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tact-and-impulse · 9 months

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Three Strands Part III

Conclusion was a little late, but I'm happy with how it turned out! (Second half is NSFW.) Thank you @shinkaneweek for hosting the event! FF.net, AO3

part iii: purpose

The warning sign was that the lobby was crowded. A company gathering had been diverted here, or some other excuse which Kougami doubted. Night had already fallen, and it was time to capture a fox. Whether these people were Yanase’s conspirators or not, it could be determined afterwards.

He placed his hand on Akane’s lower back, murmuring in her ear. “Let’s move.”

“Right.” They hastily wove through the gaps, to the concierge desk. The wait for the card keys was excruciating, followed by the elevator ride upwards. But they weren’t stopping, instead headed for the stairs. Yanase’s office was located on a hidden half floor, part of a renovation upon her purchase of the building.

Akane unzipped her bag, passing over one of the Dominators. He gripped the handle and the automated speech was almost nostalgic. The elevator opened, but the hallway was empty. A scan on her end confirmed no biological signatures. Together, they proceeded to the furthest wall, where the passage was located.

As soon as he opened the door, he caught a snap of crimson light, a motion sensor going off. Immediately, he grabbed Akane, bracing his arm around her torso. The wooden stairs suddenly folded, and the floor of the closet dropped. An irritating defensive measure, installed by its paranoid owner. He was frowning at the dark ceiling when her hand slipped around the back of his head, bringing his face down.

His heart raced. Was she trying to-?

A blast above ended that thought, and by the time he registered the mounted artillery in place of a security camera, Akane had fired a Decomposer shot. The machinery crumbled in a blue haze, but it certainly wasn’t the only one. They had to find cover. And they did have access to a place. They rushed towards the room, disabling more security guns, and the door slammed behind them. He briefly checked both of them for injuries; he had a singed sleeve but nothing else.

Akane persuaded him to remove his jacket, before the Holo disguises were dissolved and she contacted her team through her wrist device. Meanwhile, he investigated their hiding place. It was larger than a typical guest room; a sitting area with a kitchenette, a spacious clean bathroom, and a separate bedroom…with a king bed. Were they placed in one of the honeymoon suites? He didn’t know whether he wanted to confirm it or not.

“All clear.” He relayed.

“Thank you. The others are trying to infiltrate the security system and locate Yanase. What about SAD?”

He peered at his messages. “They think some of the immigrants are on the premises, trying to evacuate them safely. Are we stuck here?”

“As part of lockdown measures, unfortunately. Mika didn’t want the risk so she forced a hard reset.”

A new text popped up and he fought back a smile. “Gino told me not to drive you crazy.”

“A little late for that…”

“Huh? Did you say something?”

“No, I’m just thinking out loud. Anyway, I’ll send a Pillbug to travel through the vents and support the others.” She activated the bot, and it skittered up the cream-colored wallpaper into a ceiling grate.

“Thanks. Keep me updated.” He peered past the curtains, but there was no balcony or railing to scale. Too far to jump, and since they were in the middle of the city, zero chance of rescue by flight. They were stuck. However, he was oddly calm, his perception straying instead to her presence and movements.

She’d sacrificed her life and reputation, in order to protect the law. Her voice had sounded thready when he first visited, stronger over the months, but he noted how thin she became. She had winced at the sunshine upon her release, looking as if she was about to weep at the taste of a good meal. She deserved to have space and to enjoy the world after so long. That was what he’d been telling himself. If he thought she was cute while admiring the cherry blossom petals or finishing a bowl of noodles, he wouldn’t let it show. And then, he dove straight into this tempting fantasy of marrying her. An idiot’s behavior, indeed.

“Not much else to do, until there’s a new development. I guess we’ll have to wait patiently.” She stood beside him, close enough that he could discern the scent of light citrus. She smoothed her hair, and the ruby ring glittered under the lamp light.

Gruffly, he said. “You can take it off, if you want.”

And in return, her challenging stare fixed him in place. “Well, I don’t. It may have been for the job, but I’m too attached now. Besides, you don’t actually want me to stop wearing the ring.”

His gaze drifted. “That’s…I did say understanding people was your strength.”

“Kougami-san, won’t you be honest with me?”

Now, he regarded her with the full force of his attention. She looked endearing, with her pleading eyes and her lips in an inviting curve. Against his will, his voice sounded hoarse. “You already know I’ll do so with my actions. What you’re asking for will change things between us. If you’re prepared, don’t run away.”

“In that case, you shouldn’t run either.” She reached for his hand, interlacing their fingers.

A thrill surged beneath his skin, right to his chest; it reminded him of a rainy night, eight years ago. He knelt, sweeping under her slender legs, and lifted her. “Then, no point in standing by the window.”

“This is familiar, except without the handcuffs.” She nervously laughed. “It’s been on my mind; why’d you place the other cuff on your wrist?”

“Ah…I don’t know.” He grimaced. An inadequate answer. “Maybe, I had accepted I wanted to be with you, for better or worse. My clumsy attempt at expressing how I feel.” Gently, he lowered her onto the bed but her touch moved to pull him in.

“So, you should take responsibility for your clumsiness.”

And at long last, he kissed her.

***

This was an ironic end to their pretend engagement, but she couldn’t complain. She could tell he was still exercising restraint, his mouth closed and surprisingly tender. She lightly bit down, an encouragement, and he made a low deep sound that warmed her entire body. Instantly, she wanted more. She pulled him down, but he resisted, an unspoken question in his dark gaze.

“Right now, I just want you.” She insisted. “You can be slow or gentle later.”

He seemed to relax, then his mouth widened in a smirk. “Agreed. I’ll be thorough.” He grabbed his collar, wrestling out of his shirt.

She quickly unbuttoned her blouse and nearly snapped the zipper of her skirt, throwing them off the edge of the bed. She was eager to help with his belt buckle, though he had paused. And she remembered why, a little pleased.

His eyes darted all over her, and then, red crept up his ears. “Didn’t know you wore these things.”

Admittedly, she had caved and bought a few lingerie sets. This one was deep burgundy, the bra embroidered with a floral lace pattern and the panties held together by artful strings. She cheekily replied. “I was told I like to tease.”

He swallowed, his throat working. “Then, it’s my turn. I’m unfair after all.” His callused hands landed above her knees, spreading them apart.

Cool air washed over her exposed folds. Oh. She forgot about that feature. Reflexively, she tried to sit up, about to protest, when his forehead pressed against hers. This kiss was rougher, demanding her full attention or she’d drown. His touch was purposeful on her skin, caressing up and up. A soft but unmistakably slick noise caused her to gasp, and he didn’t relent.

He braced above, his leg sliding between hers as he pinned her wrists. In this position, she was completely vulnerable. The kiss was a further distraction, and she gave in. She was aware of the stretch, his advances and exploring turns, preparing her as he said, her own excitement. His tongue stroked the roof of her mouth as his finger curled inside, in simultaneous identical motion. Her head spun.

“Make it easy. I’ve got you.” He rasped in her ear. Damn it, why did he have to be sweet? “Almost there. Akane.”

She broke, using each syllable of his name as he pried that orgasm out of her. She was still shivering when she opened her eyes. But he wasn’t smug or proud. He looked…a little in awe? Stunned, like he couldn’t believe she came from his fingers. Then, he tilted his head, the recognizable contemplation mixed with the newer heat of interest.

Unable to bear it, she asked. “Is something wrong?”

“No. I was getting ahead of myself, thinking about how I want to see every variation of your face in bed.”

“...Kougami-san, you’re absolutely ruthless.”

“Funny, I don’t remember you calling me that a minute ago.”

Her cheeks burned, and without a good verbal retort, she unhooked her bra and accepted the slight slackening of his jaw. She resisted the urge to cover herself, keeping her chin high even as the belt came off. The last of their clothing was discarded, and he tore open a condom, a souvenir from the bathroom. Her imagination hadn’t done him enough justice; he gave a firm twist for security and she was going to remember that particular sight forever. Her left hand tangled within his hair, her brilliant crimson emblem of victory as she gladly welcomed him.

Not slow and not gentle. Her nails scored his broad back, and she was certain there’d be bruises mimicking his fingers on her hips in the morning. But she didn’t care. Heat and strength, force and provocation. Years of admiration, frustration, and mutual understanding - converging into the inevitable. This was what she needed, and he was hers.

His thrusts became uneven, a swear punctuating his heavy breaths. She stroked the nape of his neck, and took the initiative in kissing him. He hissed and drove against her; she found a smaller peak and crested it, squeezing him for all she was worth.

The stickiness was the first thing she noticed when her mind had settled again. She must have wriggled because he slowly slid out of her, rolling off. She exhaled; already, she felt empty and wondered if it’d always be like this. A shadow fell over her, and her gaze languidly drifted to him. He was carefully studying her reaction.

Did he think she was regretting it? Idiot. She leaned in, using her teeth to imprint a circle in his shoulder. At his grunt, she turned on her other side and clarified. “A ring of your own. For now.”

His arms looped around her waist, his thumbs caressing underneath her breasts, and she could feel the vibration of his voice when he echoed. “For now.”

The haze was shattered by an incoming message, thankfully a text. Yanase had been barricaded in her office, coaxed out by Arata and Kei. The immigrant workers were accounted for and pending transfer to mental rehabilitation. A success, on all counts. And a formal close to the undercover mission.

If anyone was curious why they had their Holos back on, they didn’t ask.

The following week, Akane submitted a request for personal time off. She tidied her desk, the cool silver chain around her neck shifting with her movements. The ruby dangled under her shirt, before resting once more on her chest. The elevator descent was quiet, and she didn’t spare a backwards glance at the tower.

The parked car was a block away, and she entered through the unlocked passenger side. “Sorry about the wait.”

“It’s not like I would have left.” Kougami was obviously amused, watching her fasten her seatbelt. “This trip wouldn’t mean anything without you.”

“The same line of thought with the job we just had.” She wryly pointed out.

“Exactly. Ready?”

“Yes.” Her hand tightly gripped his, as they drove away.

#shinkaneweek #shinkane ppp #shinkane #psycho pass #psycho pass providence #wrote this in between night work and naps

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circusheart · 1 year

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for any linguistics mutuals out there curious about my idiolect

pin-pen merger - i can distinguish them if needed/speaking carefully, but 90 percent of the time, the vowel is unambiguously /ɪ/

cot-caught merger - absolute and total; i can't reliably produce /ɔ/ at all when speaking english; the merged vowel is close to /ɑ/ but slightly more forward, approaching /ä/, but it is NEVER rounded

wine-whine merger - merged in most of my speech, but unmerged when speaking with people with more prominent southern accents (for reference, my grandparents all completely lacked the merger, my dad is mostly unmerged but it's volatile, and my mom retains /ʍ/ in some very frequent function words, like "why" and "what"

l-vocalization - basically completely absent; i pronounce the /l/ in words like <walk, talk, old, yolk, caulk, calm> etc; "caulk" and "cock" being homophones for most GA speakers didn't even occur to me until my early 20's. the /l/ in these words is often velar, though: [ɫ̪~ʟ]

my /aɪ/ diphthong, when present, is very weak; it's usually in the range of /ae/ or even /aɛ/; when speaking more basilectally, /aː/ is a very common realization, except for the pronoun <I>, which retains diphthongization more readily than other words

/æ/ raising - before all nasals, /æ/ is [eə], but consistently [æ~æə] everywhere else

northern cities vowel shift - basically completely absent

my /u/ is pretty fronted and only slightly rounded - [ʉ̜]

my /ʊ/ is completely unrounded - actually, it's pretty close to [ɤ]

my /oʊ/ is centralized and only rounded on the close - [ɘw] is pretty close

besides stress rules, my /ʌ/ is functionally identical to my schwa

i use y'all as 2nd person plural; "you" is invariably singular to me; if speaking formally, i'd use "you all"; "all y'all" is a pretty frequent emphatic plural for me

object pronouns as reflexive datives (at least, that's what wikipedia calls them) - "i'm gonna make me some food", "she bought her a new car", etc. - are pretty frequent but definitely would not be used formally

when i was younger, i used "fixing to" /fɪk.sɪn.ə/ (meaning "about to") and "liked to" /laːk.tə/ (meaning "almost") frequently, but i no longer use them; i am slowly, intentionally trying to reintroduce "fixing to" into my idiolect, however

wikipedia says use of stacked modals ("might could", "should better", "should oughta", "used to could", etc.) is a dialectal feature of southern american english but this is so normal to me that i'm not convinced that any english speaker DOESNT use these?

vocabulary-wise, i use the following terms with some degree of frequency: "buggy" (shopping cart), "toboggan" (beanie or toque), "icing" (cake frosting), "catty-corner" (located diagonally from something, or, askew), "yonder" (further out than "there", but only when referring to a location, almost exclusively as "over yonder"); "lightning bug" (firefly)

also vocabulary stuff that is, i think, more idiosyncratic than dialectal: "drink" to refer to soda (most typically in opposition to other options, i.e., "do you want water, tea, or a drink?"); as a kid, i said "roly-poly" or "pillbug" to refer to isopods, but now i basically exclusively say "isopod"

from my boyfriend, i picked up responding to unheard statements with "como?" or "que?", rather than "what?" or "huh?"; i say "si (lo) quieres" much, much more often than "if you want (to/it)"; my most common pet name for my boyfriend is "love", "mi amor", or "baby"

i tend to pronounce country and other place names as approximations of the endonym's pronunciation when possible (i.e., /ˈtʃile, peˈɾu, niˈʒeɹ, ˈtyɹkije/ for Chile, Peru, Niger, Turkey)

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rhetoricandlogic · 1 month

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Jake Casella Brookins Reviews The Siege of Burning Grass by Premee Mohamed

April 12, 2024

“Weird” is a word that’s been worn thin with use, even in regular conversation. I hesitate to apply it in a genre sense – whether old or New – for fear of misusing it, wading too deep into niche categorization, or merely adding more wear to the term. But there’s a sense in which its normal use points to how I want to use it for Premee Mohamed’s The Siege of Burning Grass: weird meaning “strange,” meaning “new to me.” Meaning novel! Though it’s in many ways a grim story, full of careful studies of injury and deprivation, and though its innovation is more in strange juxtapositions than some head-of-Zeus novum, The Siege of Burning Grass has an authenticity and an unpredictability that feels refreshingly new in interesting ways.

Set in a world wracked by a war between two superpowers, the Varkullagi and the Meddon, the novel follows Alefret, a pacifist who was injured and subsequently captured by the Varkullagi. He’s a well-known member of “The Pact,” a loosely organized movement of nonviolent objectors, and the Varkullagi military hope to convince or coerce him into helping end the war by using his connections to sneak an agent into the Meddon high command. Escorted by his captor/colleague Qhudar, a fanatical young soldier, Alefret must struggle across a war-torn country at once fantastical and all too mundane, putting his convictions and his ingenuity to the test.

The wreckage of war is, sadly, not that strange: senseless violence, hunger and thirst, festering wounds, moments of camaraderie and enmity thrust into sharp relief by the blasted background, the almost unfathomable hypocrisy of those privileged enough to keep clear of the fighting they endorse. Mohamed infuses these aspects with startling realism – The Siege of Burning Grass put me in mind of much WWII-era fiction and non-fiction I’ve read – but also infuses them with strangeness. Weird, cool stuff: The Varkullagi use bioengineered creatures, healing wasps and tank-like pillbugs, while the Meddon have even stranger and more ethereal devices. Much here is alive when you wouldn’t expect it to be, and Alefret’s care for these creature-devices is a nice thread throughout. There are also just straight-up weird elements that somehow fit nicely with the rest: an army camp in a giant skeleton, trained pteranodons, and strange floating cities. The way that cultures and strange military technologies are thrown together here – and the floating cities, and the theme of nonviolence in the midst of war – pairs very nicely with Adrian Tchaikovsky’s recent House of Open Wounds, and, like that novel, there’s a touch of humor throughout Alefret’s story.

This all works so well thanks to Mohamed’s assured, inventive prose. Alefret’s bodily reality is constantly foregrounded, and the philosophical debates that power the novel aren’t restricted to the occasional speech – though there are some good ones – but reflected in Alefret’s actions, choices, hesitations, and doubt. Likewise, Qhudur, while undoubtedly distasteful, is no empty caricature, but rather a portrait of the emptiness violence breeds, a mouthpiece for the kind of misdirection that keeps the poor fighting and dying for the powerful. It’s great stuff, and the more fun to read thanks to a dry self-awareness at the narrative level: “In a book,” Alefret thinks at one point, “this part would have been gracefully elided.” Without wanting to give it away, there’s a Chekhov’s gun left rather shockingly on the mantel, and a character who describes the war as “like fighting a science fiction story written by someone on illegal substances.” As surreal as the fantasy world is, that’s nothing compared to the absurd and nightmarish reality of war, and the book cleverly and humanely explores that distance.

The combination of weird elements and philosophy is superb, and had me thinking variously of China Miéville’s Bas-Lag trilogy, Vajra Chandrasekera’s The Saint of Bright Doors, and Margaret Killjoy’s A Country of Ghosts. Like them, The Siege of Burning Grass is grappling with really big questions of politics and history – not just in the abstract, but thinking about how to put them in practice, about their costs and complications. Among vast quantities of speculative fiction that glorify war, if only as a side effect of portraying it, there’s strangely little that focuses as directly on pacifism as The Siege of Burning Grass does, making its sincerity and its thoughtfulness very welcome. Alefret and the others in the Pact are aware that it’s not an easy stance – that war is not something that can simply be walked away from when you’re enmeshed in complicit systems, that purity is a trap, and that nonviolent solutions “have to be tried again and again and again, and at different angles and in different ways with different people.” There’s a great deal of weirdness to love in this book, and the weirdest and most lovely is that, all the way through, the Pact is still trying.

#Premee Mohamed #The Siege of Burning Grass #mahreviews #long post

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buglife · 3 years

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Shh I got inspired by those doodles I did of Monomon and sick bby Quirrel so I wrote a ficlet.

----

It had been a few months since Monomon found a tiny pip rolling around the trash in the City of Tears. She thought at first that it was some sort of ball that some child had lost. Then it sneezed, which scared the hell out of her. She had looked closer and she was surprised to see a nearly transparent pip crawling around the garbage. The poor thing was dented up and was attempting to eat a discarded cloak. When he saw her, he hissed and curled up into a ball, thinking that if he couldn’t see her, than she couldn’t see him. She had picked him up, this little shivering ball of tenacity, and took him with her.

One thing lead to another and she had found herself as an adoptive mother to a baby isopod. The doctor she took him too told her that he shouldn’t even be out of the pouch, let alone being all by himself. Either he was abandoned or something unfortunate happened to his mother, and having the guard investigate gave her no answers. She decided that it was probably going to be a mystery forever, and decided to focus her energy on raising her newly acquired son.

She had named him Quirrel, after an old philosopher who often wrote about the beauty of the world. She somehow knew he’d be able to see the world for the beautiful thing as it is and not be focused on the doom and gloom of it all. She was a scientist, so of course she could find beauty in even the smallest micro-organism and all the way to the desolate wastes. Something told her he’d see it too.

Her high hopes proved to be true, as he turned out to be a rather clever little pip. He was still far too young for speech, or even to be roaming about by himself, so she decided to conduct a little experiment. Sign language wasn’t uncommon in Hallownest, but most non-hindered bugs tended to learn it after they have mastered speech and not before. What if she taught Quirrel, a little pip, some sign language now?

Her experiment bore fruit, and he learned some signs quickly. It was only a few words now that were simple to sign. He was still a baby and lacked the fine motor control for the more complex signs, but he could at least tell her when he was hungry or if he wanted something. She imagined that this experiment could do a lot of good in the end.

What concerned her however, was the lack of actual noise he made.

Quirrel was an incredibly quiet baby at he beginning. He simply refused to make much noise at all, and when he did, he flinched as though expecting to be punished for it. It had taken weeks of positive reinforcement before he started making the noises a little pip was expected to be making. It was very endearing to see him babbling and having her students babble back at him. His tiny eyes would light up and he’d wiggle in excitement before continuing the ‘conversation’. Even with all the encouragements from both her and her students, he still preferred to be quiet, napping through most of the day whilst in her pip pocket. That was normal for an isopod this young, but it was still concerning that he felt that he had to stay quiet.

That changed early one morning when he started to audibly fuss. Usually he’d just try to escape when bored, writhing about and trying to climb out of the pocket. But today, at the most ungodly early hour, he was making noises, squeaking and hissing in what seemed to be discomfort. Monomon had at first though he was hungry, but he outright refused his usual leaf paste. She tried tiktik bits, sliced fruit, and even a cookie, but he refused it all and grew increasingly more frustrated with each rejected food item.

She had tried asking him to tell her what was wrong through sign language, but he was either unwilling or unable to bother with it.

Finally he had enough, and began to wail, loudly. She had never heard him make a noise that loud before and it startled her enough to spill the juice she was trying to tempt him with all over herself. He only stopped loud enough to take a breath before belting out another heaving cry, little eyes overflowing with tears as he made his discomfort known.

“Shhhh….shhhh...it’s okay, my little one.” She attempted to try and comfort him, but he just wailed louder.

Concerned, she picked him up and tucked him under her chin, trying to soothe the sobbing pillbug, when she noticed what could be causing all this pain. His forehead was burning hot, and he was faintly shivering as he bawled into her veil. It wasn’t hard to figure out that her pip was ill and she plucked him out from her embrace to take a better look at him.

There were bags under his eyes and his face was tinged blue with heat. He had his mandibles open wide enough when crying that she can see some swelling in the back of his throat. She gently palpitated his belly and could feel the organs within twist and with every movement he cried harder. So, he was nauseous, which made sense on why he would refuse a cookie. Fever, chills, sore throat, most likely he picked something up from one of the students. She mentally kicked herself, she should have made her students wash up before picking him up as they liked to do. She should have not allowed them to give him little smooches and hugs. She should have not brought him with her at all when among the masses of students and archivists that swarmed about her. But she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him all alone, not after what he’d been through.

The fact of the matter is that no amount of hindsight was going to change the fact that Quirrel caught something and was currently not having a very good time about it. His wails were starting to sound raspy and wet, no doubt that his sinuses were starting to be affected too. The sheer amount of screaming wasn’t helping matters and her thoughts raced on what she should do.

“Modern Manca Medicine, Chapter Seven, pages nine through ten,” She recited out loud as she recalled one of the many books she absorbed after taking Quirrel in, “Common treatment options for sickly manca and juvenile pillbugs include swaddling and standard fever reduction tactics for most invertebrates. Hrm... Grubs and You: A New Mother’s Guide, Chapter Nine, page twelve. When a child refuses to eat, honey is a suitable way to provide needed nutrition and slip in medication without upsetting the stomach. Hrm... that would work, wouldn’t it?”

Quirrel continued his crying, rapidly losing his voice, and she brushed a kiss on the top of his head to comfort him. His antenna twitched and his sobbing died down just a teensy bit, but it was enough for her to notice. He must have smelled her and realized she was going to help him, his eyes were too full of tears to be much use to him at the moment. She grabbed a spare blanket and wrapped him up tightly to deal with the shivers. He instantly stopped wriggling so hard and she managed to slip him back into the pip pocket without much incident.

Next, a cool cloth was needed. She needed to bring down his fever so he could rest. That wasn’t too hard to find. She ended up tying the wet cloth on his head like you would a kerchief, pinning down his antenna so they can cool down as well. She was quite happy to find that after she did that, he had stopped his wailing. He was still making noises of discomfort, squeaking and hiccupping, but he wasn’t outright screaming anymore. Her auditory organs was most happy with that turn of events for sure.

“Herbal Remedies for the Modern Bug, Chapter two, pages one through twenty.” She floated quickly to her herb cabinet, selecting dried bundles here and there. Lemon balm for fever, mint and ginger for his stomach, marshmallow root for his throat, maybe licorice root too? Lavender and Chamomile to help him sleep so he can focus on getting better, yes, that should do it. She mentally ran through the list, using a free set of tentacles to rock Quirrel gently. For now he seemed content to stay in his pocket, squeaking here and there as he braved through his illness. Poor little pip...she resolved to give him extra cookies once he felt well enough to eat them.

She put a kettle to boil and threw her selected herbs inside to seep and condense. She would have used her alchemical equipment to do this faster, but she didn’t feel like taking him downstairs where there would be students and workers showing up. When Quirrel started fussing again, she replaced his now warm cloth with a freshly cooled one, and he quieted down again.

Finally, the kettle had boiled enough and she strained the liquid into a bowl. Next, she took out a jar of honey and began the delicate procedure of making medicine that won’t be instantly spat out by a fussy grub. She calculated that a 2:1 ratio should work the best as he would be less likely to spit up something that tasted relatively good. Eventually, she mixed up a small cup full of her makeshift medicine and retrieved a clean eyedropper. Calculating body weight, she drew up half a measure, and with that finished she went to attempt to give it to Quirrel.

He, of course, put up a fuss, and began screaming again. She understood why, he wasn’t feeling well and his belly was hurting. The last thing he would want right now was something to go down into said hurting belly and she was not surprised when he tried to bite her a few times. Unfortunately for him, Isopods are not known for being able to do much more than nibble. Using that to her advantage, she let him latch on to the end of one of her tentacles, letting him get nice and occupied, and then shoved the end of the eyedropper into the corner of his mouth. The medicine was squirted down his throat before he could do anything to stop it and for that he bit her harder. He even hissed a little and it would be adorable if he wasn’t feeling so poorly.

He let go to scream again, but then stopped and stuck out his tongue. He was obviously tasting the honey now, and he loved honey. Monomon sighed in relief, at least next time she gave him a dose she wouldn’t get bit for her troubles. He opened his mouth a couple times and blinked, looking up at her face. He lifted up his hands and wiggled them.

“Abah?” He sniffled, trying to clear his throat and sinus.

“Hrm, what do you want, my little scholar?” She was pleased to not longer see him screaming. “Use your hand words.”

He made two fists and bumped them together. <”more,”> he signed.

“Of course, you can have more honey. I think you deserve it, after putting up with all that.”

He seemed happy with the idea, and she was able to give him another teaspoon of honey before he signed ‘done’ at her. His little belly could only take so much now and she took the time to wipe his face clean. He fussed at the cleaning, but yawned once she finished. Clearly the medicine was starting to work, his breathing was better and feeling his gut showed that it was settling down. She gave him a nuzzle and a kiss and tucked him back into his pip pocket. He was asleep nearly instantly and she gently strapped the pocket to herself once more.

Once he was secure she floated downstairs and was once again, swept up into the chaos of the Archives. Someone had accidentally released the charged lumaflies and they were setting books on fire.

Thankfully, Quirrel slept through the whole thing.

#hollow knight #fanfiction #my writing #monomon the teacher #quirrel #sickfic #baby quirrel #tiny scholar au #terra lumina #monomom #my niece learned some sign language when she was a toddler and it really helped with communication #she could sign if she wasn't feeling good or if she was tired #so here's how quirrel started off fluent in sign lanquage #hurt/comfort #i think you can call this hurt comfort?

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copias-thrall · 4 years

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HI HELLO your writing has killed me, I'm legitimately dead, thanks! Oh and what if... What if Copia had a shy, awkward s/o, but said s/o had a secret dom side and needed some encouragement to actually explore it? 👀

Well, nonny, we’ll just have to send Mary Goore over to raise you from the dead so you can be killed all over again 🤣

Let’s get to it!

It’s the little things that make Copia take notice: how you try to manhandle your way on top when the two of you are getting hot and heavy; how you love to tease him just past the point of propriety; the way you sometimes tell him what to do and expect him to acquiesce. Copia’s been around the block—he’s been a Dom; he’s been a sub; he’s been neither—and you’ve got his radar pinging.

One night he rolls onto his back, cock hard as a rock, and asks if you’d like to play with him. At first, you hesitate—biting your lip and jacking him slowly as you watch his face for cues—but soon you get into it; licking your lips, you coat his cock liberally with lube and bring him to the edge … only to stop once he gets close. Heart racing at the way Copia whines and pleads, you cooly bring him to the edge over and over again, letting him cum only when you decide you want to see how much spunk you can milk from his heavy balls.

(It's a lot.)

You’re enraptured with the way his back bows and how his limbs and cock jerk in time to each spurt. When he’s done, you can’t help but dip down to lap at the pool of cum in his belly roll, your tongue naturally traveling up to trace the head of his sensitive cock—and your belly flips at the way he mewls when you don’t stop.

Afterwards, you feel flustered and do your best impression of a pillbug—how could you have treated your Papa that way?! Copia tries to coax you to unfurl with the promise of his mouth, but your mortification runs too deep. Instead, you let him stroke your head and you listen as he sings your praises for a job well done.

Next, he tells you that you can give him 3 rules for while he’s away on tour if you’d like. You’re a little dubious—but willing to try it once—so you do your best to think of some light regulations.

“Um, so first: you gotta wear a dance belt.” You slide your hand over his crotch. “This is mine.” Copia rumbles in agreement.

You think some more. “Uh, second: stop playing with Aether’s balls. Leave that poor Ghoul alone.”

Copia chuckles. “He loves it.”

“Whatever—you’re a cock tease.” You squeeze his cock in warning, and he gasps. “For the third, hmm …” You search for a good one. “You have to incorporate barking into any of your speeches,” you say, giggling.

He laughs along with you. “Such fine rules, amore. Now, what shall my … punishment be, hmm? If I be breaking them?”

“P-Punishiment?”

“Sí.”

You think.

And think.

And think some more.

“Each one you break is an entire day you can’t cum.”

“Such harshness!”

“Well, what were you thinking?”

He actually blushes.

“Are in certainty you wouldn’t rather give me a sound spanking, eh?”

Something inside you seems to click into place.

“No,” you snap. “I think you’d like the spanking too much. It’s supposed to be a punishment, right?”

Copia frowns at you. “You are hustling me, but okie dokie.”

When you view the footage from the first show, your blood quickens when you see that he’s clearly not wearing a dance belt, and you realize how much you want to carry out the punishment you outlined. You’re almost gleeful as you make careful ticks for each infraction you see, knowing once he comes back you’ll have him on his knees as you lay out his discipline. You’re surprised at how delighted you feel when you think about how you’re going to tell him that he’s got nearly 2wks of waiting before he’s allowed to cum again.

Of course, once he’s standing in front of you—smug look on his face—you lose a little of your resolve. You start mumbling and stammering (he’s your Papa, how can you tell him how it’s going to be?!), but he just tilts up your chin.

“It’s ok, dolcezza. Tell Papa his punishment.”

You don’t know if he was testing you or not, but the wide-eyed look he gives you and the way he gulps when you outline his punishment goes right between your legs. To solidify the decree, you straddle his body, get off over him, then kiss his nose before rolling over to cuddle; you pointedly ignore his hard on, sleeping soundly despite his discomfort with his blue balls.

It’s only once he’s sure of your sadism from these episodes that Copia suggests the cock cage, and—despite your internal interest in the logistics of the contraption—you’re beside yourself with embarrassment.

“It’s too much!” you protest, stuttering … but then he gives you the key, and you feel a sense of purpose come over you. Holding that piece of metal, you’re suddenly very aware of how much control you now exert over Copia, and you’re … exhilarated.

He really did himself a disservice because the cage becomes your favorite way to torture him. Of course you like locking him into it long-term on tour, but you also get a thrill locking him up after edging him for hours so there's no way he can come without your dispensation; you’re also the one who had the bright idea to use the vibrator on his sensitive head while he's still in the contraption just to see what happens (he cums, but he barely enjoys it—not as much as you do watching it happen).

When he suggests you ruin his orgasm, you’re horrified. You like making him cum, and you’re not fucking cruel … but then he has you try it on him.

You’re jacking him at a moderate pace—his chest heaving, and his fists clenched in the bed sheets—and then he warns you, “Now … now amore. Stop now.” You release your hand, Copia moans in frustration—his eyes slamming shut and his brows furrowing—and then his cock spurts a few shots of cum. His resigned look as he stares down at his cock has you immediately addicted, and soon you’re ruining his orgasms left and right. In fact, after a few practice runs, you’re ruining his orgasm as you use the vibrator on him in the cock cage.

What can you say? You’re a quick study.

You’ve come to find that there’s nothing more sexually exciting than denying Copia and listening to him whine at and implore you. As he begs and pleads with you to let him orgasm, your blood rushes through your veins, pooling between your legs, and you snarl at him that you own his orgasms and that he’ll get one when you fucking feel like giving it to him.

However, you’re still a soft being at heart—his tears excite you in the moment … but after, you’re crying to him that you’re sorry for being so mean even as he’s trying to seek comfort from you. Neither Copia nor you react well to those particular episodes, so he schedules a meeting with Papa II to go over proper aftercare and dom/sub drop.

Papa II frightens you, and you have no desire to be one of his pets, but—with Copia’s solid presence at your elbow—you do end up learning a lot from him; the most important being that if you want to Dom Copia, you need to get your shit together. He needs you to care for him when he’s vulnerable, and you need to feel comfortable with your actions so you can be there for him.

It of course takes some trial and error—and you both have found you’re more likely to suffer from a drop than he is—but the two of you find a routine that works for you. Mostly you guys do normal couple stuff, but he enjoys it when you top him, and you are happy with the knowledge that your slightly sadistic inclinations are welcome.

#asks #papa iv #cardinal copia #reader #D/s

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rainonglass · 4 years

Text

𝑪𝑯𝑨𝑹𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑬𝑹 𝑺𝑯𝑬𝑬𝑻.

Repost, don’t reblog.

BASICS.

full name. quirrel...... of hallownest?? hallownest doesnt really do surnames

nickname. nin canon, he’s been called “mask”. i hc he probably got called “monomon’s assistant” and “that bug following monomon” a lot, even though. both of those are longer than his actual name

gender. male, he/him

height. tentatively 3′9″-ish. canonicaly he’s taller than hornet without her horns and shorter than hornet with horns so take that as you will

age. for sure older than 50, probably around 65-70

zodiac. doesn’t remember his birthday, but i hc he’s an aquarius. fun fact Bring Your Child To The Library day is the first saturday of february

spoken languages. whatever language was most common in and around hallownest, plus bits and pieces of many languages from the world beyond

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair color. does not have hair follicles but his antennae are black

eye color. beady and black, if you google pillbug face you will see his eyes

skin tone. whatever skin isn’t covered by carapace is a desaturated dark blue

accent. uhh his voice actor is a guy from chicago if that gives you anything. ok for real though i think he has kind of a muddled accent, like the way he says “cat” doesn’t quite rhyme with “bat”. stuff that kinda clues you into his background in the wilds, where his speech patterns were shaped by the different places he went. despite that, he’s pretty easy to understand when he talks. something something being monomon’s assistant included teaching classes something something he retained that enunciation. fun fact one of my friends cobbled together his voice clips to make him say Words and the resulting accent sounded.... french? do with that what you will

voice. i have it right here! specifically, near the end of the video but before his Fightin Words. he sounds his age, he’s pretty tired. still, there’s something very friendly about the way he talks

dominant hand. ok so in game they just flip his sprite so you can’t definitively say what hand he holds his nail with, but in the prequel comic it looks like he favors his right both for combat and for general stuff (ie, he waves with his right hand)

posture. i genuinely cannot tell if he’s slouching in-game or if his body’s just shaped like that, but i’m gonna go ahead and say he slouches a lot nowadays just because he’s old and his center of gravity is lower

tattoos. his position in hallownest wouldn’t have allowed it pre-amnesia, post-amnesia he wouldn’t have been keen on the recovery time given he was fighting to survive in the wilds

birthmarks. nope

noticeable feature(s). well, he’s obviously wearing a mask on his face, and he wears a kerchief over his antennae. if you got both of those off him you’d literally just be looking at a normal roly poly but i thought i’d mention them. uhhh he’s kinda leggy and he’s shaped like a kidney bean

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth. god i dont know. i hc quirrel was prrrrobably around middle-class? he doesn’t look like the aristocratic bugs in the city of tears and we know hallownest had a pretty strict caste system, so it was. probably kind of weird when monomon made him her assistant, but not inconcievable (for comparison, lurien’s butler/assistant was a member of hallownest’s high society). anyway that’s all to say i think he was uhhhhh probably hatched at home, in a city near but not part of the city of tears?

birth weight. im sorry i cannot find the average birth weight of a pillbug but they look like this as mancas/babies

birth height. like a milimeter or less

manner of birth. hatched from an egg!

first words. “outside”

siblings. so, so many (most didnt survive infancy though it’s tough for a pillbug)

parents. two moms (it is MY headcanon and i give quirrel the two moms!!!)

parental involvement. his parents tried their best but it’s tough when you have a bunch of pillbug babies running around. once he got a little older and survived molting though, they took more direct care of him. they made sure he got a very good education and worked hard to make him Refined in hopes he’d get a good job in the capital. he got in trouble pretty often even though he was a really sweet kid, he’d just forget the rules and run off to play outside. once he got his position with monomon, his moms talked about him a lot at like. the quilting circle.

(sidenote: quirrel remembers literally none of this, if you asked him any of these questions he’d have no idea except stuff that could logically be deduced from his species. he doesn’t remember his family at all)

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation. bisexual

romantic orientation. he’s bi all the way down baby

love language. playful debates, small touches, traveling together, saying exactly what he thinks about something, letting them see him sleep

relationship tendencies. asking a lot of questions, tends to hold his partner to a higher esteem than himself early on, learns a lot from his partner. not great at living with a partner because he’s so used to living outside

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song. doesn’t have one in-game, unless you count the archives theme (literally just ambient bubbling and spooky noises) or uumuu’s boss theme aka decisive battle (which is a general boss theme and isn’t unique to uumuu). i think uhhhh wait fuck i lied. closest thing we have is this, which is the city of tears indoors theme but is best known for playing in the scene where you sit on a bench with quirrel

mental illnesses. depression, some degree of anxiety, general dissociative problems, you know the deal. autism isn’t a mental illness but uuuuuh i’m gonna mention it anyway, i’m autistic so no matter what if i’m roleplaying a character they’re gonna end up with some autism in them. he’s got some issues with grief but like he doesn’t have a diagnosis and i don’t know what that would be anyway

self-confidence level. low! very low! he knows he’s old and he can’t remember much about being monomon’s assistant so he doesn’t have much going for him, in his eyes. his (implied) death at blue lake kinda gives you a look into that

vulnerabilities. grief. showing physical weakness. being shown pity. being trapped.

#meme friday

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slaygentford · 5 years

Note

please..... i need 2 know

ok come here I’ll tell you nobody read this.

in the fucking. so every year. the Emmy people release like the screenplays that are up for best screenplay.

do you see where this is going.

so. theres three highlights and then one thing that sent me into the stratosphere.

one. when they’re inventing democracy. tyrone is like giving some moving speech and brian is written as staring at a pillbug on the ground and like. poking it.

cinema.

two.

when ariana says, what’s west of westeros. the script says. John and sandra dont know.

because

“they failed

geography”

cinema.

three.

when comrade dragon like unfolds his wings behind danielle in that mission accomplished! shot. they write that she is

“her

satanic

majesty.”

CINEMA.

now what sent me into the DAMN. STRATOSPHERE. is when brine writes out jim’s obituary in the book. “she takes a moment to think about the man she both hated and loved, often at the same time”

THE WHOLE

STORY

IS ABOUT

HOW

SHE HATED HIM

AND THEN

NO LONGER,

HATED,

#im tired.#DID THEY JUST NOT READ FEAST. CUZ I'M GETTIG THE IMPRESSION THAT THEY JUST. DIDN'T. READ. FEAST #Anonymous #LIK ENOT TO POINT FINGERS BUT I THINK NOBODY EVEN CRACKED OPEN FEAST.#EDIT TO ADD SORRY EDITING HERE TO ADD: I DON'T THINK THEEY READ FEAST!!!#DONT THINK THEY READ HER EXTENSIVE WEDDING FANTASY IN FEAST.

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queenofcats17 · 5 years

Text

Father Knows Best

@bornoffireandwisdom asked for another story involving Bendy’s creation and eventual realization that Joey has been lying to him.

This version of Murray Hill belongs to @circus-craze

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

When Bendy was created, his world was very small. It consisted of himself, his dad, and his dad’s friend Uncle Murray. Well, Joey wasn’t actually his dad, but he’d been the one to bring Bendy to life so Bendy called him ‘dad’. Bendy liked Joey a lot. Maybe even loved him. Joey had been the one to bring him to life, the one who told him stories of the one who’d truly created him, Henry. Bendy always loved hearing Joey’s stories about Henry. Henry sounded like such an amazing person, especially the way Joey talked about him.

“When can I meet Henry?” Bendy asked. Joey had been telling him another story about his and Henry’s childhood, which meant the little demon was curled up in Joey’s lap.

“Soon,” Joey said, patting Bendy between his horns.

“But that’s what you always say,” Bendy whined. “It feels like I’m never gonna meet him!” He flopped back, rolling around while still on Joey’s lap.

“You were only born a few months ago.” Joey laughed. “These things take time.” Bendy sighed loudly, flopping about even more.

“You’re adorable.” Joey tickled his stomach. Bendy squealed, curling up like a pillbug. Joey was the best. He was pretty much Bendy’s best friend. But that mostly because Bendy only really knew two people. Speaking of the other person he knew...

“Mr. Drew?” Murray poked his head into the room.

“Uncle Murray!” Bendy clambered off of Joey’s lap to run over to Murray. Murray’s whole body tensed as Bendy wrapped his arms around the man’s legs. Bendy had never understood why Murray reacted that way to being called ‘Uncle Murray’. He always seemed so uncomfortable.

“H-Hello, Bendy.” He smiled shakily.

“What is it, Mr. Hill?” Joey asked. “I was in the middle of something.” Murray glanced from Bendy to Joey, wringing his hands.

“Could I speak to you in the hallway, Mr. Drew?” He asked. Joey sighed heavily, getting up from the couch he’d shoved against the wall.

“Very well.” He paused by Bendy on his way out, kneeling down and patting Bendy’s head again. “Stay here until I get back, okay?”

“But I want to explore,” Bendy said, grabbing Joey’s hand to stop him from leaving. “I’m getting bored! I don’t even have any friends!”

“I’ll make you a friend soon, Bendy,” Joey assured him. “But it takes time.” He removed his hand from Bendy’s and followed Murray out, closing the door behind him. Bendy pouted, collapsing onto the couch.

“I’m bored!” He groaned, kicking his feet against the couch. Joey never let him go anywhere. Sure, Bendy had left this room before, but he was never allowed to go anywhere by himself. He always had to be with either Joey or Murray. Joey was fun and Murray let him play with his doctor tools sometimes, but it still got boring after a while. Not to mention, Murray always got really weird when he was around Bendy. Especially when Bendy started asking about the creatures he saw around the studio. Joey wouldn’t even tell him why he couldn’t be by himself.

“Don’t you trust me, Ben?” Joey always replied. “I have your best interests at heart.”

“I-I do trust you.” Bendy would say. “But-”

“Then take my word for it. I’m keeping you safe.” Joey always shut down any chance for argument. He would not allow Bendy to disagree with him. He told Bendy that the little demon would never survive without him. He needed Joey to keep him safe. Bendy knew Joey didn’t mean the cruel things he said sometimes. He loved Bendy. Right?

It was nearly half an hour before someone reentered the room. Bendy perked up, hoping it was Joey and that he’d finish his story. But it was only Murray.

“Where’s Joey?” Bendy asked, frowning.

“He’s...busy,” Murray said after a suspiciously long pause. “You’ll be spending some time with me for a little.”

“Aw. Okay.” Bendy’s shoulders slumped.

“It’ll be fun.” Murray smiled weakly.

“Yeah, okay.” Bendy sighed dejectedly, sliding off the couch.

Murray chewed on his lip as he watched Bendy skulk over to him. He couldn’t help but feel guilty whenever he was around the little demon. He didn’t deserve to be looked at with such trust and admiration. He didn’t deserve to be called “Uncle Murray”. Not after all he’d done, all he’d helped Joey do.

“Uncle Murray?”

“Hm?” He was jolted from his self-pity when Bendy tugged on the hem of his lab coat. The little demon had long since learned that Murray didn’t like it when he tried to hold his hand.

“What is it, Bendy?” He tried to put on a cheery face. It very clearly looked forced.

“Who are those people you keep in your room?” Bendy asked, head tilted innocently to the side. “I’ve seen Dad talking to them too. They’re all weird and goopy. Who are they?” Immediately, Murray stiffened. This wasn’t the first time Bendy had asked about the Searchers. He should have had a pre-prepared response by now. But he still panicked.

"Have I told you that we’re working on making Boris?” Murray hastily opened the door to his lab. “You won’t be alone for much longer, I promise.”

“Really?” Bendy perked up, eyes shining with wonder and hope.

“Really.” Murray relaxed a little, ushering Bendy in. “But I’m still having a little bit of trouble nailing down the right design for him. Do you want to give me something to work off of? No one knows Boris better than you.”

“Oh! Yeah!” Bendy nodded enthusiastically. “I can do that!”

“Well.” Murray handed him a piece of paper and a pencil. “Why don’t you draw me the best picture of Boris you can?”

Bendy kept nodding, sitting down and starting to doodle. His tongue stuck out the side of his mouth as he concentrated. Murray breathed an internal sigh of relief. That was one crisis averted, at least for the moment. But he knew it wouldn’t distract Bendy for too terribly long. Bendy was a curious creature, and much smarter than Joey gave him credit for. It would be impossible to keep him away from the horrors of the studio forever.

Sure enough, the first chance Bendy got, he snuck out to explore the studio. Murray and Joey had gone rushing off because of something that had happened, giving Bendy the opportunity to finally slip out. The little demon was giddy as he crept down the hallway, tail waving behind him. He was finally going to be able to see what was happening in the studio! However, his glee was short-lived. The studio he found was dark and decrepit, with an air of hopelessness and despair permeating the air. The messages written on the wall were hard to miss as well.

I don’t want to work here anymore.

The Creator lied to us.

He will set us free.

“What’s going on?” Bendy whispered, hugging himself. “Why’s everything so dead?” The studio had never looked like this when he’d walked through it with Joey or Murray.

As he ventured down a darkened corridor, he came face to face with one of the inky creatures he saw Joey talking to so often. It appeared from a puddle, looking only barely like a human. Well, the upper half of a human at least. Bendy screamed and scrambled back. At the sound of his scream, more started popping up from the puddles. They moaned and groaned, advancing on him, grasping at him with their skeletal hands. Bendy screamed even louder and ran. He ran until his legs couldn’t carry him anymore and he collapsed.

“What-What are those things?” He whimpered, curling up in a ball. He was in a flooded hallway underground now. It was probably actually something like a sewer. But Bendy didn’t care. He’d just wanted to get away. He laid there for a long time, sniffling and whimpering.

Then he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He looked up, only to find one of those creatures standing over him, watching him with its glowing yellow eyes. Once more, he screamed, scrambling away. The inky creature didn’t seem startled by his yelling, tilting its head curiously to the side. It looked like it was wearing a hat. No, it was wearing a hat.

“Who...Who are you?” Bendy asked once he managed to regain his composure.

“Ja...ck...” The creature replied. Unlike the others, it didn’t seem like it was going to hurt him. He didn’t seem like he was going to hurt him.

“Well, uh, it’s nice to meet you, Jack.” Bendy awkwardly stuck his hand out. Jack didn’t shake his hand, just smiled at him. At least, Bendy was pretty sure he was smiling. It was hard to tell, since Jack didn’t really have much in the way of facial features.

“So...What’re you doing down here?” Bendy asked. “Seems kinda dingy.”

“Sa...fe...” Jack said. “Home.”

“This is your home?”

Jack nodded enthusiastically. He seemed delighted to have someone else there to show his ‘home’ to. He dragged over to a little alcove with a desk and violin, pointing excitedly at everything. His speech capabilities were limited, but Bendy liked him anyway. He seemed nice.

“Can you play this thing?” Bendy asked, picking up the violin. “I’d think it’d be hard with your goopy hands.”

Jack made a so-so gesture. “Hard.”

“You think I could play?” Bendy wiggled his eyebrows, placing it under his chin. Jack looked at Bendy then looked at the violin. One would think it would be hard to make an incredulous look when one lacked distinct facial features, but Jack was certainly managing it.

“I could do it!” Bendy insisted, puffing out his chest. Jack’s expression grew even more incredulous.

“Ugh. Fine.” Bendy rolled his eyes, putting it down. “Party pooper.” He had to admit, he was having a lot of fun. He didn’t want to go back to Joey. Joey had been keeping something from him. He was sure of it now. Both Murray and Joey had been keeping things from him. These creatures, he was sure they had been people once. Jack had definitely been a person, judging from the tape on his desk.

“Hey, Jack?” Bendy sat down on the ledge of the alcove. “How did you get like that?” Jack stared quizzically at him.

“I mean, you used to be a person, right?” Bendy gestured to the tape. Jack nodded slowly.

“Do...n’t...know...” He said. “Fell...asl...eep...Then...this...”

“How’d the others get like this?” Bendy could hear his heart pounding in his nonexistent ears. He wasn’t going to like whatever the answer was. And yet, he felt like he already knew. Jack hesitated, starting to melt a little.

“Jo...ey...” He whispered. “Did...bad...thi...ngs...” Bendy stared down into the ink river below him.

“I’ll be back later.” He got up, smiling back at Jack. Jack waved weakly, watching as Bendy disappeared up the stairs. Bendy strode with purpose through the halls. His ‘dad’ had a lot of explaining to do.

#bendy and the ink machine #batim saudade au #fanfiction #bendy the dancing demon #joey drew #murray hill #jack fain #emotional abuse tw

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pillowfoolery · 8 months

Text

medic tits send post

#tf2 #tf2 medic #pillbug speech

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cartoonus-maximus · 5 years

Text

You know what? I’m still annoyed over how they chose to portray Miek in the MCU. (And Korg’s portrayal I basically understand, I just disagree with.)

What was wrong with Miek’s canan appearance/speech/behavior? Was he too much like Mantis, or what?

But if this version of Miek had been the one on the movies, he and Mantis could have befriended each other (you can’t tell me Korg and Miek wouldn’t fit in the with movie!GOTG) and that would have been fun to watch. Just two well-meaning, slightly dumb bug-people fighting monsters in space.

At the very least, then he would be an actual character instead of a pillbug with knives that Korg occasionally talks to.

#my thoughts #marvel #plus you can't tell me korg (closer to the comics) and drax wouldn't be friends #I'm just saying #marvel comics #marvel movies #hulk #thor #guardians of the galaxy

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graywyvern · 3 years

Photo

( me / @crookedcosmos )

The Tyger.

"She did not think of wickedness as wickedness, but rather as the stuff people were made of, like flesh." --Laura (Riding) Jackson (via)

Preacher and the Bear.

5-square-ordered poem in rhime (‘In Memoriam’ stanzas)

able was i ere this language drew chartreuse from bright viridian Mothra from Zelig Godzilla Terra from its counter planet

should we be found to end the plague let hist'ry not applaud this game a feeble & deluded mage to found his city on a stilb

firebreak of olibanum tutelary anodyne i sent off for a friendsome dolphin dolphin came & bore a sonnet

clowncest pleas too often terse & our stone lords brimful inertia ragged in the chilling vault madness flowing out like water

eyes glued to the cryptic tire light glyph a few days after Samhain firelight veils what creeps beyond like a palindrome in Latin

forecasts devolve to brute enigma ev'ry throng is penult judgment cubic city, vale of bismuth navigated by fedora

all that won’t become a book the books themselves all growing dark yet sometimes for a moment’s grace my focus sharpens on some glare

i cast my mind on second Sirius castle in a corner, rook whose speech is only snap & glitch & waft of day-enaged patchouli

these days i seem to be a noun trapped in the four walls’ sinister logic i pass on the pilgrim trail each cairn that leads me through this foul Maremma

10.

circle in an open field raise a hum above the veldt long i pondered this old meaning Zeitgeist-blurb is all would come

11.

purlieus of the orange cone our houses glass, our follies stone new petroglyphs adorn the gneiss where eagle nests come into being

12.

zugzwang specialist out of sync threshes in the nascent cage moves the stone from out the Kaaba only for the thinnest nectar

13.

where sun encounters skein of ice & this is where soul enters grammar –stick, so many years, lost jasmine not mine held, nor mine to cede

14.

burning times with syzygy pillbug disorder of our senses beautiful tick-dusted with pale saffron sulfur children fed on Olga’s Paradox

15.

marigolds of elder coinage sizzle in the knit alembic meme unshareable sans one comma yodels like a burning peacock

16.

his name a girl’s name now, in code that proves to be a moment’s guest visiting our abject airspace few enough conceive as lack

17.

madrigals on tainted air rooms i stewed in Tarot myrrh did any poem survive the quest was no ear else to grok the call

18.

all the cancelled futures merge & we are each its broken pilgrim on a windswept plain of Pluto utterly against the wall

19.

on the bonfire planet your hero’s badge will buy you little leeway, probably a fanfare sonnet of glimmering subfusc giving up cars when the others do

20.

it’s over but there’s little closure night absorbs its share of ebbing what depiction worth the candle leaves you with perfected yearning

21.

i stay here among my dead or maybe just a threadbare dream to know what can be wrought from clay even in a gulch in Baja

22.

perhaps i was a thrackled grackle northblind, beholden to nobody but the season in the thorn & the ever-jiggly lingo

23.

yet pause to argue o'er a rune our passions in impending storm the closing of another library earthlike world around some star

24.

earning & spending, the only kind of magic in the ontic dimness crowned by walls & floors of concrete drifting on a dying ocean

25.

red-faced at the Barmecidal luncheon on your plate a lone cicala hybrid sales are in the black smoke of burning blots the sapphire

Sunrise.

"i'm going out the sound of moths follows the moon"

--@poem_exe

Ain't No Sunshine.

#rhime

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fullmoonfireball · 7 years

Text

OC Recap-thingy???

hecc i put this off for too long

i dont really know what that anon meant when they requested this, but i hope this’ll do (readmore bc this is gonna be Long)

Crinoline Parisa

Ribbon’s mom

where’s her husband??? we just dont know

she’s doing her Best™ to be a good mom to Ribb

Lace Parisa

Mirror World!Ribbon

an edgy lil shit

very grumpy

why have i never posted a coloured pic of her

Shadeleine Walsh

Mirror World!Adeleine

Probably the OC I fiddle the most with.

She has a really strong Texan accent for some reason??? I don't know why I gave her it

Takes magic lessons from Wiz( that magician guy that no one seems to remember/care about?). As it turns out, their brand of magic is not anything she can pull off.

Works as their assistant sometimes... Even if it can be slightly terrifying because of their methods (their magic lets them make the tricks a bit more than just illusions). Shaddy has gotten cut in half (or more parts) more times than she cares to count.

Actually more interested in drama, but she's taken what she got.

She's good friends with Shadow Kirby! They hang out a lot!

Her name used to be Shado. And yes, that IS pronounced the way it looks like it is. She hated it.

Owns an oversized magenta sweater and wears it at ever chance she gets. Wiz hates it.

there wasn’t originally another character in this picture what are you talking about

Shadow Marx (left)

Mirror World!Marx (no duh)

Mild insomniac. He hates it.

Just wants to sleep, like any other noddy.

Dating Mirror Magolor

May or may not have kept him up with his late-night thoughts a few times.

Syzzle (right)

Mirror World!Gryll

Doesn't care about Star Stacker (or any similar game) in the slightest.

A complete NERD

Probably owns a library or something

Theatra (left)

Mirror World!Claycia

Complete drama queen

Which is good, because she's an actress.

Gay as hell for Shadow Elline

she’s supposed to have horns like Claycia, but I forgot them in this picture

Shadow Elline (right)

Mirror World!Elline (what a shock)

An inkbrush fairy-thing

Writes most (if not all) of Theatra's stuff

Gay as hell for Theatra

the ‘straight man’ of the duo, despite being neither straight nor a man

Mirror Magolor

Mirror World!Magolor (obviously)

An anxious little negg (nerd egg)

A cinnamon roll (unlike his counterpart)

Protect him

Knows nothing about where he came from

Dating Shadow Marx

Slightly annoyed by how much he keeps him up. But he stops rambling... eventually.

More info on him can be found here

Rose Symyva (left) and Violet Larivi (right)

They're married

Rose is pretty chill, Vi's a bit more eccentric.

Don't insult Violet unless you want to face Rose's wrath (which you don't).

I don't know much about them yet, they're mostly just designs.

Typhiste Nirymsu

DEAD (GOOD RIDDANCE)

He was An Ass

Dated Magolor at one point.

Used to be a prince (now he's just dead)

LEMME SMASH

Echo

Also dead, but less so.

Died from electrocution.

Doesn't remember anything about her life, which distresses her.

When she was alive her name was Iris

Updated version of one of my first Kirby OCs

Niaviri Taysin

Also dead (for real this time)

A good little egg

Was a florist!

v gay with Odalania

Tislora Altryb

Mags’ mom

v sweet egg

maiden name is ‘Azaress’

was closer to her son than Aparctias was

idk what else to say about her

Aparctias Altryb

Mags’ dad

firm, but kind

taught the egg most of what he knows about magic out of family tradition

also got him started on learning English

Hynwari (left) and Sanfyria (right) Rimaddim

only exist in the Popa AU

super dead, even in the AU

both of them are Very Short (Sanfyria especially). they could make Meta Knight look like he’s average height

Popopo (the green half of Kirby)’s parents

she’s supposed to have speckles i just forgot them in the original pic

they were specifically targeted to be killed just so their son could be taken from them by Nightmare

Hazel Pesyphomia (left) and Amelia Evitheth-Pesyphomia (right)

MARRIED

Adopted a certain artist as their child.They love that noodle-orb a lot

Amy would absolutely fight you if you were to insult her wife or her kid.

Were honestly really scared the first time one off their kid's drawings came to life

Twila

You know her. She's the one with all of those scarfies.

Spoils those little beasts

Was actually supposed to be trained as a Spynum, not a Simirror, but was more interested in magic than archery.

Lives mostly-alone in the woods.

Amicia Tyopt

technically that’s not actually her in that picture but let’s look past that

as implied above, her body was stolen by sectonia (shown above)

idk anything about her personality yet tbh

Osgifu Amata

handmaiden moth, in more ways than one

worked for Sectonia Way Back When

deceased

Eglantine Cujoi

Into™ gals

first body stolen by Sectonia

deceased in both body and mind

Kimiko

anime-verse oc

demon beast

just read this it’s got all you’ll need to know about her

Jordan (the one with the spear) and Coral (on top of Jordan)

BWD's siblings

Jordan is their older brother, Coral their younger sister.

He works as one of Dedede's guards. She's too young to work.

Jordan's a little jealous about Taylor (BWD) outranking him, but he's proud of them at the same time.Coral is a little ball of energy.

They were the other Waddle Dees in Dream Collection's intro, and the sleeping Dees with the eye implants next to Bandanna Dee in Robobot( in the modern train level I think?).

Odalania

Dead

Really freaking good at magic

Lean Bean

Worked for Typhiste's family

Gay™ with Niaviri

also has a casual clothes ref

Magolor (not that one)

yes, every other time ‘Magolor’ has been mentioned I was referring to canon one. i call this one Old Magolor/Classic Magolor/etc. for simplicity

this is who canon mags named himself after

Old and Dead

one of the lor’s previous captains

lorlor

Cymboria Taysin

niaviri’s younger sister

she’s the bigger one

very sweet

good at magic

likes to travel

often brings foreign flowers back to nia!

Morastrum Altryb/Nirymsu

doesnt exist in the mainverse

a Good Lil Girl

... even if her dads (mags and ty) are both Asses

last name depends on if Typhiste is alive or not

likes sweet foods

Myrdinia

mirror world!drawcia

an automaton made by wiz

speech has a Low Quality Garble

incredibly bitter over the loss of her sister

always has at least 5 throwing knives on her

Glorious Nebula

really old

their language shows their age

how are they still functioning

no one’s really sure how they lost that quarter of their face

used to have one of those shooting star decorations, but it got broken off at some point i totally didnt just forget it

??? (left)

old and dead

one of the ancients

married to garulin, was very happy with her

probably worked a lot on the clockwork stars, but did help with other artifacts as well

pleasant guy, but not really anything special if you ignore his place in history

Drusorig (middle)

also old and dead

another one of the ancients

i don’t have a proper ref for him, but there is this

he has dark fur, for all that matters

i dont trust him

very strong magic

the master crown was his own personal project

he didn’t trust anyone else with it so i think you can imagine who the subject of his experiments with it was.

destroyed most of the evidence of his experiments before his death so no one would know about them

it worked

Volzavair (right)

also also old and dead

guess who’s also one of the ancients (it’s him)

actually has a proper ref

SHORT

gay, but ended up marrying a woman out of convenience and desire for offspring

relatively weak magic, specialized in technology

worked on the Lor Starcutter, but died before it was completed

his oldest kid probably finished it

Kyneriun Snekell

press ‘f’ to pay respects

sweet pastel boy

loves baking

a little younger than magolor

Dalindia Nirymsu

dead

was queen regnant

could be a pretty strict ruler, but tried to be a just ruler

her husband is dead(er?)

ty’s mom

tried to keep him in line

Tiltaii

i’m not even sure if that should be their name but i’ll just... roll with it

theyre nonbinary

a literal doodlebug (pillbug artist)

painted these portraits

doesnt have any magical abilities unless floating their hands counts

bought Paintra from Paint Roller, and was... pretty surprised, to say the least when she suddenly came to life

regardless of their surprise, they’re trying to take good care of her

???

a honey bee

runs a cafe

very polite, but not a pushover

more or less a design with a few ideas attached at this point

Garulin

married to the unnamed green ancient

technically one of the ancients but not commonly acknowledged as one

pretty good at magic

mostly worked with the artifacts’ ‘mind’s, both through programming and magic

Shadow Sectonia

mirror world!sectonia (what a shock)

floralian jewel wasp

accidentally ended up corrupting other world!sectonia by having too much contact with her

naturally a wasp. hasn’t stolen anyone’s body

she’s too nice to do that

dead. actually got murdered around the same time her counterpart died

spoilery elements below (don’t worry he’s the last OC here)

Shadow Taranza

mirror world!taranza (who would’ve guessed)

overly-loyal

like, ‘would unhesitatingly die for someone he cares about’ kind of loyal

nervous mess, even before Sectonia died. that only worsened things

he’s not okay

#there's a lot of old art here so #youre welcome for that i guess??#idk i dont want to look at it either #Vesper's OCs #LONG POST #save #ref #maybe i'll update this one day #probably not #lmao theres actually a few that are missing because ive never posted anything about them here #or anywhere #i dont expect anyone to go through all of this because of how ridiculously long it is but Congrats if you do

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toibocks · 7 years

Text

Swarm Tactics

He grinned, or at least as much as he could, being an insect. All around him drummed the pitter-patter of hundreds of thousands of tiny feet, tap-tap-tapping up, down, around, and within walls and floors of rotted food and twisted plastic. Castro the mighty stag beetle had to stop himself from dancing with glee as he watched the mass of shimmering chitin pool up like oil around around the base of the old half-gallon milk jug he was perched on (or his “ivory tower,” as he affectionately called it.) The ants marched in lockstep. The gnats flew around and around in their excitement. The flies gathered in corners, rubbing their forelegs together as various evil plots ran through their minds. Everywhere, arachnids, beetles, bugs, wasps, and even some land crustaceans packed together into the crowded space. Arthropods of every shape, size, and color, of every order, family, and genus, of every age, social class, and religion, all uniting for the first time under a common purpose. They took up every available space they could, whether it was among the trash or fluttering in the air. It wouldn’t be long before Castro would be able to harness the power of the nefarious, vicious, but above all else, intelligent mass before him to bring about the inevitable extinction of mankind. Once he had made sure that all of his followers had settled into the dumpster behind Papa Geno’s, Castro silenced the buzzes, songs, and chatters by raising his wing covers. He then leaned closer to the massive funnel affixed to his tower with wire, and began his speech.

“Greetings, my friends,” he boomed, “It truly is a privilege to see the world’s greatest thinkers, artists, and warriors all in one place to discuss the fall of Man. For many years we have suffered under human oppressions, having to watch as our brothers and sisters are –“

SCREE!

A tiny scream sliced apart Castro’s words. The crowd turned and looked at a trapdoor spider, who was currently shifting its wide eyes from side to side and blushing, its fangs deep in a recently dead cricket. She freed her fangs from her meal and let out a nervous laugh.

“Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t help it, it’s a reflex,” she said. Castro rolled his eyes.

“Really, Susan?” he said.

“I can’t help it! When things move too close to me I jump out automatically!” said Susan.

SCREE!

Another screech, this time from the opposite side of the dumpster. A preying mantis raised its arm in guilt.

“Sorry, that was me. There was a mealworm.”

Castro groaned and rubbed the spot where his horn jutted out from between his eyes.

“Alright, fine, um, prey!” he said to the crowd, “please try to be careful around the predators, alright? We need to be sensitive to their needs, let’s just try and be mature-“

SCREE!

“Okay really? Really?” groaned Castro, “alright, prey, go to one side of the dumpster please. Predators go to the other, okay? Some of you may need to step outside momentarily so we can rearrange everything, just hang in there.”

“Hey,” called out a mosquito, “that’s segregation! You said we all need to unite as one to fight the Man Menace!”

“I know what I said, Gary, but we need to practical, alright? This isn’t trying to split you up, we’re still all together on this,” said Castro.

“’One Phylum One Swarm,’ you said,” said Gary, “One Phylum one swarm! One Phylum one swarm!”

The rest of the arthropods began to repeat the chant.

“One Phylum one swarm! One Phylum one swarm!”

Castro rubbed the sides of his little head and yelled into his megaphone.

“Fine! Fine! Everyone can stay where they are, okay? We’ll just…I guess those eaten will get a plaque in their honor or something.” he muttered. The crowd cheered.

SCREE!

Castro tried to pick up where he left off in his speech, but found that he had forgotten in completely in the hullaballoo. He would have to improvise. He raised his wing covers again for silence, tapped the end of his funnel a few times with his foreleg, and spoke.

“Anyway, like I was saying, if we work together, there is no problem we cannot overcome! And as we deal our damage, and as new members are added to our cause, I predict we can have all of humanity eliminated in under a month!” he proclaimed. A pillbug raised his foreleg for a question.

“Yes, but, how can we possibly fight them? We’re much too small!” he said. Castro laughed.

“I’m glad you asked that my spherical companion! Our first order of business is to take out their electricity! Without it, they will be powerless against our advances,” he said.

“Mr. Castro?” asked an adorable parasitic wasp larva, having recently chewed her way out of the abdomen of its still-living spider host, “what’s ee-leck-tristy?” The other arthropods aww’d, except for the spider, which let out more of a gurgle followed by silence.

“That’s a very good question, sweetheart!” said Castro, “you see, unlike us, humans don’t have pheromones for mass communication. Instead, they invented this primitive technology made out of lightning and vines to tell all of their things what to do. All of these vines grow out of things called ‘power plants,’ and by killing these plants the human race will be thrown into a whole host of problems!” He began to make eye contact with individual members of the swarm as he listed off the effects of such a catastrophe, watching as everyone grew more and more excited.

“First, they won’t be able to talk to each other anymore! One of the fake pheromones made out of electricity is called ‘Internet,’ and our spies report it’s responsible for triggering around 75% of their communicative behavior and 90% of their arousal responses. Without it, they will be thrown into mass confusion, with no way to mate or warn other members of their colonies!” he said. The crowed murmured.

“But that’s not all! Without electricity, they won’t even be able to use most of their most powerful weapons! Especially those pesky fake suns!”

“Yeah! Fuck those things!" yelled a charred moth from his wheelchair. The crowd began to grow louder now. Humans were much weaker than they thought.

“And, best of all,” continued Castro, “electricity is a necessary ingredient for their most basic needs! They won’t be able to feed themselves, or wash themselves, or heat themselves…”

“Wait, what was that?” came a voice. The crowd grew quiet again. The speaker, a cockroach wearing a black plastic collar with a white stripe, looked rather concerned. “Oh, my apologies, I’m Father Walter Roach. I’m here representing the cockroachs.”

“Ah, of course, Father Roach,” said Castro, smiling, “please, share your concerns.”

“I’m just wondering about that heat thing,” said the Father.

“Yes, they have these things called ‘heaters,’ and-“

“No, I know what they are,” said the vexed cockroach, “that’s where most of us live.”

“Great! Now you won’t be burned by those men and their dastardly fire clouds!” spoke Castro.

“No, now we’ll all freeze to death in the winter because we won’t be able to stay warm.”

The crowd stared at Castro intently. He began to sweat.

“Come again?” he asked.

“Most of us cockroaches live near radiators to stay warm in the winter. If you shut them off, we’ll all die!” yelled Father, glaring. The crowd began murmuring again.

“Quiet! Everyone calm down, okay?” said Casto. He turned his attention back to the roach, “but you’re cockroaches! You’re a hearty species! You can survive anything!”

“No, see, that’s another thing,” said Father Roach. He started to yell, making sure the crowd at large could hear him. “While we’re on the subject, I’d just like the clear up that, no, cockroaches are not immortal. I don’t know where these rumors keep coming from, but we die pretty easily. Our kids are starting to dive into nuclear waste dumps, thinking they’re invincible, and it’s really tragic every time it happens. We’d appreciate it if you didn’t instill these dangerous ideas in the minds of our children.” Castro started to rock back and forth on his feet.

“Wait, you’re not immune to radiation?” he asked.

“No! I don’t even know how that got started!” shouted the Father.

“So if a group of roaches were to, say, be assigned to infiltrate a nuclear power plant to fiddle around with the fuel rods and cause a shutdown, they’d probably-“

“Die, yes. Likely of cancer. Very painful,” said the Father, “why do you ask?”

“Oh, um, no reason…” said Castro, rubbing the back of his head.

“You were gonna send my people on a suicide mission!” shouted the Father.

“I was not! Okay, let’s stop attacking each other or we’ll never get anything done, alright?” shouted Castro over the restless crowd, “look, do you people want to end the Man Menace or not?”

“Hey, funny you should ask that!” shouted a louse, having entered the dumpster just in time to here Castro’s question. Castro grew pale.

“Oh, hey, Jerry, long time no see…” he stammered.

“Uh, yeah, hi!” said Jerry, furious. “I heard you guys were having a little get-together, and just wanted to know why you didn’t invite me! It’s kinda weird, with me being such an expert on humans! You know, with them being my sole food source and all.”

By this point the swarm was churning with discussion. Castro signaled them with his wing covers again, but even with shouting he was unable to get them to go below a dull hum.

“Jerry, get out of here! I understand your frustrations, but sometimes sacrifices have to be made!”

“Easy for you to say! You don’t have a family to feed! You don’t have to go back to your kids and go ‘sorry guys,we’re gonna be homeless and starve to death because some people are upset that their bee friends are missing!” shouted Jerry.

“Hey! Shut up, crab!” yelled an angry bee, “get out of here!”

“You shut up, pollen jockey!” yelled back Jerry, “besides, I’d rather live off pube blood than dung like Martin Pooper King up there!”

“How dare you!” roared Castro, “I do not eat dung! That is a small minority of us, you racist!”

“Oh, did the crab just stereotype someone?” snapped Jerry. “Go back to the dog park, Scatagories!”

SCREE!

“Hey, that was my girlfriend, punk!” a lovebug screamed at an assassin bug. The entire dumpster became awash in angry arthropod uproar. Predators turned against prey. One of the bees leapt on Jerry, letting out a furious cry of “bushbaby!” and sending him crashing backwards into a precarious straw resting against an empty bottle. The straw teetered over, knocking flying insects out of the sky and sending grounded ones scattering for cover, but bouncing harmlessly off of Father Roach’s carapace.

“This doesn’t mean I’m immortal! Do not go telling people I’m immortal!” he sputtered. At this point, grasshoppers, being forced to rub against each other in the cramped quarters and now agitated even more by the commotion, could suppress their urges no longer and reflexively triggered their swarming behavior, molting and taking to the skies as locusts. The already crowded air was now thick with a green hurricane, slamming others into each other and causing an all-out brawl. Castro watched helplessly from his tower.

“No, stop! Everyone settle down! We can pull through this, I promise!” he screamed, but it was in vain. He put his face in his hands as he watched a millipede gobble up freshly hatched mallets like jellybeans, only to be stung by a scorpion. “Please, calm down everyone! It’s alright, we can keep some alive to power the heaters, and to feed the lice! That’s it! Everyone, I have a solution, if we can find a way to enslave-“

A gigantic dragonfly was knocked out of the typhoon of locusts, and careened into Castro. The stag beetle flailed, trying to regain his balance, but toppled backwards off of his tower. He flipped through the air and landed back-first in the middle of a colony of carpenter ants, crushing hundreds and releasing a cloud of “danger” pheromone from their corpses. Their senses clouded by the chemical signal, the dead’s thousands of sisters turned on their former leader, wrapping him up in a blanket of teeth and stingers.

“No, get off of me you fools! I am your leader! We were so close! The world was almost ours!”

Castro’s protests were silenced quickly, as his body was devoured within seconds by the colony. As the swarm frothed within the dumpster, mankind unknowingly celebrated victory once again. For the 60,000th time, they had managed to avoid overwhelming obliteration under the feet of Arthropoda.

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