged like nothing had happened, even though Morty knew what habits of his went on behind those closed doors.

Of course Morty's patience had it's limits, like when two hours after he had left Rick in the garage, angry, there was the sound of something smashing, closely followed by an unmistakable sound that Morty had grown too familiar with since Rick had moved in. The sound of a body thudding to the ground.

He was up from the sofa in a flash, at the garage door before Summer could even put down her phone, flinging it open.

He felt like he couldn't breathe, but the only sight that greeted him was a smashed bottle and rick lying on the floor next to it, not looking any more dead than usual, looking up at Morty blearily, cracking a smile.

"Oh, hi Morty. H-hey buddy." He slurred, clearly drunk out of his mind.

"Jesus fucking christ, Rick." Morty said weakly.

"What happened?" Summer breathed, now standing at his side.

"He's just drunk." Morty muttered, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering smell that he hadn't registered before between his state of panic and shallow breathing.

Summer ventured into the garage, picking up an empty bottle and sniffing it. "God, grandpa Rick, what the hell are you drinking in here, fucking rubbing alcohol?"

"Sum-Sum! 'M just having some– some fun drinks. Fun drinks just a lil' bit. Besides I only ever drank rub-rubbin' alcohol once, n' it was– tasted like shit."

"What? I was being sarcastic, why would you drink that?"

"Because I was sad... was sad 'nd lonely after B-b-blood Ridge, couldn't find anythin' else. But 'm not s-sad now."

"What's Blood Ridge?" Summer frowned, "Actually it doesn't matter right now, you need to sober up."

"Get him some water," Morty interjected. "I'll clean up the glass. I also know where he keeps all his hangover serums and stuff, but he told me not to let you into any of his drug stashes."

"Fair enough." Summer shrugged, leaving to get Rick some much needed water.

While she was gone, Morty felt along the wall until he found the small hidden panel under Rick's desk. He fished out the light blue vial of fluid for hangovers, the red one he'd forced Rick to make that would sober him up and a green one that basically equivalated to getting your stomach pumped if you took it, just in case he'd taken more than just alcohol.

He shut the panel securely and placed the three coloured vials on Rick's work bench, grabbing a purple tube-like gadget from a shelf. He pressed a button on the back of it and typed in "Broken Glass" on a small hologram keyboard that emerged, then pressed that first button again. A blue ray shot out, scanning the garage, and the pieces of smashed bottle disappeared in a matter of seconds.

Morty looked over at Rick, who was still lying on the floor, but now he was tracing his fingers along a crack in the cold ground, his expression so solemn he almost looked sober.

"Rick?" Morty asked hesitantly.

"I miss her." He said flatly. "I miss her s-so much."

His words were still a little slurred but his tone had lost all the previous levity.

"I tried to save her, Morty, I t-t-tried, but I couldn't bring her back. And no one could ever replace her." A rough sob escaped his throat. Morty felt frozen. "I'm a crappy fuckin'– piece of shit father but I didn't want to be. I was gonna fuckin' give– give up everything for them, and I would've been happy. I would've been so happy as long as I had them, but he fuckin' took that from me! I nnever even got a chance."

Rick was crying, he was crying so hard that his tears stained the concrete dark grey and snot ran down his face sideways. He was shaking like a leaf and gasping for air.

Morty crouched down next to him, fists clenching and unclenching, unsure if he should hug Rick, or if that would make it worse. What else could he do?

"Oh– oh shit, Rick, I–"

"My little girl, my baby." Rick continued between sobs. "She meant everything to me. S-so yeah, I would be better f-for her if I could, but she's gone. There's no point."

Rick's sudden fit of violent sobs was calming down, replaced by a look that Morty could only describe as pure hoplessness and defeat washing over his features.

"'S no point in anything."

Shit, this was bad. Rick didn't admit defeat, and he certainly didn't talk so openly about his feelings like this.

"Aw jeez, Rick, come on don't– don't– don't say that. we killed Rick Prime, remember?" Morty said, wringing his hands anxiously.

"Yeah, I remember." Rick said, tone now devoid of emotion. "I remember killin' him with my bare hands, watchin' the life drain out of his eyes as his blood dripped down my fists. And I remember nothing changing. W-w-what d'ya do when you achieve your life long goal and nothin's better? It didn't bring them back, it didn't– didn't give me closure or give me a reason to live. I still can't sleep, petrified he's in the fucking house, comin' for my new family, that he'll kill all of you to teach me that t-that's what happens when I-I care about people."

Rick wiped his face with his lab coat sleeve, rubbing away the snot, drool and dried tears while Morty just kneeled next to him, frozen and unsure what to say.

"Rick..." he started but then Summer stepped through the doorway and Rick's demeanour instantly changed.

"Summerfest!" he called out and Morty watched, a little shocked, as Rick's whole face changed in the blink of an eye, going back to the cheerful, goofy expression he'd been wearing when he and Summer first came in. It didn't look artificial to Morty at all, even now that he knew it was. How could Rick just switch it on and off just like that?

"I brought water and coffee." Was all Summer said, placing two mugs on the workbench. "And a cereal bar."

The second statement sounded a little more unsure and Morty could've sworn he saw Rick's jaw clench for a second.

"Gimmie coffee." Rick said, making grabby hands, still lying on the floor.

"Water first." Summer replied, handing him the larger of the two mugs.

Rick pouted a little but as soon as the mug was in his hands he drank thirstily, finishing the whole thing in one go.

"You want more?" Summer asked, taking the mug, but he just shook his head quietly.

"Okay," Morty cleared his throat when his voice came out a little shaky. "drink this."

He handed Rick the red 'get sober' vial and Rick chugged it obediently, making a face. "Tastes like– like shit." He offered.

While he seemed a little calmer after the water and serum, his eyes were still unfocused and his voice sounded thick, like his tongue didn't fit in his mouth properly, hints of his accent were slipping through too.

"Did you- are you on drugs r-right now?" Morty asked, reaching for the green vial of serum.

"Maybe." Rick mumbled. His eyelids were starting to droop a little and he curled up more comfortably on the floor.

"Hey, Rick, don't go to sleep okay? What did you take?" Summer asked, crouching down next to him, shaking him a little. He groaned. "Come on, we just have to make sure you're not overdosing and then you can sleep. Maybe not on the floor."

"'M not overdosing." Rick grumbled.

"What did you take?"

"I dunno. Just some random alien drugs I found i-in my pocket." He said dismissively with a burp. "Actually one of 'em was probably adderall. Look at me bein' all responsible an-and takin' my meds n' shit."

He of course immediately showed his 'responsibilty' by gagging and then throwing up on the floor.

Morty winced, reaching for the purple device again while Summer tried to coax him into drinking the green liquid, frowning deeply.

Finally Rick gave in, sipping from the small vial, and almost instantly his eyes began to clear up a little bit.

"Why'd I make these work so well?" He groaned. Then, "My head is killing me, I want coffee."

Summer passed him the second mug and he gestured toward the hangover serum, which Morty promptly passed to him and Rick poured it in his coffee.

He gulped down half the coffee and sighed, wiping his mouth with his already rather dirty sleeve. "Fuck, that's better."

He downed the rest of it and placed the mug on the ground, getting to his feet shakily. He swayed and nearly fell, leaning onto the wall to steady himself as the dizzy spell passed, and then stretched, his back cracking loudly.

He took a few wobbly steps towards the door but Summer blocked the way.

"Fuck– fuck off Summer I gotta– I'm gonna go take a nap."

"Could you maybe eat something first?" She asked firmly, holding up the cereal bar.

"No."

Rick tried to sidestep her but she blocked the way again.

"Summer, don't fucking piss me off right now, I'm serious."

She stood her ground. "Just eat the cereal bar, grandpa Rick. Please."

"Summer, for fuck's sake, I said no!"

"Grandpa," She sighed, the arm holding the bar dropping defeatedly back down to her side. "Do you have an eating disorder?"

The garage was deathly quiet for a second.

"Wha-What?! I'm not a teenage girl in a f-f-f– goddamn netflix drama, Summer." Rick snarled. "What the fuck kinda question is that?"

He gestured wildly, taking another step forwards, which quickly seemed to be the wrong option as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him hard, making him almost loose his balance. He blindly tried to grab onto the back of his chair somewhere behind him, but missed and fell on his ass.

"Rick!" Morty and Summer both rushed to his side, Morty's eyes beginning to well up a little from all the stress of the day.

"I'm fine, don't– don't fucking touch me." He said, shaking Summer's hand off his shoulder, which caused another wave of nausea to hit.

"Please eat this." Summer said nervously, voice shaking as she pushed the cereal bar into his left hand, his right one gripping at his hair.

"Summer, I promise you if I eat that shit right now I'm gonna throw the fuck up."

"Please?" Morty pouted, eyes big and teary.

All it took was one look at him, and with only a brief moment of hesitation Rick snatched the cereal bar from Summer, muttering angrily under his breath.

Morty only caught "Me cago en la puta." and "Maldito cabrón." which he more or less understood, more familiar with swear words than any other words in the Spanish language.

Rick peeled away the wrapper slowly with unsteady hands and took a small bite.

Morty and Summer watched in silence, not wanting to discourage him by saying the wrong thing—which with Rick could be anything—as Rick uncomfortably ate the cereal bar.

"There you fucking go." He said weakly, Throwing the now empty wrapper at Summer, but missing as it was too light to travel more than a couple centimetres, landing somewhere by his feet.

"Thank you." Summer almost whispered.

They sat in silence for a while, Morty sniffling and rubbing at his eyes and Summer shuffling a bit closer to him for both of their comfort.

Rick was sitting with his knees losely bent and his head braced in his hands, trying to overcome another hit of nausea.

He wouldn't exactly say he tried super hard to keep the cereal bar down, but it wasn't deliberate when he vomited it down the front of his shirt.

"Oh! Aw jeez..." Morty winced.

"I did warn you."

"In our defense, you had every reason to be lying to us."

"Fuck you, Summer." It sounded weak even to his own ears.

She sighed softly.

"Morty, get his shirt off. Do you have pijamas or do you sleep in jeans and a lab coat?"

"Jeans an-and a lab coat."

"...I was joking, but okay." Summer said, flipping the switch that opened Rick's garage closet and grabbing one of his sets of identical outfits.

Rick squirmed, making noises of complaint as Morty tried to take off his current shirt.

"Rick– stay still, you have vomit on your clothes."

"I'm not fucking two years old, Morty." He scowled. "I can change by myself."

Rick tried to sit up but wobbled and then slumped back against the wall, needing more time to recover. Morty reached for his shirt again and this time Rick let him pull it carefully up over his head without resisting. Morty took the new set of clothes from where Summer had left them on the floor next to him.

Summer wasn't looking but Morty still shielded Rick's body from sight with his own, pointedly not mentioning the raised scars and jagged, angry, red cuts littering his arms which he had already suspected would be there.

Rick shifted uncomfortably, seeming relieved when Morty didn't want to talk about it.

"Okay." Morty said, helping Rick pull on his clean lab coat too.

"I'm going to bed." Rick grumbled, not waiting for him to continue, just getting up slowly.

He felt weak and shaky and his brittle old bones weren't exactly helping out. Despite his thousands of cybernetic implants he was still human, much to his dismay, and he couldn't treat his body as badly as he did when he was 30. Not that that ever seemed to stop him, managing to still maintain the same shitty habits he'd had for years at the ripe age of 67.

He stumbled through the dining room, Morty and Summer trailing after him, not discouraged by the glare he sent their way.

As soon as he reached his room, he slumped onto his bed with a groan.

"R-rick?"

"Fuck off, Morty." He snapped into his pillow, a little muffled by it.

Morty hesitated, exchanging a glance with Summer, who shrugged.

"...Ookay, Rick. Uh, see– see you at dinner, today? maybe?'

"Don't count on it."

Summer frowned, Starting to say something, but Rick interrupted, "I'm gonna apply my room's Lock Protocols in ten seconds, so i-if you're still in here, I'm not letting you out until I'm done sleeping. A-a-and if you're standing in the doorway, you're gonna get fucking squashed in the doors."

"Whatever, Rick, fuck you too." Summer huffed, pulling Morty out of the doorway with her.

"Room, activate Sensory Protocol 2. And t-tell Summer to go fuck herself."

"Sensory Protocol 2 activated." Came the mechanical voice and a heavy metal door snapped shut. "Go fuck yourself, Summer."

Summer scoffed. "Dick." Followed by a sigh. "What are we gonna do?"

"I-I don't know." Morty admitted. "There's not much we can do if Rick won't accept help. And he won't."

"So what? We just give up on him?" Summer asked accusingly, putting her hands on her hips.

"No, Summer, J-jeez. I just– We're gonna have to get creative."

"Fuck."

---

thats it thats the end i didnt know how tf to end this but my goal wasnt to rewrite like the bible idfk it was just to put rick through shit and put completely unfair expectations on summer and mortys shoulders so that they could ALL suffer in this fic !! :3 also this is so mf long i sincerely apologise if u read all that

[oh-meow-swirls]

i think this was funnier in my head.

[bedforddanes75]

smh Filth here...

this isnt good enough for me to post on ao3 have it here instead. 18+ and stuff. ok anyway dont tell me if this sucks just leave and dont ever speak again

back fic? george doesnt wanna think and matty likes georges back. no im not projecting what do you mean. warning (technically) Unfinished and bad and idk man just read and again if u dislike (and i find out about it) then DIE im comign to get you. listne to pink floyd and chiiiillll the fuck out IM SO STRESSED i hate posting so much i cant stop speaking im trying to soften the blow (no blowjobs happen) but like i dont know Girl someone get me a gun I REALLY WANT A GUN oh my god OKok ko koko kok ok kok ok ok ok ok juts GO there its'heere

He gets George laid on his front, face pressed right into the pillows and chest fighting to expand under his weight. George keeps making these quiet, almost pathetic noises, whimper-esque, and delicate, and Matty can tell he’s fighting not to grind into the mattress.

“You can make yourself feel good, darling. Go on.”

George responds immediately with the shaky movement of his hips, and a relieved moan, goosebumps rising.

There’s nothing between them now, George already stretched out and far gone, his only thoughts being of Matty and Matty and Matty and Matty. Who is Matty to deny him that pleasure? He’s in awe at how someone can be so beautiful, staring at George’s back like it’s the sun, and it might as well be, because he’s radiating heat like a fire, so desperate to be touched and to feel good that the only outlet is there. George moves his hips slowly at first, and he’s so overwhelmed he thinks he might come just from that, the friction from the sheets more than enough for him.

But he wants Matty.

Matty runs a cold finger down the length of his spine, reverent and appreciative, and George shivers, the motion pulling another quiet noise from him. It’s silent, bar their breathing, and the rustling of sheets, but Matty’s heart is beating so fast that he doesn’t even notice. George isn’t trying to speak, not trying to beg for anything, because he knows if he tries, all that’ll come out is something garbled and stupid, but he doesn’t care, because Matty isn’t making him do any of that today, he just touches and pleases and makes him feel like he’s in heaven.

It isn’t long before Matty’s leaning down over him, letting himself press against George from behind, and whispering things down his neck.

“You want me to make you come? Want me to fuck you, darling?” And George might just cry. He does want it, but he just cannot form the words. Matty doesn’t make him, but when he doesn’t make any move to get off and start properly touching George, George knows that he won’t do anything until he does. He usually forces George to speak when they do it like this, makes him blush and whine and George lets him and loves it, but this time, he’s letting George do things in his own time, pressure all gone, (except in his groin.)

He’s got his hands on George’s waist, now leaning back just to admire him, and George can’t wait any longer. He tries to speak, just the word please, but it doesn’t come out right, and he’s just so desperate that he can’t think to correct himself.

“Just let me look at you a bit, you’re so gorgeous.” Matty doesn’t sound like he’s aware of the fact he exists anymore, so wrapped up in how beautiful George is that time and space no longer accept him as a being, he is simply a conscience left to its own devices, floating around and latching onto this angelic figure beneath where he should be. “Pretty,” he breathes, “So pretty,” again. He’s still drawing lines on George with his nails, like he’s tracing the muscles and all the marks made over the years.

George tries to keep his breathing steady, content with where he is but simultaneously needing more like he needs air, like it’s his only source of life, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He doesn’t mind, really, he’s just happy to be touched, because every contact with Matty feels better than anything he’s ever taken, and he can’t imagine feeling any better than this. There’s static in his head, only just about covering the words he needs to make Matty do anything, and he wishes it wasn’t there, but he loves it so, so much.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Matty whispers eventually, after years and seconds and days and hours and George can’t reply. He wants it more than anything, but he’s so focussed on trying to figure out how to express that, that he can’t do it. A nod is all he can muster up, but he knows that Matty won’t let him just do that, he needs words, proper, full words. Then, there it is, “I need you to tell me, sweet. Words.”

He’s moved further down George’s body by now, and George didn’t even realise it was happening, but he’s pressing kisses to the dimples at the base of George’s spine, so he can’t complain. Not one bit.

Then, he moves drastically lower, kisses the very top of the line between his legs, just where the fat of his [ass] starts to rise, where his thighs turn from muscle to something soft, and he just leaves his face there for a while. He’s got his chin pressed into the middle of George’s thighs, and his hands still all over his back. That makes him speak.

“Please,” he manages, and Matty seems shocked at it.

“‘Please’ what? Need you to use words.”

George can’t, and he almost feels like crying, so desperate it’s making him shake, but he tries again.

All he can do is say, “You,” like a prayer, again, again, and Matty breathes something shaky in return. But he still doesn’t make any effort to move, just strokes the back of one of George’s arms. “Please, Matty.” It feels like they’re the only words he knows, now, really.

“Just need you to tell me what you want. I’ll do it, just tell me.”

Matty was always careful not to push boundaries and to be extra nice when George got like this, he wouldn’t push anyway, but he treats George like an ornament when he’s like this. George loves it. He likes being told he’s beautiful and being allowed to not think and just feel and feel and feel. It’s nice. It’s the best.

“You. Matty. Please.” Maybe they are the only words he knows, and he doesn’t care – they’re the only words that are important.

If Matty couldn’t understand it from that, he doesn’t know what he could’ve, but, that’s a useless thought, because he’s nodding against George, whispering “Okay.”

“Tell me if you want me to do anything else. Anything you want, sweet. Do anything. Squeeze my hand if you want me to stop.”

George nods.

He has to wait a while, Matty making sure he won't hurt George if he goes too fast, slicking himself up, but then Matty pushes into him gently, gripping George’s hand tightly to keep himself under control, and all of a sudden, it’s all worth it. He’s glad Matty doesn’t have a clear view of his face, then, because he’s bright red, sweating, and he just knows he looks an absolute state. But none of that matters at the moment, because Matty is inside him, and still, and he feels so good, so good, so, so, so, so, so good.

If he thought he couldn’t speak before, that was nothing. He can’t even see, completely taken by the feeling of Matty inside him and touching his back and touching his hair and touching him and touching. Matty is the embodiment of pleasure.

“Feels so good, darling,” Matty breathes, and he must’ve leant down, because George can feel his breath on the back of his neck. He blushes at the praise.

He can’t breathe properly with the pillows covering his face, but he doesn’t have the energy to move, and even the littlest of movements make him completely lose coherency, because Matty’s pressed right up against that spot, and he can’t take it.

Matty thrusts after a while, holding George’s hand and making sure he’s okay every few seconds, but when he does, George sees stars. He’s clearly holding back, because he keeps twitching inside George, and George only wishes he could speak more so he could tell Matty to do what he needs, to take as much as he wants, but, alas, he can’t, and he just settles on letting Matty do what he’s doing now.

The feel of Matty inside him is something he‘ll never get used to, it’s all consuming, feels like he’s turning into a star and becoming something otherworldly and living and dying all at the same time. He can’t word how amazing it is, like knowing he’s safe and letting Matty do whatever he needs, because he knows it’ll be good, and he trusts him.

He, eventually, does start to move properly, but only after multiple weak noises from George, desperate and pleading for anything. Matty grabs his hips, suddenly energised and no longer having the patience to be as gentle as he was, and George loves it. He’ll take whatever Matty gives with an open mouth and a chest left wide open, ribs all snapped to get inside, and this is like a knife made of solid pleasure, because there’s that tiny bit of pain, but it’s covered up by the heat that rushes all down his limbs, right down to his fingers, every single time Matty hits that spot inside him, and then everything is all okay.

Soon enough, Matty’s got his nails in the soft, weak skin of the space just below George’s v-line, digging into the flesh and wanting to claw him apart simply because it’s the only possible way to express how intense everything he’s feeling is. George lets the pain bloom and he whimpers into the bed.

“You okay?” Matty asks, and he nods, enthusiastic and truthful and just wanting more.

That’s all he needs, and he seems to lose some amount of his self control, because he starts fucking into George harder, one hand going back to his waist to keep steady, and the other going to his hair. He doesn’t pull just yet, but George wouldn’t complain if he did, taken by the pleasure. Matty’s nails are pressing slightly, and he welcomes the sting.

The sweet, soft, gentle Matty is almost fully gone now, and he’s changed back into something like what he usually is in just a few minutes, and it’s making George sick with want. He’s tightening his grip on George’s hair more and more by the minute, and by now, it’s starting to sting.

George doesn’t think anything’s going to change after that, just thinks Matty’s going to make him come like this, and he has no reason to think anything else. That is, until Matty yanks George’s head towards himself by the hair, and George can’t help the moan he lets out. It’s loud and undignified, but Matty likes it all the same, apparently, because he holds tighter, and keeps his head there for a second. George thinks he might come just from that, the feel of Matty in his hair, tugging.

Heat ripples from his scalp, and it’s not helped by Matty starting to speak. “Fucking back, so beautiful. Perfect. It’s so pretty, fuck.” He keeps speaking until he finally unthreads his fingers from George’s hair, but George can still feel the ghost of his palm. He fixes his grip properly onto his hips and waist instead.

He’s definitely digging his nails into that pale flesh, and it wouldn’t shock George if, when he moves, there’s skin left beneath them. He’s being gentler than normal, which George is grateful for, because he knows that if Matty did anything that was any more intense than pulling his hair, he’d be coming within a minute of him sinking inside.

He can feel heat building in his stomach, and, all of a sudden, he’s overly aware of the sheets rubbing against himself, hard against them, and he whimpers, eyes squeezing. Matty’s starting to stroke his hair, and ramble.

“You feel so fucking good, Jesus Christ. Fuck, George.” He’s digging his thumb into a space near one of the dimples on George’s back now, almost like he wants it to bruise so he’s got proof of it, like the proof isn’t George’s very existence.

George gets closer a lot sooner than he’d like to, but he just can’t help it, because Matty is telling him how good he feels and how well he’s doing over and over again, and there’s so much happening, like the feel of Matty hitting just where he needs every time and the feel of himself against fabric and the image of what he must look like in his head. It’s all too much. Almost.

He doesn’t realise he’s crying until Matty slows down, taps him, asks if he’s okay, and he just nods, nods like it’s keeping him alive, manages to turn his head enough to the side to say “Please, please, Matty, please,” and then his eyes roll back.

He’s so close, whining and whimpering nonsense and trying to form words to warn Matty, failing, but not caring, because he’s blinded by how good it feels, and Matty isn’t letting up, in fact, he’s fucking him harder, pulling George’s hips into his own with every thrust, determined to make him come.

It doesn’t take long before he’s right on the edge, just needing a tiny bit more, and then Matty fists a hand into his hair once more, and he’s gone. The combination of Matty fucking him so good, with the sharp pain on his scalp, is better than anything he could’ve imagined, and he cries out as he comes, over and over, moaning into the pillows and clenching his fists, begging with completely incoherent noises. Matty keeps moving for a bit, and George doesn’t have the mind to protest, nor does he want to, he’d rather lie in the afterglow and be only half aware of how overstimulated he’s becoming.

He doesn’t really notice when Matty comes, and he doesn’t notice virtually anything else for a while after, either, just lets himself be moved around as Matty tries his best to clean him, trying to manoeuvre him into some position easier to clean from, and not doing very well, because…well, the size of George.

sorry ending Shit possibly all shit but whatever i wrote most of it. enjoy life

[landfilloftrash]

dear rabbit...

[spacebugarts]

I redesigned Licorice's grumpy shroom fairy costume to better fit his aesthetic and look a bit nicer next to Poison Mushroom's design :)

[baycitystygian]

I know I generally embrace being autistic but today the hardest parts of it were really in the foreground for the entire fucking exhausting day… having auditory issues on a VERY important phone call that I needed to make and fighting for my life to understand what the poor sweet insurance lady was saying because the audio was so distorted… having a way-too-long discussion with my sister where I (1) promised to “castrate [her baby daddy] like a hog” for ghosting her and genuinely meant it (thinking about stuffing his nards as a wall trophy tbh, if he doesn’t wanna be a dad so badly then surely it’s no loss to him!) and (2) argued with her about laws that are stupid and shouldn’t apply to her situation (that’s a long story)… which probably did not make her feel any bit better and honestly I think both of us are much more stressed out afterwards. like some situations get me so outrageously mad that I literally cannot handle it and I need to remove myself from the conversation because the other person isn’t budging because it’s something they have zero influence over and they are just trying to explain the damn thing but it’s Wrong in my eyes so I feel the need to argue my case and how the fuck does anyone put up with me

like I know I don’t go into much detail about personal issues on here (or much of anything re: IRL me) but uh. that’s a huge thing I struggle with and I have no clue how to change it. It’s like, does no one else have common sense? Why can’t anyone else see this? and it feels like screaming into the void and it makes me feel terrible and it only stresses out the other person who is Not Getting Paid Enough (well, at ALL) to deal with Whatever This Is

[oofuri2003]

Becoming unnaturally emotional abt mihashi showing off the product of his nonstop training and fishing for praise from abe but instead abe yells this at him in an outburst that comes from a place of concern but also one of great excitement and endearment as evidenced by the next page where we have the infamous we're gonna win against tosei and make this guy famous panel. Everything to me

[perenlop]

yeah its important to have interests that arent just for children as an adult because at the end of the day it’s good for you and the way you percieve media overall to have a variety of things that you like but like you also shouldnt make fun of adults who are passionate about childrens media and imply theyre stupid for it. i think both of these takes can exist at once

[buckpaws]

when MF DOOM said theres only 1 beer left

[kitkatyes]

I am once again apologising for the tmagp spam on my follower's timelines. It will happen again

[starswallowingsea]

"Hey look everyone we got crabs" is honestly such a deep quote. Amazing how it came from Ensemble Stars

[gabrielisdead]

ugh let me enjoy my escapist fantasy and live out my impulsive mood swings in a language I have no emotional connection to on a blog of nowhere

[berrymeter]

respectfully i should not have obligations when i am this deep in the fixation i think the entire world can blow up figuratively while i sit in my bubble processing how all of it makes me feel. you need something from me? well all i can do is talk about my favourite game. take it or leave it

[sabertoothwalrus]

I’ve seen you post some labru stuff and I’m curious what your thoughts on it are. personally I don’t see it? I can buy Kabru having feelings for Laios, but I think Laios wouldn’t be interested in Kabru, so it makes me wonder why so many people ship them. (Tbh I feel like Kabru has more chemistry with Mithrun anyway)

Sorry if this ask sounds rude, I just genuinely don’t understand the appeal of the ship, but I want to understand and I trust your analysis of characters very much :] maybe there’s something I’m missing

I really like both ships, actually!

For labru, there’s sooooo much I could talk about. The inherent homoeroticism of being narrative foils. The inherent homoeroticism of being the king’s advisor. All of chapter 76. The fact that Kabru has mask upon mask upon mask, and Laios is the first person that made his facade absolutely crumble.

Kabru struggles with being genuine!!! Everything he says and does is so perfectly calculated, even when he sort of means it. But since Laios doesn’t get social cues, Kabru gets thrown for a loop.

I get so frustrated when people act like Kabru still hates Laios by the end of the manga!!!!! He killed those corpse retrievers for being corrupt, and yet he couldn’t bring himself to kill Laios. He has such a strong sense of justice, and knew that killing Laios would be a mistake. Because, after meeting him, he could tell he wasn’t actually evil. He’s strange, sure, but not evil.

Kabru DEFINITELY wants to be friends with Laios!! He was not lying about this!!!

But this last comic shows how much Laios wants to be friends with Kabru, too. He’s so nervous after calling Kabru his friend 😭 he doesn’t want to be presumptuous and fuck it up again.

Laios does show an interest in Kabru, at least when Laios thinks he’s interested in eating monsters too. Like,, what was up with THIS

Laios’s gaze is LINGERING. Plus, (this is before that bit at Thistle’s house when he forgets his name) he brings up Kabru when they first form their plan to eat Falin.

And maybe this is just because of my own personal experiences, but Laios reminds me a lot of my own girlfriend. I think they have a similar flavor of gay/aspec & autism combo where, had I not asked her out first, she probably never would have considered being interested in me. But she was very down when I did.

The tricky part about labru is more the political aspect. Regardless of whether you see Laios as aroace or not, he’s in a situation where he will probably get married. He had a fiancée before he was age 13, likely betrothed since he was a baby. He’s already comfortable with the idea of getting married because He’s Supposed To.

However, Laios is king, and could make gay marriage legal if he wanted to (He would probably do this for his sister and Marcille before considering it for himself ). But at the same time, I think Kabru would object to Laios making whatever policies he wants without considering the repercussions of how other kingdoms might react, especially when they’re just getting Melini off the ground and need lots of support from other countries. Laios and Kabru getting gay married anyway and dealing with the aftermath could make for a really compelling story.

I do think Kabru would be a good ruler. He’s already fit for it. He speaks a dozen languages, he knows people and their motivations, and likes politics. The manga already joked about Chilchuck’s daughters trying to marry a king, so it seems like noble blood isn’t too important, but Kabru’s foster family IS nobility. When it comes to heirs, I do like trans Kabru headcanons, but at the same time, I think it’d be cute if they adopt anyway. Kabru seems like he’d have strong feelings about adoption given,,, yknow.

The alternative version of labru to this is Laios gets straight married out of obligation, and Kabru is his mistress hdhdhshsj. I don’t know if I could see Laios doing that? or if Kabru would risk the scandal of being outed as Royal Advisor and Regent trying to seduce the king. It could go SO downhill. but maybe that would be fun.

NOW FOR KABUMISU.

I knew people shipped them, and I could see the basis for it while reading, but I wasn’t really sold on it until the very end. There’s something about “I had no desires left. I decided to create new desires, and one of them is you” that’s really charming.

There’s also something funny about “the demon ate my heterosexuality so I’m gay now”

I think it’s interesting that Kabru hates elves. He was raised by them, and he hates them. He hates feeling patronized by them. He made absolutely sure that elves wouldn’t take control over Melini, not just for his sake, but for Rin’s.

But Mithrun’s interactions with Kabru are founded on more mutual respect. Though, that’s not to say that Mithrun doesn’t still have his biases towards short lived races..

Where Laios doesn’t understand social cues, Mithrun does but just doesn’t care. For that reason, I think Kabru would enjoy spending time with Mithrun. It’d give him a break from his compulsion to calculate all of his social interactions. But at the same time, Kabru is the KING at bottling his emotions. Mithrun is blunt, but also doesn’t care enough to pry. If Kabru had anything bothering him, I could imagine him seeking Mithrun’s company to avoid thinking about it. Could make for a fun dynamic.

I do think it’s funny that Milsiril 1) took care of Mithrun for potentially 20 years and 2) is only four years older than him. I imagine this could lead to funny situations.

I don’t ship things for no reason! I think both of these could work platonically, romantically, one-sided, or even “requited but they don’t do anything about it.” Their relationships compel me and I think it’s sort of bad faith to brush off either like they’re nothing more than baseless yaoi pair-the-spares. To me, I see just as much of a foundation in the source material as farcille.

After all, dungeon meshi isn’t a story about romance, but it IS a story about love. It’s a story about life and death and grief and the love that comes with it. Regardless of shipping, these characters love each other!!! And I love talking about it!!