#that you don't get if you read at the surface level

[maychorian]

Dungeon Meshi has fully consumed me, especially a certain tiny union man, and I want to ramble about Chilchuck's traumatic backstory for a bit. Mild manga spoilers under the cut.

The first time I read the manga I missed this bit, since I was reading an online version that didn't have all the extras included. Since I've come across this litte omake, though, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. It just explains so much about why Chilchuck is the way he is.

First, at a surface level, it's interesting that this backstory only comes out in the framework of talking about a monster. Chilchuck is offering basically an anecdote about succubi, adding to the conversation he and his party are having about a monster species. It's all very casual and offhand. No one even remarks on what that experience would have meant to Chilchuck on a personal level, and he doesn't dwell on it, either. You have to wonder if Chilchuck would have ever mentioned it at all if they weren't specifically talking about succubi.

But holy heck, just think about this for a moment. On one of Chilchuck's first outings as an adventurer, possibly the first time he joined a party, his fellow adventurers were planning to feed him to a monster. He's only alive now because he had the instinct that something was wrong and had the speed, wisdom, and stealth to run away. He could have died. He could have been murdered. And it's implied that this happens to half-foots frequently in this world.

How traumatizing would that have been for a young adventurer? The people he should have been able to trust to have his back were literally planning his death, all for monetary gain. He was treated as disposable, a resource to be exploited, not a person. Not only is there the trauma of narrowly escaping death here, there's also the trauma of being mistreated and abused by other thinking, intelligent beings.

No freaking wonder he has trust issues. He's been working with Laios and his party for three years at this point and he's never shared a single solitary personal detail about his life, not even his age. He can't bear to allow any vulnerability to show, because he can't allow himself to be taken advantage of again. No wonder he's so prickly and wary. No wonder he's so sensitive to being viewed as anything other than a capable, skilled, fully realized and autonomous adult. No wonder he shies away from affection and any hint of closeness, especially in the early chapters of the manga.

I'm amazed that Chilchuck had the strength and fortitude to stay in the business at all. He considered his options and took steps to keep himself safe, including only accepting pay in advance and starting a union to protect himself and other half-foots. (Another tidbit you don't get at first in the story--Chilchuck is not just a member of a union or the leader, he started the whole dang thing to begin with.)

But what's so lovely, and wonderful, what makes this story take over my brain so completely and utterly, is that Chilchuck doesn't stay this way. Over the course of the manga, he opens up more and more. He allows himself to be emotionally vulnerable; he shares more and more details of his life. He treats Marcille and Izutsumi like daughters, Laios and Senshi like brothers. He loves them and allows himself to be loved in return.

And that's one of many reasons that Dungeon Meshi is one of the best found-family stories I've come across in a long, long time.

#dungeon meshi #chilchuck tims #meta #my stuff

[shadow1515]

Too Sweet

Pairing: The Ghoul | Cooper Howard/Female, Surface Reader Word Count: 5,138 Warnings: a lot, rape/non-con, older man (he’s a zombie basically)/younger woman (reader is 20), monster fucking, size kink, rough sex, gun play, blood kink, glove kink?, loss of virginity, dacryphilia, forced orgasm, orgasm denial, creampie Summary: Your father dead, brother gone in search for his killers, mother gone in search for him, you were left alone in the wilderness. You thought you knew how to take care of yourself, but that idea is challenged when a certain ghoul in a cowboy hat shows up at your dining room table. Tags: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT. READ THE WARNINGS. DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ. MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY. Please, read the warnings, if any of this triggers you do not continue!!!!!!!!!! Note: first post here, but i also posted on ao3 where i have posted fics before... just... bear with me, the brain rot was real for this one. I have never written anything at this level of depravity but this yucky looking man without a nose took hold of me and I had to write this. I did most of it when I should have been studying for a quiz, but it's fineeeee. Anyway, please enjoy this 5k word piece of filth that was only read through once…… (And yes the title is based off Hozier’s song Too Sweet.)

You were born and raised on the surface with its sandy horizons and burning sun, but your life was definitely better than most others who live on the surface of this godforsaken world. Your parents had found a nice place with tons of supplies, the ability to grow plants, a water filter, and it was hidden fairly well. You weren’t entirely sure how they had found such a haven in the wasteland, but honestly you couldn’t complain too much. Alongside your older brother, you grew up knowing how to grow your own food, hunt, defend yourself, create booby traps, the normal things every kid grew up learning. You were also one of the lucky few that was taught how to read and write as your mother had been taught by her parents and passed it onto you and your brother, something you were forever grateful for. 

Books were a solace for you, one of the few you could find, especially after your brother ran off to god knows where and your mother went off in search of him just a few months ago. After your father passed away three years ago, your brother felt it necessary to be the “man of the house” and make sure you and your mother were taken care of. It wasn’t that you were ungrateful for his protection and watchful eye, but he could be a little extreme at times. Your father died just over a year ago, and it was hard on all of you. Perhaps your brother took it a bit harder since he never showed his sadness about it… only his anger. See, your father was killed by some raiders on one of his outings to get more supplies. Your brother was with him when it happened but managed to escape. You were almost one hundred percent sure that was where your brother had gone; looking for your father’s killers.

Unfortunately, that had been just over four months ago. A few days ago your mother grew sick of it and went to try and find your brother, leaving you all alone. You knew how to protect yourself and make sure the house was protected and hidden, but that didn’t mean you liked being alone or that you didn’t worry every day about your missing family. In fact, it made it worse.

You felt your patience and sanity wearing thin as the days went on and you heard nothing from your mother or brother. You were worried sick, the only things keeping you from running off by yourself were tending to the farm and the chickens, checking on the water filter, reading your books, really anything to distract you from the inevitable truth;that your family was dead. 

One day, you were out tending to the livestock and farms for most of the day. It was starting to get dark and mostly everything was done, so it was about time to head inside for the night. As soon as you opened the door, you could tell something was off. Maybe it was the slightly larger, sandy footprints through the hallway, or the way that everything around you seemed to stand still, either way you knew something was wrong. Unfortunately, you weren’t quick enough. Even with your added paranoia from being alone for a few days, your reflexes couldn’t have prepared you enough for the sight of a man… no, a ghoul, lounging at your dining table. Seat pulled back, feet on the table, fingers lazily playing with the trigger of the sawed off shotgun that was pointed directly at you. 

Part of his face was obscured by a ragged hat, but you could still tell that he was a ghoul, his face covered in scars, red and shiny from the radiation. He slowly lifted his head, dark eyes shining in the setting sun streaming through the window, the black hole where his nose should have been even more prominent as his gaze slowly trailed from your muddy boots up your bare legs (you wanted to wear shorts, it was hot out), across your curves until they finally landed on your face, lingering on your parted lips for a moment too long in your opinion. 

Your eyes, on the other hand, kept on moving between his ruined face to the gun pointed at you in quick succession, not knowing which to focus on more. Before you could think of doing anything else, he finally spoke.

“Well, sweetheart, seems you found yourself in quite the predicament here.” The words roll off his tongue easily, like they were practiced, used, normal for him to utter. That nickname too, so antagonizing and belittling with just two syllables. It made your blood boil… not like that… right?

You attempted to speak, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, your eyes still flicking between the barrel of the gun and the ruined face before you. Your very apparent lack of thoughts and speech only made the ghoul chuckle. It was a deep sound, like a rumble of the earth during a thunderstorm, the vibrations running all through your body, unyielding to the forces that surround you. 

“Cat got your tongue, darlin’?”

The question was not meant to be answered, in fact it made all semblance of words leave your mouth entirely. He stood up then, the spurs on his boots startling you as he took step after step closer to you, the gun in his hand hanging loosely at his side. At first, you didn’t move, but as he got closer, you took a fearful step back, not realizing until it was too late that he maneuvered you in such a way as he was getting closer so now your back was flush against the wall. The ghoul was close now, too close, so close you could feel his body heat, the stench of his breath from his yellowed mouth, the gunpowder and cigarettes and booze that lingered on him like a haze after a fire. He was terrifying. 

You let out a pathetic squeak as the end of his shotgun found its place underneath your chin, tilting your head up to make sure you looked him directly in the eyes. His eyes weren’t an evil yellow or filled with contempt, they were a deep brown, a soft brown, and they were filled with an emotion you really could not place. The position you were in was compromising, with his face inches from your own (his hips inches from your own). And that look in his eyes. Why couldn’t you figure it out?

The cool metal of the gun felt as if it was burning you as he tipped your head back just a bit more, his dark eyes focused on yours, “Ain’t you just a sweet little thing, all alone, no way of protectin’ yourself.” You did have a way of protecting yourself, it was called booby traps that he somehow managed to get by, but you bit your tongue. 

“What do you want with me?” You managed to speak that one question that was burning in your mind in spite of the shivers of fear that ran down your spine as your chin moved the shotgun touching it.

At that little comment from you, the ghoul smirked like the bastard he was, “Well you see, missy,” You felt a surge of relief followed quickly by terror again as the gun left your chin only to trail down your neck and land on the collar of your tank top, a collar that was already pretty low cut (again, it was hot). The barrel caught in the fabric as he continued to speak, “I have it on good information that this little abode of yours happens to also be the home of a stupid boy who crossed paths with the wrong man.”

Your heart sank. You knew exactly what he was referring to. Your fucking brother, off doing who knows what, stirring up the worst kind of trouble. He wanted to avenge your father, you knew that, but did he not think? Of course he didn’t. He thought it would be all unicorns and daisies as he tracked down a pack of murderers. Why would he think twice about the trouble that would bring onto you?

“Look, I–” You gave a dry swallow as the gun at your chest pushed further beneath your shirt, just shy away from tugging it to the side and taking a peek. “You’re looking for my brother, right? I-I don’t know where he is. He left months ago and then my mother–” You cut yourself off, you didn’t want your mother caught up as this bounty hunter’s prey as well.

The ghoul cocked his head to the side, eyes never leaving your face even as the gun moved the fabric of your tank top to the side, your cleavage very obviously there for the looking. “Don’t let me stop you, sweetheart. Please, tell me more about your dear mama.”

You felt the tears on your cheeks before you realized they even formed in the first place. Why did this have to happen? You were blessed, you knew that, with this home and your family, but that didn’t mean you had to have horrible things happen to you as well. You already lost your father, your brother and mother were gone, but you didn’t do anything. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed the tears as they trailed down your face, a twisted pleasure running through him as he watched them. You were too sweet for this world, too sweet for a man like him to find you all alone like this. 

Without much extra thought, you felt the ghoul position his leg between yours, the rough material of his pants around his thigh immediately rubbing against the cloth covering your bottom half. The movement caught you off guard and another gasp of surprise left your mouth, a fresh wave of tears trailing down your face. So that was what he wanted… Growing up you learned what it was that made babies, the simple things like that, but you were sheltered, never leaving your home or the confines of your land, much preferring to stay with your family and not venture out into the dangerous unknown. And it was made dangerous because men, of things, like him.

“Awh, what is it, darlin’?” You heard the gun click into its holster at his side, one hand moving to grip your hip with a strength that really shouldn’t have shocked you, the other moving towards your face, his gloved thumb swiping at the tears gathering there. You mewled again as his thigh moved, the rough fabric causing unwanted friction in an unwanted place. “You scared of little ol’ me?”

“Please,” The fear you felt before only grew as the realization dawned on you. He wanted information and he knew the only way of getting it out of you would be to hurt you… but that didn’t have to mean just cuts and bruises, especially for a man like him. “Please don’t do this. I- I don’t know anything else.” 

You knew it was a lie, he knew it was a lie. You just wanted to protect your mother, and maybe you could convince him of that. At least, you hoped you could. 

The ghoul moved the hand on your face down, resting on the collar of your shirt, “Sweetheart, you really don’t know how the world works out there, do ya?” His face moved closer to yours, his breath hot against the shell of your ear, “It’s eat or be eaten, darlin’, and you ain’t telling me what I wanna know.”

“But-” You hiccuped as fresh tears left your eyes, “But I don’t know anythi–”

A sharp gasp that bordered on a scream escaped you as the hand at your hip left to join the other one and a loud ripping sound invaded your senses, your tank top now ripped clean down the middle, exposing your breasts to him.

Damn, your skin was so soft. Not a scar on your body, just some dirt and scrapes from working outside. The sweat from the sun still lingered on your skin, making it glow, and that scent, it alone was enough to make a ghoul go feral. But he could stave off that feeling if he found a way to get rid of it. 

The ghoul’s eyes found yours again in spite of your breasts being right there. “Sweet thing,” God you hated how small his nicknames made you feel. “I don’t think you���re understandin’ still. I got a bounty to find, you know how to find ‘em, and, well, I know a fun way to get it outta ya.” 

At that last comment you felt the rough leather of his gloves finally touch your breast, squeezing and toying with them in a way you never thought possible. His hands were everywhere, twisting, rough, strong, it made your skin sweat and your back arch. You whimpered as he tugged at your nipples, the pain mixed with a different feeling, one that didn’t feel that bad. As your back arched, your hips unintentionally bumped against his and you felt something hard poke at you. Your eyes widened in shock, the nice feeling from before immediately dissipating as your situation dawned on you again. With that thought, a renewed vigor filled you, your hand clenching in a fist that was raised and swung at the monster’s face. 

Your punch landed with a loud thud but to your horror he didn’t even flinch, just stopped his ministrations on your breasts to glare at you, his anger radiating off of him in waves. 

A cruel smirk grew on his scarred face, “There’s that fight I was looking for.”

His sentence was punctuated with a harsh slap across your face, the force making your vision blink out for a couple of seconds as your head swung to the side. You tasted blood in your mouth and felt a strong hand grip your jaw, harshly moving your head so that it faced him again. 

“You wanna try that again, sweetheart, or are ya gonna tell me what I wanna know?”

Despite your fear and the knowledge that this man, this ghoul, could kill you in a matter of seconds, it would take more than that to get you to give up your mother and brother to him. With that thought in mind, you gathered up some of the blood in your mouth and spit at him, the red liquid splattering over his already reddened face. 

The hand at your jaw moved to grip your throat, squeezing just enough to cause discomfort and fear that he could do much worse. You watched in horror as his free hand then moved to gather up some of the blood on his face, the finger now sticky and shiny with it moving to his mouth as he licked it clean, a face of pure pleasure overcoming him as he tasted you. 

“You taste sweeter than apple pie,” Your throat was squeezed tighter as his face grew closer to yours, his missing nose making it easier to invade your space. “And that just makes me wanna taste you even more.”

His head immediately moved to your neck where you felt his hot breath on your shoulder, his hand moved to grab at your face to keep you from moving. You squirmed in his grasp as you felt a rough tongue drag against your skin, the feeling foreign to you. It seemed like he really was tasting you, licking at the sweat and grime that coated your skin, savoring the taste. Your body tried to wriggle free, a scream warbled by the grip he had on your cheeks as you felt the blunt ends of his teeth bite deep into the juncture of your shoulder and neck. The force in which he bit down was sure to leave a mark, the abused flesh turning red and irritated almost immediately. 

You wanted to pass out right then and there, your mind racing with thoughts of what he might do to you next. He lingered at your neck for a moment before giving it one last swipe of his tongue and returning to look you dead in the eyes, a wicked smile on his scarred skin. Your face was smushed together by his gloved hand and you watched as his gaze traveled back to your neck, back to the mark he left there. His hand quickly followed that gaze, trailing over the mark before gripping your throat again. You saw as the thoughts and emotions raced behind his eyes but you didn’t know where they would lead.

Without any more warning, the ghoul used the hand on your throat to swing you around, slamming your back onto the table. You tried to get out from under him, swinging your arms and legs wildly, screaming (not that anyone would hear you), trying to land a punch or a kick, anything to get away. The ghoul grabbed a hold of your wrists in one hand, pinning them to the table above your head as his free hand went to his waist, grabbing the shotgun from its holster and pointing at your face once again. 

Your struggle stopped the moment you heard the holster pop open, your terror growing tenfold as you knew at this distance, one simple slip of his finger would cause your entire head to explode off your body. The ghoul’s smirk was horrible, devilish, and it turned your blood ice cold. He moved the barrel of the gun closer to you until it brushed against your pursed lips still stained red from your blood.

You knew what he wanted you to do, but you couldn’t, the thought making you want to die on the spot. The ghoul didn’t seem to like that, though, the barrel pushing against your lips more roughly.

“Open wide, darlin’” His voice was dark, gravely, filled with irritation but also wild interest, or perhaps lust. “You really don’t wanna make me even more angry.”

You looked deep into his eyes, the flakes of red across his face from your blood making him appear even more frightening, even more like a monster only seen in children’s stories. You knew if you hesitated any longer he’d be more than happy to pull the trigger and blow your head clean off. Your vision grew blurry as more tears formed, your mouth opening just the slightest amount to allow for the gun to slide past your lips. The taste of metal and gunpowder made you want to gag, your eyes finding the dark ones above you as a slow exhale of breath left the ghoul’s mouth, his gaze transfixed on the way his gun slid deep into your mouth.

“Ain’t that a sight,” He spoke in a low tone, voice filled with fascination.

The gun moved deeper into your mouth, the taste giving way to pain as it pushed against the back of your throat, your mouth wrapping painfully around it, stretching it in uncomfortable ways. You felt it begin to leave your mouth before pushing back in, the slow fucking of your throat by a gun making your tears only increase, the gaging sensation becoming more prominent. You tried to move your arms, to get the gun out of your mouth, but his grip was too strong, his fascination with the scene he created too enticing for him to stop. You felt a hard poke against your thighs as they draped over the end of the table and were pinned by the ghoul’s strong body. You continued to gag around the gun as he fucked it faster and rougher into your face, his breaths becoming louder above you. The hard poke from before rubbed against your thigh as he continued, unprovoked, or perhaps more enticed by your tears and the pathetic sounds attempting to leave around the thick barrel of his gun.

“It’s a damn good thing you ain’t out in the real world, pretty lady. You woulda been eaten right up the moment someone laid eyes on ya.” 

His final comment was finished as the gun was shoved further down your throat, a garbled scream rising from you only to be smothered by the metal. He finally removed the weapon from your mouth, saliva making the metal glisten in the dying light from the sun outside. Your cheeks felt burning hot, covered in your tears and sweat as you were given some reprieve from his assault. 

The ghoul looked over his gun, that same bastardly smirk still prominent on his face as he placed it back in its holster, leaving your spit still on it. “Now that was fun, wasn’t it sweetheart,” You tried to glare at him, but didn’t dare speak, your mouth too sore and abused. Your small fight made the ghoul chuckle again, the hand holding your wrists dragging you up from the table with a harsh yank. His face was inches from yours again as he held you in the air, the only thing keeping you from falling was his grip on your hands and his hips digging into yours against the table. “Wanna tell me where you dear mama is now?”

So this torture was still to get information out of you. You loved your mother, you couldn’t bear the thought of giving her up so easily just to save your own skin. 

“Fuck you.” Your voice was strained, your throat throbbing in pain at each syllable. 

“I hoped you’d say that.” With a shove, he threw you to the floor, moving to stand over you. With your limbs finally free, you scrambled to get away, but he was too quick, one heeled boot slamming down on your leg with enough force to stun you. You screamed out in pain, eyes going wide as you watched him reach for his belt, foot still pressed against your leg, keeping you from moving. His hands worked slowly, the terror building up in you at each passing second. His belt came off far too quickly followed by the button of his pants. 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to see where this was going. You heard the rustle of fabric as the ghoul removed his foot from your leg and went to straddle you, strong thighs on either side of your hips, one hand slammed against the floor beside your head, the other grabbing your jaw in a vice-like grip. 

“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” You hesitated before giving in as his grip strengthened to the point of pain, making you gasp and your eyes fly open. “I want you to watch as I ruin you.”

The tears never seemed to stop, his hand leaving your jaw only to rip your shorts and panties down your legs in one harsh tug, the fabric burning against your too sensitive skin. You didn’t dare look down, your gaze staying fixed on his, hoping that if you didn’t look then it wasn’t actually going to happen. 

In spite of your prayers, you felt the rough leather of a gloved finger run through your folds, a sharp intake of breath the only sound you made. Your attempts at staying quiet were soon overcome as his finger found that secret spot just at the top of your cunt, the roughness of the glove and the fear that was coursing through your blood made it even more sensitive and a small mewl of discomfort left your lips. 

The ghoul continued to rub at your clit, your thighs beginning to shake, the sounds escaping your throat enough to make your skin boil in shame. “C’mon, pretty lady, do ya really wanna make this harder on yourself?” He went to whisper in your ear again, his fingers working magic against you. “I can make this feel so good for ya, just tell me what I wanna hear.”

Your hips began to buck against his hand, your moans growing louder as his thumb remained on your clit, one finger entering your cunt and it was like you were seeing stars. You had never done anything like this before, never really had the chance to. You experimented by yourself of course, but having someone else do it to you? It was on a whole other level. 

You chased your peak like it was the only thing standing in the way of your survival, your hips shaking, mouth agape, eyes still fixed on the dark ones above you. You were so close. You could feel it building, boiling over–

A pathetic cry left you as he removed his hand, bringing it up to his face as he inspected the wetness now coating his fingers. With that same hand he gripped your cheeks, your own fluids coating your face, the scent invading your senses. 

“I said I could make ya feel good, but you haven’t given me anythin’ in return yet.” His tone was so cocky, so arrogant, and yet it sent warmth shooting down to your core, unbidden and unwelcome to your mind, but it was received with exaltation as it fueled the slowly dying fire within you. 

“Please–” It was pathetic, you knew that, and you weren’t even sure what you were saying please to, please stop, please don’t stop, please let me come mr ghoul sir?

Your desire was partially snuffed out as you felt something large and warm slap against your stomach. The suddenness of it made you forget to not look down as your gaze landed on the ghoul’s cock. It was big, the skin red and irritated, scarred from the radiation, just like the rest of his body. As much as the pleasure he was giving you before felt amazing, you couldn’t take that thing. 

“That can’t fit,” You spoke hurriedly, the fear taking hold once more. “Please, I-I don’t know anything! I can’t help you, just please don’t put that in me.” Your sobs grew hysterical, tears free flowing, incoherent mumbles leaving you. “Sweetheart, you really think I care?” 

He was cruel, he was a monster, a horrible, despicable monster.

The ghoul reached for his discarded belt, using it to tie your wrists together above your head as you tried to squirm away from him again. And you watched in terror as one of his hands guided the head of his cock to hit against your opening, the other hand roaming down your neck to grab at your breasts again. The tip of him tried to get inside of you and you already felt like you would die right there.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you are tight.” His gaze left his cock and moved to look at you again, “You never been fucked before, have ya?”

Your blabberings and the fear in your eyes was enough of an answer for him. “Damn, didn’t think I’d find a cunt as sweet as yours in this place.” He finally managed to push in, the pain was horrible, it made your insides burn, your mind going blank. “Makes me wanna stay here just a bit longer, still gotta know where your little shit of a brother is afterall.”

Your mind was gone, overcome with pain as he pushed more of his length into you, heedless of your squirming, your tears, the resistance he felt as he kept on going deeper and deeper. 

It was horrible, you were glad your brain tried to block out other thoughts, albeit in vain as he pulled out just to slam back into you, fully sheathed in your tight cunt. 

“You’re gripping me like a vice, darlin’, I dunno if I can even get out.” He gave a soft chuckle at that, punctuated with a sharp tug from your warmth only to shove it back in at a brutal pace. 

You couldn't take it, couldn’t comprehend how this was happening to you. Distantly, you heard as his gloves came off, the rough skin of his fingers grabbing your hip with enough strength to form bruises while the other other arm braced against the floor beside your head, using it as leverage to rut into you. Your legs were splayed around his, your back scraping against the wooden floor, digging sharp lines into your skin. 

You could faintly hear quiet sounds escape the man above you as he fucked you, his arms moving to grab your legs, bending them until your knees were beside your head, allowing him to reach even deeper into you. The head of his cock felt like a nail was being hammered into your cervix with each thrust. Your glazed eyes wandered down to see where you were joined and a jolt of horror ran through you. Each time he rammed into you, your belly bulged up a bit, it was like he was rearranging your insides to make more room for him. 

The ghoul’s gaze followed yours and a louder grunt left him, one hand leaving your leg to press against the bulge on your belly. “Darlin’, you’re just too good for this fucked up world.”

The house was filled with the noises of flesh meeting flesh, your eyes were blank, staring up at the ceiling his thrusts continued. You didn’t want to think, to feel, to exist anymore. But the ghoul has other plans. Your face scrunched up as you felt a textured finger find your clit once more, rubbing it in all the right ways to make your mind snap back into focus. The pleasure was building again, each snap of his hips mixed with the bundle of nerves at your center being played with and you were reaching that peak again. Your moans intermingling with the slapping of flesh on flesh, you didn’t want to reach that crest and fall over it, you didn’t want this encounter to feel good for you too, but by god it did.

Your voice was raw as it screamed out, your pleasure pushed over the edge as you came, your thighs coating with your fluids, the noises becoming even more obscene as he continued to fuck you harder and faster.

“Goddamn, you are just too fucking good.”

His hands gripped your hips as his pace quickened but lost its rhythm. You knew he was getting close and the overstimulation of being fucked through and beyond your orgasm was making it hard to think of anything other than him. His hips finally stopped pistoning into you, giving one last, rough thrust as something hot and sticky filled you up, leaking out around his cock that remained in you. 

The ghoul braced his hands on either side of your head, his eyes zeroed in on yours, breath heavy, sweat on his brow. “You gonna help me out now, sweetheart?”

Your head lolled to the side, eyes closing as you passed out. 

#dark!fic #shadow writes #fallout show #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul smut #cooper howard smut #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #pls read the warnings #minors dni #also i am very scared to post this here... #so if it gets taken down at some point that's why #you can find it on ao3 tho

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Smell Check [Easy: Failure]

MDZS Disco Elysium AU part 1 (part 2 - part 3)

#poorly drawn mdzs #mdzs #wei wuxian #lan wangji #disco elysium #MDZS Disco Elysium AU #So sad I didn't manage to get this comic out on the 15th (pd-mdzs's 8 month anniversary and DE's 4th year anniversary) but I'm here *now* #I have a very extensive and detailed MDZS Disco Elysium AU that I am Not Normal About. #I've seen a few other people point out the potential in a crossover (true) but they make the mistake in having it be set in 51! #A true crossover would take place closer to The Antecentennial Revolution! #Disco Elysium did not go that hard on its cool lore for people to only make surface level crossovers!!! #One day I'll write the fic or post my notes. I don't know who would read it but it tickles *my* brain and that's enough. #No spoilers for DE (here or in comments (please)) but please consider....Magpie Wei Wuxian B*) On his way to be an innocent. #I do think there is a good chance a chunk of the MDZS readership would enjoy DE but...it's also not a game I easily recommend #It's more of an experience you have to marinate over. It's dark in ways that are off putting to some people. #It makes you feel like a very bad person all the time. It gets extremely personal if you allow yourself to be honest in your answers #and it's also the game that saved my life. My life was truly forever changed after playing disco elysium. #If I recommend it to people it's a badge of the trust I have in you to appreciate something dear to me B'*) #If you decide to play: PLEASE go in as blind as possible. You will regret spoiling yourself. #edit: this is based on real disco elysium dialogue. HDB has many canon kinks but this is not one of them

[essektheylyss]

Okay I did get distracted by a grade being posted and I am about to be both a nerd and a millennial but god ngl I do hate classes where you get full points on all your assignments but don't actually get any actual feedback on them. What is the point. If it's a class where everyone gets passing grades for making the effort but you get actual feedback and comments, that's great! But I would genuinely rather get points docked and get extensive comments on what I did well and what needed improvement and why than this.

#what is the POINT #like at that point it feels like busy work frankly! it doesn't feel like anyone's worrying about whether or not I learned something! #and like I can self reflect on my own learning. I'm good at that. that's fine. but a) not everyone can #and b) it REALLY does not help the perception that a degree is something you pay for but don't actually need to learn anything to get #which is a MASSIVE problem rn. there's no actual value placed on LEARNING THINGS. #like I know for a FACT that I have turned in B+ average assignments at best in this class. #just cuz I only have finite time and I gotta stay sane and it's not an area I'm going to go any further than surface level in. #the overview is good and important! but the work I'm doing is reflective of my investment and frankly it should've earned a B+ at most. #like at least if you're docking a point and telling me what for I know you READ the damn thing. christ alive. #you may ask yourself 'oh my god why are you like this' and the answer is. have you looked at my blog. #anyway. okay nOW I'm going to bed.

[dallonwrites]

random sunday afternoon thoughts but i think the thing with writing advice isn't only that it's just that -- advice -- but also that most of the time it's really just an intro to some kind of craft theory. like you can see a post about how to write better prose for example and it can give beneficial ideas -- show don't tell, specific language, utilise the senses -- all of these are good as theories on craft but with any theory there are exemptions, there are ways to bend it. you also have to ask why this is a theory in the first place, what idea of good prose does this theory come from? but ultimately the thing is no writing advice can tell you how to work that advice into your writing voice/specific story. so seeing these posts as examples of craft theory rather than advice helped me out a lot because instead of wondering which advice to take on for a story, if i "knew" enough about this writing thing to make that call, i was seeing these posts as an intro to a theory on craft, and then i'm asking myself what i can do with this theory, what can this theory do for my story? where does this theory come from? what kind of story/writer does it consider, what kind does it not?

atm i'm writing a flash in 1st person present which is not a POV i use a lot and before i would read as many resources on 1st person present as possible -- which in itself isn't bad, resources exist for a reason! -- but i'd always get stuck because in my attempt to learn as much about "how to write" something as possible, i would forget the only person who can teach me how to write something in my story is me. those resources do help, but the answer is in my story. and that answer will look different in the next 1st person present story i write. there's a garth greenwell quote i love about drafting that says "if anything i try to forget all considerations of craft or technique, to work from a place as near to ignorance as I can manage". i think part of taking in writing "advice"/craft theory is also understanding the gaps in it that are filled in by your story, what will strengthen and what will weaken it. and understanding writing advice as just craft theory helped me because it's just that -- theory, possibilities with craft -- and isn't meant to answer specific questions about how to write a specific story, and you will also learn a lot more if you let yourself lean into the unknowing that is a natural part of writing. because you don't need to know craft to write, you just need to know what your story needs, and a lot of advice and "rules" are really just intros to craft theory that can help you start to know where to look for your story's answers, rather than giving the answer itself. tldr most writing "advice" and "rules" is just craft theory, and instead of trying to shape your writing to fit "advice/rules" you should be thinking about the ways you can shape theory to fit your writing

#i don't think you need to unpack every piece of advice you read in this theoretical way but i do think its important #when a lot of popular advice does get passed around at what is ultimately an introductory level #for example i see a lot of advice posts on story structure here that are very obviously surface level takes on #western ideas of story structure -- which is why i think its so important to see these things for what they are #which is craft theory. and then thinking okay where does this theory come from who does it benefit who does it not take into consideration #i'm obnoxiously literal about language sometimes but i think advice as a word holds a lot of weight because it kind of suggests that the #person giving it knows something you don't? not that i think people giving out writing advice see themselves that way #but seeing these things as someone sharing writing theory rather than advice/rules makes things feel more balanced to me #and someone may know more about a specific craft thing than you of course. that's why sharing craft and learning from other writers is #such a beautiful thing. but do they really know more about writing than you? #do you know more about writing than them? that's not something you can measure #the person that knows more about a piece of craft theory than you doesn't know how to write your story better than you #i don't know a lot about writing fantasy and someone with more experience will know more about #things like worldbuilding craft etc. building magic systems and lore. #but that doesn't mean they know how to write my fantasy story better than i do. because it's my story. #i can learn from them but what i'm learning is craft theory. not how to write my story. does that make sense #+ i will learn how to write my story by embracing the fact that i do not know how to write fantasy i just know fantasy craft theory #but also im someone who doesnt believe craft rules should exist in the first place lol but that's another post

[marypsue]

think it’s important to differentiate between “I don’t understand what this film/show/novel/poem/etc. was trying to say here, but I want to try to” and “I don’t understand what this film/show/novel/poem/etc. was trying to say here, and that means it’s bad, I’m done thinking about it now”. 

#just thinking about a thing a mutual said about media literacy #and the number of times I've had really great conversations with people about things we both read/watched/saw #trying to pick apart some piece of it that one or both of us were having trouble wrapping our heads around #and the number of times i've been discouraged from or frightened away from admitting i don't understand and getting other people's takes #by an attitude of 'oh my god that was so obvious how stupid do you have to be not to be able to see that' #the issue I have is less about people not understanding something that's slightly beyond the surface level #and more about people not being CURIOUS about the things that they don't understand #and that goes above and beyond media literacy tbh

[wykart]

I think it's time to revisit my Bioshock Infinite rewrite...but first must assemble a reading list so I don't sound like an idiot. The bar is very low, of course, but I have to do this right. So time to learn US history I guess.

#I'm only going to read into stuff I care about. will focus on labour & revolutionary movements + native american history #and political ideas of the time. I don't super care about the religious aspect of the story. Like religion in a political sense obv but not #actual scripture #you know ... a surface level understanding at least. also don't give a fuck about the science that's gonna be made up #I just want to get fitzroy and finkton right ok! and booker. bc ohh boyyy #as much as it would be a better story from someone else's perspective I'm going to limit it to booker and liz

[roostertuftart]

I know you're the Kyle expert, but I knew a guy who thought Stan would be an incel. Thoughts?

Hmmm. Idk, I've seen that float around and I don't really get it?? Like, I can sorta get it more than when people seriously say it about Kyle. Stan definitely seems to fall into more... Viewing girls sort of in that perhaps lightly internally sexist way than Kyle seems to, of having some sort of unintentional separation between boys and girls that makes him kind of view girls as very different types of people friendwise, if that makes sense. Like, say he was dating a guy- I don't think much would change in terms of the guy being an extremely close friend who's been elevated up an extra level to romantic. But Wendy isn't really like that. She's not Stan's friend outside of their relationship.

And okay, that's not to say Kyle is a bastion of anti sexism himself, ESPECIALLY noting earlier seasons, but Kyle doesn't really seem to act the same way Stan does when interacting with girls?? His early season sexism felt more innocent and childish, something he's definitely grown out of now. It was less built on this deep internalized toxic masculinity and more like the "eww cooties" ideas that happen a lot with young kids. Obviously division based on traits like sex is not good under any circumstance, but it doesn't seem to have carried on much in his modern view of girls. Nowadays Kyle just seems to view girls far more equally even when divided from them, and cares more about listening or hearing out where they're coming from and understanding their frustration with sexism, for example. While he doesn't really have many close female friends (and really none of the boys actually do besides Stan), his behavior doesn't really shift at all to trying to be gentlemen-y or something around women, denoting a very equal level view of them.

But, in Stan's defense, we see him interacting with the girls way more than Kyle, and I think him having dated Wendy, interacting with her friends, etc etc over the series gives us way more to work with in that area than we get to with the more or less far in between hints we're given with Kyle. One thing that I think may impact this for me is also kind of that the few times we HAVE seen Kyle's attraction to girls play out, putting aside Leslie bc oh boy was Kyle blindly simping there, he doesn't seem to be as quick to focus on like... I guess vaguely sexual aspects like the other boys, which leads to him just seeming to objectify women less (Not to say that being sexually attracted to someone is inherently objectifying, but there is more of an overlap with people who are drawn by looks and engagement in objectifying behavior).

And then there's how Kyle has reacted to being rejected, and I know the big one is Super Hard PCness that everyone likes to point out as Kyle being a "nice guy", but in actuality, he was extremely graceful in how their relationship ended, moreso than he needed to be with the horrible things Heidi said to him, and only flipped out after being bullied and teased and harassed by virtually the whole school, Cartman and Heidi especially. It was definitely not anger purely because he didn't get a girl he liked, it was anger that someone he'd trusted and tried to help so swiftly turned on him and humiliated him for no reason at all, that once again he was being put down by Cartman, and that everyone else treated him poorly as well, Stan included. There's also Rebecca who Kyle just... Kinda let go. Like, we don't really see much of his reaction but there's nothing to tell us Kyle was angry their relationship was broken off, so I'm counting it at least a little. There's Nichole too, who once again we don't really straight up see Kyle's reaction to her breaking up with him. But we do see how he treats her, how much he tries to find stuff they have in common to talk about, how his only anger of their relationship not working is Cartman's blatant racism and lies about him purposely made to sabotage any chances he does get with this girl that he likes. It's not anger towards whatever choice Nichole makes here, it's anger about Cartman's needless and morally egregious interference. I know this is a low bar to pass in whether a character is decent to women, but Kyle just repeatedly not behaving badly over his breakups is a big tell to me. So often we see male characters act like assholes just because a girl doesn't like them or a girl broke up with them or something. Even with Stan, in fact, we've seen this play out. I mean. He's pretty okay too but we did see him tell Wendy she was a bitch for dating someone else. This is from early seasons, that I wouldn't solely use as evidence Stan is a crazy sexist even now, but it plays a part in this conversation on whether or not you can more accurately call Stan Marsh the incel-ish one of the two.

Okay, but like. Why am I even talking so much about Kyle here when you're asking about Stan? Well, I honestly think that the duality of them as characters reinforces the ideas of what the other is like to the audience, and this leads into a LOT of the extremes the fandom will push them into (the fem/masc debate, the nerd/jock debate, etc etc) and likewise it does so here. When we see Kyle being kinda more normal around girls, even though it's rare we see him like that at all, it makes Stan seem all the more awkward when in reality, he kind of isn't that bad at all?? He's pretty normal with girls for a boy his age, though he could be a bit less of a dick sometimes. I do think he sometimes has this huge focus on looks, and that can be... Not great, but it's not to a horrible evil incel-ish degree by any means, and I'd argue for his age he's a pretty good guy to, say, Wendy- Not that he can't improve a LOT but Idk, his shittiness comes off more as "dumb little boy is sometimes a jerk to his friends" to me than "secretly hates and disrespects women".

But y'know, at the end of the day, Kyle and Stan are more alike than people think about many of these things, this being one of them. Whether or not Kyle or Stan are better with how they act to women is hard to say. I can see why people would be able to twist Kyle into being incel-ish even if I don't really personally think it's based accurately on the information we've been given. I can see even moreso how someone might be able to with Stan, and while I do think there's at least a bit more of a leg to stand on him having some issues with internalized sexism, I don't think it's accurate with the information we've been given either. Neither of them are really incel-ish to me.

Honestly, if they were dealing with the issue of not being able to find a partner, they'd probably mostly internalize it into self blame and feel bad about themselves but not really broadly blame other people. Stan might slump into a depression or put his focus elsewhere, Kyle, if wanting a partner badly enough (I don't think it's ever been his first priority and I doubt it ever will be) would make efforts to fix the problem by figuring out what's putting people off about himself and try to figure out how he can fix it rather than lashing out. (Also I already lightly touched on why I don't think Kyle would redo his actions in The List right here over not being able to get a girlfriend lol)

#devastatingly kyle has fallen into behavior that on the surface can be incel-ish looking if you don't read that deep into the show TWICE #which i think is also part of why he gets the incel/nice guy treatment from the fandom sometimes #though not too much so I think other ppl can agree Kyle just FEELS very normal around girls and i think that's bc he simply IS #even if ppl can't figure out exactly why he feels to them that way as a character #and then we have stan who rly hasn't fed into any surface level incel ideas but idk I've been seeing it a lot with him #it could be in part though just bc he shows so much attraction and interest in ppl he likes #he is so desperate about his love life sometimes that ig that can feel vaguely incel-y if ppl want it to be bad enough? #idk #sorry irambled about kyle so much it felt relevant #hope this all makes sense #also ty for calling me the kyle expertSDKFSDF aw #south park meta #me talking #ask #anon #kyle broflovski #stan marsh #have i made enough kyle defense meta posts about how he's not an incel to redeem myself from my incel kyle arc guys

[transingthoseformers]

Now i'm thinking about what's the right balance to keep G1 SG au tonally consistent, and feeling at least a little like the G1 cartoon it's based on. Particularly with the PARD incident idea.

I mean G1 can get really dark under the surface, and a little bit ON THE SURFACE too, but still.

Idk, because on average I've observed that shattered glass in total tends to get darker than baseline (but hey that's based on the SG comics I read and fanfiction so many my sample size isn't big enough)

In my opinion, it's easy for something to come off as darker than intended so you might have to treat it like adding blue paint to other colors: a little truly does go a long way.

#but hey that's a suggestion based on my own experiences with writing #there'll be surface level things that if you overthink WILL get darker #also_ in g1 a lot of the decepticons get stuck in frankly hilarious shenanigans so don't forget the shenanigans #the petty and ultimately lighthearted arguments and rivalries #maccadam #transformers #g1 sg au #sometimes you need an episode that reads like a tumblr shitpost that you just know will end up in a youruber's r/tumblr reddit reading vid #i am absolutely remembering all the ''mEGATRON HAS FALLEN! I STARSCREAM AM NOW LEADER OF THE DECEPTICONS'' jokes #also the purple griffin thing. and galvatron consistently shouting all the time. and the cons dipping themselves into electrum (gold?) #transformers generation one #idk #go as dark or lighthearted as you want

[variousqueerthings]

obsessively detailed DNIs and lack of good faith reading of strangers' words and discussing the rights to exclude xyz for being too weird for your (public) space and this person reblogged a post from a person who follows a person who follows a person who's suspect and righteous anger over any and every misstep of performance and waiting to catch people out and complete lack of trust and...

are you guys... happy?

do you have people around you that form a community? people who aren't carbon copies of yourself or online yes men? do you know people who aren't your age/gender/race/ethnicity/body/brain/don't have the same financial background, educational story, etc?

not all of these all at once all at the same time, but do you go outside your head, is what I mean?

do you remember that other people are people? have you had the opportunity to train yourself to have grace for the fact that everyone has faults and blindspots and perspectives that come from a life led differently, and that to hear and take in those differences make you richer, more understanding, less shut off?

are you able to discuss things while understanding that there is a middle ground? do you think anger and despair are the only emotions worth accessing in order to be a "good" person?

do you have people around you that aren't like you?

are you happy?

#happy pride #idk im preaching to the choir here im sure #but over the last year ive been trying to follow people in communities that i am a part of and/or want to support #and it seems like they're 1. online all the time 2. angry in ways that lead nowhere 3. quite young? #and im thinking back to me 10 years ago and i was SO angry and so isolated and so terrified of other people #and it wasnt as bad to be online then as it is now in terms of You Have To Prove Yourself Worthy And Flagellate Constantly #ive had to unfollow practically every one of those blogs and not because i dont feel warm towards the people who run them #but it's not activism and it's not good for you #also i have looked at exactly 2 dnis out of interest and i understood like... half the words/abbreviations #they're really not a useful tool and they don't appear to be for anyone but a small crowd who understand them anyway? #and even then i think they're more for people who understand and DO agree than those who don't who Will Not Care #anyway..... wheres that post about *this pride get out of your head* yes! #also idk if this needs to be said but im not saying *talk to a violent extremist who wants you dead today* #(and if you believe that then see the bit about *lack of good faith reading*) #also tbh i did one time reach out to someone and go *hey this post is deeeeply dogwhistly* but tbh that was more about like #*i think ace people are gonna look at that post and literally read it as hate it's that surface level #and you probably don't want that reaction* #but checking back and back and back on post origins idk... i think we're using dogwhistles a little too liberally sometimes

[camptw1nk]

did a little work on my oc multi today cant wait for u all to see it One Day

#i. dont want to make more blogs but i am very aware that having ocs w lore and female ocs especially is. not doable on a mixed fandom multi #even putting them all on the same blog i can tell you right now which muses will get the most attention #and i can tell you how many people will read the lore #ive been down this road before and its why its taking so long to make lmao i just don't see much point putting effort into a blog that #i know will either flop entirely #or get attention in a very surface level way #thats why whenever i make a multi i put Too Much info on the muse list bc i Know a solid 70% of people wont look into bios and stuff

[vamptastic]

i do think it's weird when somebody is into true crime and then no other weird shit to speak of. like if you're into horror movies and books, the paranormal, aliens, conspiracy theories, vulture culture etc, AND true crime then you're just normal levels of weird. if your interests are otherwise normal shit and then you're also super into ted bundy idk what your deal is honestly.

#i think it's also weird when ppl are super into one specific case #i mean i have a couple that interest me more than others #west memphis three because i am also a small town goth who runs his mouth and the whole thing is my worst nightmare come to life #actually that's the only one pretty much. except paranormal stuff #i think. its not weird to be into dark shit. it IS weird to be obsessed with serial killers exclusively #especially if you only engage with surface level stuff and don't really.. actually get into the sheer cruelty of their crimes #i think that's the problem with most documentaries and increasingly podcasts. any mainstream shit #peoplell turn it off it actually gets gross #you gotta like. actually fully embrace your dark side (sorry for the edge) to engage w this healthily i think #otherwise you're either gonna compartmentalize and see it as a guilty pleasure or try to idk. woobify it #so that it's like a normal tv show or whatever. like nah. this shit is fucked up and scary. #if you like fucked up and scary things all power to ya but i got no respect for media that tries to make it less fucked #in short. if you haven't read a least a LITTLE crowley i think you should stick to netflix

[neverendingford]

.

#tag talk #watched “it follows” and I shouldn't have. didn't know it was horror going in but after a few minutes I did and I should have stopped #I'm apparently still not 100% past self-terrifying as a form of self harm. I knew I shouldn't have and I kept watching anyway #you know. most people don't know what terror is. they know fear. they know worry. they know anxiety. #terror is something different. I wish I could describe it but you really only know it when you have felt it. #that freezing up of your body. I guess some people get terror in different ways though. I freeze. others fight or flight. I just freeze. #that sense of helpless anticipation as you experience the certainty that the object of your terror is approaching. inevitably. #why fight it? you fucking can't. no matter what you do it'll always get you. it's stronger. more powerful. #hmmm. csa moment oops. I am tempted to make a joke here but I don't want to deflect from my issues. #I have trauma and I wish I didn't. I have hurt that I don't even consciously remember but my body does. #I do not have emotional trauma in the way that people have survivors guilt and feeling like it was their fault. any of those surface emotion #not calling it shallow. but like. it's like when you don't look at the needle and you don't even notice the skin prick but you feel it #you feel it hit your vein and you feel that deep body response that Something Is Not Right. #like when I got my wisdom teeth pulled and I elected to not go under for it so I was numbed but conscious for it. #part way through my body started uncontrollably shaking (well. sort of controlled. I'm good at that). #I didn't feel the pain. I wasn't afraid. but my body was feeling objective physical trauma and I had the response anyway. #I don't remember really. I don't have the surface level pain responses to the trauma. #but deep down my body knows something is wrong and I can't stop my bones from shaking even though I don't feel the pain. #hmmm. I should talk to my next therapist about this. #Lear chased off our last therapist when I was having my dissociative week after watching The Hunt. #which. tbh good riddance she was not equipped to handle us in the slightest. and we're talking to our friend/gf(?) again which is really nic #she and Lear had a few solid conversations too. which was funky cause before he snapped he didn't want anything to do with her #but we kinda had a moment where he realized he's just as fucked up as I am just differently. #anyone reading these tag talks might remember so I won't go over it again. #anyway. I'm not sleeping tonight. I think I should start taking the full pill instead of just the half. but it's just suppressing symptoms #I'm acting up because of my inner state. or maybe my inner state is tumultuous because of my outer condition? idfk #either way I'm suffering over here #not a sui risk but damn #I'm gonna finish patching the pair of pants I've been not working on for the past months

[jytan2018]

I read the comic in one sitting less than an hour after finishing the movie, and wow I have many Thoughts™.

- It's very obvious the two versions were meant to cater to different audiences AND tell different messages. I don't get why people are going "But the comic was better! It had more nuance!" just because Nimona was easier to root for in the movie.

- The comic was written back when ND Stevenson was still trying to process a lot of stuff, so all the characters are morally grey/straight up evil and the climactic battle is between a Ballister who regrets turning against Nimona, even if it was to save others vs. a Nimona who's too hurt to care if her lashing out was going to hurt innocent people.

- By the time Nimona got a movie adaptation, ND was a lot more secure in his sexuality, so the climactic battle was Nimona vs. the Director, the symbol of religious oppression and bigotry. It's not just about your friends turning on you because you're "too much" for them anymore, it's also about a society that would rather bring itself to the brink of ruin than coexist with you.

- (I totally get why people were upset about Ballister's surname change, though. Like come on, the media dubbing him Blackheart just to be mean was RIGHT THERE).

- Nimona's metaphor for not shifting is such a neurodivergent thing. Even in the comic, Nimona's parents insisting she's a monster who replaced their daughter is reminiscent of the changeling myth, which is what many parents thought their neurodivergent kids were—changelings who replaced their "real" children.

- Ambrosius being trained to cut off HIS BOYFRIEND'S WHOLE FUCKING ARM instead of merely disarming him is a very cop thing to do. As much as cops claim they're trained to de-escalate situations, their training still teaches them to treat everyone as a potential threat, and that level of constant vigilance can turn anyone into a trigger-happy/arm-choppy bastard. Even the Director, who can use a sword but probably hasn't actually fought someone in ages, STILL can't see Ballister reaching for the squire's phone without assuming he has a weapon.

- And on that note, the Queen getting killed simply because she was trying to reform the Institution and allow commoners to become knights? That's the best "no such thing as a good cop" metaphor I've seen. Because even if there ARE good cops and they ARE in leadership positions, the system will crush them before they make any meaningful change. It's not a good institution that turned rotten, it's an institution that only exists to spread its rot and refuses to be good.

- That's why Ballister's characterisation is so different in the movie vs. the comic. Comic Ballister had 15 years to come to terms with his trauma and the Institution's evildoing, while Movie Ballister is still freshly traumatised and hasn't found a way to define himself beyond the role he was assigned by the Institution.

- Not to mention Comic Ambrosius was not very noble to begin with and genuinely believed Ballister was better suited to villainy than heroism, while Movie Ambrosius never wanted the glory that came with his lineage in the first place and only antagonised Ballister because of indoctrination he needed to unlearn (which he did, all by himself, after witnessing the lengths the Director will go to just to kill Nimona).

- It really shows how important it is to surround yourself with loved ones who are open to change. Comic Ambrosius can love Ballister all he wants, but he'll still blast his arm off because he thinks Ballister deserved it anyway. Movie Ambrosius will stop to question what "the right thing" even means, even if he didn't love Ballister enough to defend him unconditionally.

I have so many more thoughts bubbling beneath the surface, but I'll probably address them some other day. In conclusion:

[ID: A pink-haired Nimona grinning evilly while holding up a knife.]

Watch Nimona. This is not a request.

Edit: Added more thoughts!

#nimona #nimona meta #nimona comic #ballister blackheart #ballister boldheart #ambrosius goldenloin

[xxsabitoxx]

I’m all for fuck boy Satoru, womanizer Satoru, can’t stay loyal to one woman Satoru… but I offer you… love struck Satoru who doesn’t know what to do with these emotions.

Satoru who just immediately assumes you want him for his body and can’t fathom why you’d be interested in anything else.

Satoru who’s shocked when all you do is give him a kiss on the cheek and thank him for taking you out and walking you home.

Satoru who’s immediately overwhelmed by this change of pace and finds himself texting you the next morning asking when you’d like to meet again.

Satoru, who’s leaving women on read and deleting the dating apps he browses for fun because all he can think about is you.

Satoru who can’t believe it but he’s actually nervous as he walks up to your apartment to take you out on a 2nd date

Satoru who is trying desperately to impress you and seem so smooth and cool but finds himself getting shy and soft spoken when you smile at him from the other side of the dinner table.

Satoru, who's hands shake as he hesitantly reaches for your own while walking you back home after a wonderful dinner.

Satoru, who's blushing as you see a quiet place to sit in the park at chat under the stars. Letting you drag him over to the bench as you tell him quite boldly that you don't want the date to end yet.

Satoru, who finds himself melting into the comfort of your presence, listening to you talk about your life, your friends, your family, things you love and things you hate.

Satoru, who is listening so intently that his brain short-circuits a bit when you ask him to tell you more about himself.

Satoru, who finds himself at a loss for words, nearly tells you it's not important and to continue talking about yourself so he can hear you speak. But instead he opens up way more than he anticipated.

Satoru, who walks you home hours later after having one of the longest and most meaningful conversations with you, noticing he isn't as nervous now that he feels that you both know each other beyond just surface-level things.

Satoru, who's frozen in place as you get on your tiptoes and place a chaste kiss on his lips, thanking him for such an enjoyable night.

Satoru, who finds his heart soaring out of his chest as you shut the door, feeling as light as air as he practically skips away from your apartment, a large grin plastered to his face.

#jujutsu kaisen headcanons #gojo satoru headcanons #gojo headcanons #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru imagine #jujutsu kaisen fluff #gojo fluff #satoru fluff #satoru x reader

[springtyme]

heyy love, could you do an aaron hotchner x fem bau reader where they dated in secretly for a while but then he broke up with her. the reason he broke up with her is because he is her boss and that always was something that made him feel doubtful about their relationship. it’s up to you if you want to end it with an happy ending.

thank youu

𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐀𝐭 𝐌𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬 ♡

Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader || Main masterlist || Spotify

Thank you so much for the request, dear anon! Such a lovely one and I was so happy to write for Hotch! mwah <3

summary: You suspect that you've been in love with Aaron Hotchner since you first laid eyes on him three years ago. Now you're on your way to Idaho to go on your first case together since he broke your heart two weeks ago.

word count: 4.5k

warnings/tags: Angst and fluff. Boss/employee relationship. Hurt/comfort. Heartbreak. Kissing. Sharing a bed. (first time I write for Hotch, so please bear with me) Haven't proof read yet. I don't know if I really like how it ended up tbh, but maybe it's just because I was really tired while writing it..?

You keep your gaze on the pages of the book, despite the words keep blurring together and after having read the same paragraph four times over, without even having registered what you have read. You’ve given up on actually getting any reading done, but you don’t want anyone talking to you right now and you still have almost four hours left before you land in Idaho. So you keep eyes glued to the book, hoping that the act of pretending to read will deter any unwanted conversation.     

You can feel his eyes on you, not all the time, but you feel how his gaze occasionally lingers on you. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but you sense his presence nonetheless.  

Taking in a deep breath you look up from the book to steal a glance in his direction, catching his eye for a brief moment before he looks away. There’s a flicker of something in his expression, a hint of longing that mirrors your own. But just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone, replaced by the stoic mask he wears so well as he continues his conversation with Derek. 

The last two weeks have been painful, filled with a whirlwind of emotions and unanswered questions since Aaron had ended your relationship, before it even had a chance to really begin. It’s been three years since you joined the BAU and from the very beginning you had felt drawn to Aaron Hotchner in a way that defied logic and reason, like there was a connection between you that transcended the professional boundaries of boss and subordinate. 

A silly crush is what it had started as, but the more you got to know him, the more you realized that what you felt was far more than just that. It was a deep, undeniable attraction, a connection that went beyond the surface level. And as time passed, that initial spark grew into something more profound, something that stirred your soul and filled your heart with warmth. 

Sometimes you had let yourself hope that he felt the same way, that the moments of shared glances and unspoken words between you held a deeper meaning, but you had never dared act on it, or let yourself get your hopes up too high. The reality of Aaron’s position as your boss and the boundaries it imposed had always stood as a barrier. The unspoken rules of professionalism, the fear of risking his or your career and the harmony of the team had kept your feelings hidden, buried beneath layers of duty and obligation. 

It was three months ago that things had changed between you. It had been a moment of vulnerability, a shared confession during a late-night conversation with the raw emotions of the aftermath of an exceptionally harrowing case that had laid bare the depths of your emotions, and the longing that had simmered beneath the surface for so long had reached a point of no return. 

He had kissed you that night and it was sweet and tender, yet charged with unspoken desire and desperation. It was a moment of surrender, a brief glimpse into a world where the barriers between you could be broken down and the feelings you had both been suppressing could be allowed to flourish. 

The next couple months had been a whirlwind of stolen moments and whispered confessions, each one deepening the bond between you in ways that words could never fully capture. There were secret meetings in secluded corners of the BAU office, stolen kisses in the quiet of the night, and shared glances that spoke volumes without a single word being uttered.

But as the days turned into weeks, and the weeks into months, a shadow began to loom over your newfound connection. Aaron had started to act distant and reserved, his once warm and affectionate demeanor now replaced by a noticeable aloofness. And two weeks ago on a night where the both of you had stayed late to finish some reports he had told you that it all had been a mistake, and that the two of you should maintain a strictly professional relationship moving forward. 

His words had cut through the air with a sharp finality and landed like a heavy blow, shattering the fragile hope that had still lingered within you. Aaron’s eyes had been averted, unable to meet your gaze as he spoke the words that shattered your heart.

You steal another glance at Aaron, watching as he maintains his composure in conversation with Derek, his mask of professionalism firmly in place. 

You turn back to your book, the words still a jumbled mess on the page. You can’t pretend to read anymore, not when your heart is heavy with memories and unspoken words. With a sigh, you close the book, making Emily, who is seated across the aisle, glance up from the case file she is reading with a questioning look. 

You offer her a faint smile, attempting to convey a sense of normalcy despite the turmoil swirling within you. 

“You okay?” she asks as she sets aside the case file. You appreciate her gesture, knowing that Emily’s intuition often went beyond words.

You take a moment to collect your thoughts, the weight of unspoken emotions pressing down on you. With a small nod, you offer Emily a reassuring smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a lot on my mind,” you reply softly, the words carrying a weight that belie their simplicity.

Emily nods in understanding, her gaze holding a sense of sympathy. “He’s an idiot, by the way,” she says with a wry smile, and you feel how your heart stops for a second, panicking at the thought of Emily uncovering the truth of what has unfolded between you and Aaron. 

“What do you mean?” you stammer, the words tumbling out before you can stop them, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for Emily’s response.

Emily just smiles at you as she picks up her file again. “We’re profilers, it’s not hard to read between the lines,” Emily says with a knowing glint in her eyes, her smile reassuring and understanding. “And you’re not as hard to read as you think, it’s clear that you have been dating someone, you have been looking like a smitten kitten for months, it’s been really cute to see, by the way, but something has changed recently. You’ve been distant, and often lost in thought sulking,” Emily continues, her tone gentle yet perceptive. 

It’s not like it really surprises you, given how perceptive Emily is, and how deeply you’ve been feeling the shifts in your relationship with Aaron, but you had still hoped that you could have hidden your feelings from colleagues. 

“So, yeah, whoever he is that has you feeling like this is an idiot, you’re clearly a catch,” Emily says with a reassuring smile, her words carrying a sense of warmth and understanding.

You feel relief wash over you, though Emily has sensed that you’ve been heartbroken, she hasn’t figured out that it is our boss that has been the course of it. 

“Thanks, Em,” you say, offering the dark haired woman a tired but grateful smile.

Emily returns your smile. “If you ever need to talk or just... not talk, I’m here,” she offers, her voice warm and reassuring.

“I appreciate that,” you say, and you do really mean it, but you know that you’re not ready to talk about any of this yet. “But I think I’ll try to take a nap first, hopefully clear my head a bit before we land.” 

“Mm, sounds like a plan,”Emily responds with a soft chuckle. 

Grabbing the blanket from the empty seat next to you, you lean back in your seat, engulfing your body in the soft, fluffy material. 

Before closing your eyes you cast one last glance at Aaron, his profile etched against the soft glow of the cabin lights. The memories of stolen moments with stolen kisses floods your mind, mingling with the ache of his recent rejection. You feel a pang in your heart, a mix of longing and sorrow, as you turn away, curling up in your seat, closing your eyes to the world outside.

You pull the blanket closer around you, the soft warmth of the blanket envelops you, cocooning you in a sense of comfort and security, providing a shield against the turmoil of your heart. The gentle hum of the airplane engines lulls you into a state of relaxation, the rhythmic sound serving as a soothing backdrop to your thoughts and emotions. 

As you feel yourself drifting further into the realm of sleep, your senses start to weaken, the sounds of the airplane cabin fading into a distant murmur and you barely register the tears gently sliding down your cheeks before you drift off. 

· · · · · 

You’re softly pulled out of sleep by the gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder. As you slowly flutter your eyes open, the soft glow of the cabin lights illuminates the figure beside you.

“Hey, sleepyhead, we’re about to land,” Derek’s voice is warm and filled with a hint of amusement as he gently rouses you from your slumber.

You blink a few times, the remnants of sleep still lingering in your mind as you adjust to the reality of the present moment. With a small smile, you offer Derek a nod of gratitude. Slowly, you sit up in your seat, the blanket slipping off your shoulders as you get ready for touchdown. 

As the plane begins its descent, you feel a mix of emotions swirling within you - longing, sorrow, and a hint of resignation. The turbulence of your heart echoes the turbulence in the jet cabin as you start dissenting onto a lower altitude.     

As the cabin lights dim in preparation for landing, you look up to find Aaron’s eyes looking in your direction, his gaze briefly meeting yours before he looks away, a shadow covering his features in the soft glow. This would all be so much easier if he would stop looking at you all the time.    

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions as the plane continues its descent. The mix of longing and sorrow in your heart feels almost suffocating, but you push it aside. You have to focus, have to keep your head clear for the sake of the case, you are a professional and you are not going to let your emotions cloud your mind. As the wheels touch the runway with a slight jolt, signaling your arrival in Idaho, you

And as the team disembarks from the plane and makes their way to the awaiting SUVs, you feel a sense of resolve settling within you, happy to no longer be confined to the limited room of the jet cabin and as you step out into the crisp evening air, you release a sigh of relief. 

You watch Aaron walk ahead of you, his posture rigid and his expression unreadable as he walks to one of the cars and you beeline for the other. You keep your gaze fixed outside the window for most of the car ride, watching the landscape pass by in a blur as the car speeds towards its destination, a little sleepy town about an hour away. 

As you and the team arrive at the local police station, you can feel the tension between you and Aaron simmering just beneath the surface. The case at hand requires your full attention, and you push aside the turbulent thoughts and emotions that threaten to consume you as you focus on the task at hand.

Throughout the evening and early night, you work alongside the team, profiling the unsub and piecing together clues to hopefully catch the unsub before they strike again. The familiarity of the work, the rhythm of profiling and investigating grounding you in the present moment, making you go into a state of laser focused professionalism. You find a sense of purpose in the work you do, a reminder that you are more than the turmoil of your emotions.

But as the night wears on, the team regroups at the hotel to get a few hours of sleep before continuing the investigation in the morning. You find yourself standing outside the small hotel, looking up at the dark, star lit sky and as you turn to head inside and join the rest of the team, you feel your heart do a little jump in your chest as you see Aaron standing a few feet away, his gaze fixed on you, his usual stoic expression faltered, his brown eyes softening as they meet yours.   

For a moment, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing in the quiet night, and suddenly, you know that the decision you have made to the hard choice you’ve struggled with for the past two weeks is the right one. 

 Without saying a word, you walk towards him, a mix of uncertainty and determination coursing through you. As you come to a stop in front of him, he opens his mouth to speak, but you raise a hand to silence him. “Not here,” you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper, and you gently take his hand, leading him towards a secluded corner of the hotel grounds. 

As you come to a stop, you turn to face him, the dim light of the night casting shadows across his face. With a heavy sigh, you search his eyes for any sign of the man you once knew, the man who had kissed you with such tenderness and held you with such care, for the man you think might’ve even loved you. You had loved him, had long before he kissed you, and you still love.

 “Aaron, I…” you begin, trailing off as you feel all the words in your head leave you as you look into his eyes, remembering that night he had kissed you for the first time. It had been a late night just like this one, it had been the first time you had ever called him by his first name. 

“Let’s sit,” he says, his voice gentle yet strained, as he guides you to a nearby bench. You both sit in silence for a moment, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavily between you. Finally, Aaron speaks, his voice raw with emotion. “I’m sorry for hurting you, for leading you on, for... for everything.” His words are filled with regret, and you can see the pain in his eyes, a pain that mirrors your own. 

He reaches out his hand, hesitating before resting it on yours. His touch is soft and hesitant but filled with unspoken longing and you feel how your heart skips a beat, how you have missed the feeling of him touching you, even if it’s just the slightest of touches. 

“I never wanted to hurt you,” he says, his voice now barely above a whisper. 

‘But it did hurt, it hurt so, so much’, is what you want to say. But as you look into Aaron’s eyes, filled with regret and vulnerability, you find yourself unable to form the words, the intensity in the warm, chocolate brown depths of his gaze rendering you speechless. You see the conflict within him, the turmoil of emotions swirling beneath the surface, and you feel the need to avert your gaze.  

You look down at his hand on yours, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine in the balm night air. For a moment, you allow yourself to savor the familiar sensation, the connection that still linger between you despite the circumstances.

Aaron’s hand tightens slightly around yours, a silent plea for understanding. “You deserve so much better than that,” he murmurs, his thumb gently stroking the back of your hand.

You take a deep breath, the words forming in your mind before you speak them out loud. “Maybe I don’t want you to decide for me what I do and don’t deserve,” you say, looking up at him again, your voice steady despite the emotions swirling within you. Aaron’s eyes widen slightly at your words, a mix of  crossing his features.

It seems like it’s his turn to be lost for words, which for some reason seems to give you a bit more courage. You fill your lungs with another deep breath before opening your mouth.  

“I’m quitting,” you declare, your voice firm and resolute. You’ve been struggling with making the decision, but as you look at Aaron now, face lit up by the soft moon light you know that it is the only decision for you, you are never gonna be able to let him go if you keep working for the BAU. “I’m turning in my resignation letter when we get back from this case.”

Aaron’s eyes widen in shock, his grip on your hand tightening even more as he processes your words. The weight of your statement hangs heavy in the air between you, the unspoken implications of what this means for both of you settling in. You can see how a myriad of emotions flicker across his face – surprise, concern, and perhaps a glimmer of something else that you can’t quite place.

“You can’t do that,” Aaron’s voice is firm but filled with a mix of concern and resignation, his gaze searching yours for any sign of doubt

You can’t help but feel a pang of hurt at his words, it’s not like you had expected him to be happy about your decision, but a little, and probably naive, part of you had hoped that he would acknowledge that it would be the solution to how the two of you could be together, hoped that he still wanted that. But you’re not leaving the BAU for the slim chance that you can be with Aaron. You’re quitting because it’s become clear to you that it is the only solution. If the only time you can push aside the pain of being around him is when you’re actively investigating  a violent crime case, you have to let him go, and you can only do that by leaving the BAU. 

“Yes, I can… I have to, I think,” you say firmly, yet you feel your heart breaking a little by the thought of leaving. “I need to do this for myself. For my own well-being,” you continue, your gaze unwavering as you look into his eyes. “I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not.” 

Aaron remains silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he processes your words. Finally, he sighs, a hint of resignation in his voice. “I never wanted it to come to this,” he admits, his voice heavy with regret.

“I know,” you reply softly, a tinge of sorrow coloring your words. “But we both knew the risks when we started this.”

“I should never have put you in this position,” Aaron says, his gaze dropping to the ground as he speaks. “I should never have kissed you that night. Ilet my own feelings cloud my judgment, and I hurt you in the process. I’m your boss, and I took advantage, and I-I hurt you, and…” 

“No, look at me, please.” You reach out and gently cub his cheek in your hand, making him meet your gaze. “Aaron, it wasn’t just you. I wanted it too, I wanted to be with you,” you confess, your voice breaking slightly with emotion. “I wanted to take the risk because I thought it was worth it. And maybe it was, for a while. But we can’t keep going like this, Aaron. It’s not fair to either of us.” 

Aaron’s eyes search yours, a mix of emotions swirling within their depths. “What are you saying?” he asks softly, his voice filled with a hint of desperation. 

“I’m saying that I need to let you go,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “I need to let go of this hope that maybe someday we could find a way to be together. I can’t keep holding on to something that’s only causing us both pain.” Tears gather in the corners of your eyes as you speak, the weight of your decision pressing down on you. But despite the pain, you feel a sense of clarity wash over you, a sense of liberation in finally speaking the truth. 

Aaron’s eyes soften, his hand coming up to gently grasp yours that’s still cupping his cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers, his voice filled with regret and sorrow. You offer him a sad smile, tears finally spilling down your cheeks as you lean forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek before pulling away. 

“Me too, Aaron,” you say softly, your voice filled with a mix of love and heartbreak. As you stand up from the bench, you turn to walk away, the weight of your decision settling in your heart. But before you can take a step, you feel a hand grasp yours, stopping you in your tracks. You turn back to see Aaron standing before you, his eyes filled with determination and a hint of something you can’t quite place. 

“I...I can’t let you leave without saying this,” Aaron begins, his voice wavering slightly. “I’ve been a fool. I’ve let my own fears and insecurities cloud my judgment, and in the process, I’ve hurt you. But I can’t let you go without telling you that I love you. ” 

Your heart skips a beat at his words, the depth of his confession washing over you like a wave. For a moment, you feel a flicker of hope ignite within you, a spark of possibility that maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance for the two of you. “But what does that mean, Aaron?” you ask softly, your voice filled with a mix of hope and trepidation. “What are you saying?” 

Aaron takes a deep breath, his gaze unwavering as he speaks. “I’m saying that I don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to live with the regret of letting you slip away. I want to fight for a future where you are a part of my life. I know it won’t be easy, I know there are risks and complications, but I can’t let you go without at least trying cause I love you.” 

Tears stream down your cheeks as you look into Aaron’s eyes, the sincerity and love shining within them filling your heart with warmth and longing. Taking a step closer to Aaron, you reach out to cup his face in your hands, meeting his gaze with determination. 

“I love you, too. I think I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.” 

Aaron’s eyes widen in surprise, a mix of emotions flickering across his features. Without another word, he closes the distance between the two of you, his lips capturing yours in a kiss filled with passion and longing. The world falls away as you melt into each other, lost in the moment of shared love and desire as the man you love kisses you under the moonlight.

The kiss deepens, becoming a promise of the future you both want to fight for, a pledge to overcome the obstacles that stand in your way, a balm for the weeks of heartbreak. And as you break apart, breathless and filled with emotion, you feel how your entire body shivers, already missing the feeling of Aaron’s warm lips against yours. 

“You’re freezing,” Aaron frowns, quickly shredding himself of his suit jacket and draping it around your shoulders before wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. “Let’s get you inside.”

You nod, your heart swelling with hope and love as he takes your hand in his, leading you back to the hotel. Hotel might be a little generous; it’s more of a bed and breakfast, with so few rooms that the team had to pair up and share, but it was the only accommodation in town and it is not like you and the team aren’t used to having to share rooms from time to time. 

It turns out the rest of the team has already paired up and hit the hay, leaving only one room since you’re the last two to arrive. “Looks like you and I’ll have to share a room,” you say, a small smile playing on your lips, an hour ago you would be horrified by it, but now you’re absolutely thrilled about it.  

“Yeah, looks like it,” he says with a soft smile on his face as you get your keys before taking your hand in his again and leading you to your shared room.  

As you step inside, the warmth of the room envelops you, melding with the warmth of Aaron’s touch as he pulls you into his arms, his lips finding yours once more in a sweet, tender embrace. In the dim light of the hotel room, with the moon casting a soft glow through the curtains, the emotions swirling within you are no longer suffocating, but freeing, as you surrender to the love that has bound the two of you together.

As you finally break apart and look around it turns out that the room is a twin room, with two beds divided by a bedside table. It makes sense that your coworkers didn’t leave you to share a room with a shared bed. 

You share a knowing look with him before the both of you start to quickly get ready for bed, it’s late and you’re both exhausted and there is only a few hours till you’ll need to get up again. 

You share one last kiss before moving to your respective beds, but as you lay there, the distance between you feels unbearable. The man you have been pining over for three years has just a little while ago told you that he loves you after weeks of heartbreak and he lies so close yet you can’t even touch him? That’s ridiculous! 

“I can’t do this,” you whisper, your voice filled with longing as you look at Aaron.

“I know,” he replies, his voice just as filled with yearning as he pulls his covers to the side letting you slip into the bed with him. 

You settle into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, and you feel as if you’re finally coming home. The walls that had been built between you are crumbling down, allowing you to embrace the love that has always been between you.

As you snuggle closer to Aaron, his arms wrapped tightly around you, you feel a sense of peace wash over you. The turmoil of the past weeks fades away, replaced by a deep sense of contentment and love.

“I’m never letting you go again,” Aaron whispers, his breath warm against your ear, and you know that he means it. And you know that you never want to let him go either. 

With a smile on your face, and your heart full of love and hope, you drift off to sleep in the arms of the man you love, knowing that no matter what challenges lie ahead, you will face them together.

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