#the best part is that it's not even consistent
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notthewriteryourelookingfor · 10 hours ago
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Yeah, Bidens a coward at best and a genocidal POS at worst
But Trump is also literally a white supremacist who is BFFs with Netanyahu and has been helping him stall any "peace" ("ceasefire") talks
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Trump is not the answer to the situation, he will make it worse.
This past election wasn't about who would help Gaza, no one with the ability to become President cared about Gaza.
This was about how many American minorities, including Palestinian refugees, were taken with them.
It wasn't about Gaza, unfortunately, it was about harm reduction. It was about "who is easier to fight? A party who kinda doesn't wanr to act or fix anything or a party who is actively setting the house on fire?"
And y'all chose to throw trans & queer people, immigrants, people of colour, the environment, the economy, the poor, the sick, the homeless, women, and everyone else on the fire as well.
Also:
The genocide didn't start in 2023, Israel has been trying to erase Palestine since the 1940s and the reaction of the western world shows that it didn't matter who was President of the USA, if it did places like Australia, the UK, countries in Europe, Canada, some of them would have condemned Israel.
But they didn't.
Because it's not about Biden, it's literally just racism. It would have been the same or worse if Trump had won in 2020.
Acting like this is happening because of Biden is ignorance at best and misinformation at worst, Netanyahu isn't doing this because Biden is in power, he's doing this because Israel is a colonising state built on eugenics and a jewish-centrist version of white supremacy that has existed Before Hitler even came to power before WW2.
Colonisers gonna colonise and this was always going to happen without outside intervention.
Look at native amercians, native Australians, natives that have been displaced, murdered, and subjugated for centuries.
Israel took its playbook from them, and this was always going to happen. Israel put Hamas in place to begin with in like 2004. There was always going to be a ramp up in violence, no matter who was President of the USA.
Literally the only difference between Harris winning 2024 and Trump winning 2024 is that if Harris won, less people in the USA would have to worry about their rights/livelyhoods/safety/etc.
Now that Trump has won, a ton of people have gone into "duck, cover and survive" mode meaning that there is less help for others.
People can't rally if they have to work more for less, if the cops are gonna drag them off the streets cuz they 'look like an illegal immigrat'
And don't bring up "well people died under Biden" like it's some kind of "gotcha" cuz a ton of those deaths are from impacts of Trump's term and being like "well people were gonna die either way" is just the worst take.
This election was about "how can we limit and reduce harm?" And y'all went "Biden sucks im voting for the literal Nazi"
Netanyahu is not ramping up his actions because he's worried he won't be able to finish it when Trump is in power, he knows he can.
He's ramping up because of several reasons: 1 - this war is tanking the Israel economy, 2 - slowly public opinion is turning - not really in politics but in every day people and boycotts are working causing companies like McDonalds to withdraw many franchises from Israel & illegal settlements, 3 - that's what colonisers do. Its literally part of the playbook.
It has basically nothing to do with who's in power anywhere else. If it did, then the majority of the rest of the world's politicians wouldn't also be just standing by or, even worse, supporting Israel.
To summerise:
Yes, Biden is a coloniser, a genocide supporter, a coward, and a piece of shit
No, the genocide in Israel isn't connected to who's in power in the USA because it's actions have been consistent since before world war 2 & as far as I'm aware we've had a Lot of people in power since then all over the world.
Places like the US and Australia have been supporting Israel since the 1940s. And the USA has been sending weapons since the 1960s at least.
This isn't a modern day problem, this is a systematic issue that's existed for decades.
If you threw everyone on the fire just because Biden & then Harris didn't support Palestine, the blood of Palestine and everyone else is on your hands.
If you voted for Trump: you're a white supremacist. It doesn't matter if you agree with all his policies or none, if you vote for a Nazi, you are a Nazi.
White supremacy is worse than mold: if you let it take root for even a second you'll have to strip the entire room to weed it all out
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nadas-dirthalen · 3 days ago
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Dragon Age: the Veilguard Was Packed with Lore — But Many of Us Overlooked It
— PART ONE — [ 2 ]
Welcome back, friends and travellers. If you've been here a while, you'll know that I wrote 30,000 words of predictions in the week and a half before DA:tV released. But here's the most surprising thing—I was right, for the most part.
I spent my first Veilguard playthrough grinning (and then sobbing) at all the lore reveals. And here's the thing: I think most of us missed a lot of them, including even me.
So let's begin with...
Titans: Dark and Light, Compassion and Rage, the Eternal Hymn and its Endless Listeners (1/2)
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This is your warning: This post will contain spoilers for the entirety of Dragon Age: the Veilguard, and all Dragon Age content made before Veilguard.
Alright, pals. If you've been here a while, you know how this goes. I always start by listing what we're going to cover, like anyone who's never fully recovered from academia.
Today's Discussion:
What Veilguard (Re)Taught Us about the Titans
The Titans the first Shapers of the known world.
The Titans are beings of the Abyss.
The Titans are sleeping, dormant—but alive.
Dwarves are the Titans' children, created to tend them.
The Evanuris mined the Titans' bodies to create people.
The Titans—the Earth—fought back.
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What Veilguard (Re)Taught Us about the Titans
The best thing about Dragon Age, as someone who loves the series to death, is that its worldbuilding is consistent, but also bears the unique quality that we, as players, are not aware of it all. Our protagonists in each game don't know everything; the people they learn from also don't know everything. We learn what we can through codices that are all biased and need an extra layer of decoding. This is a feature, not a bug.
It also means that we did not know how to understand the Titans before. Even my 30,000 words of theorycrafting, especially my piece all about the Titans, had elements of speculation. I had to check that speculation against other sources like the Chant of Light, which is a source that we REALLY did not know how to decode when it was revealed piece by piece in DAO, DA2, World of Thedas, and Inquisition.
Here, I'm going to break it all down, piece by piece.
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The Titans were the first Shapers of the (known) world.
It is said in the Descent DLC that Titans are enormous beings whose singing shapes the world. Their existence predates much of Thedas, if not all of it. The Titans are called the first Shapers for this reason, and in Veilguard it is restated several times over that they did, indeed, shape the world—for instance, by Cole in Inquisition.
"Their ancient shapers were mountains drawn of all their wills, walking their memories into valleys of the world." —Cole dialogue.
Inquisition told us so much more about the Titans than just that, though. The Titans have a realm all their own, a counterpart to the Fade, mentioned over and again in the Chant of Light and referenced as a quest name in Inquisition.
Here lies the abyss: the well of all souls.
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The Titans are beings of the Abyss.
Now, it's important that I mention right here that the Chant of Light has existed long before Inquisition. In fact, its tale is what opens DA:O as the game begins. Recently Eurogamer stated that BioWare has had a massive lore document for the 20+ years of its existence, and I believe that there is no truer example of this than in the Chant of Light itself.
The Abyss, for a long time, was a mystery to us. Inquisition cleared it up a lot—not only with its game content, but with World of Thedas' publication shortly thereafter.
Not only is the Abyss referred to in many elven codices, but we go there. The key locations of the Descent DLC—the Forgotten Caverns, Bastion of the Pure, and the Wellspring—are in a region called the Uncharted Abyss.
Now, with Harding, we go deeper into the Deep Roads than the average dweller. The same is true in that instance: venture down far enough, and we reach a Titan's heart.
We find a Titan's heart there. But the Titan does not wake—none have before DA:tV, and even then, they have not fully woken. Because, for as long as we have known...
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The Titans are sleeping, dormant—but alive.
"It's singing. A they that's an it that's asleep, but still making music." — Cole dialogue.
There is so much Cole dialogue in Inquisition that speaks on the sleeping Titans, on their old songs that once sang the same, on how they will never wake up, that it would be folly to try and post every codex here. Suffice it to say: Cole knows of the Titans, knows of their songs, and knows they are asleep. He is one of the pathways to our knowledge of the Titans in Inquisition, and his words are peppered throughout the game.
The Chant of Light also makes reference to a mountainous Maker, who oft speaks about a forgotten mountain. When Andraste meets the Maker "in darkness unbroken," specifically, these words are used:
The Maker Appears to Andraste (7) Eyes sorrow-blinded, in darkness unbroken There 'pon the mountain, a voice answered my call. "Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing, An ocean of sorrow does nobody drown. — Andraste 1:7
Heart that is broken, beats still unceasing — a being who has been broken, but whose heart still beats. We can hear that, in the Descent DLC.
Veilguard confirms that both sources are true through Harding, her personal quest, and the codices for the Dwarven people.
Records that exist outside of Orzammar mention "great sleeping Titans" and "the First Ancestors." — Codex Entry: Harding's Notes: Orzammar and Titans
Harding's experiences in Veilguard, in this way, serve to prove Cole right. That is a deliberate narrative choice: BioWare's way of saying, Yes, this is true. Yes, you should take Cole's take on Titans as correct.
We also know, from Cole, that this state of being is permanent. Not only are the Titans asleep, but they don't know how to wake.
Songs screaming far away. It wants to wake up but can't remember how. No one should be here. — Cole dialogue.
This becomes crucial information in Veilguard, and central to the main plot. It serves as the backdrop for what actually matters most to the characters living in Thedas right now, which is...
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Dwarves are the Titans' children, created to tend them.
By now, a lot of people have seen this reveal in the art book: the dwarves were created to tend to their Titan hosts/makers. But we knew this before—we just didn't know it in context, and therefore we did not believe it to be objectively true of Thedas.
In truth, we've known about the elves and the dwarves' origin since the Chant of Light came out in full with World of Thedas volume 2.
At last did the Maker From the living world Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth, With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities. — Threnodies 5:5
I talk about it in more depth in my Chant of Light dissection, but what this verse says in context is that the dwarves (the Maker's second children) are beings crafted by the maker: bodies made of lyrium, souls made of the same "dream and idea, hope and fear" as the original spirits.
This concept has already been massively hinted toward with both Valta (who has become The Oracle in DA:tV) and Dagna, who both connect to isatunoll during Descent and Inquisition's base game, respectively.
We've known about the Evanuris' horrible crimes since before Inquisition, as well, for the same reason and from the same verses in the Chant of Light.
Until, at last, some of the firstborn said: "Our Father has abandoned us for these lesser things. We have power over heaven. Let us rule over earth as well And become greater gods than our Father." (8) The demons appeared to the children of earth in dreams And named themselves gods, demanding fealty. — Threnodies 5
With the context given to us by Trespasser and Veilguard, we know without a doubt that the Evanuris are those "jealous spirits" that comprise the Maker's first children.
And just like the Chant describes, they sought to conquer the earth: the realm of the Titans.
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The Evanuris mined the Titans' bodies to create people.
Trespasser taught us so much of what we needed to know about the Evanuris' and Titans' conflicts. Its codices in the Deep Roads outline how it was Mythal, specifically, creating some of the first elves in the coffins found in that zone. The Temple of Solasan features coffins of the exact same kind.
Ir sa tel'nal Mythal las ma theneras Ir san'a emma Him solas evanuris Da'durgen'lin Banal malas elgara Bellanaris, bellanaris. — Codex: Torn Notebook in the Deep Roads, Section 3
My (updated) translation: Isatunoll Mythal gives you dreams Lyrium within Becomes Solas evanuris Little stone boy You give nothing to the Titan (anymore) Forever, forever.
Trespasser reveals that Mythal mined the bodies of slain titans and rendered their demesne unto the People: she conquered Titans and used their bodies for her own ends. The hints about these actions, however, are not exclusive to Trespasser, nor to Solasan. These seeds were planted all the way back at the Temple of Mythal.
Elgar'nan, Wrath and Thunder, Give us glory. Give us victory, over the Earth that shakes our cities. Strike the usurpers with your lightning. Burn the ground under your gaze. Bring Winged Death against those who throw down our work. Elgar'nan, help us tame the land.
This codex to Elgar'nan makes reference to Elgar'nan giving victory over the Earth (capital-E, the Titans). Trespasser would follow this up with much context—that it was Mythal who was first known to have slain Titans, "rendering their demesne unto the People."
I theorized that Mythal's mining of Titans for lyrium to make elvhen bodies was what angered the Titans, based on codices in Trespasser and the Temple of Solasan. (I go into much more depth there!) Veilguard confirms this theory in Solas' Memory #4: A Memory of Manifestation.
Solas: I have the Fade. Besides, this talk of taking on a solid form. When you took the glowing stone to build your body, did the earth not shake? Mythal: The lyrium gives us the strength we had when we were of the Fade. We are the best of physical and spirit.
Mythal's crime was what took the war with the Titans in a new, darker direction. It was what would set off the chain of events that would change the very nature of the world—and it was foreshadowed, back in Inquisition, by Cole.
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The Titans—the Earth—fought back.
"They made bodies from the earth, and the earth was afraid. It fought back, but they made it forget." — Cole dialogue.
In this post, I theorized that it was Solas' creation itself that caused the first Titan to "go red." That is to say, to change its nature and fight back. I used codices from Trespasser and Solasan to get there, as well as one paragraph from World of Thedas and this codex on Fen'Harel that describe the Forgotten Ones as "beings of terror, malice, spite, and pestilence."
Thinking about those words, and specifically terror, I read the codex in the secret Deep Roads room in Trespasser with fresh perspective.
For a moment, the scent of blood fills the air, and there is a vivid image of green vines growing and enveloping a sphere of fire. The vision grows dark. An aeon seems to pass. Then the runes crackle, as if filled with an angry energy. A new vision appears: elves collapsing caverns, sealing the Deep Roads with stone and magic. Terror, heart-pounding, ice-cold, as the last of the spells is cast.
Terror. The first of the turned Titans. The fire/plant/ice imagery also caught my eye, and when I went back to Solasan to check, there were many hints that this was, indeed, where Terror came into being. (For more, go look at the most recently linked post in this section!)
Huge implications for Solas aside, what this codex taught me is that Titans' natures could change. This was confirmed in Veilguard many times over, yes—but my point here is that Inquisition taught this to me, just a few days before I gained the context of Veilguard. This was never a retcon! However, this lore plays exactly to BioWare's rules: we did not have the full context, and so almost no one read that Deep Roads codex as it was meant to be interpreted—including me, the first few times I read it!
It was only when I'd seen the achievement icons before Veilguard's release that it all clicked for me. All of the lore of Inquisition and everything before it made sense. That was never a bug, never a retcon, but a genius twist on BioWare's behalf: one that almost no one guessed at for an entire decade.
One that changes everything.
Titans, we know for certain now, behave as spirits. Obscure hints in World of Thedas, Inquisition, and the previous games have been confirmed in Veilguard. This new understanding changes not just the Titans, not just the dwarves, but reframes everything we know about the entire history of Thedas and how its magic system works.
______
Thank you for reading! It means a lot when people engage with these. And don't worry: I'm not nearly through with them. It's taken me a while to compile everything, but with more of Veilguard added to the wiki every day, it's a lot easier to compile things for these posts!
(Immense thanks to the wiki staff, of course. <3)
Up Next: Titans and Spirits are far more similar than we think, and it means everything.
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kikiiswashere · 1 day ago
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Four to Tango
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As promised, part two of Waltzing for Three!!!
Thank you for helping me reach 200 followers for this little ol' blog of mine 🥰 And welcome to all the newcomers!
The idea for this ficlet was born of watching my bestie @sand-sea-and-fable help out a pregnant friend by lifting her belly off her hips, and it just sort of spiraled from there.
It's also worth noting that I myself am not a mother, nor have I given birth, nor do I wish to be a mom (husband got the ol' snip-snip). So why this fic? Good question 😅
That being said, I did my best to write about the labor process relatively accurately without getting into the super nitty-gritty of it 😂 So, please enjoy this weird little fever-dream of a fic, and please comment and reblog 💗
Tags for the interested parties: @luhmoon, @legendaryflowercheesecake, @thebeserkvernid, @miffysoo
Pairing: Established Silco x AFAB!Reader
Rating: Teen/Mature (brief reference to oral sex)
CW: Non-graphic descriptions of pregnancy and labor
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Insistent cramping had woken you up in the wee-hours one morning, swelling and ebbing in a slow rhythm that sent your heart tapping, a loop of nerves coiling around your gut – little room that there was for it.
Silco had been a terribly light sleeper ever since Vander’s betrayal, ever since those early years on an under-tested Shimmer variant that left his brain unable to fully settle. So, the moment you shifted into a sitting position, he shot up as well.
“What’s wrong?”
Words got gummed up on fear and excitement in your mouth. There was a slight tremor in your fingers as they grazed over your belly. You had noticed it sitting even lower on your hips these past several days. While you were very done with being pregnant, you were still nervous and surprised to say –
“I think it’s time.”
With comical amounts of speed, but awe-inspiring grace, Silco flung himself from the bed, divesting himself of his eyepatch and pajamas. After changing into a simple set of trousers and an old button-up shirt, he fetched the stopwatch Jinx had invented to easily time your contractions, and wrote a tube prompting your midwife that she was needed. It had been decided early on that the babe’s delivery – barring any complications – would happen at The Last Drop. You, nor Silco, were willing to venture outside to a clinic when your family would be at its most vulnerable.
Too nervous to lay down, much less fall back asleep, you began pacing the large bedroom in your large sleep shirt. Every time a contraction locked up and spasmed through your lower belly and back, your fingers pressed the stopwatch’s clicker. And you breathed as the midwife had instructed. Silco kept you company, walking with you up and down the length of the bedroom, holding your hand and becoming an anchor to squeeze when contractions rolled through. Together, you both noted and kept track of their intervals. Their spacing  and length suggested that the little one’s arrival was not imminent, but the consistency indicated that this was indeed labor.
The midwife arrived, ushered in by a half-asleep Sevika. You’d bribed her with an absurd bonus and several pre-paid sessions at Babette’s for her to crash in one of the Drop’s private guest rooms during these last days of your pregnancy. She was needed for security, and to stand-in for Silco when his attention and priorities would be elsewhere.
“Good luck,” she’d grumbled, barely glancing at you before shutting the bedroom door, and trudging back down the hall.
The midwife was a petite, wizened Vastaya who’d been selected for her services not only because of her field prowess, but because she was staunch loyalist to you and Silco. Shimmer had helped save more than one of her clients when the birthing process had begun to go sideways, and that was enough for her to hitch her wagon to your agenda.
She was also direct to the point of rudeness – a personality trait that was wholly welcome given the slippery, hidden, self-serving rhetoric you were used to having to deal with.
“Time?” she asked, setting her medical bag down on your dresser with a heavy thunk.
“Forty-five seconds to a minute, about every seven minutes,” you answered. Then gasped and doubled over as another contraction bent you.
The midwife hummed. “How long?”
“About an hour,” Silco said. He squeezed back at your hand as you rode out the current wave rolling through.
Clucking her tongue, the midwife shook her head, long ears slapping lightly against her horns.
“Early.”
Silco frowned. “You are being more than thoroughly compensated to show up whenever we ask.”
“Indeed. To the bed, miss. Let’s have a look.”
Once your legs were freed from the lock of the contraction, you shuffled to the bed. Silco helped you into position, and the midwife closed in. Her fingers were warm, but the tools were cold. The combination, along with your nerves, caused your lungs to shudder.
“Five,” she declared, drawing her head from between your thighs.
“That’s halfway,” you chuckled weakly. Silco brushed his thumb over your knuckles
The midwife hummed in agreement. “True. But as discussed, this process is not linear. And being your first delivery, it is very likely this will take a while. How is the pain?”
“Fine. Manageable.” It came out as a grit, but she didn’t seem to doubt you.
“You should eat and drink while you can. Is there anything else you want or need right now?”
Together, you and Silco walked to the small kitchen in your private quarters. You rested your forearms on the counter as the length of your spine hammocked behind you, hips gently swishing side-to-side. Silco kept the breakfast blissfully simple: toast with a light slather of butter, and a mug of warmed water with lemon.
Eating was slow going. Between the jitters and contractions, your appetite was seriously curbed. When you finally made it to the second piece of toast, Jinx shuffled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed and bed-headed. Her bedraggled demeanor did not last long though, as her whip-quick senses tuned into the energy of the space. Big, blue eyes tracked between Silco – unusually underdressed – and your strange posture. One could nearly hear the cogs in her head clicking and whirring.
“Is it time?!”
In a flash, she clambered onto the stool next to you, bright and tittering. Her exuberance washed over you in a relieving breeze. Reaching over, you ran a hand through her unkempt hair.
“Sure is, kiddo.”
“When will he be here?”
“Could be a while yet, Jinx,” Silco answered. He set a glass of juice in front of her. “What would you like? Toad-in-the-hole? Porridge? Pancakes?”
“Make ‘em have a face!” she crowed.
A hook of a smile pulled at Silco’s mouth as he turned back toward the stove.
Jinx settled onto the stool; legs kicking merrily beneath her as she sipped her juice.
“What does it feel like?”
“Like intense menstrual cramps.”
Her small face squished in a ponder. While you had had that conversation with her, Jinx had yet to broach into that aspect of puberty. Thus, she had no point of reference.
“Kinda like when you roof-run after eating, and your abs cramp up,” you offered. “Kind of.”
A contraction swelled upon you, and you grit your teeth, face pinching, head dropping. Silco stepped away from the stovetop, and placed a grounding hand between your shoulder blades. Jinx watched, eyes wide and worried. Timidly, she shifted toward you, pressing her forehead to your shoulder.
The pain continued, but was temporarily numbed by the overwhelming love and gratitude for the two people on either side of you.
Your family.
It was never part of the plan when it came to your Silco’s ideas to lift Zaun up, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. And in a few hours, three would be four. Your heart beat big, tapping against your throat as the contraction passed. You clicked the stopwatch.
“That seems worse than roof-run cramps,” Jinx said suspiciously.
You chuffed. “Like I said: Kind of.”
Silco rubbed his hand up and down your spine a few times, before kissing your temple and returning to the stove.
“You remember what we talked about?” you asked Jinx.
She fiddled with her hair, nodding. “I can come and go as I please.”
“Right. If you want to be with us, I want you to be there. If you don’t, that’s fine, too. You get to decide, and it doesn’t have to be right now.”
Jinx nodded again, eyes staring into the middle-distance. Reaching over, you brushed your fingers through her hair again. Her eyes snapped back to yours.
“Are you scared?”
You gave her a reassuring smile.
“No. I’m happy.”
It wasn’t a lie. But a few hours later, your happiness was thoroughly overshadowed by the pain of labor. It was staggering how it had intensified. How it was becoming near non-stop as the space between contractions shortened and shortened. Gravity felt impossible to contend with on top of everything else, so you sank onto your bedroom floor with a low, guttural growl.
Silco had been attentive throughout, anticipating your needs before you even voiced them. Ever your anchor, your source for steadiness. Even now, on your hands and knees, his own wide palms settled onto your hips and pressed in. It pulled an appreciative groan from your throat.
“You’re doing so well, my love.”
“It doesn’t feel like it.”
Your eyes flicked to the bathroom door where Jinx was helping the midwife prepare a warm bath. You were proud of your girl. Admittedly, part of you doubted she would choose to stick around once labor became loud and more intense. When you could no longer keep yourself from crying out, hesitancy had flickered in her eyes, and her brows pitched in concern. But instead of dashing away, she’d reached for your hand and held tight.
“Is there anything you can give her?” she’d asked the midwife incredulously.
The female had smirked, impressed and moved by the girl’s protectiveness of you.
“I have mild pain relievers, but nothing that will fully numb – “
“Shimmer?”
The midwife’s black lips thinned. “That is only to be used in emergencies,” she explained. “It is too potent and powerful to be used for anything other than the most extreme circumstances. Which – “her eyes looked up at your haggard form on the bed – “does not seem probable. Her labor is progressing as it should. There is nothing to worry about.”
Jinx frowned, doubtful, and hunkered closer to your side.
“Seems like a dumb design that it hurts so much.”
“Agreed,” you wheezed.
“Come,” the midwife said, “let’s check you.”
She declared you’d progressed to eight centimeters. That had been three hours ago. And the pain just continued to climb and build.
A small sob burst through your teeth. Silco knelt at your side, quietly saying your name.
“I’m scared, Sil,” you admitted in a whisper. You were thankful Jinx wasn’t near to hear you back-pedal. Your breath hitched and words tumbled out: “I don’t know if I can do this.”
He took your warm and tear-streaked face between his hands, and repeated your name.
“Look at me.”
Reluctantly, your tired and wet eyes focused on his face. He looked at you with fierce earnestness, thumbs sweeping across the apples of your flushed cheeks. Suddenly, part of you grieved that the baby would never know Silco without his scars. Or yours. Outside and in.
Silco called your name again.
“Look at me,” he repeated. Your eyes slid back to his. Blue and red pinned you in place. “You can do this. I’ve not met anyone more tenacious, nor strong, nor as spirited as you. Those are but a few of the reasons I fell in love with you so long ago.” His eyes softened now; his adoration made plain. “You’ve absolutely no reason to doubt yourself.”
A small hiccup bubbled from your mouth, and you pressed your face into the warmth of his palm, breathing him in deeply. Not having properly dressed for the day, he hadn’t put any cologne on. The natural terra-sweet scent of his skin filled your nose. You were grateful for his support, respect, and belief in your abilities. A sudden, silly thought flitted across your mind.
“Not my dance moves?”
A single amused breath huffed from his throat. That infinitesimal smirk – one of the reasons you’d fallen in love with him – appeared on his lips. His blue eye flashed; as it often did when an idea struck him. Silco lifted to his feet, and used a strong grip to pull you to yours. He guided your arms to loop around his shoulders and neck, while his went to your low back. A weary chuckle left you as you understood. Your cheek was a relieved, heavy weight against his shoulder. It had to be a strange sight, this dance configuration: with your body slouched against his, massive belly hanging between you two. Slowly, your feet began gently shifting side-to-side.
“Admittedly,” he murmured against your crown, “your dance moves leave something to be desired right now.”
You laughed, even as another contraction swelled within you. Silco’s hands firmed up on your body, holding you upright as it moved through your body.
“I’ll make it up to you,” you hissed as most of the pain subsided. It was such now that there was no longer any real relief.
“A dance and a suck job? Lucky me.”
Your fingers pinched Silco’s upper back, and you felt the tremor of silent laughter in his shoulders.
“Tub’s ready!” Jinx sang as she flounced out of the bathroom.
Managing to smile at her, despite another great, contracting swell that threatened to bring you to your knees, you took her hand. Silco kept a strong arm wrapped around your middle, and you followed Jinx into the humid warmth of the bathroom.
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The water helped. Its heat soothed your pained muscles and aching bones. The irony was not lost on you that you found peace in it. After a few minutes of settling into the tub, you gave Silco a look that to anyone else may have seemed like nothing. But he caught the message in your eyes, and tucked himself close to the tub’s edge, taking your hand. Jinx huddled herself into his lap, nervously fingering the buttons on his shirt.
About an hour later, the midwife’s large ears flicked in your direction as the quality of your breath shifted, as the sounds leaving you turned deeper and more animal. Her deft hands slipped into the water and between your legs.
“Something changed,” you gasped, hunching slightly. “It feels like – “
“It’s time,” she said, pulling her hands from the water. Somehow, she’d also stripped your underwear off in the same movement without you noticing. “It’s time to push.”
Push. The word settled into your body with a deep, innate knowing.
Yes. That’s what you were feeling. The near uncontrollable need to bare down. An old, predetermined instinct washed over you. You could do this.
But you did not want to do it alone.
“Sil.”
The grit of his name and the way you shifted yourself forward spurred your partner into understanding. Swiftly, he stood, deposited Jinx onto the stool he’d vacated, and then stepped into the tub, sliding in behind you. Settling against his chest, your hand ferociously intertwined with his. His heart beat firmly against your back.
“You can do this,” he whispered into your ear.
“Give me your other hand, dear,” the midwife said. You did so and she guided it under the water, preparing you to feel and catch. “Push.”
“Push! Push!” Jinx cried, her little fists pumping and bopping in the air madly.
Gritting your teeth, you did just that. A sound you didn’t know you were capable of making burst from your lungs. When the air ran out, you slumped against Silco’s chest.
“Breath in,” the midwife demanded. You did so. “Push!”
You did again, a roar ripping from your chest. A roar that ended in a surprised yip as something into your hand.
“Again,” the midwife demanded.
And you complied, baring down with everything you had. With all the might and tenacity and power your body could exert. Another battle cry echoed off the bathroom tiles, and a solid weight slid into your hand. You ripped your other hand from Silco’s grip, and pulled a wriggling newborn from the water.
“It’s a boy!” Jinx yelled, bouncing up and down in her seat.
Her brother’s face squidged, and his pink mouth opened in an announcing wail. You joined in and pulled the babe to your chest. Silco went very still behind you, scarcely breathing. Then his hands appeared over yours, cradling the baby at your chest. Like on the night you’d taken in Jinx, he pulled his legs up around you both and held tight.
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Later, once the placenta had passed (something Jinx was equally horrified and enthralled by) you were helped out of the tub, and cleaned. The midwife tied off the babe’s umbilical cord, and once some time passed, you watched with an incredibly full heart as Silco severed it.
You weren’t sure if you’d ever seen the expression on your partner’s face. A soft, careful, wonderous thing. Then it hit you all at once. You were watching Silco fall in love. The notion took your breath away and fresh tears welled in your eyes. Jinx clung to you, and you to her.
“Thank you for being with me, Jinx. It helped.”
The girl beamed up at you, holding on tighter.
“I think it is your turn for a shower, sir,” the midwife said, twisting off the umbilical nub.
Silco watched her hands like a hawk as she did. He slid in once she finished, and wrapped him in a blanket Jinx had decorated. It was a small thing, but you caught the tremor in his hands. Keeping Jinx tucked against your side, you came to stand next to him.
“He’ll be here when you get out of the shower,” you whispered, voice hoarse.
“Yeah! Go get the baby juice off you!” Jinx ordered.
Silco’s expression of awe turned to one of bemusement as he glanced at your daughter.
“Yes. I suppose I should.”
Your own hands shook a bit as you gathered your son – your son! You wondered if the shock would wear off – and ushered Jinx to follow the midwife out of the bathroom.
With no small amount of effort, your body, beyond sore and exhausted, climbed into bed. The baby cooed and nuzzled and fussed against your chest as you settled into the pillows and duvet. Jinx climbed in on the opposite side, and snuggled close.
“He’s already sleeping!”
“It’s hard work being born. Don’t you remember?” you chuckled.
Jinx laughed, “No!”
A small smile curled the midwife’s mouth as she snapped her bag shut. She turned to you and bowed her head.
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” you said, eyes on your boy. Then you lifted them to hers, and said again, “And thank you.”
She nodded again, horns catching the light in the room.
“It was my honor.”
She gave you and the baby one last cursory check over, and took her leave.
A few moments after she left, there was a knock on the door, and Sevika stuck her head in.
“Ogre!” Jinx cried. “I gotta brother!”
Even Sevika’s presence couldn’t dampen Jinx’s mood.
Silco’s lieutenant grunted, and stepped over to the bed. She stayed at a distance though, craning her neck to peer down at you and the baby.
“Yep. That’s a baby. Congrats.”
“Thank you, Sevika.”
Behind her, Silco emerged from the foggy bathroom in a fresh pair of slacks and an unbuttoned shirt. Sevika tilted her strong chin in his direction and he nodded back.
“I’ll leave you all to it then,” she said.
Her poncho twirled as she spun back to leave. As she and Silco crossed paths, a metal finger tip whipped out from beneath the red fabric, and poked his bare belly. He jolted and shuddered. He sneered at her, but she just snickered and slipped out of the room.
Silco shook his head, damp hair beginning to curl at the ends. He rounded the bed, and climbed in, sandwiching Jinx between your bodies. He leaned over the girl’s head and kissed you.
“What’re we gonna name him?” Jinx pipped.
You and Silco exchanged a look.
“I’m not sure,” you admitted.
“I’m sure we’ll come up with something.” he added.
Immediately, Jinx began rattling off all her suggestions.
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Before a name could be decided, you fell asleep. Jinx followed shortly after; her plump cheek pressed against your shoulder. Gingerly, Silco lifted the baby from your arms, and brought him to his bare chest. The boy tensed, and then melted, a small wispy sigh leaving him.
Silco melted, too; a foreign, near indescribable softness filling him up. He brought his hand to the boy’s back, its length and width nearly covering all of him. His son was so small.
His son. His son.
Emotions gripped him so intensely he nearly choked.
Elation, love, fear.
Grief.
There was grief that his child was born technically as a citizen of Piltover. But that anguish was small compared to the other one that had been tucked away in the scar tissue of Silco’s heart ever since you had told him of the pregnancy. A pain that he hated he harbored.
The secret grief was that Vander wasn’t here to see this. The grief that his Brother had ruined any chance of participating in this milestone. The grief of Vander’s death (justified though it was) was scratched open as Silco’s son lay on his heart. The grief that, had things gone differently, Silco would’ve named the boy after his Brother.
“Sil.”
Silco’s head whipped around at the sound of your voice. Your beautiful, exhausted, beautiful face shone up at him. There was a smile on your lips that he wished to taste, so he leaned over Jinx’s head again and pressed his mouth to yours. 
“I told you you could do it,” he whispered leaning back. You smiled and nodded wearily.
The baby grunted and shifted against Silco’s chest, and he pet the back of his head so, so softly. It broke your heart into a million pieces, and then they jumped right back together. Your eyes slid back up to your partner’s profile.
You felt his grief, because it was yours, too.
“I know, Silco,” you whispered. He looked over to you. Jinx snored softly between. “I wish it had been different, too.”
Silco’s eyebrow dropped, and his lips softened. He glanced down at the baby on his chest, and chuckled ruefully.
“I truly don’t know what to name him.”
You shrugged. “We’ll figure it out.”
He nodded. You sat in silence for a while, listening to your children breath. Jinx’s raspy breaths and the baby’s snuffling. It was music to your ears. You would never tire of hearing it.
Just as you were about to doze again, you felt Silco’s energy shift. Eyes sharpening onto him, you watched as he first gently ran his fingers over Jinx’s freckled cheek. Then, so carefully, he lifted the baby from his chest so he could look at his small face.
“You and your sister will have better than we did,” he promised. “Me and your mother will give you a nation.”
Your son’s eyes fluttered open and closed, the bud of his mouth stretching into what looked like a small smile. Your throat tightened horribly, and you tucked your nose into Jinx’s crown.
When you were sure you could speak without choking, you lifted your head and said, “We promise.”
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I hope part two scratched the itch <3 If you enjoy my work and would like to support me (firstly, THANK YOU!) check out my Ko-Fi page!
ko-fi.com/kiki13
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writingblogsandothers · 3 days ago
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The Chosen One
Part One
Word Count: 2.5k
Warnings: Mild Mocking, Mild Fear (Nothing descriptive)
Use of She/Her/Lady - Female Pronouns
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It started off like any other day in the Marino homestead. Aurelia Marino was the first to rise, gathering her clothing and shoes for another tiresome day on the family farm. She thanked the gods her father was kind enough to take the heavier jobs dealing with the livestock, along with her two older brothers. Aurelia made her way to their small allotments to gather any fruits and grains she could harvest to bring back to her mother, who sold the goods just outside the large capital, Rome.
The sun shone bright yet hazed with its beautiful creamy-yellow hue. Aurelia stood back, closed her eyes and took a deep inhale, absorbing the early morning rays, feeling thankful for everything that she and her family has. They certainly didn’t have much, with the family often sharing meals which should feed two and making do with their less than favourable living arrangements. It mightn’t have been everyone’s dream, but for the Marino’s? It was home.
She made her way home and delivered the goods to her mother, who made her way into the capital, along with Aurelia’s aunt. The home had seen better days, so Aurelia took to cleaning from top to bottom. It consisted of 2 rooms – one for living quarters, and one for sleeping. Aurelia was a daydreamer, which helped her in ways zone out of the monotonous tasks she endured daily. She dreamed of a life far away from the farm, perhaps even out of Rome, with her one true love and their life which they live in no fear and without worry. Now that’s the dream.
“Aurelia…. AURELIA!” startled, Aurelia turned to find her mother in a fluster.
“What ever is the matter, Mater?” she asked.
“Daughter, we have just returned from the Capital. The guards are out, exclaiming how the Emperor wishes to settle… they want to find him a wife! I was thinking we should bring you to him, to the Guards, to whoever will see you. I know what they say about him, but surely the life you would have would supersede that, and who knows maybe they aren’t as bad as they are painted. Oh Aurelia, this is such an opportunity for you to-…” her mother exclaims without hardly stopping for air.
Aurelia looks puzzled. She does not understand why this information should be relevant to her. She cuts her off, “Mater, please sit and calm. I do not know why this is important to us? We have heard stories mother and we have seen firsthand what the Emperors are capable of. They are vile in nature. The misfortune they spring onto the people of Rome and they laugh? Besides, we both know the Emperor should not want common people like us. He will want to marry a high-status lady. Why should we worry?”
Her mother, Julia, looks deflated and slumps in her seat. Tears form in her eyes. She looks to her daughter, “Aurelia, I am sorry. I got myself so excited when I heard the news. I only wish the very best for you. I know what the Emperors are, but the lifestyle they have, it could not compare with what myself and your father could ever give to you. You work so tirelessly hard around here, and I want you to have a life I could have only dreamed of. I am sorry I could not give this to you now…”
Aurelia sighs not liking seeing her mother so deflated, Julia interjects, “Anyway, forget my outburst. Let us prepare a meal for your father and brothers.”
Up at Palatine Hill, there were great deliberations occurring. One member of the Senate announces, “Caesar, I do not wish to inflict my decision upon you, but I must stress how we must be very selective over who we choose. We do not wish to weaken your hard-earned line of succession, it wo-”
“QUIET!” A screech overpowers the Senate member. The hall grows deathly silent, so much so the slightest move of a finger was heard. Caracalla sneers in the corner, observing his little brother’s outburst with great delight.
“Tell the Guards to fetch me every eligible woman in the immediate area. We are to have them presented to me and my brother by midday tomorrow. Any status, I want to see them all, peasant or not.” Geta affirms loud and clear to their subordinates.
Caracalla rises from his seat with Dundus on his shoulder, with a merciful “HA!”, “The instruction is clear, we want to see them all. We would like to get some sort of amusement out of this day, so the more peasantry the better! Now off you go, find us ladies!”
There was no movement in the room until Geta announced, “Did you not hear my brother, you disobedient fools – be on your way!”
The Praetorian officials who were present quickly collected themselves and made their way to arrange the troops.
The two brothers burst out into what could only be described as maniacal laughter, at a combination of the misfortune of the potential ‘suitors’ and whatever plans they were outlining for their futures. The Senate looked on in horror as they saw the ‘Twins’ conjuring up their next scheming plans for goodness knows what. Only the gods know what they could be scheming now.
It was turning to nightfall quickly, and Aurelia was preparing the bedding for the family, and folding away any washing she had completed during the day. The gallant sound of trotting began to get louder and louder and began to puzzle Aurelia. She walked out into the living quarters where her family were gathered. Her father was about to speak when he was cut off by three sharp knocks at their barely held together door.
Fear shoots through Aurelia. Who could be calling at their door at this hour? It could only mean trouble.
Her father rises, with her brothers swiftly behind, and opens their door. Stood proudly were three Praetorian soldiers, with scroll in hand. “Hello, how may we help you Sires?” Augustus, her father spoke.
The Praetorian soldiers in a half scoff announced, “We are here to demand the presence of the lady, Aurelia Marino, for their highnesses Emperors Geta and Caracalla. She is to present herself along with a chaperone to the Colosseum at precisely midday tomorrow. It is expected she preen herself to look her best as she is to be compared amongst all other ladies of the nearby land in a bid to be betrothed to the great Emperor Geta.” They look behind Augustus to see Aurelia standing sheepishly, hands entwined within each other, hair scooped back and the rags of today on her for clothing. With a snort, they announce “We can see you have your work ahead of you, so we shall leave you to prepare.” They giggle like school children amongst themselves and make their way back to their horses.
Almost like a sixth sense, her father feels Aurelia’s fear from behind his slight frame and bravely shouts after the soldiers demanding, “And what if we do not attend?”. The lead commander of the group, already mounted on his horse turns to look over his shoulder, “You and your daughter will face the arena, and you best pray that the gods are in your favour that day.” Off the calvary took, leaving Aurelia feeling like a dormouse.
“Am I truly that hideous that they must laugh in my face?” her confidence, the little she had, was shattered. Her mother looks disgusted and explains, “My dear child, you are of kind face and mind. You are beautiful both inside and out. You mustn’t worry of the thoughts of the others; they are as ugly inside as they are out.” Aurelia half laughs, and shrugs away a tear from her eye. Julia continues, “Mea amor, anyone, including the Emperor would be lucky to have you. I know I was excited earlier at the prospect, but now its so real, I pray to the gods you are dismissed.”
“Thank you Mater.” Aurelia draws a deep breath, sighs, and continues “I am going to prepare for tomorrow. I shall see you in the morning.”. She takes herself off to her side of sleeping quarters and hunts out her best outfit, which in Aurelia’s case is a plain tunic that is lacking holes (or as little as possible).
As the night draws on, Aurelia finds it more and more difficult to fall asleep at the prospects of being put in front of the co-emperors tomorrow. She tosses and turns so much that she excuses herself to the living quarters to reside there, in a bid to disturb her family less. Finally, the tiredness wins, and sleep consumes her.
The commute to the Colosseum usually was full of excitement for Aurelia and her father. It usually meant a day of entertainment, and quality family time – full of joy, excitement. Today couldn’t be further from that sentiment – it reeked of fear. As the pair strode up the narrow-walled street to the grand building, Augustus stopped suddenly. Turning to his daughter, he spoke gently, “Aurelia, you do not have to attend. I will see to fight in the arena if it means your freedom.” Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke, “Pater, he will not even look at me no doubt. Please do not put your life before mine, especially for such trivial matters. Let us attend to see it through and get back to our lives.” The pair breathed deeply in and began the uneven trekking once more.
On approach, the queues of ladies with their chaperones started and continued right around the vicinity of Palatine Hill. ‘How are they ever going to see all in one day?’, Aurelia asked herself. She and her father began their queueing and waited with bated breath to see how the fates lay.
It was nearing nightfall before Augustus and Aurelia entered what could only be described as a colossal banqueting hall. Up ahead in the distance, Aurelia caught glimpse of bright orange locks, flailing hands, and maniacal laughter. She knew it would be only too soon before she would approach the Emperors.
A guard confirmed her identity, and instructed her and her father to move forward. She knew she was now next. The intensity of this strange situation was palpable. I mean would it be so bad to become an Empress? It would mean she could provide more for her family, and lessen the burden on her mother and father, who were not getting any younger. And as much as it pained her to admit it, there were much less handsome suitors to be paired with. Perhaps however with a little less bloodthirst.
Taking her out of her trace, was a guard announcing “… -side Rome, Augustus Marino with his daughter, Aurelia.” She and her father bowed before the Emperors, not daring to look either in the eye. She could hear one of them saying something to the other, with a huge cackle to finish their commentary. Bravely, looking from under her brow, she caught sight of Geta staring intently at her, with a woman either side of him, softly touching him, meanwhile Caracalla seemed to be enjoying this charade with an entourage of both men and women at his side.
Geta rises from his chair. He swiftly moves his hands to signal to her father to step back from her.
“Speak Girl. What is your name again?” Geta asked with intense authority.
“Aurelia, your Highness.”
“Golden.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Golden. Your name, it’s meaning.”
“C-Caesar, please forgive me I did not know this fact. I-I-I thank you for bestowing me with such knowledge.”
Caracalla begins to laugh hysterically, “Brother, she is so weak and feeble. ‘Please Sire, Yes Sire’. It’s rather quite pathetic but marvellous to observe.” Geta begins to laugh in approval with his brother, “Yes brother, you’re right!”
Geta moves forward with great authority, and Aurelia flinches. He swarms her, taking in every detail about her, from the way her skin shines in the last of the day’s sun; her hair and how it cascades down her shoulders; her eyes and the piercing blue contrasting all what seems to dull about her; the clothing she wears and how it looks like rags not even his cleaners would dare be seen to use in his presence. Yet, with all, there’s something so dearly capturing about this one, that he dares not let show.
He was about to step even closer, but was interrupted by his brother’s clashing tones, “She really is rather miserable. I mean look at her father.” Mockingly he begins, “Sir, Sir, please how much money does one have on his person? I bet Dundus has more to carry in her purse than you!” After listening to Caracalla’s laughter for a second too long, Augustus holds back any sign of animosity, and starts “Emperors, please forgive me, I try my best. I work hard to keep a roof over my family’s head and food on our table. I previously fought for Rome, but had to reside to my current life after I was let go. My daughter is a wonderful person, I may not be able to give you anything in terms of material earnings, but my daughter pays for that tenfold, she-”. He was caught off my Geta rising his arm, while staring intently at Aurelia. Ignoring his brother’s ignorance, and her father’s pathetic cries, Geta leant closer into Aurelia, who could feel him breathing on her soft skin. With a swift move of his hand, he swept the hair away from her shoulder to get closer to her ear.
“You should be thanking the gods, Aurelia… gold is my favourite metal.”
She shivered in response, while Geta looked at her with what she didn’t know was sheer disgust or intrigue. Turning on his heels, he ushered away the ladies who were once at his side and sat with authority. Giving the guards a look, he announced, “Let it be known that I am to be betrothed this coming week to Aurelia Marino. We will bare the heirs of utter greatness and Rome will live on and conquer once more. Praise gods.”
There was a cue of sighs and ‘praises’ behind Aurelia and her father with those waiting to be seen by the Emperors dismissed.
Sneering at Augustus, Geta sweeps past the two of them without so much as looking in Aurelia’s direction. A guard approaches Aurelia and instructs her, “Lady, we must now take you to your new living quarters. Bid your farewells and follow us.”
She and her father stare at one another in sheer shock. Neither knowing what had just happened. She hugs her father tightly whilst crying into his shoulder, but she keeps reminding herself that this should work for her family’s favour. They need not worry about materials no longer; she would see they were all looked after.
Aurelia set on her way to follow the guards, with one last look over her shoulder to see her teary father and turning back to pave her way in a new life. A new world.
Part 2
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part 2 of,,,, whatever this is X]
| 1 | 2 | ... |
it's not supposed to be very consistent, not rlly a proper comic, but it does work best if viewed all together! im super proud of how the next 2 parts are turning out, can't wait to share with y'all!!
huge thanks again to @crowned-ladybug for writing the carrot soup fics,,,,,, truly a life-changing experience, 1000/10, would recommend
(please lmk if you don't wanna be tagged! i was rlly touched by your reply on my last post and thought that maybe you'd like to see this one as well,, im so glad my little doodles could make ur day better, even if just a bit!!)
i wanted to ramble abt brushes and shapes and colors but im eepy rn and i really wanna post this while i still remember soooo no artist rant today sorry,,,, hope y'all enjoy nevertheless! <33
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millieisawriter · 1 day ago
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Workin' girl
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arthur morgan x reader
summary: the one where arthur pulls a john — falling in love with a working girl. it was never supposed to happen, yet it did, and now arthur is left with two choices. either he, again, walks away from a woman that loves him, or tries to fight for her.
wc: 2k
all pics taken from pinterest
♡this wasn't requested, but if you wish to request something you're more than welcome♡
a/n: i see this happening in blackwater in case i decide to write a 2nd part, but when i started writing i imagined saint denis, didn't see any town/city names mentioned as i was proof-reading, lmk if you see something i missed <3
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Life has never treated you kindly so eventually, as soon as you could leave your family home, you turned to the oldest profession in the world. Even if that kind of life was better, it still wasn't ideal, but it was the best you could do. Eventually, you started to like it because even with its issues and dark sides it wasn't that terrible. Some would even dare saying it was 'easy money', which you actually knew wasn't true.
Luckily for you, you ended up in one of the more expensive brothels. Maybe it was the 'splendor' of the place, the luxorious interior, that made you feel somewhat safe. Safer than you would feel in some cheap saloon where the patrons consisted of drifters with a questionable past.
You had your regular patrons, ones that you got along with well — one of the reasons why they were your regulars. These were the men that could stay a bit longer after the service itself was done without making it awkward. Ones that you could have a conversation with, ones that saw you as another human being, not just an item to relieve their frustration.
It was a normal evening, the building was neither empty nor full. You didn't have that much on your hands, you and a fellow working girl were entertaining a group of men. They sat by a table, a drink in one hand, a cigar in the other, and two of these men had a companion in their lap — you and your friend. Ending the evening in the bedroom wasn't certain, for now you were just trying to make them spend as much money as possible on the drinks.
Then, Arthur walked in. One of your regulars, one you were particularly fond of. The chemistry between the two of you was so strong sometimes you wanted to tell him he didn't have to pay.
His eyes immediately found you, and he would be lying if he said he didn't feel jealous seeing you in the man's lap. But you, as if on command, turned to look at Arthur and as you noticed your favorite patron, you excused yourself from the table.
"Mister Callahan," you beamed, approaching the man, "so good to see you again."
He tipped his hat to you, his lips curling into a soft smile. "Evenin' darlin', thought I'd stop by again. You been keepin' busy?"
The way he always called you darling, every time, made you feel so warm and bubbly. Of course, he wasn't the first man to do that, but when it came from him, it felt almost sincere.
"Busy enough," you replied, glancing over your shoulder at the table of men you just left, "but I'll always make time for you, mister."
"Well, reckon I'll take you up on that. How bout we find a quiet spot?"
"Your wish is my command." Giggling, you took Arthur by the hand to lead him upstairs where your room was. Even if he already knew the way well enough.
Your room was just like any other room in that brothel — furnished with the most luxorious-looking furniture, tastefully decorated with expensive ornaments, every little detail taken care of.
As the door to your room clicked shut behind you, the world outside seemed to fade miles away. In that moment right there it were just the two of us, bathed in the dim light by the fireplace's glow.
Arthur's hat found its usual place on the small table by the door and he turned to face you, "I can never stay away for too long." Shortly, his hands landed on your waist, resting on the corset of your dress.
"Then maybe you should visit more often..." You suggested, your own hands finding their way to the man's shoulders.
"I'm afraid it ain't a good idea, darlin'. I always look forward to seein' you. But sayin' goodbye..."
"I get what you mean," you chuckled, "so what's it gonna be today? Just the regular service, or you want something extra? It'll be on the house."
Every time Arthur visited you, it was both blissfull and painful for him. You were so good at what you were doing it felt like a religious experience, but the attachment he held for you left a hole in his heart each time he had to say goodbye.
He had always wished he could just ask you to leave this life, and join the gang, but which woman would agree for this? Your current life, your current job, as oppressing as it was, couldn't be worse than living on the run. In Arthur's eyes at least.
In the brothel you had your own room, a wardrobe with many dresses. You had a somehow stable income, it didn't seem as if money were any issue to you. All this, compared to what you could have in the camp, was much worse. And you didn't even know his real last name, there was no reason for you to leave this life you had for a criminal.
Why did Arthur even fall for a working girl? The exact same thing happened to John, which Arthur would often make fun of him for. Maybe life just decided to pull a joke on Arthur now. But he just couldn't control himself, from the first time he saw you, you were different. With other women it didn't take long to notice they're just playing a role, but you... from the first time you even smiled at Arthur, he was drawn to how genuine it looked. And now, you had become not just a pretty face to entertain him, but someone he felt at ease with.
This time, as many times before, Arthur didn't hurry to get dressed and leave the room, return back to camp after getting what he wanted. Instead, he stayed under the covers in your bed, smoking a cigarette as you kept going on about something that happened a few days ago.
He didn't mind, he could let you yap his ears off, your voice was such a calming sound. It was almost hard to believe you weren't just a hallucination he made up. How could such an ethereal being just lay there, next to him, head propped propped on your palm as you lay on your stomach, talking about whatever nonsense? How could this happen to a man like Arthur Morgan?
"...so then," you paused to take the cigarette from Arthur, take one puff and hand it right back, "you'd think a man like him would have some sense, right? Well, no, he was so damn thick in the head, she just told the guard to throw him out!"
Arthur chuckled, exhaling a stream of smoke. "Bet he didn't see that comin'. I'm glad I ain't made it onto your list of thick-headed fools yet."
"Yet!" You playfully reminded him. "You seem to have more sense than others, although I can't say I'm some weak little girl. I don't even need a guard, but the madam insists it's for safety."
A thought lingered in the back of Arthur's mind. It was weird, in a sense, to know there's a guard right outside your door whenever you had a man up there. Even right then.
"I don't doubt you could handle yourself, darlin'," Arthur smirked, taking one last drag from his cigarette, "but it don't hurt havin' someone lookin' out for you."
You rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at your lips. "Guess you're right, mister."
Arthur stubbed out the ciragette into the ashtray that stood on the bedside table, knowing what it meant. His time was up, he extended the time of his visit as long as he could. Now that his usual cigarette was finished, it was the time for him to go.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed to stand up. You watched as he reached for his clothes that had been thrown onto the floor, and for the first time a single tear started to burn the corner of your eye.
With his jeans already on, and his shirt for now unbuttoned, he reached to the pocket, retrieving the usual payment. You wiped the tear away as it escaped your eye. It was always the same routine, but it didn't make it any easier to watch him go.
"Here it is." He said almost robotically, placing the money next to the ashtray, throwing in a little tip.
You looked at the money with sadness in your gaze, then your eyes shifted to look at the man. "You know, you shouldn't have to pay, because you don't make it feel like work."
There they were, the words Arthur was so afraid to hear. Him having a more romantic kind of attachment to you was one thing. However, knowing that you reciprocated the feeling, made it more difficult.
"Good," he nodded, "cause you don't make me feel like the bastard I am," as he buttoned up his shirt.
You sat up on the bed, pulling the sheets harder around you, since you were still naked. "Arthur..." You sighed, the rest of the sentence dying in your throat.
The fact that for the first time you had used his actual name instead of calling him mister as always, made it only more difficult.
"No, darlin', don't."
"You know you don't have to leave, right?"
Oh, he had to leave. If he overstayed his welcome too much, the guard at your door would become highly suspicious. And that would only cause issues for you.
"I have to, don't wanna make it harder." Arthur replied.
"Harder for who? I know a man's nature well enough, and I can tell there's something more in the— the way you fuck me, Arthur."
He thought maybe playing dumb would help him. "What do you mean?"
"I mean that if you were to ask me to... to abandon this life for you... I would."
Arthur gulped. It was just what he wished for, but what he couldn't allow to happen. "I've got nothin' to give you. I live on the run, it ain't somethin' you wanna be a part of, trust me."
"You think I'd rather keep fucking strangers to survive, than travel the world with a man I lo—"
"You don't." Arthur interrupted you. "You don't know what you're talkin' bout." Love was a word of huge weight, there was no way it was what you felt for him.
You insisted. "I know what I feel, and I know what you feel, I see it in your eyes, I feel it when you're in my bed, Arthur. I wanna leave this life for you."
"It ain't gonna be no escape, though, just another kind of trap. You deserve better than fuckin' strangers to get by, but you also deserve better than runnin' and not knowin' which day will be your last."
"I don't want better!" At that point you didn't care if the guard outside will hear. "I want you, Arthur!"
"I want you too, darlin'," he admitted, his voice breaking slightly, "but... you're safer here. I can't sentence you to a life of an eternal wanderin'."
His words had a final tone, but as well as you could read his eyes, you could tell he regrets saying what he had just said. You could have had a roof over your head, and locks in your door, but it wasn't safety. It was survival.
You stepped closer, reaching out to grab Arthur's hand. You knew he didn't want to leave, you were sure he wants you just like you wanted him. "Arthur..."
His heart ached when he saw the way your beautiful eyes looked at him, but still he decided to kiss you. It only made it worse, making another cut in Arthur's already damaged heart.
"I gotta go." He stated, freeing his hand from yours.
"No." You refused as if you had any say in that matter. You could demand he takes you with him now, wherever he's headed, but what would it do?
"I can't make promises," he continued, putting his boots and jacket on, then his hat, "but I'll figure somethin' out."
You stayed silent, watching him leave the room, not knowing if he's going to keep his word. All you had now was the money, that you didn't even want from him, and the promise that could have been empty.
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muffinsin · 2 days ago
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halloooo muffin !! if its okay may i request how the dimitrescu daughters would act if reader said 'Is this seat taken?' and pointing to their lap as their doing what not that they enjoy? i had this thought when your inbox was closed and now that i see its open i had 2 ask ❤ ( also js a silly little thing right here but i hope ur doing well ! i love ur prompts 2 :3 )
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Hi, hon! :) Awhh, of course! Using sum reactions again for this one XP I'm flattered! :) this one actually seems quite familiar too, but I didn't find the prompt on the Masterlists
Let's get into it!
Masterlists
Bela
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You watch her as she works, her desk an organized mess
It's often like this, really
Bela's busy, and working, the majority of the time. And still, she loves to have you with her
Occaisonally, she looks up, her eyes either full of love, or a silent apology for working so much
You don't mind now, though, not when it means getting to spend time with her, in her office, where it's nice and quiet, warm and secluded
A bit of a paradise, to both of you, a breather
A break from the chaos that the castle can bring, and especially the chaos and trouble her younger sisters can cause her
Briefly, you only stay behind her, trailing your fingertips across the chair before your eyes find a much more comfortable spot: Bela's lap
You grin to yourself as you take in her thick, soft thighs, even with the dress on
Then, you turn to her side, allowing her to look up and look at you
"Is this seat taken?", you ask, but don't quite await her answer
Instead, she gasps in surprise when you suddenly sit down, but her surprise fades quick
Instead, she wraps her free arm around you and presses a kiss to your cheek, humming, utterly happy to feel you this close to her
In return, you get to sink against her
And while she isn't warm per say, she is rather soft
You make a mental note to bring her a blanket later on
Cassandra
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Cassandra is...unused, to love and relationships and an actual partner, at best
Still, she likes to spend her time with you, hoping you enjoy it as much as she does
Often, this means doing things together, or being together while doing seperate things, such as now
She's sitting at the desk in her room, whereas you're on the bed, watching her for the time being
Her tongue is stuck out in concentration and her dark golden eyes are set entirely on the sickle in her hand as she sharpens it
Your eyes trail from her face to her shoulders, to her chest and down her arms and waist, until you spot her lap, instead
Often, it's full of weapons she's yet to clean, or even some she has cleaned and sharpened already
Not today, as you surprised by her cleaning her desk off properly and making space for her beloved weapons
You move slowly, feeling so comfortable in the warm room that you almost begin to feel tired
Then, you place your fingertip under her chin, giggling when she looks up at you with wide, questioning eyes
"Is this seat taken?", you hum, your eyes darting down to her lap
And briefly, you see the impact of your words on her, how her eyes widen a little and she moves her sickle aside silently, as if to make space for you
When you sit down, she looks positively flustered, her cheeks pink, her eyes wide, her lips parted a little
Her sickle is still held up mid-air, her arms seemingly frozen in place
She isn't quite sure what to do, almost utterly inexperienced with actual relationships, not ones purely consisting of pleasure and using one another's bodies, and such soft, loving acts
You don't mind, though, and only giggle at her when, at last, she closes her mouth again
And still,
the blush remains
Daniela
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Daniela Dimitrescu
Your love bug
Cuddly, affectionate, flirty, playful, clingy, a tease
Big on touch, on kisses, on hugs, on sitting on one another’s lap
You watch her as she reads, sitting comfortably in the library, her eyes slipping shut occasionally after finishing a page, so utterly comfortable with your hands in her hair
You love spending time together like this
Besides, it’s utterly adorable how relaxed she gets like this
Then, when your legs ache a little too much, you get an idea
She whines when your fingers leave her hair, her golden eyes set on you
Then, you walk up in front of her, a playful smile on your lips as you point to her lap
“Is this seat taken?”, you ask, giggling when her cheeks adapt a soft, pink colour moments after
She nods wordlessly, but fast, a little caught off guard
Despite how flirty she is, she’s a little lost whenever you actually flirt back or tease her back
Or, in this case, simply fluster the sweet thing
When you sit, she automatically wraps her arms around you, a huge smile on her face, though her cheeks are warm and of a bright pink shade
When you kiss her, she’s momentarily too surprised to do much but gasp, but leans into you just a few moments after
Her legs bounce in excitement, but you don’t mind
When you cup her cheeks, she giggles
She doesn’t notice it when she drops her book, wrapping her arms around you instead
By now you know what this means; cuddling, kissing, holding one another
And you wouldn’t have it any other way
You find, she’s adorable
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glossdebut · 2 days ago
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PRICE OF FAME | MYG ★ CH. 2 TEASER
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✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader
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✧ SUMMARY: You were about ready to give up, your career nowhere near what you dreamed it’d be when you started at eighteen, bright-eyed and naive. Reality for you these past few years has consisted of pouting at a camera, ignoring whispers of your name at company events, and ensuring that the stupid, tiny designer purses they keep forcing on you can at least carry a flask. But now, you’re helping a friend in need. For the first time in a long time, it feels like you’re doing something worthwhile with your life. Too bad Min Yoongi, the newest thorn in your side, seems insistent on stopping you. 『 series masterlist 』
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✧ TEASER WARNINGS: none!
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✧ AUTHOR'S NOTE: ask and you shall receive! i still don't have a set drop date for this chapter, but i wanted to post this short teaser for y'all anyway since you've been waiting so patiently. i am so thankful for all of the love i'm getting for this series already!!! chapter one is almost at 500 notes which is SO insane. i get so stupidly giddy every time i receive a reply, reblog, or an ask about this series! feedback and interaction keep me writing and i am so looking forward to what all of you think of this teaser. reminder that you can track the tag 'glossdebut updates' to stay updated on drop dates/word counts/etc.!
P.S. just like with all of my teasers, wording is subject to change when the chapter actually comes out <3
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✧ TEASER WORDCOUNT: 481 words
✧ STATUS: ongoing
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Yoongi hasn’t touched a cigarette since he was twenty one years old.
He picked up the nasty habit at sixteen, when one of his friends doled out African Ice Jacks amongst the group, bragging that his hyung had bought the pack for him. As soon as the lighter was flicked on and the bittersweet taste of bubblegum and tobacco filled Yoongi’s lungs, he was hooked.
It was stupidly easy to get his hands on cigarettes before he was of legal age, even when his friend’s hyung couldn’t supply them for whatever reason. All of the adults around him smoked, including his parents. 
It felt as though cigarettes were an extension of his hand, felt wrong when he didn’t have the option to light one up. During school hours, Yoongi’s fingers would twitch on his desk as he waited for his last class to end.
He was a fucking anxious, wound-up kid. Smoking was the only thing that helped, sometimes. If he had a shit day, at least he could have a cigarette.
When the band got signed, though, things changed. Despite the fact that the majority of the population in Korea smoked, celebrities were vilified for it in the media. For whatever fucking reason. Yoongi didn’t care much what the media had to say about him, but he reasoned that it would be pretty stupid to let his dream die over Ice Jacks. So he quit.
It was hard at first, but it’s been five years now. After so much time, it’s rare that cigarettes even cross his mind, even when others smoke around him.
Sitting across the table from you now, though, Yoongi’s fingers twitch just like they had when he was in grade school staring at a clock.
He and the band started frequenting Yoojung Sikdang long before there was any real hope for fame. It was their chosen spot after every practice. The ajumma who owns it knows their names, remembers their orders by heart. Over the years, the only part of the restaurant that’s changed is their autographed photos on the wall. They’ve celebrated every single milestone here, big or small, just the five of them. Alone.
Wrapping up their first world tour should be no different. It’s their biggest milestone yet, and all Yoongi wanted was to eat ssambap with his best friends. Remind himself that none of the fame matters as long as they still have this.
But here you are. Of course. Encroaching on everything Yoongi’s built, everything he holds dear to his heart.
The only time it’s ever been more than the five of them here was the night they signed their contract, accompanied by two label executives. Even if you’re allegedly riding Jeongguk’s dick, no way are you that fucking important.
Yoongi would laugh if he wasn’t so pissed off. You are such a fucking pest. He just can’t shake you off.
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✧ TAGLIST: @jajabro @pitchblack0309 @sugar-snap @ot72025 @ktownshizzle
@futuristicenemychaos @tea4sykes @sugainmybowl @namjoonsbuspass @wobblewobble822
@yoongiphoria @ohnothisnameisalreadytaken @this-most-assuredly-counts @sugafun @binniesbabe
@1800lxcifrrr @whoa-jo @amarawayne @kimsaerom @bangtangsworld @angellekookie
@jalexad @tarahardcore @valhallawhispers @chimmisbae @notsevenwithyou
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hanniejji · 1 day ago
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birthdays and burnt pancakes
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— hoshina soshiro x gn!reader
— notes: and it's a comeback! thank fuck for a consistent job schedule oh my god. coming back to writing with an 8-12 hours job is a risky take since rest is a luxury itself, but im gonna give it my very best! happy birthday to my husband i love him so much wtf | [masterlist]
words: 715 | warnings: suggestive but no nasty.
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“y'know, i always thought one of the best things to wake up to is you cuddled up to me in one of my shirts.”
“oh my god,” your hand tightened their hold around the handle of the pan, the other retreating its grip on the spatula in favor of clutching into a fist at your chest from fright.
“you scared the fuck out of me,” you hissed and glared pointedly at the smug man.
soshiro, ever the sly man, remains hunched behind the kitchen island, chin propped on his palm with his watchful gaze looking over your busy form with a grin. if you weren't so caught up in the way his sudden appearance took you by surprise, you would've spent some time admiring how untroubled he seemed to be at the moment, so unlike his stiff and composed self on duty.
relaxation, to someone with soshiro's occupation, is luxury itself.
“what can i say?” he hums, “the view is too good for me not to say so out loud.”
“oh shush it,” you turn around to face the frying pan with a grumble, scooping and flipping the pancake.
you hear him suppress his laughter before he shuffles around the kitchen island to stand behind you. calloused and firm hands rest upon either side of your hips, the familiar touch never failing to bring goosebumps along your spine. more so at the warmth of his breath on the skin of your nape.
“you should go back to bed, i'll finish this up in a moment.”
“but i miss you.”
you can hear the pout in his voice. what a whiny man.
“we have the day to ourselves, love,” you turn your head to place a quick peck on the corner of his lips. “i just want to bring my birthday boy his breakfast in bed and then we can go about your day however you want us to spend it, okay?”
“oh? what if i have a different breakfast in mind, hm?” he hums against your ear, fingers now rising up and under your(his) shirt to feel your skin, “one that is currently right in the palm of my hands?”
“you're insatiable and it hasn't even been hours through the morning.”
he snickers at the deadpan tone of your voice, resting his chin on your shoulder to watch you pour the batter in the pan to make another batch, wordlessly complying to your earlier request with a fond look in his eyes.
such a domestic activity and it's driving him insane with all the possibilities of a future spending each and every morning like this with you—ending each and every night with you.
oh god, he's really all in with you, isn't he?
“i really do love the sight of you making breakfast for the both of us early in the morning,” he hums contentedly, the smile on his face obvious from the tone of his voice. “makes me want to marry the life out of you.”
the mention of such commitment escaping his lips so casually brought a flurry of warmth to your cheeks and a funny feeling in your stomach. you know hoshina soshiro well enough to know that he wouldn't spew such things if he doesn't mean them in the slightest. perhaps he says it as a way to seal a promise to you without directly addressing the matter. in any case, it will be a topic for a different day, when the both of you are ready to tackle that stage in your relationship. you do nothing to deny or oppose his statement.
“although,” he drags out a playful tone, “nothing will beat the sight of your disheveled hair sprawled across your pillow, dazed look on your face from lust with your lips parted while we–”
“how are you this horny so early in the morning?” you abruptly elbowed his torso in a futile attempt to save yourself from embarrassment and further teasing.
“also, stop bothering me while i'm cooking!”
“i was merely stating a fact!” he jested with a chime of giggles, nuzzling his face into your hair and wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer to his chest.
“i can't help it when you're being this adorable first thing in the morning!”
“i'm going to feed you burnt pancakes.”
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— © 2024 do not copy and repost my works!
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cupidhoons · 2 days ago
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( 📢 ) ANNOUNCEMENT . . .
hi loves! i didn't want to make this post myself about what has been happening on blr these past few hours due to the fact that didnt want to potentially fuel the fire even more, however after thinking about it some more, i feel as though that i should speak up on behalf of my mutual and friend.
in my opinion, this started from someone checking author's and their authenticity of their writing. though the intentions are very much there and clear, it allows hate anons to rise and continue to spread towards many authors on this platform. it starts nothing but hate train after hate train to writers and it gives the community a toxic environment and it's not the first time that this has happened, either. it disappoints me to say the least that our community has hit such a low point where we constantly come at each other's throats with no regard of how the opposing party feels. not only that, but going as far as exposing and leaking a MINORS face and posting it without their knowledge at all to send hate to my mutual / friend proves my point further. its not only sick and twisted, but its also an invasion of privacy. i will not disclose who it is as it's bad enough that their face is just uploaded on a blog for everyone to see, and i will not be answering anons that has anything to due with this person.
many of you anons who send hate and think that you're remotely even doing anything do not understand how powerful and hurtful your words are. many of you guys do not understand that sending someone hate DOES NOT equal holding a person accountable and educating them at all. you all scream and shout that you want the old tumblr community back and complain how toxic it is nowadays, but none of you realize that you're part of the problem. it's pathetic and disgusting having to see stuff like this happen multiple times and never learn from it.
this is absolutely not what tumblr, especially enhablr, is about. it is not a community where we all send hate to each other and continue to bring other authors down consistently. it's a place for us to write and appreciate enhypen, it's a place for us to meet other engenes and make friends. it truly makes me upset that we've all lost the purpose of this community.
other than my thoughts on this whole thing, i can only pray and hope for the best for my dear friends who were affected in this situation. please continue to report the account and avoid interacting with them further. to my anons, please refrain from asking questions to writers and follow my request to take down the account.
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urlocaldesertdweller · 1 day ago
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Hi hi !!!
Hope you’re doing well. Being loving your writing lately. 💞 keep up the amazing work !!
If you’re taking any requests. Could I please ask for a part 2 for Sentinel x Racer reader. I really liked the idea. Especially how you wrote it from an almost canon perspective of how it started from him just being irked that we were as popular as him lol 😂 It’d be cool to see how you continue the idea with maybe even Orion and D-16 in there.
Of course there’s no rush or pressure. Take care and I hope you keep doing what you love.
-anon
Tf1! Sentinel Prime x Cybertronain racer! Reader
THANK YOUUU!!<333333 for the compliments and ideas of my older stuff!!
(sentinel being possessive, daresay yandere, manipulation i think?)
As we know and knew, Sentinel loves to think of himself much higher than most other bots in comparison. He is a Prime after all!
However you became an exception.
An exception that would be way more special to Sentinel than he’d like to admit.
Although we know he likes to do subtle touches in public. He prefers to keep the relationship outside of business, he claims it just makes things messy for both of you. Considering you are both still highly beloved icons.
Another part of him is to protect you, when an enemy of sorts would use someone close to him to get him in a weak spot but he’ll rather die than admit he is afraid butttttt.
The media in public is so entertaining to the two of you when they talk about this “odd friendship” between The Sentinel Prime and Iacon’s best racer. A good chuckle can be shared when they describe it as nearly a mentor and trainee thing going on.
Going back to the difference of him in public and in more private quarters.
Of course the high and mighty Prime ego never falters. Its mainly the affection from touches and words coming from his lips.
The transition can be overall sudden at the very least. From being the very casual friendly Prime façade he uses for nearly everyone below him, to him sweet talking you. At times it almost feels like Sentinel is trying to drag you away from post race interviews just so he can lay his servos on you.
He almost seems pent up at times. Desperate is a word he hates but it makes things so much more interesting! Although he feels rather dominant in this odd relationship, you know some of his own weaknesses.
Whenever he leaves to “fight and fend off the quintessons, and retrieve the Matrix of Leadership” you found a very consistent pattern of him being nearly weak in the knees for you when he returns.
Tried of keeping this act up for all of Iacon. All he wants to do is rest in your arms, seeing you, hearing you, feeling you. And there you’ll sit awaiting for him, for him to rest his helm on your lap. (Totally thinking about the Jayce and Mel pose from Arcane season 2, episode 1)
Needless to say you have a very special and deep connection, where Sentinel can get to a level of weakness to you and only you. You cant help but find some power within that.
At times you can toy with him, denying your sweet love and affection. When he’s tired hell whine and beg, which is very rare. When he’s not? He’ll only tolerate so much before he’ll take you in his servos himself. Reminding you who has the power in this relationship.
When he is present in Iacon he’ll try to attend everything that you are involved in, races, trainings, interviews, meetings, speeches. Though he’ll be very supportive of your racing career, he doesn’t want the public to see a pattern.
But his support can go a little too far..
At times he still intentionally rigged a race or two just to see his lover win yet another race. From adding sudden obstacles that trigger just for the other competitors, to allowing short cuts just for you<3
If you eventually catch him he’ll try very hard to appear that he never did such a thing! From the innocent optics and gentle calm voice. He loves watching you get feisty at times. It’s what made you so interesting to him.
Speaking of your racing career, of course you have tons of fans. Dare to say you have nearly an equal amount of fans compared to Sentinel! It was one of the other reasons Sentinel wanted you.
Of course some of these fans were none other than Orion Pax and D-16. A pair of miners that get excited just like that rest when you are available to have one on one times with your fans!
Somehow through Orion’s tricky trouble making and dragging D-16 through it all. They seemingly managed to see you last minute out of breath and nearly caught by other bots, Darkwing.
You couldn’t help it! They were so charming that you stopped Darkwing from getting rid of them. To which he stomps off grumbling “miners.” under hist breath.
Orion was extremely thankful that you were even kinder in person! And D-16 was in shock from the whole entire thing alone. With each a firm and warm handshake, they both admired the action of being touched by the best Iacon racer ever.
Their compliments and praise seemed to be never ending. Even after to tried to make room for causal conversation. You couldn’t help but feel a bit of flirt from Orion? Honestly it didn’t get to you though, you are nearly always flirted by your fans. Which for along time you knew how to not let it easily get to you.
Orion and D were an adorable pair, their wonderful personalities made you smile and laugh. In fact the whole deal made you stay overtime, but it was worth it to the very end.
By the time you return to your shared private quarters with Sentinel he looks less than amused.
Turns out Darkwing snitched on you, told Sentinel that some “cog-less miners” were keeping you on overtime with your schedule one on one times with the common bots of Iacon.
Sentinel looked of a mix of emotions to say less.
But you knew right then and there it was less about the cog-less miners and more about the flirting. Since Sentinel was already pretty possessive alone with the relationship between you and your fans.
You’d try to make light of it, saying it was only just some quick praise with two fans. Then Sentinel would take your wrist in his servos tightly and pull you close.
Sentinel would scold you, as he wraps his other servo around your frame enclosing you within a cage of him.
He says this is only for him to “protect” you. Though you are perfectly capable of protecting yourself. And no more one on one times unless he is there to watch you closely.
His once tight servos lets go to cradle your fave plate lovingly. He stand to guide you to your shared resting quarters. His servos forever attached somewhere on to you, like a leash you never knew you wore.
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canmom · 1 day ago
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canmom.art is well overdue getting updated with a lot of posts on here. it still doesn't even have the music theory series, for example. plenty of other posts, book crit and such, needs to go on there. rpg posts are woefully behind current thoughts on all that.
unfortunately this seems to be slipping into the 'bin of large imposing tasks', which i rarely open, instead apparently preferring to say something about AI or some shit, which is easy to start doing.
the habits need to change. my relationship with reading and posting on this site (and other social media feeds like youtube) is not healthy - projects I want to continue have been backburnered for months of years, new ones barely get started, my work is not doing great rn. and yet it seems to represent something I need, because I keep coming back here for many hours when I planned to do other things.
I have tried other approaches, like keeping a personal journal that nobody else will read, but somehow I come back here, maybe because I will get a number for my trouble. the exact number isn't that important, if it isn't zero - sometimes it's less than 20, sometimes it's like 60, these are about equally satisfying. the rare numbers above 100 can be pleasing, but also slightly worrying, since they are more likely to bring in someone who comes in hot with an angry disagreement.
I do however have a lot of admiration for (presumed to be) autistic people who define their own little web corner full of blog posts, fiction, art, comics, manifestos etc. etc. etc. on all of their projects and scattershot interests. Jennifer Diane Reitz is the prototypical example. Schuschinus and xrafstar are powerful examples in the artistic sphere; floraverse is a more community-shape one; qntm is a more normie-aligned one; todepond is a newer flavour; bogleech is borderline, hewing a bit close to a consistent listicle Content(TM) flavour. they might deliver fiction, essays, or some other stranger thing. sometimes the material is quite inaccessible to outsiders, or requiring immersion in an insular but devoted community, but these are not totally inaccessible - they aren't timecube style crank websites. other times it goes to great pains to lay it all out and be somewhere you can get lost, and yet can't help but have its own specific character. it must be at least a little intriguing. you should be saying 'what's the deal with this' - it must have its own deal, but the more inscrutable the deal, the better.
depending on the person, the look and feel of such sites can be aggressively saturated and high contrast blast, or at the extreme end of programmer-driven cleanness and readability. what you should not find is ads. the site is paid for by a day job, or perhaps a patreon. it is personal. it accumulates sporadically over the years, more varied than your average webcomic site, by the whims of its creator.
very often people who run such a site will have strange opinions that interject unexpectedly into their work. JDR infamously positioned herself as the expert on 'transexuality' in the early internet, presenting a very partisan medicalist account best represented in the 'scientific' are-you-trans test called the COGIATI. today I came across someone from the ratsphere called 'gwern', whose site was among the most impressively featured static sites I've encountered with some very clever hover-based interactions, but they will also randomly drop into some bizarre eugenic parenthetical about the effect of mental illness on evolutionary fitness or some other condescending shit. baffling person. this is part of the character of such websites, though. you don't get to be a weirdo on the internet without being, well, a weirdo.
if you vibe with their flavour of weirdness, finding such a site is like finding a treasure trove, and feels more like getting to know someone's soul or whatever than most other encounters on this dreadful internet. even if this is as illusory as all other parasocial relationships.
this is what I want canmom.art to be. perhaps it already approximates it. and if I can make it the main nucleus of activity, then I am less tied to one or another social network. such is the hope...
when I die, I hope my website will serve as some sort of time capsule record of what I was, a place for someone to discover what one life was animated by in the early 21st century, and ideally a trove of art to fascinate them. but it is perpetually incomplete; for all the pride I take in making it standards-compliant web engineering, it's never quite there. some known issues: the comment field breaks the responsive design causing a huge horizontal scroll on mobile. it is not loading as instantaneously as a static site should, largely due to the large web font, with a warning about layout being forced that I have not solved. most images in the animation night archives do not have alt text, and may never. there are no pages which collate tags.
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viaviavie · 2 days ago
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I keep coming back to your profile to reread your fics because I immediately fell in love with how you write them.
The ones for Jamil? Immaculate. Absolutely amazing. I can clearly imagine how Yuu walks up to Riddle and Leona after winter break and apologized to them without giving them any context as to why they are sorry.
And „A painted white rose“? I feel so conflicted about that open ending. Not because I have any problems with it, I absolutely love it, but I just wish I could read more about it. I just enjoy reading about the conflicts that arise within that Au.
So thank you for you hard work in providing your readers with such amazing content. Can’t wait for what else you have in store. <3
UWAAA THANK YOU FOR YOUR PRAISE ;-;
Poor prefect, they feel so bad about the things they said, even if it was just for pretend. I do think that they ended up apologizing without context, cue some puzzled expressions from the two housewardens. Riddle's just "???", and will receive no context whatsoever... unless Floyd decides to blab about it in a fit of laughter, but there's nothing to worry about there. Prefect had to establish a little deal with Azul to ensure that Riddle hears nothing of that defamation incident in Scarabia.
Leona, on the other hand, does end up hearing about it one way or another. He does get momentarily annoyed for a good moment, at least until he realizes that Jamil fell for that stupid trick. It might even send Leona into a laughing fit when he finds out you practically seduced Jamil and succeeded. What a clever prefect you are. So much for a cunning housewarden, toppled down by the harmless magicless student. You bet that Leona doesn't let Jamil hear the end of it when Book 6 happens.
Regarding Painted White Rose, I actually do plan to post more blurbs/drabbles based on it. I really loved the idea of a Time Loop AU with Ace, and there was just so much potential for it! There was actually a few things that I removed from the original copy, like this:
Deuce does not understand why Ace awoke with tears in his eyes, gripping his blankets and hiding his face away like the prideful boy that he was. Suddenly, he found himself being dragged out of his own bed, following the panicked murmurs about the prefect going missing. Deuce does not understand why Ace struggled with his dreams, or why he finds himself waiting with him at the playing field, looking at the sky that day. And yet, nothing ever makes sense. The housewardens have never left, Ramshackle dorm was never destroyed, and you remained in one piece.
There was meant to be a small part dedicated to the events in Book 6, but I didn't wanna oversaturate that fic with flashbacks. However, let's consider Deuce for a hot second here.
He is probably the next person who has been consistently close to Ace through all timelines. Not to mention that Deuce is practically his neighbor, he was definitely witness to Ace waking up from those dreams. While Ace does look super crazy in those moments, Deuce was also willing to hitch a ride to NRC during the Scarabia fiasco. He would likely believe Ace if his friend was honest about what he was seeing.
Another deleted passage regarding the prefect's fate in the Book 7 bad ending!
Frozen in the crook of your shoulder, Ace mumbled against the cold fabric of your jacket. “How far did we get?” His heart was numb as he felt you shook your head against his dripping cheek. “We didn’t even get the chance to escape to the ocean before we all succumbed to Malleus’ magic.”
Kinda felt like it would have been better to let the readers imagine how Book 7, but this was my downer ending. Perhaps this was why Ace barely resists at the end of the fic. I mean, how could he possibly stand against the strongest student on campus? It's a futile attempt to fight back. But for what it was worth, his act of holding you close was the best he can do to piss off Malleus.
Speaking of Malleus and Book 7, one thing I never mentioned was that Ace would have been getting more bad dreams about Book 7. (Now that I thought about it more, I had opportunities to keep adding in glimpses of Malleus but never saw it. Massive L for me ;-;). Ace's view on Malleus shifts from one of indifference to absolute suspicion and anger. Ace doesn't like it when the prefect hangs out with Malleus, hence why he stayed with them at nights to stop those interactions. By a certain point, Ace does villainize Malleus to a degree because of how often he dreams of the prefect succumbing to sleep because of him. I do wanna explore this shift in relationships soon!
Thank you for sending in that ask! I love rambling and yapping about the stuff I write, so thank you for enabling me :)))
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lokidjarin-7567 · 6 hours ago
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Day 14: Threesome
Frank Castle x Matt Murdock x You
Contents: fem!reader x Frank Castle (The Punisher x Matt Murdock , FMM threesome
W/C: 2.4k
So… it’s been a while. I’ve been super busy and I’ve had awful writers block I’m sorry guys, but istg I will get this Kinktober done if it’s the last thing I do. But I made this one nice and long and slutty to make up for it!! I love Frank and Matt and hopefully yall do too <3
Kinktober Masterlist | General Masterlist | AO3
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“Fuck.. Frank,” you whined, eyes rolling back into your head with how far inside he was hitting you, how thick he felt.
“What is it, baby, you want me to go harder?” You whimpered in response, desperate for more but not even being able to speak, already winded from his relentless pace. “Go on, baby, let him hear you.” It dawned on you then - he could hear you. Your bedroom was adjoining the guest room where Matt was sleeping, and with his sense, there was no doubt that he could hear everything…
Oh God, he could hear everything…
You did your very best to keep quiet, even as he rubbed you clit, and somehow pressed himself further into you. You even tried to hold you breath, your pants, but even if you somehow managed that, he would still hear your heartbeat, or the filthy noises Frank was making every time his body met yours.
“Let him hear you.” He repeated, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “You hear that, Red.” He spoke with a challenging tone, quiet, sure, but loud enough for Matt to hear, and the thought made you shudder, pussy fluttering around him. “I know you want her too, don’t you? It’s pretty damn obvious…” It was a taunt, blatant and outright, one that you were sure Matt wouldn’t respond to. But then you heard movement in the room next to you. Frank’s finger moved to your lips, sealing them shut with one thick fidget across your cupids bow. He burrowed himself into you, pressing deep and holding himself inside, letting you whine between closed lips. Matt’s footsteps were audible in the next room, even over the blood rushing in your head. He was pacing back and forth. Deliberating. Frank’s finger then left your mouth, trailing down your body to your clit and pressing small circles around it as his cock still filled you. You whimpered, legs shaking as he continued to keep you close to your edge.
“Reddd,” he cooed, desperately trying to goad him with that stupid nickname, “she’s close…”
Surely he wouldn’t actually join you. Of course, Frank wasn’t exactly wrong. You’d noticed the way his head cocked when you spoke, the way he stood close to you when you were working together, as though guarding you. The way he seemed almost dejected when Frank kissed you, or put his arm around you in protection.
You had noticed it most obviously today. You and Frank had finally found the ring of traffickers you had been tracing for weeks, and of course, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wasn’t far behind. It had been happening more frequently - running into each other out in the city - and the first few times, Matt and Frank had tried to out-testosterone each other, as though claiming their territory. It took a while, but eventually, you had helped them see how much better they worked together.
And today was no different. It was a matter of minutes until they were all incapacitated and the police were called, and not the corrupt ones, as Matt assured you consistently. Frank was more of a take-justice-into-your-own-hands kind of vigilante, which you didn’t mind. For the most part, you even agreed with him. ‘Dead men don’t rape’ had been your mantra since you were thirteen. But it was refreshing not always having to spill blood. Well, not as much as usual anyway.
The problem was, Matt had been badly hurt. You hadn’t even noticed until he collapsed onto the tarmac, blood gushing from his side, and a nasty welt blooming on his cheek. You were panicking quickly. He usually didn't show when he got hurt. You’d seen his entire back sliced open and he still managed to fight, but now, he could barely walk, and there was no chance he was making it all the way to his home. You begged Frank to let you bring him to your apartment and patch him up. Matt argued weakly, barely able to form coherent sentences, but Frank quickly caught on to your distress, telling him to stop moaning and that it this happening whether he liked it or not.
The three of you managed to stumble home, practically carrying Matt up the stairs to your lousy place. You settled him on the couch before grabbing the first-aid kit you had made up as soon as you and Frank had started this vigilante… thing - you weren’t even sure what to call it really.
“Sorry…” you muttered quietly, as you tried to ascertain where the blood was coming from. He winced as your fingers grazed over his side. “I can’t see where this…” You were quiet, mumbling as you tried to cover up your awkwardness. You needed to take his suit off, but even if he was bleeding, you didn’t quite feel comfortable just undressing him.
“Let me have a look.” Frank said, placing three glances of whiskey on the table. Matt had gotten your subtle hint and started to unstrap his body armour as Frank settled next to him. It turned out to be a stab wound, along with a nasty gash that stretched down his side, shallower than it initially looked though.
“This is gonna hurt, Red..” he muttered, grabbing the antiseptic and bandages. You sat of the edge of the coffee table, grabbing a wipe to clean the small wound on his face, hoping to provide distraction. As soon as Frank started, he hissed in pain, hand shooting out to your thigh and grabbing hard. You had tried your best not to noticed, but you couldn’t help but glanced down at his bare torso as you continued to carefully blot at the cut on his cheek, watching the way his muscles flexed in pain, and the rise and fall of his chest with each steading breath he took. You blushed lightly as you continued to work, but you could feel Frank glancing at you.
He wasn’t insecure in the slightest. And your relationship was very much an open one - with your histories and professions, it would be stupid not to be. But he had never seen it in real life: the look you usually gave him being aimed towards somebody else.
And now you were here, under his strong body, trying not to climax too early and listening intently for the slightest hint that Matt was going to respond to his taunt.
And then he did. You could hear footsteps quickening, then pausing right outside the door, a soft curse muttered under his breath. You whimpered in disappointment, frustration building as Frank fucked into you hard and his fingers moved faster against your aching core.
“Fuck, Matt, are you coming in or not?” You whined it quietly, cautiously. Just loud enough that he could hear, but just quiet enough that you all had plausible deniability if he changed his mind. Luckily for you, he hadn’t.
The door flew open and he strode to you urgently, pressing his lips against yours with fervor. The first taste of him was overwhelming—something you'd wanted for so long, finally happening, and it was better than you could have hoped. You could only imagine how he felt in that moment, his groan of relief and passion falling into your mouth. Your hand flew to his hair, fingertips running through the soft locks. His hand cupped your chin then traced lower, forming a delicate cage around your neck, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the sensitive skin there. You whined against his lips, your hips bucking into Frank uncontrollably. He had been watching the two of you with a dark look on his face, buried to the hilt inside you. It suited him. He was possessive but not jealous, protective but not obsessive—a perfect middle ground that he thrived in.
His thrusts deepened, and you let out a yelp at the sudden increase of pressure. Matt smiled. His fingers moved from your neck, trailing down your collarbone and lower until he was circling your nipple. He barely touched you, light as air, yet the sensation was dizzying. He started to increase the pressure until he was ready, and then he pinched, just hard enough to send a sharp jolt of pleasure straight to your head. Paired with the way Frank was fucking you, his thumb still circling your clit, it wasn't long before you were coming undone. White hot pleasure overwhelmed your senses, muscles locking and shaking under their expert touches. You tried to moan, the guttural sound escaping you, but Matt’s mouth swallowed it.
“That’s it baby…” Frank crooned, still fucking you through it. “Atta girl.”
It was a while before you could breath again, body still feeling the aftershocks of your orgasm, but you barely had time to recover before you were being moved. You just about registered when your body hit Frank’s solid form, his arms wrapping around you as he tried to manhandle you into position, whispering sweet instructions in your ear.
“You’ve got another round in you, don’t you gorgeous? That’s it, good girl, on your hands and knees for us… give Red a chance to feel that pretty pussy of yours.” You were exhausted, totally fucked out, but when you felt Matt’s hands slide up the back of your thighs, onto your back and hips, as though trying to commit the very shape of you to his memory, you could feel yourself getting wet again. You nodded, smiling up at Frank through half lidded eyes and settling into position, arching your back for the gorgeous man behind you. You glanced back to see him, now stripped naked, his arms flexing as he gripped your hips tight, a low groan escaping his lips. A hand fell to your chin, pulling your attention back to the man in front of you, thumb smearing across your lips then into your mouth. Reminding you who you belonged to. After all the flirting, the teasing, the fucking… you were his. However non-committal you were, however far away you were, whoever you were with, deep down you knew, you would always fall back into his arms.
A knowing smile flashed across his face. He knew it. As you knelt there, his thumb in your hot mouth, your back arched for another man but your eyes on him, he knew he had you.
And that was why he let Matt sink into you. You moaned around Frank’s thumb as he slowly pressed himself deep, feeling every inch of him as he controlled the pace with his fingers biting into your hips. You tried to buck backwards, to make him speed up, to just fuck you already, but he wouldn't let you, his strength keeping you exactly where he wanted you. When his hips finally met your ass, he let out a low growl, pressing his body to the back of yours, and Frank finally freed your mouth, allowing Matt to gather your hair in his hand and twist your head back to kiss you hungrily. His lips left yours, and you whined, but then the hand in your hair started guiding you down towards Frank’s waiting cock, thick and hard and leaking precum and you realised it had been his hand all along. Frank’s. You shouldn't be surprised. You knew he was always in control, and sex was no different.
As your ready mouth sank down onto his erection, he wasted no time bottoming out, pressing into your throat and letting you gag around him just as Matt started to move, dragging out of you with aching patience, then rutting back in. It only took a few thrusts before he was losing control, and his pace quickened, whines and pants and curses falling from his lips as his hips slapped against you. When Frank finally pulled you off him, you were gasping, but he didn't let you have much of a breather, just enough to ease the burning in your lungs a tiny bit. Tears were pricking in your eyes, but he soothed you with praises and pet names, and you knew you could take it. You would take anything he gave you. He pulled you off again, but this time, not enough to take even a full breath before he pressed himself completely into your throat. You had never taken so much before, nose pressing against the very base of him, and you could taste yourself on him, a realisation that made your cunt flutter around Matt, earning a groan. You swallowed around him, eager to please, and it was enough. He stuttered your name, pressing you just a touch deeper, before he came down your throat, and you swallowed quickly, not wanting to waste a single drop.
He finally released you when he was completely spent, letting your head fall to the bed as you desperately caught your breath. You couldn't relax for long though, as Frank scooped you up once more, shuffling forward as your body was flush with his, head lulling over his shoulder. This position meant Matt was fucking up into you, hitting a spot that made you whimper in pure ecstasy, so good you could do nothing but dig your nails into Frank’s back. He growled, hand trailing down your body to find your clit and gently circle, pressure so light you shouldn’t have felt a thing, but you were already so overstimulated, so pent up, and with the way Matt was reaching that perfect place, you were so close.
“There you go pretty girl… that's it baby come on his cock for me…” Frank’s words were the last thing you needed to push you over the edge and you cried out, pleasure so good it was almost painful, whole body squirming in his arms. Matt’s hips stuttered, and he bit down onto your shoulder to suppress his moan as he came inside you, hands still firmly gripping your hips and grinding into you.
Your mind was hazy when you were finally finished, completely melted in Frank’s arms, Matt’s cock still inside you.
“This isn't going to become a habit now, pretty boy. Don't get it twisted. It was only because you got stabbed.” Matt just chuckled, his body collapsing into yours and you felt his cheek against your shoulder, hot breath fanning across your upper arm.
“It was worth it.”
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crazy-form · 1 year ago
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why is my laptop's fan sounding like it's about to take off sir how can i help you to NOT be so loud
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lord-squiggletits · 9 months ago
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I think the key component to my personal reading of post-Delphi Pharma is that he's trying to be a horrible person on purpose. Not "on purpose" in the way that people have free will to exercise their own choices, but in that Pharma's "mad doctor" persona is a performance he puts on to deliberately embrace how much everyone else hates him. Basically, if people already think you're a "bad Autobot" and a horrible doctor who just kills his patients for fun, why try to prove otherwise to people who have already made up their minds about you? Just fully embrace the fact that people see you as an asshole. Don't try to change their minds. Don't plead for their forgiveness or understanding. Just stop caring. If you're going to be remembered as a monster, you might as well be a memorable monster, and eke as much pleasure and hedonism as you can out of it before karma catches up to you and you inevitably crash and burn.
I mean, I guess you could just go the route of "Oh, Pharma was always a fucked up creepy guy and Delphi was just him taking the mask off," but I really don't like that interpretation because, for one, it feels really wrong to take a character like Pharma becoming evil under duress and going, "Oh well clearly he did the things he did because he was evil all along," as if somehow Pharma breaking under blackmail/torture/threat of horrible death was a sign of him having poor moral character. As opposed to, you know, suffering under the very real threat of horrible death for himself and everyone he cares about while being manipulated by a guy who specializes in psychological torture.
The second reason is that it just doesn't make sense to write Pharma as having been evil all along. I mean...
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Occam's Razor says that the best argument is the one with the simplest explanation. Doesn't it make way more sense to take Pharma's appearances in flashbacks, his friendship with Ratchet, his stunning medical accomplishments, and the few we see of him speaking kindly/sympathetically (or in the least charitable interpretation, at least professionally) towards his patients and conclude "This guy was just a normal person, if exceptionally talented." Taking all of these flashback appearances at face value and assuming Pharma was being genuine/honest is a way simpler and more logical explanation than trying to argue that Pharma for the past 4 million years was just faking being a good doctor/person. I mean, it's possible within the realm of headcanon, but the fact is Pharma's appearances in the story are so brief that there simply wasn't room in the story for there to be some sort of secret conspiracy/hidden manipulation behind why Pharma acted the way he did in the past.
I just can't help but look at things like Pharma's friendship with Ratchet (himself a good person and usually a fine judge of character) and the fact that even post-Delphi, pretty much every single mention of Pharma comes with some mention of "He was a good doctor for most of his life" or "He was making major headways in research [before he started killing patients]" which implies that even the Autobots themselves see Pharma's villainy as a recent turn in his life compared to how for "most of his life" he "used to be" a good doctor.
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And although Pharma doesn't know this, we as the readers (and even other characters like Rung) know about Aequitas technology and the fact that it actually works, so... if Pharma really was an unrepentant murderer, why couldn't he get through the forcefield too? The Aequitas forcefield doesn't require that a person be completely morally pure and free of wrongdoing or else how could Tyrest get through, just that they feel a sense of inner peace and lack feelings of guilt. Pharma has murdered and tortured people by this point, and put on quite a campy and theatrical show of how much he sees it as a fun game, so why then can he not get through?
It circles back to my headcanon at the start of this post that the "mad doctor" persona is just that-- a persona. Delphi/post-Delphi Pharma's laughing madman personality is just so far removed from every flashback we saw of him and everything we can infer based on how other people see/saw him before that, to me, the mad doctor act is (at least in large part, if not fully) a persona that Pharma puts on to put his villainy in the forefront.
To avoid an overly simplistic/ableist take, I don't think Tarn tortured Pharma into turning crazy. To me, it's more like the constant pressure of death by horrific torture, the feeling of martyrdom as Pharma kept secret that he was the only one standing between Delphi and annihilation, the physical isolation of Messatine as well as the emotional separation from Ratchet, being forced to violate his medical oaths (pretty much the only thing Pharma's entire life has been about), etc. All of that combined traumatized Pharma to the point that the only way he could avoid cracking was to just stop caring about all of it. Because at least then, even if he's still murdering patients to save Delphi from a group of sadistic freaks, Pharma doesn't have to feel guilty and sick about doing it. As opposed to the alternatives, which were probably either going off the deep end and killing himself to escape, or confessing to what he did and getting jailed for it.
In that light, Pharma becoming a mad doctor makes sense. It avoids the bad writing tropes of "oh this character who was good his entire life was actually just evil and really good at hiding it" as well as "oh he got tortured and went crazy that's why he's so random and silly and killing people, he's crazy" and instead frames Pharma's evil as something he was forced into, to the point where in order to avoid a full psychological breakdown and keep defending Delphi, he just had to stop caring about the sanctity of life or about what other people might think of him.
Then, of course, the actual Delphi episode happens, and Pharma's own lifelong best friend Ratchet basically spits in his face and sees him as nothing more than a crazy murderer who went rogue from being a good Autobot. Then Pharma gets his hands cut off and left to die on Messatine. At that point, Pharma has not only been mentally/emotionally broken into losing his feelings of compassion, he's received the message loud and clear: He is alone. Everyone hates him. Not even his own best friend likes him any more. No one even cared enough about him to check if he actually died or not. He will only ever be remembered as a doctor who went insane and killed his patients.
So in the light of 1. Having all of your redeeming qualities be squeezed out of you one by one for the sake of survival and 2. Having your reputation and all of your positive relationships be destroyed and 3. People only know/care about you as "that doctor who became evil and killed his patients" rather than the millions of years of good service that came before.
What else is there to do but internalize the fact that you'll forever be seen as a monster and a freak, and embrace it? People already see you as a murderer for that blackmail deal you did, so why not become an actual murderer and just start killing people on a whim? People already see you as an irredeemable monster who puts a stain on the Autobot name, so why beg for their forgiveness when you could just shun them back? You've already become a murderer, a traitor, and a horrible doctor, so what's a few more evil acts added to the pile? It's not like anyone will ever forgive you or love you ever again.
Why care? Why try to hold on to your principles of compassion, kindness, medical ethics, when an entire lifetime of being a good person did nothing to save you from blackmail and then abandonment? Why put yourself through the emotional agony of feeling lonely, guilty, miserable, when you could just... stop caring, and not hurt any more?
#squiggposting#pharma apologism#i'm sure the doylist reason for the writing is just that pharma was a designated villain#so since he's a villain and 'crazy' it's fine for everyone even the good guys to treat him like complete trash#i just think from a watsonian perspective taking a sympathetic approach is way more interesting and logically consistent#what i mean is like. from a meta perspective one of the best ways to show that a character is super evil and not worth saving#is when even the good guy heroes. the ones who are supposed to be kind and compassionate and wise. see him as dirt#and this is also kind of a necessity in most plots bc TF is the kind of series that just needs action villains and long-term antagonists#so not every villain is written or has a plot to be made redeemable. and pharma is one of these bc he's not important or a legacy character#so from a doylist (meta) perspective you could read the autobots' disregard of pharma as a sign of#'this guy is not meant to have your sympathy as a reader. pay no attention to him'#but from a watsonian (in universe) perspective it paints a miserable picture of pharma being utterly forsaken by the ppl he served alongsid#and like yeah i'm super autistic about pharma so of course i view him with sympathy but like#the idea of being a loyal and good person for years only to be subjected to a Torment Nexus of#being blackmailed into breaking all of the oaths you held sacred. under threat of you and all your comrades dying horrible torturous deaths#then when your comrades find out about it they focus solely on the 'harvesting organs' and not on the 'blackmail' part#and then you get literally left for dead by your comrades and best friend hating your guts#and then you get rescued by a guy who uses you as a test subject for his evil machine#this is a fucking nightmare scenario like pharma could hardly be suffering more if the author TRIED to make him suffer#and for me it's like. the evil pharma did can't be decontextualized to what drove him to that. as well as the question of like#how easily ppl can write someone off as evil and turn a blind eye to (or even find satisfaction in) their suffering bc theyre evil#and either brought it on themselves or it's just karma paying a visit#like. i feel like if pharma WERE a shitty doctor and a terrible person his whole life then the delphi situation would feel like karma#but the way it's written and the lore retroactively put in makes it feel more pharma getting thrown in a torture carousel#and THEN becoming evil. but then being treated as if he was always evil or was some sort of bad apple#bc like i'm not opposed to LOLing when a villain gets a karmic torture/death related to the wrongs they committed#but in pharma's case it feels less like karma and more like endless torture + being abandoned by ppl who should have been more loyal
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