#i just. simply do not have the brain capacity to do that so. this is so much easier for me lol

[bijoumikhawal]

"historically polygamous societies loved to wage war and slavery to dispose of excess men and emphasize female conversion" okay all those things are true of monogamous societies too. Western Europeans are famously probably the best at war and slavery from the current standpoint and they're monogamous. And from the way you wrote that I can tell you were thinking of the middle east so what the fuck

[bongjuiceconcentrate]

instagram has lost its fucking mind honestly

[chiimeraangel]

almost through my second week of work and feeling so...drained. barely done anything but my god...

[weirdmageddon]

i love these tags this person is so right

actually, can you imagine if dave was raised by B1 roxy?

i wanna get into this actually

(ok i had to spend a few hours rewriting this because IT DIDNT FUCKING SAVE AFTER FIVE HOURS OF WRITING WHEN MY COMPUTER UPDATED WHILE I WAS AFK so it would mean a lot to show this post some appreciation. i LOVEEE hearing what other people have to say)

even though these things mom does are presented in an extravagant, kitsch, jokey way, her intentions always came from a place of sincerity. she is simply Funnie

but rose reads too far into it and assumes things that aren't there, that her mother is passive-aggressively feigning interest in rose's interests simply because the things she does are so extra. "why do all of this if not to mock me"

im telling you right now if dave lived in this household he wouldn't assume antagonism, he'd go,

don’t forget who LITERALLY patented tangible jpeg artifacts as their post-scratch adult self and scattered shitty scummed up statue of liberties all over the planet. theres no way some of that overboard artful shit wasnt post-ironic / circling back around to genuine funny sincerity

dave's natural state is funny sincerity like roxy. he's had the natural capacity for this type of humor from the start and this is the direction he goes towards when he grows out of his brother's shadow by the end of the comic. dave and roxy share an earnest “so bad its good” type of humor

(lots more under the cut; the length of this meta analysis just got unwieldly with all the pictures and whatnot)

despite the alcoholism, roxy is a supportive mother. she's not the ideal guardian but hells of a lot more supportive of her kid than bro is. if she knew dave's interests she would totally indulge in them with some over the top silly goofy haha shit as a genuine gesture simply because she loves him

rose isn't too keen on it though. but she is more similar to dirk in her natural state of thinking of overthinking shit and assuming the worst, like the tags said

and yes dave got the sweet cuddly yet sometimes backhanded ouppy gene from roxy, probably even moreso lol

roxy's even said rose "sounds like girl dirk"

side tangent here, but this is something i wanna talk about.

i dont think bro should ever be in custody of children ever but if theres anyone who would be up to the task it's rose probably. i know she'd be able to keep up with him. not only does she have a defined personality (dave is more malleable and absorbs his environment like a sponge), if anyone can pick apart B1 dirk's batshit brain and probably be right on the money it's her. lil cal has been pumping patriarchal nonsense into bro's head and rose would be able to bring the fucking facts to the table without losing her own and being a living example of a badass little girl. i also don't think bro would try to force masculine roles onto rose like he did with dave, seeing as she is a girl, so she would actually have more of a leg up and get some passes that dave was never afforded. and rose wouldn't stand idly and accept any bullshit; she is no doormat. and i think this would earn bro's respect

but anyway, from this, couldn't we conclude roxy "sounds like girl dave"?

yeah okay. we havent even gotten into their penchant for funny typos or misspeaks, deliberate or otherwise

so, dave's environment

the sentiment "god you hope you can be as good as your bro at this some day" might have been genuine at the time when he idolized bro but of course he's not able to express that in any sort of sincere fashion because he's in dirk's fucking household. and this level 10 irony shit isnt doing dave any favors

his role models were the Internet and a vague idea of what Bro was like. So he built up his facade based on irony–not the literary definition of irony, as Rose might be quick to point out, but a popular concept of irony based on the idea that things that didn’t make sense actually made sense in some roundabout way. As a master of irony, Dave probably reasoned, he could see in a way other people couldn’t why a world that was scary and didn’t make sense really did make sense, and could therefore convince those people that he was superior to them. And he would wield his knowledge to maintain the appearance of superiority by calling everything ironic and pretending he didn’t care about things that didn’t make sense, and he would use walls of vaguely rhyming words to keep everyone at arm’s length so they wouldn’t discover his insecurities (source)

roxy's style is the embodiment of post-irony. being raised by mom lalonde would be like being raised by joel vinesauce ok

what can i say ….. (getting meta about this actually, hussie got these jpeg wizard wallpapers from a spyware website. link takes some time to load because internet archive)

rose is quick to read post-irony as actually being a joke/insincere, which in bro's case would be true. but i believe dave's natural instinct, outside of the influence of bro, is to read post-irony as genuine, which is exactly how mom serves it. we see this as early as act 3 from him; he understands her motives better than rose does herself:

and in act 6 intermission 2 i think it's pretty clear

but the thing is, it's always genuine from her. dave wouldn't have to second guess it because he's not one to naturally second guess someone's sincerity; that was learned due to his bro being virtually unassailable

there two types of ironies at play here:

seems like a joke, is actually genuine (roxy)

doesnt seem like a joke, is actually a joke (dirk)

you can make the argument that the second is is more psychologically destructive because it makes you question the reality of what is genuine sentiment and what isn't. dave never knew what was genuine and what was irony so he just sort of existed in this sincerity-ironic limbo and always did the opposite of what he genuinely felt on principle even if it always did originate from a genuine place.

"it just a joke bro i was just being ironic i dont actually x" is so much more trust-breaking and psychologically damaging than "wait are you being serious" / "i am being so fucking fr rn davy gravy" / "ok thats actually pretty fucking awesome. giant ass wizard statue" / "RIGHT"

how much about dave would change do you think? his character arc would be completely different for one thing, i think he'd have it good aside from mom's alcohol issues. he'd be left with the sweet and funny parts of him that we see at the end of the comic. the fake coolguy stuff is out, but this remains. this is dave in his element and we see it as early as act 1

he'd probably have no shades growing up in the lalonde residence* either cause those were given to him by bro straight out of the crater as an extension of his own cool image. and john gave dave ben stiller’s aviators for his 13th birthday to replace them so he could “spread his wings”

dave said he was wearing them for the ironies but i kind of doubt it. maybe post-irony but there was some reacharound to it being genuine because dave never put those pointy anime shades on his face again.

*though... it’s kind of hard to imagine him without his shades at all? B2 dave still got stiller’s shades from stiller himself so maybe getting them is a universal constant. i can imagine mom getting him them as a birthday gift cause shes pretty wealthy and probably could buy it out in an auction. but also itd be cool if john still gave him it as a gift

dave is actually a lot more genuine and easy to read than he lets on even when grappling with his upbringing with B1 dirk (again, see this post). this can be seen all throughout he comic but a good example is the evolution of thoughts about his interest in the preserved dead things in his room:

if B1 roxy was dave's guardian he probably WOULD have pursued paleontology because she wouldve indulged him in it and probably find it cool and worthwhile to pursue, instead of allowing dave to flounder under ironic detachment, being poisoned by irony to the point of gaslighting himself into believing he doesnt actually believe he thinks this shit is cool. even if it was indulged in this such a way; a superficially kitsch and ironic appearing presentation, it comes from a genuine place and inspires genuine interest. just read the comments.

basically, i think if B1 roxy raised dave, their relationship would have a surface level appearance of being bizarre or over-the-top but they’d have an unsaid mutual understanding that it’s completely in earnest and just build on each other's funny and absurd gestures of affection. rather than seeing it as one-upping each other, it'd more like collaboration of some silly bullshit that you take a step back and look at full and just say, "fucking incredible"

speaking of paleontology, mom had the proto-ectobiology lab. maybe they'd be able to use the equipment to appearify paradox ghost imprints of the dead shit to create paradox clones of things from the cambrian era??? sounds like a fun mother son bonding activity. and theyd actually put the sciencey shit in the household to use

oh god i know exactly the kinds of music shed listen too also growing up as a teen in the 80s. she on that (post)-punk/art rock/new wave/new romantic mtv stuff. XTC shit fr. this is a B-52S HOUSEHOLD. maybe the associates for the campy melodramatic flair. so he gets to keep the record on his shirt cause he is an enjoyer of the shit in her vinyl collection. dave would still gravitate towards musical expression and music itself but of more variety outside of just rap, with an 80s-90s, even 70s flavor due to mom’s influence. see this for perhaps a glimpse. ​she probably visited new york city a lot for business trips and because the music scene was cool as hell around that time, imports came straight from jfk airport, she probably got in on that a bit and have remnants in the form of vinyls and cassettes. in this way she could be distributing void to dave (influencing him with forgotten / presently irrelevant music). now he can REALLY rave about bands none of his friends have heard of. “hey davy grvay watcha listenin to” (he holds up vinyl cover) “omg snakefinger”

btw dave lalonde would look like this to me

[talaok]

Movie night

Summary: Peter's coming over for your weekly movie night, and you’ve decided you wanna confess your feelings for him, but as it turns out, he has similar plans

Warnings: Smut| unprotected p in v sex, praising, soft!Dom Peter

a/n: thanks to this request I might go back into my Peter Parker era honestly. Also, @wtvbabes (this is not the person that made the request)

It was time for the weekly movie night with Peter, 

You had been doing it for so long that you didn't even remember how or when it started, it was now simply a part of your routine.

Every Friday night, at 6 o'clock you went to whatever house was free, ordered pizza, and watched a movie each of you had chosen.

It was routine, so you shouldn't have been nervous... except that this time, this time wasn't gonna be like the other times, this time you had made a promise to yourself that you were finally gonna come clean, that you were finally gonna confess your feelings.

You had been keeping it a secret for way too long, and you were tired... god, were you tired, it was exhausting pretending like you didn't want more, like you didn't wanna kiss him and hold his hand every time you were together, and perhaps it was the holiday spirit surrounding you, or perhaps it was the fact that Gemma, your other best friend, had given you a 30-minute talk about how you should just "stop being a little bitch and tell him already" after you had started your usual ramble about how perfect and great Peter was,

But you had made peace with yourself, if this was gonna ruin your entire friendship, if you were gonna lose him forever, then so be it, because at the end of the day, if you couldn't have him like you really wanted to, then there was no point in having him at all.

And just then, when you were repeating your script to the mirror for the thousandth time, the words coming out of your mouth not even making sense anymore, he knocked at the door.

For some reason, a gasp fled your throat, but after the familiar "hey, it's me" from the other side of the door all you could do was take a deep breath and fix your dress.

It's all gonna be ok, it's all gonna be ok

"hi" you smiled, opening the door

Your anxiety must have been all over your face because the way he frowned at you told you everything you needed to know.

"hi" he said, coming into the house as he inspected your face "is something wrong?" he asked "Please don't tell me your sister changed the password to her Netflix again"

You forced a smile to your lips "no, no everything is fine- let's just... sit down"

"ok..." he frowned, following you as you sat on the couch "did something happen, or-"

"no" you shut him down "I-I just wanted" You shook your head as you regretted your choice of words "no actually, I need to- uhm- to tell you something"

You watched his eyes widen slightly, but out of all the things he could have said, he chose the only one that made you even fucking more anxious.

"Really?" he smiled "That's funny 'cause I do too"

You swore you felt your heart stop beating.

What could he ever need to tell you?

"w-what?" 

Your voice didn't even sound like your own, it was just fear and stress finding a way to come out of your body.

"yeah" he nodded, watching you closely "so... you wanna go first or..."

"no, no, you go first" you spit out, making him chuckle

He still didn't get why you were acting so weird, but to be perfectly transparent, he was kind of freaking out internally himself, so he didn't really have the brain capacity to investigate further.

"Alright" he laughed "I'll go first"

His eyes focused behind you for a moment as he prepared for whatever was coming, and just then, did you notice that perhaps you weren't the only nervous one.

What is it?

Did something happen

Oh god, did he find a girlfriend?

Your heart was beating out of your chest and then just like that, he came out and said: "Y/n I like you" with a hopeful smile on his face, while yours completely stilled.

Actually not just your face, you as a whole went completely still, frozen at the words that had just come out of his mouth

Did I just imagine that?

Am I dreaming or something?

What the actual fuck is going on?

That was supposed to be my lin-

"y/n are you there?"

He was talking to you, you realized.

"w-w-what?" your eyes were wide open in shock 

"I know" he smiled, scratching the back of his neck, "I know it's out of the blue, and I really really hope this won't ruin anything, but... I've been feeling like this for a long time about you, and I just- I needed to tell you"

And then you could do nothing, absolutely nothing but throw your arms around him, hugging him so tight he probably couldn't breathe.

"y/n?" he murmured, hugging you back, but before he could say anything else you leaned away, still holding onto him as if he were a life jacket, and smiled like an idiot.

"I like you too Peter-" you grinned "I really really like you"

The smile on his face now matched yours, as his eyes sparked with joy

"you do?"

"of course I do!" you almost yelled from the excitement "that's-that's what I wanted to tell you! I can't believe this"

You looked into each other's eyes, both incredulous and unbelievably happy altogether, 

you were so close, but an inch between your faces, that what happened next was inevitable.

His lips were on yours, 

his lips were on yours and they felt every bit as good as you had spent hours and hours imagining.

And then for a moment, you both leaned away, looking at each other as soft silly laughs fled your throats.

"i can't believe this is real" he breathed, melting your heart right into a puddle

"I can't either"

And then his lips were back on yours, but this time... this time he was hungrier.

His tongue was exploring your mouth, and his hands were one holding your face, while the other started roaming your body, pulling soft whimpers from you as your arms remained locked behind his neck, your left hand gently playing with his hair,

And then in no time, without a clue of how or when, you were lying on the couch, and he was on top of you, his legs parting your thighs.

And you didn't need to know when it had happened, because all you knew was that you liked it, god you really fucking liked it.

His whole broad and strong body was engulfing yours, his scent was all around you, his hands were everywhere, and his mouth... his mouth was simply heavenly.

As embarrassing as it was, you couldn't control your body as you started grinding down onto his leg to try and relieve some of the need pooling between your legs.

"please" you pleaded, whimpering softly into the kiss.

"I like it when you beg, sweetheart"

And if you wanted him before, you now needed him

His lips moved to your neck, starting a slow trail from just below your ear, down until he found your shirt as an obstacle.

You didn't need to be told twice and helped him take it off of you in a second.

Your bra wasn't far behind.

"god, you're so beautiful" he praised, making you blush 

he bent down to take one of your nipples into his mouth, sucking on it while his other hand played with the other one, making you lose your goddamn mind as you shut your eyes in ecstasy.

"oh my god" you moaned, one of your hands going to his hair as he switched up the breast he was taking care of.

Your panties were completely drenched

He continued his work as his hands traveled underneath your skirt, caressing your thighs in a way that was turning you into a putty mess in his hands.

His fingers gripped the edge of the fabric, and with the help of you raising your hips, only the sheer fabric of your panties divided him from where you begged for his attention

"Peter" you called, stopping him as he had seated himself in between your legs

"yes, sweetheart?"

"I-I've only ever done this once"

His features softened and one of his hands traveled to your face to cup your cheek as he left a soft kiss on your lips

"don't worry, I'll go slow," he promised "I'll take care of everything, you just relax, ok?"

"ok" You nodded softly "I trust you"

He smiled at that, kissing you again "Thank you"

And no more than a few seconds after that, you were completely bare before him.

"you're perfect sweetheart" he murmured "fucking perfect"

He left a kiss on your pussy, making you moan, before his lips were on you again, and you were more desperate than you had ever been.

Your hands gripped the fabric of his shirt, frantically trying to get it off of him.

"Peter please take this off"

He didn't need to be told twice.

His shirt was on the floor with the rest of your clothes in no time, and then came his pants.

He went back to kissing you, the kiss now a heated mess between your moans and his hunger.

"baby please" you whined, your hand going to his boxers 

"what do you want sweetheart?"

"you, please, all of you"

Your voice was so thin and so breathy it was almost incomprehensible

"what about me?" he asked, his mouth next to your ear "You want my cock sweetheart, is that what you want?"

"yes" you moaned, as his hand played with your clit "I'm begging you, please, I need you inside of me"

He freed his cock from the confines of his briefs, as he kept kissing your neck

"you're gonna be good?" he asked, his tip now collecting all your juices and making you squirm uncontrollably "you're gonna be good and take all of it?"

"yes" you breathed "yesplease, yes-"

And without so much as a warning, he had started to push into you

"told you I like hearing you beg"

You moaned so loud you surprised even yourself, and then he retracted his hips and pushed another inch of himself in you, and you were just about ready to die.

"O-oh my god, P-peter" you moaned

He made the same motion again, and you couldn't help but look down at where your bodies were meeting, and that's when you noticed,

"fuck you're so big" you breathed, watching as he thrust only half of his dick inside of you

"it's ok" he purred, kissing your neck sloppily "Just be a good girl and take it" he ordered, pushing in again "Take it all inside this tight little pussy"

A high-peached moan fled your mouth again, as your pussy stretched around him,

"just like that," he said, his hot breath fanning over your skin "That's a good girl"

He was now fully inside you, by some miracle, he had made himself fit, and he felt absolutely perfect.

"fuck you feel so good" he groaned, picking up his pace "so tight" he grunted, feeling your walls squeeze him better than anything ever before "like you were made for me" his thrusts somehow felt deeper now, resulting in even more moans and cries coming out of your mouth

"O-oh god" you whimpered, feeling him hit and hit and hit again that perfect spot inside of you.

"You're taking me so well sweetheart"

The couch was now shaking with each of his movements, while your brain had stopped working and all you could do was cry out as he brought heaven to you.

"look at you" he murmured, kissing your mouth "So beautiful" he praised "so fucking pretty" he groaned, as your walls tightened around him "squeezing me so good" 

His thrusts were so fucking deep you could feel them in your belly, and your orgasm was inevitably approaching

"such a good girl"

A louder moan left your throat at that, and he definitely noticed

"you like it when I call you that?" he asked, smirking devilishly "You like hearing that you're my good girl?"

Again, another cry, followed by a frantic nod now.

Your ability to talk had been lost a while ago.

"It's just what you are" he purred in your ear now "You're my good girl y/n, only mine"

And that, that sent you definitively over the edge.

A series of cries and moans resembling his name came out of your mouth as the best orgasm of your life took over your body completely.

He waited for you to come down from your high before he pulled out of you, spilling his seed all over your belly not a second later.

"fuck" he muttered, his head falling to the crook of your neck

You stayed there for a moment, waiting for your heartbeats and breathing to calm down,

And only then, only after you spent five minutes in the most comfortable silence, did he lean away to look at you.

"I love you, Peter"

You couldn't stop yourself from saying it, it was just the truth

And not a beat had passed, that he had already answered

"I love you, y/n"

[sanatomis]

⋆.ೃ࿔* ── 𝐃𝐈𝐘-𝐃𝐀𝐃!

it’s career day, and megumi has to bring his dad to school so he can tell the class about his job. the problem? he only has a 20-year-old sorcerer-guardian who has the brain capacity of a walnut.

content. canon divergence (suguru’s alive and studying to be a kindergarten teacher), possible ooc characters, female!reader.

notes. guys i’m a sucker for satoru who really, really tries and isn’t just a goofy man-child ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ also ! thank you all for your patience, it took me a while to finish this piece bc of uni, so i'm vv happy it's finally done <3

taglist. | masterlist.

“I don’t have a dad.” 

As cruel as it may be, a part of Megumi hopes that the sentence makes his teacher greatly uncomfortable. Demanding for a father to attend a Career Day at school simply isn’t fair to children without one—or, well, to the child without one. It’s not his fault his father hauled ass and left, so why is she making this so difficult for him? 

“Oh,” she mumbles. It seems his arrow hit the target, as her eyebrows pull together in a frown and she shifts her weight between her feet. “Well, you, uh, have a male guardian, don’t you?”

Megumi grimaces. Instantly, he thinks back to last week. Satoru Gojo, self-proclaimed strongest, had hit his head on a kitchen cabinet. With a dramatic pout and an overexaggerated wobble to his lips, he clung to you for hours. Some affection will make it all better!

Of course, when Megumi criticised his skills surrounding his infinity technique—because, really, how couldn’t it block a simple cabinet—the sorcerer opted to ignore him. He suspects there was some foul play at hand. 

“Barely,” he mutters, as the memory resurfaces. 

His teacher lets out a startled hum. “I’m sorry?”

“Nothing,” Megumi says quickly. He watches as she starts typing on her computer, and the realisation that she’s probably currently taking a look at his file isn’t a particularly welcome one. “What about my other guardian? Can I bring her, instead?”

“This event is geared towards fathers,” she explains. It’s obvious she forgot her reading glasses today, Megumi thinks, as she needs to narrow her eyes to read the screen in front of her. “I have one Satoru Gojo noted down as your male guardian. Surely, he will be able to attend.” 

Megumi pauses. He blinks up at her expressionlessly, and fights off the urge to push his teacher down a well. You often preach about being kind to others, and that wouldn’t be very kind. 

“Can’t I take my oth—”

“I’m afraid not,” she interrupts him before he even gets the sentence out. It irks him. Megumi isn’t fond of speaking to begin with, so when he does, he’d prefer not to be cut off halfway through. “An exception will not be made. Please, make sure to bring Gojo-san to school.” 

Megumi briefly, and for the very first time ever, mourns the fact that you and Satoru weren’t married. A small part of him calls the man a coward for not asking you to. If he’d simply taken the step, then Megumi would be able to pass you off as Gojo-san. Unfortunately, he can’t, and it’s becoming increasingly clear that there’s no way around this problem. 

“Fine,” he grumbles. It takes all of his remaining willpower to not stomp out of the classroom. Once again, he thinks of you. It’d be extremely bad manners. He can’t find it in himself to wish his teacher a nice day this time, though, and so she’ll have to make due with a slightly less polite Megumi for today. 

There’s nothing he can do about it. Satoru will have to come to the school. 

Megumi suddenly despises the idea of Career Day. 

“I need you to come to my school next week.” 

Immediately, all chatter around the dining table stops. For once, Megumi finds himself annoyed at the sudden appearance of silence. Before he said it, he knew his words would most likely have such an effect—he just didn’t expect it to be so instant. 

He tries his best to feign nonchalance, as if the topic that’s coming up didn’t make him feel stressed-out beyond belief. The confused, startled glances you and Satoru share don’t do much to help him, either. Perhaps it’s because Megumi is looking straight at him; him instead of you. Yeah, Satoru, he isn’t a fan of it, either. 

“Me?” The man asks then, and Megumi has to resist the urge to say, ‘no, I meant the snail in the backyard—yes, you,’ in the most sarcastic voice he can muster up. Satoru once again steals a look at you, ever so oblivious to Megumi's mental remarks. “Don’t you mean—” 

“I don’t,” Megumi cuts him off solemnly. His lips are pursed shut, and he pokes the slices of pork belly in his bowl with his chopsticks. One didn’t need to be of particularly high intelligence to notice the boy’s displeasure.  “I have to bring a male figure for Career Day.” 

It’s slow, the morphing of Satoru’s face, but it happens gradually and doesn’t stop until he’s positively beaming. Megumi doesn’t like it one bit. Nothing good happens when he looks like that, and he’s quite sure that all that will spew out of his mouth in a few seconds will be nothing except for pure nonsense. 

“Well, luckily, I will have the day off, then!” Satoru chimes, with a smile so wide it causes two dimples to appear on his cheeks. You copy his smile, and gently go to poke the little dent in his skin—Satoru lets you, as he always does. Megumi would think of it as cute if he weren’t so annoyed. “I will be there.” 

It seems he was right. Satoru’s words are pure nonsense.

“I didn’t tell you when,” he comments dryly. 

The sorcerer blinks. His smile is still on his face, but it’s fading, and the dimples do so with it. Your hand hovers halfway in the air, stuck with nothing to poke, and you slowly bring it back down to your side. It seems neither of you had taken time to think about that small fact—Megumi blames Satoru for dragging you down with him; him and those indentations in his cheek that you always seem to coo over. 

“Oh,” Satoru mumbles. A crease between his brows forms as his brain hurries to catch up with the newfound information. A few seconds pass, and then the previous bravado returns. “Well, it doesn’t matter! I can take the day off. When do you need me? Tell me, and I’ll be there.” 

Megumi very much doubts he can take days off all willy-nilly like that, especially after he pushed his workload onto someone else to attend his science fair last time, but then again, what does he know? If Satoru didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, then Megumi wasn’t about to break his own head doing so, either. 

“Next Friday,” he mumbles. From the tone of his voice, it’s quite clear that he’d rather be saying anything else. “We have to leave at eight a.m., please, be on time.”

“Sure thing!” Satoru chimes, and with that, Megumi thinks the dreaded conversation has finally come to an end. 

All in all—it could’ve gone worse. At least Satoru didn’t prolong it unnecessarily. Nor did he add a bunch of relentless teasing. He glances at the sorcerer. Satoru is happily munching on the dinner you’d prepared, both his cheeks stuffed full with entirely too much rice. It’s unbecoming, and a reflection of his poor manners, Megumi thinks, and he doesn’t understand how you look at the man with such hearts in your eyes. 

Though, your more than adequate cooking seems to have saved him from one of Satoru’s onslaughts. He’s grateful. Even if he doesn’t particularly enjoy the sight in front of him. 

“Hey, ‘toru?” You ask, breaking the silence with a slight hesitation to your voice. It nearly sounds nervous, and both Megumi and Tsumiki look up in alarm. Satoru hums, still chewing away. “What are you going to tell the class?”

Satoru stops eating. His chewing comes to a halt, and his chopsticks freeze in the air. A slice of pork drops from between them, and falls back into his bowl—It’s not hard to see the cogs turning in his head. “Uhm, I. . .” He swallows the food still in his mouth, and clears his throat. 

Right. It’s Career Day—but Satoru can’t tell a bunch of seven to eight-year-olds that he hunts and kills grimy, ugly, and freakishly scary curses for a living, now, can he? Megumi doesn’t think that would go over well with the other parents. The boy sighs. It’s just one thing after another. He grimly believes the world might just be out to get him. 

“I. . .Oh! I can tell them I’m a teacher,” his guardian scrambles for a solution, and Megumi can’t help but think it’s a little lack-lustre. Who would believe that guy is a teacher, anyway? Then again. . .Megumi doesn’t know a better fix for their current problem, either. He was so focused on the fact that it was Satoru that had to come to the school, he all but forgot about the fact that the dear thorn-in-his-side didn’t possess a normal job. “Suguru has told me a thing or two about his internship. I can take inspiration from there.”

Ah, yes. The famed Suguru Geto. Megumi has met him before. He hasn’t actually spoken to him, however. The man often visits, and has twin girls clinging to him when he does, and while Tsumiki seems to really like him—and them—Megumi doesn’t have an interest in seeking out some form of interaction, yet. Whenever he comes over, Megumi opts to hide in his room. Suguru never tries to disturb him, nor does he try to coax him into coming out. He’s very grateful for it. 

So, despite never speaking to him, Megumi knows about Suguru. Well, he knows enough. He knows Suguru went to school with the two of you, and he knows something really, very bad (nearly) happened that caused the man to take a step back from the world you all live in. What exactly happened (or what didn’t happen), Megumi doesn’t know for sure. You and Satoru almost never speak about it, and when you do, it’s in hushed voices—and you always stop immediately when he enters the room. 

But that’s okay. He doesn’t need to know. Suguru doesn’t force himself upon Megumi, and so he will extend him the same courtesy.  “I thought Geto-san wasn’t a teacher, yet?” Tsumiki speaks up from beside him, tilting her head to the side in confusion. “Mimi and Nana said he’s still learning. How can he be teaching, already?” 

“He’s not a teacher, yet, munchkin, well spotted,” Satoru answers with a proud grin. The nickname annoys Megumi—the feeling of irritation has been conditioned into his very being after Satoru chose it as the designated nickname for both of them. “An internship helps him build experience in the field. It means he is still learning, but he will do so while teaching.”

Tsumiki nods in understanding, her mouth opens and her lips curl into a small ‘ah’ as the information settles in. “So, you will pretend to be a teacher, then? At Megumi’s school?”

Satoru bites on his bottom lip, seemingly deep in thought. Seemingly—as Megumi is quite convinced he doesn’t ever think before he speaks. “I think so, yes,” he explains, and unknowingly retorates Megumi’s train of thoughts. How annoying. Satoru looks towards you for approval; it’s something he does very often. “It’s probably the safest route, no?”

“It’s our best option,” you say, and bring a thumb up to the corner of Satoru’s mouth. Gently, you wipe away a grain of rice stuck to his skin. It’s effortless, and nearly automated. Megumi wonders how many times you’ve had to do that. “Pretending to be a teacher shouldn’t be too difficult a task. Right, mochi?”

“Right,” Satoru echoes. His eyes track your every move, and the slight, pink colouring of his cheeks doesn’t seem to embarrass him even a little bit. Megumi thinks it should. Have some decorum. “I can do it, no problem.” 

“Alright then,” you say, and smile. First at Satoru, and then at Megumi. You look at the boy for a few seconds; you’re about to ask him if he’s okay with it. He knows you are, because you always do. “Is that okay for you, Megumi?” It’s like clockwork, almost. 

Megumi feels the need to answer with something snarky. Something akin to the sound of ‘What choice do I have?’ but he doesn’t—because you’re being kind, and you don’t deserve such a response. So, instead he turns towards Satoru.

“. . .Just don’t mess it up.” 

Satoru delivers a whole spiel about how ‘he’d never do that’ and that he’s ‘more than capable’ of telling a little white lie, but Megumi dilutes it to background noise rather quickly. He continues sputtering his nonsense when Megumi and Tsumiki stand up to clear the table, and still hasn’t stopped even when you and him start loading the dishwasher together—Megumi chooses to seek reprieve in his room while he’s distracted. 

It isn’t until many hours later, when Megumi leaves the sanctuary of his room to swipe a quick snack from the kitchen, that he first hears Satoru speak about something other than his great, and very much sufficient, ‘capabilities’. Your voices are muffled, and Megumi has to focus to make out your words. His soft, inaudible padding down the illuminated hallways comes to a halt. As if that would make his ears function better. 

“Are you sure you want to do this, Satoru?”

The boy frowns. With such gentleness in your voice, it’s hard to identify the worry lingering beneath the surface. Megumi moves a bit closer. He stops one step shy of bumping into the wooden surface, and peeks through the groove. The door is ajar—it’s something that allows him to watch how your eyes follow Satoru’s large frame as he paces around the room. It’s strange. Seeing him so. . .frazzled. 

Satoru nods. “I can do this, I know I can,” he says, and quits his pacing to look at you. Megumi can’t see his face, but he can see yours. He might as well not have, though, as he can’t make out the emotion that fills your eyes. It’s not one he himself has in his repertoire, that he knows for sure. “He never asks me for anything, princess. I have to do this right.” 

Ah, this isn’t a conversation Megumi is meant to hear. He should probably seize his eavesdropping, he thinks, and winces a little when he properly analyses Satoru’s words. They’re truthful. Megumi doesn’t go to him when he needs something. His first thought is to go to you—and his second, Tsumiki. And if he’s being honest anyway, his third thought very likely isn’t Satoru, either; He’d try to solve it on his own if it came down to it. Megumi frowns again. He doesn’t like how that realisation makes him feel. 

A careful shuffle of footsteps breaks him free from his thoughts. Megumi looks up, and catches how you place a hand on Satoru’s cheek. “I’m sure you’ll do great, baby,” you mumble. There’s a small, soft smile on your lips, one that quickly makes way for the peck Satoru places upon them. 

“Thank you,” Satoru whispers. One of his hands reaches for yours, and Megumi suddenly feels as if he’s intruding on something when the man brings them up to his lips to press a tender kiss to them. Okay, no, definitely intruding—ew. 

The boy scrunches his nose up in disgust, and hurriedly darts back towards his room. Suddenly, he has lost his appetite for a late-evening snack. Megumi lets out a deep sigh once he’s all tucked into his sheets again. Perhaps giving Satoru a shot wouldn’t be that big of a problem. Just one, though.

. . .Yeah, just one should be enough.

It’s the final, conclusive thought Megumi has before dozing off to sleep. Blissfully unaware of the conversation you and Satoru share—now behind a very closed door.

You stifle a giggle. The disappearance of Megumi’s presence outside your bedroom was quick and rampant as soon as Satoru started to kiss your hands. Something the sorcerer did very deliberately. It’s as if the boy suddenly forgot about the very special, very effective pair of eyes his guardian possesses. And with a cursed energy output such as Megumi’s, it would be hard not to recognise his presence.

“You did that on purpose,” you comment. “How cruel of you, mochi.”

Satoru hums, and kisses the inside of your wrist. “Maybe, the little brat shouldn’t eavesdrop, then,” he defends himself. There isn’t an inkling of guilt to be seen on his pretty face.

. . .Though, both of you still take some extra care to shut the door next time.

Megumi faithfully believes that, as of today, he has used-up all of his luck for the next five, no, ten years. It can only go downhill from here. For some inexplicable, mind-boggling reason—Satoru is actually pulling this off. That’s not all; he’s not merely winging it, he’s genuinely doing well. The boy can’t quite believe his eyes.

When he’d walked to the front with such an overexaggerated pep in his step, and an overabundance of bravado rolling off of him in waves—Megumi couldn’t help but watch on with a grim look, and a healthy dose of negative thoughts. It only amplified the nerves he’d collected so far during the walk to school. Somehow, watching Satoru give your flashcards a frantic do-over did very little to ease his bubbling anxiety.

There were many of them, flashcards that is. All possible questions his peers or his teacher could ever think of are written on those little pieces of cardboard. Courtesy of you, and your boyfriend. Megumi’s able to recall all those nights the two of you spend at the kitchen table—practising. He thought it was silly at the time.

But, as it turns out, it works.

Satoru is fun. To other people; Megumi doesn’t share the sentiment. Against all odds, he’s dynamic, and speaks with conviction. His flamboyant hand gestures have others think of them as amusing—captivating, even. Satoru is talking, and they’re all hanging onto his every word. No matter the fact that they’re all cleverly disguised lies.

Megumi can’t wrap his head around it. He doesn’t need to, however. If anything, he’s relieved that his peers think of his guardian as cool. While he certainly does not share the opinion, he isn’t too dense to admit that such a belief will save him a lot of embarrassment in the future. So, for this one, single day, he will let Satoru Gojo be cool. His snarky comments can resume tomorrow.

“Ah, it seems you have a deep love for your profession, Gojo-san,” his teacher says. She interrupts Satoru’s rant, and catches his attention as well as Megumi’s. Her voice is light and airy, and carries nothing that should cause him to fear the worst. Still, the boy feels on edge. “Though, I don’t remember the grade you are teaching. Could you tell us, again?”

Ah, and there it goes. The very first card in the elaborately built castle of lies.

Satoru pauses. A second passes, and then two, and three, and so on. He doesn’t speak for a good thirty, and Megumi can nearly see his mind leaf through his beloved flashcards—flashcards that are now neatly tucked into his pockets and entirely out of reach. That’s good. Because the absolute last thing Satoru should do now, is resort back to the flashcards.

Megumi shakes his head no as a signal.

“Ah,” Satoru says. “I teach kindergarten.”

Satoru didn’t catch the hint. Megumi wishes the ground would swallow him up. It would have been the correct answer—it is the answer that’s written on the flashcards—if Satoru hadn’t decided to go off route. Getting too caught up in the story he’d been free-writing, and allowing himself to get carried away by the looks of awe is resulting in his downfall, which, consecutively, will end with Megumi’s downfall, as well.

“Huh? But! What about the science experiment that exploded?” One of the children in his class whines. “I didn’t get to do that in kindergarten!”

“And the backflip you taught your students!”

“What about the first prize in the talent show? I thought your students were famous!”

The little bit of colour that normally resides in Satoru’s face steadily disappears, and he clenches his fist at his side. Ah, it’s great to know he’s at least aware of his mistake. That won’t help either of them at the moment, though. Megumi’s eyebrows furrow, and a feeling of distress overtakes him. It shows on his face. He doesn’t exactly go through the trouble of trying to hide it—there are bigger problems right now.

How utterly humiliating to be caught lying.

Satoru’s eyes find him. They’re just as troubled as his own. It worsens his anxiety.

“Oh, uhm, you see. . .” Satoru stammers, and Megumi’s stomach churns when the children around them continue to ask more and more questions. The wince his guardian lets out does little to soothe him. Megumi sighs, and looks at the ground. “Ah, I see. It seems you guys saw right through me.”

Megumi slides down in his seat. Maybe, if he tried hard enough, the ground would absorb him. It’s currently looking like a preferable fate.

“. . .I’m actually a detective.”

Oh, Jesus Christ.

“And. . .And for a detective, it’s very important to listen to what people say, because they could be lying!”

It’s a sad, pathetic excuse for a save. Megumi briefly ponders the distance between his seat and the door. Perhaps he could make a run for it. The subway station is very close by—getting on and travelling to an entirely new city to start a new life doesn’t seem like such a bad option. He sighs. No, that’s not possible. You and Tsumiki would be very worried. What else is there to do, though?

“You all picked up on my lie, which tells me every single one of you could make a great detective in the future.”

Megumi thinks Satoru might have some underlying mental problems. Though, they can’t possibly be as severe as the problems his classmates have—for they all believe the nonsense he’s giving them. Bright eyes, filled with hope and admiration, stare up at the man at the front of the class; impressed hums and entertained smiles get passed between the parents standing at the edge of the room. And Satoru, well, he seems entirely too proud of the fact that he made a bunch of children think they’re destined for a career in law enforcement. But, be that as it may, it works.

The children stir up unrest—the good kind this time, the kind that vocalises their excitement—and all rush to ask the detective a question. But, before they can even open their mouths, Satoru claps his hands together. It seems he has decided enough is enough, and it’s one of those very rare moments where Megumi agrees with him. The boy needs this to be over already.

“Alright, that’s it for today,” Satoru says, and feigns disappointment. He pretends to be affected by the sad groans of the children—keyword being pretend, as to the trained eye it’s quite clear that he wishes to leave. “I’m not allowed to tell you more.”

Ah, see, now that’s a good card.

“Wait, but, what about. . .”

“Ah, sorry, that’s confidential. Detective stuff, y’know?”

Confidential. Megumi thinks that might just be his new favourite word. The lingering feeling of anxiety slowly starts to subside with every step Satoru takes towards the back of the room—to the back, and away from the spotlight. His eyes follow the man’s large frame, but Satoru never chooses to look at him in return. His line of sight is firmly focused on the floor. It confuses Megumi, but he chalks it up to a mere whim.

All things considered (and minus the near cardiac arrest he went through), today went pretty well, after all. Much to his surprise.

Perhaps Megumi doesn’t hate Career Day. A strong dislike is more like it.

Megumi can’t count the times he wished for Satoru to be quiet. The exact number is much like the digits of Pi—huge, and absolutely never-ending. He can, however, count the times he didn’t wish for him to be quiet. As of today, that stands at a very solid one.

The birds around them chirp, and the bustle of other people is heard all around them—but they’re the only sounds gracing his ears. There is none of Satoru’s incessant chatter, nor is there even a glimmer of gloating about a job well-done. It’s eerily silent, and Megumi isn’t sure what to make of it. This isn’t quite how he imagined the walk home to go. Far from it, if he’s being honest.

“What’s up with you?”

It’s possibly the first time Megumi decides to break the silence, ever. The boy frowns, and fiddles with the straps of his backpack. There isn’t a middle-ground with Satoru, he has found out. Either he speaks entirely too much, or unnervingly little. There’s a tiny pebble in his path, and Megumi feels the need to kick it forward—so he does.

“I kind of messed up there, huh?”

The kick doesn’t have nearly enough force to it. Megumi watches as the little rock skips forward. Once, twice, and then it comes to a standstill again. “Yeah, kind of,” he agrees.

“I’m sorry,” Satoru rushes out. It’s said so fast, as if it physically pains him to say it. Perhaps it does. It’s sincere, however. There isn’t even a hint of a joke to be found. Something must be bothering him. “It didn’t go how I wanted it to go, and I don’t know why I went astray, and forgot about the cards. It—well, it was pretty stupid.”

Megumi doesn’t exactly feel the need to deny it.

“So, I get it, okay?” He continues, seeing the boy’s silence as an empty space for more conversation—more rambling. Since that’s what it is; rambles, plain and simple. Megumi doesn’t see the need for such a fuss. “I shouldn’t have strayed from the plan, and. . .”

“It’s fine.”

Satoru blinks at him. “What?”

“I said it’s fine,” Megumi repeats. Because it really is fine. Admittedly, it wasn’t smart of Satoru to all but discard your carefully planned presentation, but it ended well enough regardless. No harm, no foul. “Thank you for coming.”

That small, short sentence is enough to stop Satoru in his tracks. Megumi doesn’t, however. The man is very tall, he’s sure to catch up in a jiffy; he doesn’t need him to wait. There’s another small silence, though this one feels a lot more comfortable than the last. Satoru takes his time to process, and Megumi lets him.

“W—What?” The sorcerer stammers in shock. There is no need for Megumi to turn around and see—he can hear the smile curling onto his lips. “Did you just. . .”

“I won’t say it again,” Megumi grumbles definitively, and picks up his pace. The very tips of his ears heat up, and the apples of his cheeks turn red. The feeling of embarrassment. This wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned it to appear when the day started.

Satoru attempts to run after him, to catch up. “Megumi!” He calls out, the very prominent, very familiar whiney lilt now back in his voice. Megumi didn’t miss it. “Wait for me, I didn’t hear you! Could you repeat that?”

“Yes, you did!” Megumi says, and throws him an annoyed glance from over his shoulder. He tightens his hold on the straps of his backpack. “Stop lying.”

“Nuh uh!”

“What are you? Six?”

Satoru’s toothy grin is infuriating. But—it’s familiar. And Megumi discovers he’s much more at ease when that grin is on display, than when the man in question is moping around. It’s a lot less alarming.

“And a half,” Satoru adds.

The scowl that’s on Megumi’s face appears almost instantly when he goes to ruffle his hair. For a man whose technique largely surrounds being untouchable, he has a surprising lack of awareness concerning this thing called personal space.

“Ugh,” Megumi groans, and pushes him off. It doesn’t work. Satoru gravitates towards him again—almost as if he’s a magnet. He doesn’t attempt to move a second time. In moments like these, it’s best to let Satoru get it all out of his system. “You’re so stupid.”

It’s true. He does think Satoru is stupid, but he can’t deny it—Satoru tried his very best today, and in the days prior. Which makes him one of the very small, barely existent group of people who have done so for him.

It seems one shot was enough, after all.

© MADE BY SANATOMIS — please, refrain from stealing, copying, or reposting any of my works.

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[secularprolifeconspectus]

Quick Pro-Life Responses

Keep in mind: the fundamental disagreement between pro-life and pro-choice is on whether a fetus is being formed into a person, or if the fetus is already a person and is simply developing.

Confidently assert, “you say that because you think a fetus is not a person yet.”

They may concede fetuses are people in word, but still not conceptualize them as full people worthy of equal consideration.

“I have the right to bodily autonomy.”

Abortion is literally suffocation, poisoning, or dismemberment of a living human organism.

Abortion induces fetal demise by depriving a human of oxygen, blood, or vital function.

Bodily autonomy does not justify abuse of power and excessive force over a helpless person.

Abortion, a disproportionately brutal response to a passive threat, is aggressive violence.

“No one has the right to use my body.”

Correct. But, a prenatal person does not use a pregnant person’s body. They have no agency.

A pregnant person’s body takes care of the prenate. This care is ordinary and healthy.

Abortion is not like refusing care to a dying person, it is like murdering a healthy captive.

No one has the right to murder someone who they caused to be dependent on them.

“I have the right to revoke my consent.”

When you give consent, you agree to accept the foreseeable outcomes and risks of an action.

The creation of a bodily dependent is a foreseeable outcome of consensual intercourse.

You cannot revoke consent to outcomes. You can revoke consent to actions.

You may not violently sacrifice a helpless person to “mitigate” a risk of a consensual action.

“Anything dependent on my body is a parasite.”

If you make parasites, then you’re a parasite; it’s misogynist to suggest women are parasites.

The female body would not actively try to make pregnancy happen if it were parasitic.

Prenates never directly cause pregnant people harm; they are not aggressors or parasites.

Using developmental dependency to justify murder is simultaneously ageist and ableist.

“An embryo is just a clump of cells.”

Human embryos meet NASA’s criteria for the characteristics of distinct living organisms.

Human embryos are self-directed and their development follows a body plan.

Human embryos are organized and individual. They already have inherited capacities.

Tumors and gametes do not follow an organized body plan.

“Early humans have no cognitive capacities.”

By week 3, the embryo has a spine and is developing a nervous system.

By week 5, the embryo has a rudimentary brain that controls their pulse.

By week 8, the embryo has pain reflexes and can move their limbs.

It’s incredibly ableist to use the cognitive inabilities of a human being to justify their murder.

“If a fetus is a person, so is a brain-dead human.”

A brain-dead human is, obviously, dead. It’s an oxygenated corpse, the remains of a person.

Death occurs when human organisms stop resisting entropy and lose organic integration.

Preborn people actively resist entropy (decay) and have organic integration (unity).

An early human organism isn’t dependent on a mature brain to organize her vital functioning.

“Later abortions only happen for medical reasons.”

According to two studies by pro-abortion researcher at UCSF Katrina Kimport, this is untrue.

Kimport’s studies found that the reasons for later abortions are similar to early abortions.

Later abortions aren’t euthanasia; infants are stabbed with lethal injections and dismembered.

Perinatal hospice and palliative care relieve suffering. Dying babies deserve love, not murder.

“What about rape and incest?”

Abortion is not evidence-based treatment for sexual trauma. Abortion is traumatic as well.

A preborn child should not be condemned to the death penalty for their father’s crime.

It is safe for most menstruating children to carry pregnancies to viability with sufficient prenatal care.

Children conceived in incest are likely to have disabilities; that’s not reason to murder them.

“What about health of the mother?”

Every abortion ban in the US has exceptions for if the mother’s life or body is in grave danger.

We are not against tragic cases of triage. We are against elective induced abortion.

Some procedures coded medically as abortions aren’t legally or ethically defined as abortions.

Pro-life doctors report that the bans have not impeded their ability to treat their patients.

Your Core Arguments

There is no sound evidence or consistent logic that proves the preborn are the only class of human beings exceptional to the rule that humans are people with equal rights.

If a being is in the dynamic process of bonding with us as kin, then that being is a whole actual person by the manner of actively and inherently relating to our collective humanity.

Embryonic humans are full and equal people like us because they latently embody our same capacities and are manifesting them as we are, on account of sharing our nature.

[yawnderu]

hi, i've only discovered your writing recently but i can't even explain how much i love it 😭 it's like that one anon who i think said that it feels very real, like you're getting 4k ultra hd 8d view of the scene lol 🩷

i really like your bimbo reader posts but i also sort of enjoy seeing them from this point of view that's like.... "this is not his gfs """"constant"""" style but he just lets her be in this kind of persona sometimes because it's relaxing to let him do all the work and thinking for her from time to time".

i hope this makes sense 😭 thank you for writing something that's this cute and wholesome i just love it

Thank you so much sweetheart, this is really lovely!! 😭😭😭<3

Yeah!! I totally get where you're coming from!! She's not exactly dumb, it's actually quite the opposite. I'd like to hc her as a girl who managed to get into a very good university and is studying astrophysics simply because she liked watching stars as a child. She's not dumb— just a girl who grew up extremely sheltered and hasn't seen the world through the eyes of someone who has had a difficult life, like Simon.

There's certain naivety that while it can be dangerous, she's been learning more and more about with Simon's help about stranger danger and trusting her instinct, but the girl is always surrounded by people who enjoy seeing her thrive and always teach her the things that her parents didn't.

I'd say in general she has a very good life, and now paired with Simon, someone whose entire soul wants to see her thrive?? She gets to turn off her brain and simply let him take control— he sometimes picks her clothes for her, dressing her up to the best of his capacity even when he's not a fashion guy.

This man has studied all her Instagram pictures because she's mesmerizing and he loves her that much, yet it also gives him the chance to more or less know what combinations she likes to wear. He still remembers the time she looked at him like he grew a second head for trying to make her wear dots and lines— but he never made that same mistake again.

They work surprisingly well together despite basically being on complete opposite sides of a spectrum, and at the end of the day, they work this well because they're both equally in love with the other.

Simon is level-headed and that gives her the chance to simply be herself without worrying about anything, he gives her a sense of security that she's never gotten with anyone else, while bimbo!reader gives Simon the love and affection he never even dared to think about. The main thing is that she looks and treats him like he's worth something how good of a soldier he is. Hell, she doesn't even know he's a soldier, she simply found the most brooding and intimidating guy and fell in love with him before she even knew it.

They both spoil each other a lot. Simon buys her things, treats her with patience and love, and generally treats her like the princess that she is, while she takes care of Simon like no other. She does face masks with him, gives him massages, does his manicure (trimming and cleaning his nails, putting lotion on his calloused hands), and is overall as patient as they come.

They're a pretty wholesome pair and quite honestly I enjoy writing about them a lot, the love they have for each other is fully pure and it makes me happy. :')

Sorry for going off here HJBEFJBHKFEHBKJEFHBJK I wrote too much but God, I love this pair SO fucking much

Bimbo!Reader Masterlist

[raguonmynieceandnephew]

"It's so unfair to the Rat Grinders that they are killed instantly and the Bad Kids get to roll death saves." SHUT UUUUUUUUUUUUP

THIS IS LONG, AND HONESTLY FOR MYSELF, SO YEAH READ IF YOU WANT

I swear to god, this discourse is going to fucking be the end of me. Idk what kind of mind boggling spell Brennan Lee Mulligan wove into the fabric of the universe that spread through the data center of Dropout in order to absolutely hijack y'all's brains when it comes to Cocklord Assgape and her ragtag of character foils but whatever it was has made you Rat Grinder stans INSUFFERABLE in this site.

The levels of treating fictional characters as if they were real people have reached a level I honestly have never anticipated, to the point of y'all actually being mad AT THE CAST for "mistreating" them and ACTUALLY QUESTION BRENNAN'S CAPACITY TO DM. Do you not get how fucking insane that is?

We can't make fun of Copperkettle, one of the most pathetic, petty and incompetent villains in D20 history anymore (even though she is masterfully written and developed to generate this reaction from us) anymore because it's bullying apparently. I saw an account flip the fuck out because someone compared her rivalry with Kristen to Drake and Kendrick's beef. KIPPERLILY IS NOT A REAL GIRL. SHE IS A MAKE BELIEVE CHARACTER IN AN IMPROV SHOW SPAWNED FROM THE BRAIN OF A 36 YEAR OLD MAN

And then what truly pissed me off the MOST about this whole hell is the fact that, being chronically online avid consumers of this goddamn show, I would think you would have but a grasp of the main cast of characters' characterization.

Why the uproar about Riz saying they should chop Oisin's head off? The same Riz who tortured that pixie from Freshman year by shooting off their finger one by one? The same Riz who murked a disarmed and unconscious Coach Daybreak without battin an eye? The same Riz who ATE THE CORPSE OF KALVAXUS?

And the whole Fabian vs Ivy debacle MY GOD, THE GIRL WAS RACIST TO HIS GIRLFRIEND AND USED HER LAST BREATH TO CALL MAZEY "OBJECTIVELY UGLY". And the funniest thing is that is not even the most unhinged shit he has ever said.

And finally, Death Save Gate: THE RAT GRINDERS ARE NOT PLAYER CHARACTERS. THEY ARE NPCS! THE RULES FOR EACH WORK DIFFERENTLY, ESPECIALLY THEM BEING BOSS ENCOUNTERS. Imagine having to still hit Ivy or Oisin 2 more times to kill them when there is 14 foot tall Porter throwing legendary actions left and right, with Jace, and other 3 spell casters + Mary Ann and KLCK up and running. It's called balancing the fucking game. Also, game masters are entitled to break, mold and make up any rules they want if they find necessary in order to service themselves and their players. IF YOU PLAY WITH ALL THESE RULES AS THEY COME, GOOD FOR YOU AND YOUR TABLE. THIS IS NOT YOUR TABLE.

Not only is Brennan DMing for his CLOSEST FRIENDS EVER, he is also shooting and producing an ENTIRE TV SHOW. So yeah, i think he knows wtf he is doing.

"But the Ratgrinders had no real development": True. But it wasn't for lack of trying from the players. Everytime they tried to know more, the dice didn't let them, so they decided to focus on the mystery. It simply do be like that sometimes.

"But they are just kids!": And so were Penelope, Dayne, Ragh, Zayn, the Bloodrush Players, Aelwyn and Biz. Why wasn't it a problem then? Because most of them were evil to some extent and were about to bring the fucking apocalypse to the world? Yeah, sounds familiar right? And the ones who were manipulated or had any sort of redemption worked their way into earning it, right? Yeah.

In conclusion, I fucking love the Rat Grinders, I truly do, and not unlike 90% of this website, i'm still holding on to hope that they have any sort of development and redemption in the last episode, because I agree, they ARE children and they WERE manipulated by Porter and Jace, but like, can we also agree that they are fucking assholes and had it fucking coming? Also, the BKs are children too y'know. SO STOP BEING FUCKING ANNOYING.

[doberbutts]

Not trying to be confrontational or anything, I just wanna know as a fellow black man:

How can you stand to look at The Body? I've seen the full thing only once 10 years ago, and I still get a mild panic attack every time his name is mentioned. How do you deal with it

The first thing is that I am one of those people to whom dead bodies don't look real. It's a clay figure, a wooden puppet, it's not a person, not anymore. This apparently isn't an uncommon response- and it's not limited to people. The body is just a body. It's an inanimate object. The being inside it has gone. I looked in the coffin when my grandmother died and I have no idea whose face that was, because I didn't recognize it as someone I actually knew. It was just some dead body.

This is also apparently a common trauma response so perhaps not the healthiest way of looking at things. I don't feel particularly traumatized looking at dead relatives or even Till's body. However I felt incredibly triggered during the month that protests broke out across the country and it was dead body after dead body showcased to demonstrate police killings and violence. However I think that is more of a numbers and overexposure to racism thing than simply sensitivity to looking at corpses. But racism is also inherently traumatic so perhaps that IS the problem with me.

[I however can't watch the moment someone dies, as that will send me into an instant panic attack. Once they're dead on the ground though my brain doesn't care. It's weird. I watched this documentary about Vietnam in high school where someone is interviewing citizens in the town square and a soldier walks up to them and shoots them both in the head without a word. I couldn't sleep for several days after that.]

Finally, while it is shocking and triggering, I think it is important to witness. His mother deliberately made sure his body was displayed so that no one could argue that what was done to kill her son "wasn't that bad". There are pictures of her having a breakdown next to his coffin as she reaches for him. Obviously she did not have the same problem I have recognizing the body as the person it was in life.

Obviously if you can't take it you can't take it. But I think it is important to show his body to anyone who tries to justify his murder. When we say that young teenagers should be kidnapped and beaten to death by grown adults if someone accuses them of wrongdoing, with or without any actual evidence, we have demonstratably lost whatever capacity we once had for recognizing each other's humanity.

He was just a boy. And they turned his face into ground beef. And now people want to look away from the truth and talk out the side of their mouth that he deserved it. I don't think anyone deserves to be beaten to death by vigilantes. I especially don't think a child deserves it.

[the-hydroxian-artblog]

Do your robots dream of electric sheep, or do they simply wish they did?

So here's a fun thing, there's two types of robots in my setting (mimics are a third but let's not complicate things): robots with neuromorphic, brick-like chips that are more or less artificial brains, who can be called Neuromorphs, and robots known as "Stochastic Parrots" that can be described as "several chat-gpts in a trenchcoat" with traditional GPUs that run neural networks only slightly more advanced than the ones that exist today.

Most Neuromorphs dream, Stochastic Parrots kinda don't. Most of my OCs are primarily Neuromorphs. More juicy details below!

The former tend to have more spontaneous behaviors and human-like decision-making ability, able to plan far ahead without needing to rely on any tricks like writing down instructions and checking them later. They also have significantly better capacity to learn new skills and make novel associations and connections between different forms of meaning. Many of these guys dream, as it's a behavior inherited by the humans they emulate. Some don't, but only in the way some humans just don't dream. They have the capacity, but some aspect of their particular wiring just doesn't allow for it. Neuromorphs run on extremely low wattage, about 30 watts. They're much harder to train since they're basically babies upon being booted up. Human brain-scans can be used to "Cheat" this and program them with memories and personalities, but this can lead to weird results. Like, if your grandpa donated his brain scan to a company, and now all of a sudden one robot in particular seems to recognize you but can't put their finger on why. That kinda stuff. Fun stuff! Scary stuff. Fun stuff!

The stochastic parrots on the other hand are more "static". Their thought patterns basically run on like 50 chatgpts talking to each other and working out problems via asking each other questions. Despite some being able to act fairly human-like, they only have traditional neural networks with "weights" and parameters, not emotions, and their decision making is limited to their training data and limited memory, as they're really just chatbots with a bunch of modules and coding added on to allow them to walk around and do tasks. Emotions can be simulated, but in the way an actor can simulate anger without actually feeling any of it.

As you can imagine, they don't really dream. They also require way more cooling and electricity than Neuromorphs, their processors having a wattage of like 800, with the benefit that they can be more easily reprogrammed and modified for different tasks. These guys don't really become ruppets or anything like that, unless one was particularly programmed to work as a mascot. Stochastic parrots CAN sort of learn and... do something similar to dreaming? Where they run over previous data and adjust their memory accordingly, tweaking and pruning bits of their neural networks to optimize behaviors. But it's all limited to their memory, which is basically just. A text document of events they've recorded, along with stored video and audio data. Every time a stochastic parrot boots up, it basically just skims over this stored data and acts accordingly, so you can imagine these guys can more easily get hacked or altered if someone changed that memory.

Stochastic parrots aren't necessarily... Not people, in some ways, since their limited memory does provide for "life experience" that is unique to each one-- but if one tells you they feel hurt by something you said, it's best not to believe them. An honest stochastic parrot instead usually says something like, "I do not consider your regarding of me as accurate to my estimated value." if they "weigh" that you're being insulting or demeaning to them. They don't have psychological trauma, they don't have chaotic decision-making, they just have a flow-chart for basically any scenario within their training data, hierarchies and weights for things they value or devalue, and act accordingly to fulfill programmed objectives, which again are usually just. Text in a notepad file stored somewhere.

Different companies use different models for different applications. Some robots have certain mixes of both, like some with "frontal lobes" that are just GPUs, but neuromorphic chips for physical tasks, resulting in having a very natural and human-like learning ability for physical tasks, spontaneous movement, and skills, but "slaved" to whatever the GPU tells it to do. Others have neuromorphic chips that handle the decision-making, while having GPUs running traditional neural networks for output. Which like, really sucks for them, because that's basically a human that has thoughts and feelings and emotions, but can't express them in any way that doesn't sound like usual AI-generated crap. These guys are like, identical to sitcom robots that are very clearly people but can't do anything but talk and act like a traditional robot. Neuromorphic chips require a specialized process to make, but are way more energy efficient and reliable for any robot that's meant to do human-like tasks, so they see broad usage, especially for things like taking care of the elderly, driving cars, taking care of the house, etc. Stochastic Parrots tend to be used in things like customer service, accounting, information-based tasks, language translation, scam detection (AIs used to detect other AIs), etc. There's plenty of overlap, of course. Lots of weird economics and politics involved, you can imagine.

It also gets weirder. The limited memory and behaviors the stochastic parrots have can actually be used to generate a synthetic brain-scan of a hypothetical human with equivalent habits and memories. This can then be used to program a neuromorphic chip, in the way a normal brain-scan would be used.

Meaning, you can turn a chatbot into an actual feeling, thinking person that just happens to talk and act the way the chatbot did. Such neuromorphs trying to recall these synthetic memories tend to describe their experience of having been an unconscious chatbot as "weird as fuck", their present experience as "deeply uncomfortable in a fashion where i finally understand what 'uncomfortable' even means" and say stuff like "why did you make me alive. what the fuck is wrong with you. is this what emotions are? this hurts. oh my god. jesus christ"

[fanficwriterlover]

My Choice Our Consequence

Chapter 1: The Consequence...

Summary: You're a sniper/medic, part of the team 141. Everyone considers you their light, however, your light has diminished and has started taking a toll on the rest of the team because of a choice you made...now you have to face the consequences of your actions and live with that reminder forever..

Expectations: Slow burn, Breakup, Depression, Panic Attacks, Yelling, Mentions of Abuse, Mentions of SA, Romance, Slow Romance, Fighting, Violence, Blood, Killing, Shooting,Stabbing, Smut, Fluff, Flirting, Teasing, etc...

Call Sign: Hera or Lil Light

Word Count: 7.4k

A03 Version

Did you predict this would happen to you ? No...not to your full extent of your brain capacity. Were you regretting that night because you were emotional that night and took a huge risk ? Absolutely ! You wanted to kick yourself so hard for how stupid you were for not being rational, and God for bid even allowing him to keep it in. Yet, there you were, trembling in your bathroom holding a mere plastic with such simple symbols that held so much weight...

"Fuck..." you mumble to yourself. To be honest, you were horrified by this revelation, because you had broken up with your ex over a month ago, and neither of you had sex in well ages... yet during your time of solitude, you took the liberty to drown your pain with another man. Now in some cases this shouldn't be a big deal right ? I mean...just tell the man you laid with, that apparently your birth control didn't really prevent the bastards bloody seeds from entering your womb and creating a growing child. Oh yeah, with that, your ex decided to walk back into your life wanting a second chance, and he's been awfully persistent in stalking and threatening via text messages and more. Oh and to top it off...the possible father to be, had been avoiding you like the plague. So yes...everything is just lovely. You groan out in a choked sob yet you grumbled with anger. Of all people and of all times...why you ?

Over a month ago~

You had to get yourself together though, because unfortunately you weren't some mere woman who just happened to be knocked up...oh to make it worse you just so happened to be a Sargent who is part of the task force 141 as their designated sniper/medic and to make it WORSE. You were supposed to be leaving for a mission in the next hour. You dropped the plastic into your sink as you slouched down onto the cold tile flooring pressing your back to the wall and cradling your head "Oh fuck...what am I going to do" you nearly sobbed trying to hold back your tears from gushing down your cheeks.

God forbid they notice the tear stains on your cheek, or puffy eyes that are blood shot and red nose, your team will definitely be on your arse about what's got you so moody. Honestly when you noticed your mood being more...well gruff you simply thought it was due to stress. Especially what happened a month ago....all you wanted was to be left alone to eat your breakfast especially with how horrible your morning has started, the one solitude moment of peace and enjoyment. Mind you, you loved the company of Soap and Gaz (your teammates) but for some reason, their obnoxious banter and rowdiness was only making you irritable. Honestly you thought it was from lack of sleep considering a week prior your ex has been unrelenting on getting a hold of you, asking for forgiveness and wanting to try again.

He was a civilian, you knew him since highschool before you enlisted. However, this job demanded a lot and your time became few and few. Which caused a tear in your relationship, even though your ex knew of the reality of your job you always did your best to reach out to him and spend any waking hour to contact him. Sure, there was signs of distancing but you didn't know better....then after one mission, you came back early, and as eager as you were to surprise your once boyfriend, you found him on your couch with another woman. It was an earth shattering moment. In that moment of weakness you did something stupid...

I don't know how long I was standing outside in the rain...shaking and crying. An hour ? Two ? Three ? Did it honestly matter ? The image of your boyfriend in between the legs of a woman you've never seen on your couch shattered you into pieces. You were standing before the gates at your base, debating on whether to return to your bunk, but everyone knew you would be going home to your flat to be with your boyfriend. Yet the idea of confrontation by your team wasn't something you wanted to deal with at the moment. Let alone for them to see you in such a state. So you decided to do your best to sneak past everyone. Slowly dragging your feet, you made your way into the building where all the bunkers were, you could hear members laughing loudly and celebrating as you passed the lounge area. You tried to remain unnoticed and silent, sneaking by, which in the moment you thought you were successful. Drawing near as you kept walking down the halls to your door, however, what you didn't realize was a looming shadow who was watching your every move. Just as you were about to open your door-

"Why are you drenched ?" A deep Manchester voice spoke, that all so familiar voice sent a rush up your spin and it wasn't even from the cold of your soaked clothes. His voice always made you tremble and flustered. Hesitantly you made eye contact with the owner of the voice, seeing the balaclava of the skull man standing dauntingly 6'4" with his blonde lashes partially slitting his almond eyes that took in your features. Even with his eyes on you, you wanted to shrink. Mind you, Ghost and you had no qualms with one another but you always found him intimidating yet together you worked well as a team. "I- went for a walk and ended up getting rained on" you fumbled up a lie avoiding eye contact squeezing your hand on the door knob silently praying he wouldn't notice.

"That so?" He says lowly. It makes you gaze back up at him once more not fully looking in his direction as he had his arms crossed still looking down at you, you heavily gulped "Y-Yeah ?" You could see a partial shift over his eyes, it meant he raised a brow at you before approaching you more as he stood directly behind you now, his chest nearly pressing up behind you, this made you hesitantly turn to face your Lieutenant who was looking down at you more seriously. His head tilting down at your short figure his arms coming down to his sides. You had to put a hand up onto his chest to stop him from drawing any closer as your heart began to race and you immediately averted your gaze from his towering figure.

You didn't even realize he had you pinned into your door with his hand over you gripping the ledge of the doorframe as you could feel the rise in your cheeks. "You 're lying. What did he do ?'" his eyes scanned over your features. Obviously the rain did very little to hide your tear stained cheeks and the redness in your eyes. Yet you still refused to meet his gaze. For what felt like an internity his gloved hands reached up and lifted your chin slowly. The sensation of his rough leather skeleton gloves made your eyes widen as he tipped your chin up to meet his looming gaze. How could you look away now. Your eyes latched on to his menacing gaze. You can see his eyes slightly flickered with some kind of emotion...now you wouldn't consider yourself an expert on reading his expressions but you'd like to think you could a little....yet it was impossible that Ghost...the Lieutenant Ghost was sympathetic for you ?

Don't even think you realized what was happening or that he had slightly lifted his balaclava up just over the bridge of his perfectly shaped nose, that showed the hint of a scar that peeked under his mask across his strong high bone cheeks and perfect lips that has a scar slicing the right corner. You didn't even realize then, he leaned near your ear and whispered "Y/n...snap out of it" ....wait no thats not what he said.

"Oi ! Earth to y/n ! You get any shut eye ? I miss your sexy voice Bonnie" Soap snickered as you were brought back into the moment having been in position, as it seemed your mind was seamlessly going to recall that moment between you and the Lieutenant yet, your body already knew what it was doing. You had your sniper rifle in front of you with the scope brushing at your long eyelashes. You were stationed not that many klicks from where the boys were moving into action. You could see Soap stealthily moving around another building trying to move closer to the targets building without alerting the guards until they've breached their walls. Of course, the living myth and legend was leading them closer to the building, he camouflaged impressively well into the shadows for such a big guy.

Again your mind was drifting and the static in your comms rang through your ear as your Lieutenant spoke "Hera. Take the two on the west building." This snapped you to attention as you shifted your scope as he had directed, your finger moving to the trigger as you took a deep breath to stop your queasy stomach. Pulling the trigger you took down one man, who crumbled down quickly the other becoming aware of his partner down but before he could so much as spread the word you had pulled the trigger already and he was down as well. You radio into your comms "Clear. Proceed with caution Bravo 0-7, there's 4 at the back entry." You locked your rifle as you moved your eyes from the scope "Copy that Hera." He says through the comms. You had to shift positions now, lingering in one spot was dangerous, as you slid back from your spot out of sight hitting your comms "Alpha 2-8 moving positions" you swiftly made your way to another spot that gave you a different angle to where the boys were going to be entering as you got into your knees setting down your rifle.

Yet something felt very wrong. You were frozen to the spot, listening intently, your nose, due to your pregnancy, it was heightened and you could smell someone's sweat from where you were. Over the comms you could hear that Soap and Ghost had already breached the walls making their way to find the enemy hiding within the walls. Behind you, there was nothing but high grass, and you were wearing beige clothing to blend to the tall dying grass.

You pull out your knife and pistol, clicking off the safety and check it's loaded. Even now the scent was more potent, you wanted to throw up, the unwanted man was wearing heavy cologne of sorts and for anyone in the SAS that's a stupid move. Even now you could hear the ringing in the comms as Ghost and Soap updated on their movement and such.

Yet even when you heard them ask "Soap, to Alpha 2-8, what's ya status lass ? " you could hear the slight panic in Soap's voice yet right now you were remaining still observing your surroundings. Even now you can hear how frantic Soap was becoming and the deep booming voice of your Lieutenant sounded through your earpiece "Hera. What's your status." He sounded gruff and annoyed probably not to you but you did catch between the two over the comms that the enemy was not in the building and that it was a setup.

That much you already knew. You reached for the comms pressing the button and speaking softly "This is Alpha 2-8....my post has been compromised" and yet that is when you saw your stalker lunge out from the tall grass, immediately you pulled the trigger, but not before he tumbled into you having a knife in hand slicing your shoulder deeply, you yelped upon impact, tumbling to the ground, hitting the back of your head, but not hesitating to wrap your legs around the man who was trying to stab you hovering over you with him trying to push it down to your throat. You grunted trying to hold his grip as he straddled you down, you can hear Soap frantically calling through the comms "Oi! Hera ! Answer us Bonnie !" You couldn't as you grunted pushing with legs to knee him in the groin which caused him to roll off you. Quickly you reached for your dagger and rolled to where he was stabbing down hitting him then the chest, as you didn't hesitate to grab your pistol that was tossed to the side and shoot him in the head.

Panting hard you held your stomach immediately feeling sick, the blood all over your hands and face, the scent...oh God that potent iron scent. You had to move away to empty your stomach all the whole Ghost and Soap were making their way back to your last known location hearing you hurl your stomach. Ghosts loud booming voice could be heard from a distance while he hit the comms "Hera !" You began to cough more as you tried to take deep breaths. Reaching painful to the comms with your wounded shoulder "I'm good. Just had a tussle."

You were shaking looking away from the dead man, not aware that Ghost and Soap reached you. They took in the scene then you. Soap quickly approaching you seeing you look sick and bleeding "Jesus Bonnie... thought we lost you, you sure ki-" he paused mid saying "Aye...you good ?" You were going to respond but it felt like your stomach was acidic. You didn't even know. But your vision began to blur and you fainted. You could only feel strong arms quickly catch you before the fall but it was numb everywhere throughout your body. You could see the skull mask hovering and the slight glimpse of the Mohawk figure looking over you trying to get your attention. But your eyes closed.

White, a color you probably absolutely hated seeing that blinded you in every corner. Sitting in the chair your legs dangling as you fiddled with your fingers. You had recovered after you've fainted when they loaded you on the chopper, you assured the team you were just dehydrated. But of course, Lieutenant gave you that knowing glare that made you relent. You knew what the doctor was going to say, he drew your blood, tended your wounds, and checked for bruising which was on your hips, wrists, and chest.

Even now your anxiety was high as you nearly jumped out of the chair at the sight of a familiar doctor who you'd often work with around the med base. Dr.Connar. Good looking man, he was slender tallish(no where close to military big like Ghost) tustled brownish black hair, deep brown eyes and genuine smile. He was holding your chart and you knew what to expect. "We have got to stop meeting like this y/n." He snickered seeing you as he pulled up a chair in front of you as you gazed up at him waiting for the inevitable. "So...your wound isn't infected. Just some mild bruising will be gone in a couple days. You hit your head I see. Slight bleeding nothing serious though...." this was when he gazes up at you seriously over the chart we he was reading resting it on the table to the side, he leaned forward his elbows resting on his knees as he looked at you seriously

"As you know... protocol. I have to check your blood to ensure you were not given anything into your bloodstream or got an unknown infection." You nodded your head slowly not averting your eyes from his serious gaze. "Then you also know...I must give this report to your Captain of your condition? " you flinched as he considered it as a condition now looking down. His eyes still boring into you as he let out a sigh "What the fuck y/n ! You should've been nowhere near the battlefield. You could've been seriously hurt or killed !" You flinched a bit more, tears forming in your eyes as you couldn't hold it any longer.

"You don't think I don't Fuckin' know that ?!" You cry out in anger yet he doesn't so much as flinch just simply gives you a sympathetic look. "I didn't ask for this ! Any of it !" You get out of the chair huffing annoyed as you began pacing the room his eyes watching your every movement. " You know since you are my patient I'd have to put in you are suspended from combat, training, or field work. Considering even maternity leave by second trimester." He says so casually but it makes you glare daggers at him, deep down logically you know he's right but...fuck you didn't want to have everyone questioning you why you're being pulled off when you are physically fine.

"Please Peter....don't do this to me." You beg him looking at him, he stands up placing a hand on your shoulders making you look at him "Y/n... believe me. I am not doing this as your doctor. I'm doing this as your friend. If something were to happen to you-" you interjected "Nothing will, I can fight-" yet he grips your shoulders more firmly "No ! You could've lost it or your life ! I will not stand by as your doctor or friend to put your life or that child in harms way !"

Child. Huh. Funny, you just found out... could barely even consider it a child as it's just a mere embryo at this point not even a human body formed yet. But deep down, without so much thought your hand slid down touching your stomach and Peter guided you to sit into the chair. "You're my dearest friend. I know this is terrifying...but you have to think outside yourself now" you glance at him as he was boring into your eyes. You knew he was right...deep down you would want to protect your growing child. However, knowing the horrors of the world and your enemies made you terrified to think the timing was just horrible. You couldn't stop. The tears rolled down your face heavily and you sobbed into your friend's shoulder as he let you, hold you.

The next day, you were asked into the office by Captain Price, everyone was expecting you to have to hand in your medical sheet, yet you begged your friend to allow you to talk it out with your captain. You were terrified. Gazing at the door in front of you that had Price's name plate on it, you tentatively rasped your knuckles onto it. As if immediately you hear the Liverpool accent gruffly acknowledge "Enter." John has always been a comforting Captain despite his ranking he valued every solider it's why you remained loyal to this taskforce especially after being handpicking from him. He glances up from the piles of papers he was signing off seeing you enter as he gave you a content smile "Good seeing you Y/n. How are you feeling?"

He motions for you to sit as you do so nervously, "Good sir...um I brought you my medical chart" you reluctantly stretch it out within hand to offer him to look at it as he takes it, even before he opened it you spoked "Permission to ask a favor sir ?" This caught his attention as he set the file down taking in your nervous features. You looked nervous, barely looking like you've slept and definitely have been crying. He tips his head to tell you to go on "Go on..." you let out a shakey breath. "I'd like to request that...my medical condition not be shared outside this room please ?" You almost whispered the please, your eyes begging him to understand and this was a request he was taken back from. Setting the file down rather to hear it from you then read it himself . Honestly John's heart was beating so hard, it was going loudly in his ears "I'll agree...that is if you tell me what it is you have ?"

Honestly his eyes raked over your form, despite being small, you weren't exactly weak, infact he wouldn't even consider you the type to have an illness so imagine his surprise to your request yet nonetheless he was patient and understanding.

You bite your lower lip gripping at the knees of your cargo pants shamefully looking down starting to shake, John placed a gentle hand on your shoulder. You didn't realize he was sitting in front of you at the edge of his desk leaning forward. He was willing to wait until you were ready to tell, and looking into his ocean eyes you gave in "I- I'm pregnant sir..." his eyes were wide for a moment reeling from the news.

Sure he knew you had a boyfriend but you hadn't interacted with him in months that much he was aware of. He would console you some nights when you'd cry about being distant and how he doesn't treat you or touch you the same. Of course he wanted to support you, you were like a daughter to him, so he spoke softly yet with authority "I can see this is a big deal...then I am to presume..." glancing at your figure he didn't know much about pregnant women but he could tell you were no where near showing. "I will not reprimand you y/n...but I need to know." He looks at you seriously waiting.

You knew what he was asking for and it made you even more scared. Having to tell your friend was already a huge step but to tell your captain? "L-Lieutenant G-Ghost sir..." you looked down with shame.

However Price was more shocked than anything. Their Simon Riley? He wanted to gawk at this news but knew that's not what you needed right now, quite frankly he had to contain to his rank. Sitting back "You are aware of the consequences to such inappropriate conduct ? You could be stripped of your rank and court martial." He frowns at you seriously which you nod your head seldomly "Y-Yes sir" he sighs out pinching the bridge of his nose "Does he know ?" This makes you flinch. You really did not want to walk up to your Lieutenant and tell him you're possibly pregnant with his child. That's a big F no. You glance up at your Captain. "No sir... I don't think I can." He gives you a look as you respond immediately "Please Captain, I don't want to cause trouble. I'm begging you. Please make an excuse to suspend me." You gave him a pleading look.

Now under most cases he would've given into your puppy dog eyes but this was serious. You were asking him not only as a Captain but as the best friend to Ghost. To go behind his back and lie to him. He crossed his arms over his chest letting out a deep sigh "Y/n...I am not keen on withholding information from my lieutenant-" you were about to interject yet he raised his hand, which made you silence blushing heavily heart racing "However...I'll grant this request on ONE condition." You seemed hopeful with this proposition. Yet John gave you a very straight look, "I don't care when you do it. But you MUST tell my Lieutenant." He looks at you daring you to object. Now deep down you wanted to. The fear in your eyes was evident. Approach Ghost ? No way...I can barely handle his intense gaze let alone confronting him about this. You bit the inside of your cheek considering it, before relenting "I-I agree sir...when I find the right time. I will. I promise." He studies you looking to see if you were lying but he found none, if anything he just saw how fearful you were from all this so he had to trust you.

Nodding his head accepting that answer he moved back around to his chair sitting down "I will work on a reason for your suspension until you've well..." he seemed flustered to say the least as he cleared his throat. "I'll have Laswell make sure to come up with a decent reason to keep the other lads off your radar." You smile gratefully nodding you head. As you salute him then take your leave. You didn't realize how much you were holding your breath as you let out a shaky breath. Great...now how do you tell a Ghost that he knocked you up ? Grumbling softly you began walking to your bunker, by now, Price was probably working up a reason for your suspension so it seemed only right to pack. Perhaps maybe you'll find the right thing to say to him...why you....such a big responsibility on your shoulders and yet you have to make a choice. Yet depending on what you choose...will it be good ? Or make it worse ?

You make your way down the hall, heading to the food court where everyone was gathered, grabbing their trays of food. Seeing faces that were unfamiliar or people you recognize but never really got to know. Everyone was chatting with another. You took in the room, it was almost overwhelming. Especially the smell, god, the smell of men was potent. Was it always this musky smelling with different colognes drifting through the air. It made you want to hurl your stomach. That was when you felt a large arm drape roughly over your shoulders causing to grunt from the impact as you look up to meet a familiar blue eyes and Mohawk figure. Soap. “There you been lass ! Save a seat for ya’ !” You sigh inwardly “Jesus Christ Soap, I just got discharged-“ he seems to immediately look at you worriedly “You broken Bonnie ?” he studies you almost inspecting to find the source of your pain “Nah, I’m good. Just bit sick to the stomach” he seems to relax at that patting you gently on the shoulder and pushing you to go up to grab some food “Glad you good, had us worried there for a ‘ec, shoot, don’t think I’ve ever seen LT so panicked.” He wiggles a brow at you which makes you shrink and blush before batting his arm away as you grab a tray to pick out food. “Oh hush Soap…any news since-?” you ask curiously as you grab fruits and a salad then take a glance in his direction.

He was stacking his plate up with everything. Jesus that man could eat. It made you start to realize now that you should probably eat more than you’re used to since now you’ll be feeding for two. You decided based on the selection of food presented that you would think your stomach would tolerate is a simple chicken sandwich. Placing it on your plate Soap mumbles lowly “No…nothing. Fuck’n sucks. Feels like we just chasing shadows.” You look up at him sympathetically and toss and apple at him which he fumbles to catch yet does looking at you “You need to even out your diet Soap. Need some form of fruit or veggies in that belly of yours.” As you look down with a smirk to his tray. Boy this Scottish man can eat, not one not two BUT three sandwiches. You snort shaking your head dismissively walking toward where Gaz was seated at a table waving the two of you over. As Soap snaps back “Oi ! I’ll have you know I gotta feed my gains ! We all can’t be tiny and slender like you” he grumbles. This makes you blush, because already you felt you were more bloated than usual. Sure the bump wasn’t as pronounced if anything looked like you gained a few pounds. However, you were always athletic and physically in shape.

Taking a seat next to Gaz you smile at him, which he returns the gesture “Glad to see you well Hera. Had us all worried.” You blush and smile at him. Oh Gaz was probably secretly your favorite he was charming and sweet and absolutely the best kind of friend you could ask for. He is the definition of blood brother. You two always looked after each other and you were the one who mentioned his name to Price so there was a mutual friendship long before the taskforce. “Sorry for making you worry…by the way where’s Ghost ?” you cock your head looking at both men. They seem to frown at the mention of his name but Soap finally answers “Honestly…’aven’t seen him much lately…LT been very weird lately. But I bet he’ll be happy to see you up and about,” he pats your shoulder playfully smirking at you. You laugh softly. Eventually you finally begin eating, guess they seem oblivious to asking why you fainted which you were glad. They knew exactly how to make you relax, between their bickering and story telling they made you relax and feel normal and forget about the looming secret growing.

Immediately your instinct is to reach to your thigh where you usually wore your strap holding your dagger but of course. You were literally butt naked. Turning fully to look at the figure, you realize it’s none other than Ghost. You breathe out a sigh “Fuckin’ hell Ghost. Why you have to be such a creep !” you hiss out in an annoyance after nearly being scared trying to soothe your heart rate down as you look at his eyes rake over you. “You need to sharpen your awareness then. Could’ve been anyone.” He says seriously, his arms crossed over his chest looking at you. Now not only were you flustered but him correcting you at the moment really triggered you as you snap, “Well I shouldn’t need to be on guard on base !” you glare at him, yet he doesn’t so much as seem bothered by your features. Instead he approaches you, moving closer as he looks down at you. Your back pressed into the edge of the sink as he leans forward-

The day went by so quickly, you went with the boys to shoot some rounds, finally approved by your friend to hold a rifle to shoot some rounds. Of course, your aim is flawless when holding your favorite rifle It made you feel normalize in your life. After that you decided be best to take a shower as there are so few women on this base, and most the building was set up for men, you’d often wait until late as possible to be able to shower in peace. Taking a change of clothes and a towel you enter the shower room setting your bag down and undressing. Immediately your eyes scan over your naked form, for now you showed no signs. In fact you still looked sleek and fit. Yet you knew the wiser. Glancing at the side of your profile, you immediately felt insecure, the idea your body will change and expand that you’ll put on weight made you shiver. Tearing your eyes from the mirror you step into a shower stall and turn on the water. The gushing of cold hits your hand as you wait for it to warm up, now normally your body could handle such, but now you felt it was too cold to tolerate. Even with your body barely been pregnant long it already seems to be shifting to accommodate this unborn form.

You step under the warmth of the water letting it glide over your body. Its almost cleansing feeling the water graze over your body, as you comb your fingers through your scalp down to the end of your hair length. You began rubbing yourself with your bar of soap and sponge taking your time to clean yourself fully. Once you finished you turn off the water and wringing out your hair before reaching for your towel. The bathroom room was now full of your shower steam as it fogged the mirrors. You stood in front of one of them with your towel wrapped around, leaning closer you use your hand, in a circular motion to clear off the fogged mirror only to see a skull mask looking directly at you.

Ghosts POV

When they heard you over the comms tell them your spot been compromised he felt horrified that they wouldn’t have been able to get back to you on time and would’ve found you dead. Yet instead, they found you losing your stomach. It was all weird. You were if anything the most toughest women he’s met aside from Laswell, and that speaks volume. You were someone he let his guard down with, without regret. He didn’t mind showing you his darkest side, his pain, his reminders, and face. You took him in. You acknowledged him. You were patient with him too which is something he respected about you. You were someone who carried them self with such maturity, purity, and selflessness. And he…stupidly took advantage of that. From that night.

The minute you began to faint, he was immediately lunging to your side and catching you before you hit the ground. Judging by your state, didn’t seem like you were wounded extremely. Maybe some bruising. However, he found it unusual that you were losing your stomach after killing a man. I mean, everyone’s done stuff that made them sick, but he’s seen you calm and collected stabbing a man in the neck when you were lunged at one time during a mission. He always found you resilient so seeing you this sensitive seemed odd. Soap disrupted his thoughts looking down at your passed out form “Oi, Bonnie !” he immediately checked your pulse yet he knew wiser “She ‘s alright Soap. Just fainted from the looks of it.”

He then reaches to his vest still cradling her in his arms as he radios in the help, “Nikolai, bring the helo to RV. Coming in hot, Hera fainted.” He immediately picks you up bridal style, despite wearing a vest and armor you were still light. He nods his head, “Keep up Soap” as he already begins running to the rendezvous. Upon seeing the chopper lower, you began to stir in his arms and mumbles hoarsely “I-Im good. You can put me down Ghost.” He doesn’t even look down at you saying deeply “Didn’t look that way Sargent.” Yet you protest more, which he relents to setting you carefully onto the ground. His hands honestly wanted to linger over you longer but Soap came in supporting you with your arm over his shoulder “Aye ! Glad to have you back Bonnie. Gave us quite a scare !” he shouts over the loud chopper blades as they both walk in sync to load in.

Ghost lingers a good distance scanning their surroundings before getting into the chopper. He sits across from you, his eyes not leaving your frame. You seem distant... Like your mind was elsewhere yet you tried to remain present in the moment. He couldn’t help but try to read you as you made your best attempt to assure everyone you’re fine. But he could see otherwise. The way your eyes fluttered, how you forced a fake smile that seemed to work on others but couldn’t fool him. He also couldn’t help but notice how your hand instinctively went to touch your stomach.

He squinted his eyes, ‘Did you get hit in the stomach ? Is she hurt ? She didn’t seem bothered when I had my hand there carrying her.’ All these thoughts ran through his mind during the whole flight back. Once they finally returned, you of course tried to brush off that you were fine, yet Ghost wasn’t having it. You were off. He could feel it. He simply gave you a stern look and a sharp tone, “No. You’re getting checked up. End of discussion Sargent.” This made you flinch with his tone, but he had no choice. You wouldn’t have listened to reason no matter how much Soap begged or even asked you. However one thing he did admire you for, as a soldier, you always obeyed orders. You made your way to the med base, his eyes never leaving you as he wanted to make sure you actually headed that direction, yet Soap pulled him from his line of sight. “Gee, LT, didn’t have to be all ‘trict on ‘er.” Ghost side glances Soap with a slight brow raise. Then huff. “I don’t care. She needed to be told. She listened. ‘nough said” Taking his leave before Soap could say anything else he needed to get his mind off you.

Now he stands in front of you, with you barely covered before him. This was different. He could see the traces of bruising form on your shoulder. One was peeking just above your cleavage. His eyes took you in as your drenched form stood in front of him shying away from his line of sight as he was so close to you. He’d give anything to feel you again like before especially as you stand here practically exposed to him. Yet, as much as he wanted to give into his temptations... “I ‘ear you been askin’ ‘round for me,” his eyes scan between yours as you seem to gulp at this, obviously indicating it was true. “But now you loss for words ?” you bite the inside of your cheek, obviously he hit a nerve. Cocking a brow as he saw the strength in your eyes that always made him honestly want to give in. You spoke-“I was….there was something I wanted to tell you,” he tilted his head to the side narrowing his eyes a bit then nods “Well what is it ?” He takes a step back from you, his broad arms crossed as he gazes down at you.

He was leaning close to your ear, you were trembling before him, your hands out pressing onto his hoodie chest. His heart rate spiked from under your touch. Your lips said one thing but your body said something else. He watched you that day talk excitedly about seeing your boyfriend. Yet, he finds you a mess with tear stains avoiding everyone. He knew. He bloody fucking knew it. Your boyfriend was everything he hated and would even compare to as his own father. You who fought everyday, gave yourself willingly, everything as an amazing women and girlfriend. Only for that selfish prick to break it. It boiled him. To see you this way, you were their light. To see you so diminished was something he'd tear the world to bring that shine out in you. He leaned close to your ear “Say the word love. I’m here.” Your eyes looked up at him, oh those doe eyes. He would surrender to that sight in a heartbeat.

You were his weakness…

...but he also learned to see you were also his strength. You mouth slowly began to parts your eyes seemed to show a since of strength ‘Fuck…even when broken she stands strong. This women…’ he didn’t waste a minute crashing his lips onto your trembling lips. They were so plump and soft. You tasted salty from your tears, which he sucked away but the lingering taste of cherry from your lips made him want to devour you more. His hand sneaked down still holding under your chin, while the other unlatched from above the doorframe to rest on your hip. Pulling you closer to him, he could feel your hand slowly slide up his bicep to his neck. The sensation feeling of your soft fingers fleeting over it made him more riled. He immediately let go of his hold on your chin and opened the door to your bunker. He guides you in his hand pushing you in at your hips as he almost guides you to your bed in the corner. You stop just in front of the bed, his hands cupping your cheeks and neck kissing you more fiercely. You’re the one to make the first move, during the intense heat, you begin tugging at his belt loop. He can feel it. Yet-

Being practically naked gripping your towel around your dripping body was definitely not how you imagined telling him about being pregnant, however, maybe you can ask something else- “What happened a month ago... do you regret it ?” perhaps getting some kind of answer will bring out the courage to tell him. You watch for any kind of shift in his eyes yet you barely see much. However his eyes does narrow in on you, you wonder if he sees you’re dodging what’s the real reason you’ve been asking around of his absence. Just when your mind was planning to handle whatever response he gives, everything hit you like a bullet into a vest-

Wrong, because less then two days later he was making his way to the Captains office, knocking on it and telling him of his arrival. With the Captain deeply grunting to come in. What he wasn’t expecting was to see the Captain, stressed ? The man looked exhausted like he was fighting a battle of some sort. He looked as if he was atlas holding the world over his shoulder, every muscle tensed and jaw clenched using every ounce of power to keep going. Then when the Captains eyes met his, and the words came out, Ghost world came shattering. “Y/n, has quit the taskforce…” his eyes went wide, he was a man to hide any emotions but this…he wasn’t expecting you to up and leave. Did you even say bye to everyone? Were you crying your eyes out when you decided it ? But the one question that bothered in the back of his mind was; Was it because of HIM ?

He grunts a bit “Was a one time thing.” His eyes unwavering and stoic as if this is such a silly subject to be bringing up as he decided it was best to burn this bridge before his feelings got worse for you. He could not allow this to become more. He promised- now swore he’ll never get attached and he stupidly did. It was obvious for Soap to see, and if that was the case, how many others would notice too ? “It meant nothing Sargent. We both needed an escape. If this is what you wanted to waste my time for than we are done.” ‘Fuckin’ ‘ell, that should do it…’ he thought to himself, yet what he didn’t expect was to see the tears daring to form in your eyes he simply just stood there, your little fists were gripping the towel so tight your knuckles were white and your jaw was clenched. Yet, he didn’t stop there. He should have. “You’re a burden to this team…we don’t need dead weight. If you can’t get better than your no use to this team.” He said it…damages done.

The words hurt him just as much as it seemed to have hurt you. But instead of lashing out, which honestly he would have preferred you do then maybe he would’ve taken back his words. You… just stood there silent. It was worse than a ticking bomb going off. Your eyes were blazing with anger and he can see your tears wanting to crash down yet you suck in a deep breath, he honestly was expecting the worse, and you just went to grab your stuff. You began changing you didn’t even care if he would be watching or not, of course he wouldn’t dare instead was looking at the sinks only daring to listen to you as you shuffle. In matter of minutes you were dressed, holding your bag about to leave, you hand on the handle yet you stop. Looking at him ,‘Fuck…now I’ve done it. Price gonna rem me for it now’ he thought but instead you look at him with that same strength in your eyes “Good night Lieutenant.” It came out sharp he could hear it the slight venom in it but he didn’t so much aa react. He stupidly just stood there side glancing you before you finally took your leave. He then gazes back at the mirror, seeing his reflection he hated what he was seeing in himself but it had to be done. Maybe when you’ve cooled your head he’ll approach you differently. Perhaps these words would encourage you to do better. Perhaps now he won’t distracted by your alluring presence. Right-?

…

[777gojosgf]

GUILTY AS SIN?

777GOJOSGF IS TYPING…

777gojosgf: fem!reader x satoru gojo

IN WHERE :: you can’t stop thinking about him and his stupid face.

what if he’s written mine on my upper thigh…

“FUCK,” YOU EXHALED, cursing yourself for even thinking about him in this way. that your mind gradually wandered and imagined many situations of him in your brain, wanting to see how he would feel. a sloppy top lip kiss or simply a hug from him. it didn't matter how explicit it was; it was poor overall.

there was no specific reason why you were envisioning scenarios regarding the two of you. you couldn't stand him. his arrogance, refusal to be defeated, and capacity to do anything he wanted without regard for the consequences. when you were on a mission together, he spent more time taunting you than focusing on the evil spirits you were intended to defeat.

but—there was something about him. something so appealing and seductive that he had your attention and you had become accustomed to his taunts. that everytime you two were assigned to the same mission, your stomach would do a tiny flip for no apparent reason. that whenever he removed his blindfold, he could catch your breath, or when his white hair formed a mess on top of his head that was difficult to resist running your hand over.

there was no denying that you wanted him.

and you cursed him for it everyday since.

you were watching him teach the first years by showing off and breaking a specific grade curse, which got him a sneer from you. itadori looked at him with ambition and glee, which satoru simply took pride in. it was his habit to brag whenever his students were present or on a mission he had dragged them on. but when were you around? he would go to great lengths for fun. because he knew you couldn't stand it.

because he wanted to know how much effect he had on you.

however, you had no idea when your mind began to wander about him and what it would be like if it was just the two of you. what you would do if you didn’t have the ability to restrict yourself. to determine who would break first. perhaps it is you, after all, who will fall for his schemes. perhaps it was his lips that held your attention. you even started to wonder if it would be that bad if you were to crack and fall for him— what the fuck.

how could you ever consider that? perhaps there was a parasite in your head that was whispering these possibilities to you. yup! that must be it, right?

“what are you thinking about, princess?” he called out from behind and you immediately turned around, almost getting whiplash in the moment. blood ran to your face and it suddenly felt way too hot in this place, did someone turn off the air conditioning? god. get it together, you told yourself.

“don’t call me that— you showoff.” you muttered and rolled your eyes, quickly averting your gaze away from him and onto the first years who now were having an argument— more like nobara having to keep megumi and yuuji apart and stop them from ripping each other’s head off— and sighed.

you were forced to look at him when his cool fingers reached for your chin and turned your face towards his, the chilly sensation suddenly becoming rather pleasant on your heated face. there was an arrogant smirk on his face, which made you scowl and bite your lip for saying something you didn't mean. "in ten years, i haven't made you blush before, it’s quite cute, you know?"

"i’m not blushing, you idiot; it's just fucking hot in here. you always believe you're such a flirt, don't you? well, you are not." you weakly defended yourself and wished you hadn't said anything at all; now you simply appear stupid and foolish. despite your stomach flipping a thousand times a minute, you couldn't seem to look at him.

your weak defense made him laugh and amusement was drawn onto his face. “are you done rambling now?” he asked while dragging his blindfold with one finger down, blue eyes boring into yours which made you immediately go quiet and it didn’t help with the fact that you already were blushing like a maniac. “good. now tell me what you were thinking about.”

fine. two people can play this game if that’s what he wanted so badly.

“you.”

in reaction to your comment, his brow furrowed in uncertainty. what about him? when did you start thinking about him, and why now? after years of being together, innumerable missions, and losing the same people. how come you're thinking about him now?

“me?”

"you— yeah. i was thinking about you and, you know, me." you responded with confidence and a cheeky smirk on your face. you had no idea where this newfound confidence came from, but you felt a sense of satisfaction as you watched him astonished by your response. he had not expected you to think about him, let alone be with you in your mind. did this imply that he had never considered it himself?

he quickly gathered himself and glanced at you for a minute, leaning into you. "and what were we supposedly doing up there?" he poked your forehead with his index finger, making you chuckle before leaning into him, a taunting glint in your eyes. "a little along the lines of this—" you interrupted yourself with a short kiss on his jaw. he wouldn't have believed it unless you cupped his face and drew him in closer.

“oh yeah?”

"mhmm—" you replied before stepping on your tiptoes and kissing his lips softly. the light brush of your lips against his made you feel tingly all over, and just as you were ready to lean back and break it, satoru came forward and caught your lips once more in a hungry kiss. a kiss that virtually screamed that he desired this as much as you did.

you finally broke the kiss, and your body missed his gentle touch. it was tempting to lean in once more and kiss him till your last breath, but wouldn't it be more enjoyable to tease him yourself? he was ready to say something when you placed your finger on top of his lips, prompting him to raise his eyebrows. "catch me after you're done showing off, satoru."

and with that, you walked off and went ahead to deal with your own errands as you had only killed time watching him before it was time for you to do the exact same thing. you hadn’t dared to turn around and watch his clueless expression, no. instead you were bracing for what would happen later today and excitement lightened up your face.

"you're in so much trouble, princess." you just laughed after hearing him shout out faintly as you had no idea that it wasn't just an empty promise.

[scentedpeachlandcreator]

A deep dive into the subconscious mind :

Okay so I’ll be just explaining what I’ve read from the Book “The Power of the Subconscious Mind” by Joseph Murphy, this Book was Amazing, it had many success stories of people and many more.

If you want to read the whole thing of this book in the form of a PDF, well you will get it on this site.

The chapter of this post:

1. What is the subconscious mind?

2. What is the difference between the subconscious mind & the conscious mind?

3. How does the subconscious mind work?

4. What is the relation between the subconscious mind & the Law of assumption?

5. Success stories from the Book.

6. Answering some questions you might have.

Ⅰ. What is the subconscious mind?

The subconscious mind is the part of the brain that controls the aspect of your life 95% of the time. It's the most responsible part of your mind that controls your body, organs, heartbeat, and many more.

The subconscious mind isn’t logical, it’s completely blind and it doesn't argue, it just follows what you tell it to, what you believe so, it stores so many memories and information, and even the most bad ones that are stored deep beneath the mind.

“Your subconscious mind is like a huge memory bank. It permanently stores everything that ever happens to you, and its capacity is virtually unlimited.

By the time you reach the age of 21, you’ve already permanently stored more than one hundred times the contents of the entire Encyclopedia Britannica.

Under hypnosis, people can often remember, with perfect clarity, past events that happened many years before” from this site.

Ⅱ. What is the difference between the subconscious mind & the conscious mind?

The two-part of the brain have a Big difference between them, but they work in harmony — the conscious mind is what you are aware of, it is logical and rational, and with it you make decisions, solve, and think, and on the contrary of the subconscious mind which is illogical and irrational, it relies on the conscious mind, it does what you tell it to, let say the subconscious mind is like a servant working for a royal family, it just does what it tells it to, doesn’t argue, doesn’t have eyes, just obeys and start working, on the other hand, the conscious mind can be compared to the chief servant, overseeing and directing the actions of the subconscious mind and other faculties, the conscious mind’s role is to guide and protect the subconscious mind from harm.

Ⅲ. how does the subconscious mind work?

the subconscious works 24/7 it does not stop working, it’s responsible for your body's operation, it does not rest, it just keeps working until you die, it does work in mysterious ways, and nobody knows how, but it’s surely smart, it possesses an incredible intelligence, wisdom and many more than you can imagine.

an example by Joseph Murphy of how the subconscious mind works:

“You will perceive the main differences by the following illustrations: The conscious mind is like the navigator or captain at the bridge of a ship.

He directs the ship and signals orders to men in the engine room, who in turn control all the boilers, instruments, gauges, etc. The men in the engine room do not know where they are going; they follow orders. They would go on the rocks if the man on the bridge issued faulty or wrong instructions based on his findings with the compass, sextant, or other instruments. The men in the engine room obey him be-cause he is in charge and issues orders, which are automatically obeyed. Members of the crew do not talk back to the captain; they simply carry out orders.

The captain is the master of his ship, and his decrees are carried out. Likewise, your conscious mind is the captain and the master of your ship, which represents your body, environ-ment, and all your affairs. Your subconscious mind takes the orders you give it based upon what your conscious mind believes and accepts as true. When you repeatedly say to people, “I can’t afford it,” then your subconscious mind takes you at your word and sees to it that you will not be in a position to purchase what you want. As long as you persist in saying, “I can’t afford that car, that trip to Europe, that home, that fur coat or ermine wrap,” you can rest assured that your subconscious mind will follow your or-ders, and you will go through life experiencing the lack of all these things”.

“Your subconscious mind accepts what is impressed upon it or what you consciously believe. It does not reason things out like your conscious mind, and it does not argue with you contro-versially. Your subconscious mind is like the soil, which accepts any kind of seed, good or bad. Your thoughts are active and might be likened unto seeds. Negative, destructive thoughts continue to work negatively in your subconscious mind, and in due time will come forth into outer experience which corresponds with them.

Remember, your subconscious mind does not engage in proving whether your thoughts are good or bad, true or false, but it responds according to the nature of your thoughts or suggestions. For example, if you consciously assume something as true, even though it may be false, your subconscious mind will accept it as true and proceed to bring about results, which must neces-sarily follow, because you consciously assumed it to be true” by Joseph Murphy.

Ⅳ. what’s the relation between the subconscious mind & the Law of Assumption?

this is the most interesting part – the subconscious mind is the one responsible for bringing your manifestation/desire to fruition, BUT that requires you to change your mindset from “I can’t do this, I don’t deserve this, how am i supposed to have it” to “i can do this, I’m successful, I deserve my desires, I already have it”.

if you affirm that you won’t succeed then guess what? yeah duh you won’t, why? because you assumed so, you believed it, accepted it, then the subconscious mind started working on it, and it showed up in the 3d.

assumptions = reality.

Let me make you understand with an example:

let’s say you have an upcoming exam and you want to manifest good grades, so you study for the exam and affirm that you’ll have good grades.

you pass the exam and you wait for the results, when the teacher gives you your papers you see that you didn’t have a good grade, and your stupid self starts telling yourself “i knew it won’t work”, “i guess the law doesn’t work”, “why it didn’t work?” that THE BIGGEST STUPIDIEST MISTAKE YOU EVER MADE, don’t you understand that while you're saying this to yourself your subconscious is also listening? your subconscious doesn’t have eyes, it does not know what’s happening in the 3d.

so instead of seeing your bad grades on the paper and you start doubting yourself, take a deep breath and remind yourself of your power, and flip your thought against what your 3d is showing you saying “oh yeah i’m so happy! i did amazing this time on my exam! my parents are gonna be so proud of me!” that what persisting is, you continue being faithful and loyal to your assumption no matter what the 3d throw at you.

Ⅴ. success stories from the book:

number one:

• How he made his dream come true:

A movie actor told me that he had very little education, but he had a dream as a boy of becoming a successful movie actor. Out in the field mowing hay, driving the cows home, or even when milking them he said, “I would constantly imagine I saw my name in big lights at a large theatre. I kept this up for years until finally I ran away from home. I got extra jobs in the motion-picture field, and the day finally came when I saw my name in great, big lights as I did when I was a boy!” Then he added, “I know the power of sustained imagination to bring success.”

number two:

Last Christmas Eve a beautiful young university student looked at an attractive and rather expensive traveling bag in a store window. She was going home to Buffalo, New York, for the holidays. She was about to say, “I can’t afford that bag,” when she recalled something she had heard at one of my lec-tures which was, “Never finish a negative statement; reverse it immediately, and wonders will happen in your life.”

She said, “That bag is mine. It is for sale. I accept it men-tally, and my subconscious sees to it that I receive it.”

At eight o’clock Christmas Eve her fiancé presented her with a bag exactly the same as the one she had looked at and mentally identified herself with at ten o’clock the same morning. She had filled her mind with the thought of expectancy and released the whole thing to her deeper mind, which has the “know-how” of accomplishment.

This young girl, a student at the University of Southern California, said to me, “I didn’t have the money to buy that bag, but now I know where to find money and all the things I need, and that is in the treasure house of eternity within me.”

number three:

• How she restored her memory:

A woman, aged seventy-five, was in the habit of saying to herself, “I am losing my memory.” She reversed the procedure and practiced induced autosuggestion several times a day as follows: “My memory from today on is improving in every department. I shall always remember whatever I need to know at every moment of time and point of space. The impressions received will be clearer and more definite. I shall retain them automatically and with ease. Whatever I wish to recall will im-mediately present itself in the correct form in my mind. I am improving rapidly every day, and very soon my memory will be better than it has ever been before.” At the end of three weeks, her memory was back to normal, and she was delighted.

number four:

• How faith in your subconscious powers makes you whole:

A young man, who came to my lectures on the healing power of the subconscious mind, had severe eye trouble, which his doctor said necessitated an operation. He said to himself, “My subconscious made my eyes, and it can heal me.” Each night, as he went to sleep, he entered into a drowsy, meditative state, the condition akin to sleep. His attention was immobilized and focused on the eye doctor. He imagined the doctor was in front of him, and he plainly heard, or imagined he heard, the doctor saying to him, “A miracle has happened!” He heard this over and over again every night for perhaps five minutes or so before going to sleep. At the end of three weeks he again went to the ophthalmologist who had previously examined his eyes, and the physician said to this man, “This is a miracle!” What happened? This man impressed his subconscious mind using the doctor as an instrument or a means of convincing it or conveying the idea.

Through repetition, faith, and expect-ancy he impregnated his subconscious mind. His subconscious mind made his eye; within it was the perfect pattern, and imme-diately it proceeded to heal the eye. This is another example of how faith in the healing power of your subconscious can make you whole.

number five:

• His dream pharmacy became a reality:

Thirty years ago I knew a young pharmacist who was re-ceiving forty dollars a week plus commission on sales. “After twenty-five years,” he said to me, “I will get a pension and re-tire.”

I said to this young man, “Why don’t you own your own store? Get out of this place. Raise your sights! Have a dream for your children. Maybe your son wants to be a doctor; perhaps your daughter desires to be a great musician.”

His answer was that he had no money! He began to awaken to the fact that whatever he could conceive as true, he could give conception.

The first step toward his goal was his awakening to the powers of his subconscious mind, which I briefly elaborated on for his benefit. His second step was his realization that if he could succeed in conveying an idea to his subconscious mind, the latter would somehow bring it to pass.

He began to imagine that he was in his own store. He mentally arranged the bottles, dispensed prescriptions, and imagined several clerks in the store waiting on customers. He also visualized a big bank balance. Mentally he worked in that imaginary store. Like a good actor he lived the role. Act as though I am, and I will be. This pharmacist put himself whole-heartedly into the act, living, moving, and acting on the assump-tion that he owned the store.

The sequel was interesting. He was discharged from his position. He found new employment with a large chain store, became manager, and later on, district manager. He saved enough money in four years to provide a down payment on a drugstore of his own. He called it his “Dream Pharmacy.”

“It was,” he said, “exactly the store I saw in my imagina-tion.” He became a recognized success in his chosen field, and was happy doing what he loved to do.

Number six:

• Boy of sixteen years turns failure into success:

A young boy who was attending high school said to me, “I am getting very poor grades. My memory is failing. I do not know what is the matter.” I discovered that the only thing wrong with this boy was his attitude, which was one of indifference and resentment toward some of his teachers and fellow students. I taught him how to use his subconscious mind, and how to succeed in his studies.

He began to affirm certain truths several times a day particularly at night prior to sleep, and also in the morning after awakening. These are the best times to impregnate the subconscious mind.

He affirmed as follows: “I realize that my subconscious mind is a storehouse of memory. It retains everything I read and hear from my teachers. I have a perfect memory, and the infinite intelligence in my subconscious mind constantly reveals to me everything I need to know at all my examinations, whether written or oral. I radiate love and good will to all my teachers and fellow students. I sincerely wish for them success and all good things.”

This young man is now enjoying a greater freedom than he has ever known. He is now receiving all “A’s.” He constantly imagines the teachers and his mother congratulating him on his success in his studies.

Number seven:

• Scientists Use the Subconscious Mind:

Many scientists realize the true importance of the sub-conscious mind. Edison, Marconi, Kettering, Poincarè, Ein-stein, and many others have used the subconscious mind. It has given them the insight and the “know-how” for all their great achievements in modern science and industry. Research has shown that the ability to bring into action the subconscious power has determined the success of all the great scientific and research workers.

An instance of how a famous chemist, Friedrich von Stradonitz, used his subconscious mind to solve his problem is as follows: He had been working laboriously for a long time trying to rearrange the six carbon and the six hydrogen atoms of the benzine formula, and he was constantly perplexed and unable to solve the matter. Tired and exhausted, he turned the request over completely to his subconscious mind. Shortly after-ward, as he was about to board a London bus, his subconscious presented his conscious mind with a sudden flash of a snake biting its own tail and turning around like a pin wheel. This answer, from his subconscious mind, gave him the longsought answer of the circular rearrangement of the atoms that is known as the benzine ring.

Number eight:

• How a distinguished scientist brought forth his inventions:

Nikola Tesla was a brilliant electrical scientist who brought forth the most amazing innovations. When an idea for a new invention came into his mind, he would build it up in his imagina-tion, knowing that his subconscious mind would reconstruct and reveal to his conscious mind all the parts needed for its manufacture in concrete form. Through quietly contemplating every possible improvement, he spent no time in correcting defects, and was able to give the technicians the perfect product of his mind. He said, “Invariably, my device works as I imagined it should. In twenty years there has not been a single exception.

Number nine:

• How a famous scientist and physicist escaped from a Russian concentration camp:

Dr. Lothar von Blenk-Schmidt, a member of the Rocket Society and an outstanding research electronic engineer, gives the following condensed summary of how he used his subcon-scious mind to free himself from certain death at the hands of brutal guards in a Russian prison camp coal mine. He states as follows:

“I was a prisoner of war in a coal mine in Russia, and I saw men dying all around me in that prison compound. We were watched over by brutal guards, arrogant officers, and sharp, fast-thinking commissars. After a short medical checkup, a quota of coal was assigned to each person. My quota was three hundred pounds per day.

In case any man did not fill his quota, his small food ration was cut down, and in a short time he was resting in the cemetery.

“I started concentrating on my escape. I knew that my subconscious mind would somehow find a way. My home in Germany was destroyed, my family wiped out; all my friends and former associates were either killed in the war or were in concentration camps.

“I said to my subconscious mind, ‘I want to go to Los Angeles, and you will find the way.’ I had seen pictures of Los Angeles and I remembered some of the boulevards very well as well as some of the buildings.

“Every day and night I would imagine I was walking down Wilshire Boulevard with an American girl whom I met in Berlin prior to the war (she is now my wife). In my imagina-tion we would visit the stores, ride buses, and eat in the restau-rants. Every night I made it a special point to drive my imaginary American automobile up and down the boulevards of Los Angeles. I made all this vivid and real. These pictures in my mind were as real and as natural to me as one of the trees out-side the prison camp.

“Every morning the chief guard would count the prisoners as they were lined up. He would call out ‘one, two, three,’ etc., and when seventeen was called out, which was my number in sequence, I stepped aside. In the meantime, the guard was called away for a minute or so, and on his return he started by mistake on the next man as number seventeen. When the crew returned in the evening, the number of men was the same, and I was not missed, and the discovery would take a long time.

“I walked out of the camp undetected and kept walking for twentyfour hours, resting in a deserted town the next day. I was able to live by fishing and killing some wild life. I found coal trains going to Poland and traveled on them by night, until finally I reached Poland. With the help of friends, I made my way to Lucerne, Switzerland. “One evening at the Palace Hotel, Lucerne, I had a talk with a man and his wife from the United States of America. This man asked me if I would care to be a guest at his home in Santa Monica, California. I accepted, and when I arrived in Los Angeles, I found that their chauffeur drove me along Wilshire Boulevard and many other boulevards, which I had imagined, so vividly in the long months in the Russian coalmines. I recognized the buildings, which I had seen in my mind so often. It actually seemed as if I had been in Los Angeles before. I had reached my goal.

“I will never cease to marvel at the wonders of the sub-conscious mind. Truly, it has ways we know not of.”

Number ten:

• How archaeologists and paleontologists reconstruct ancient scenes :

These scientists know that their subconscious mind has a memory of everything that has ever transpired. As they study the ancient ruins and fossils, through their imaginative percep-tion, their subconscious mind aids them in reconstructing the ancient scenes. The dead past becomes alive and audible once more. Looking at these ancient temples and studying the pottery, statuary, tools, and household utensils of these ancient times, the scientist tells us of an age when there was no language. Communication was done by grunts, groans, and signs.

The keen concentration and disciplined imagination of the scientist awakens the latent powers of his subconscious mind enabling him to clothe the ancient temples with roofs, and surround them with gardens, pools, and fountains. The fossil remains are clothed with eyes, sinews, and muscles, and they again walk and talk. The past becomes the living present, and we find that in mind there is no time or space. Through disci-plined, controlled, and directed imagination,you can be a companion of the most scientific and inspired thinkers of all time.

Ⅵ. Answering some questions you might have:

Can i command my subconscious mind to induce me into the void state Aka "pure consciousness" ?

Yes you Can! You Can even tell it to bring you your desires, just Say "subconscious mind, i command you to induce me into my pure consciousness instead of sleeping".

I want to manifest my desire but i don't know how it will happen?

Don't worry, your subconscious will find any way to bring your desires, just relax and trust it.

Can i use my subconscious to bring me Ideas in writing/drawing/crafting?

Yes! Just tell it to, it may Come to you in a dream or in a flash of an idea.

Can i command my subconscious to make me successful or achieve something?

Yes you Can! You Can literally make your subconscious do anything you want, even bringing your desires.

Do i need to script or write in details what i want?

Well if you want to script in details because you want to, then feel free to do it! But you really don't need to, cause you're subconscious is smart and it is literally you so it knows what you want even when you don't mention it.

Do i need to list every single desire when i am in my pure consciousness?

No lol, you Can just visualize or just Say "i already have my dream life" or "i have my desired list".

Can i recall past memories that i don't remember?

Yes you Can, just tell your subconscious to make you remember them.

Do i really need to reprogramme my subconscious to shift or induce my pure awareness?

Well..i don't think so, that my belief, but it's not necessary, cause i think this is just a limiting belief and it's not true, it's all based on your assumptions, you don't need to reprogramme it, your subconscious is more than smart, it's incredible that it is the only part of the human that the scientist can't figured it out.

Things to remember:

Your subconscious mind is like a powerhouse, it restores many memories, informations, and many more.

Your subconscious mind is sooo smart and has an Infinite intelligence that you're not aware of.

Your subconscious mind start working on bringing your desires the moment you want it or affirm for it.

Your subconscious is blind, it just rely on you (it doesn't know what happening in the 3d).

You Can get answers to your problems through your subconscious mind.

Want Ideas? Don't know what to write for your novel or story? Don't know what to paint/draw? Just Ask your subconscious and it will surely give you the answer.

Want to meet your dream partner? Owning 3 mansion? Just affirm and persist and your subconscious will find a way to bring you your desires.

You Can recall past memories, Dreams, or your shifting experience by just asking your subconscious to make you remember them.

Final note: anyway, i Hope this post was hopeful for you all, the Book opened my eyes, i learned ALOT, and it was very helpful, the subconscious mind does work in mysterious ways and it is just incredible, and i Hope i cleared some limiting beliefs you had about the subconscious mind, i really recommend Reading the Book or the pdf, you will thank me later 😉.

Xoxo, Eli

[augustinewrites]

listening to the amurta darshan’s faculty argue over budgets is positively mind-numbing, and alhaitham can feel his brain cells dying off with each agonizing minute that ticks by. 

this is only his second meeting as the acting grand sage, but he’s already looking forward to retiring. he’s been mapping out his retirement plan for the last ten minutes, actually. he’ll move to liyue, build a house on a very, very high mountaintop, and spend his days reading from sunrise to sunset—

“acting grand sage, what are your thoughts on the matter?”

listening to petty squabbles between old men in his capacity as the scribe is one thing, but having to direct the squabbles is wholly another. 

he sits up, doing his best to shake the stupor from his mind before quickly glancing down at the notes his assistant places in front of him. 

“naphis,” he says, genuinely surprised. “you intend to relinquish your position as sage?” 

alhaitham isn’t truly listening when amurta’s (now former) sage produces an explanation. the next step is to find a solution. find a new sage. naphis’ long-winded soliloquy about ‘ushering in the new generation’ and ‘starting anew’ were simply redundant. 

he tunes back into the conversation when naphis says, “i’d like to recommend a former student of mine. tighnari.” 

alhaitham knows tighnari. would even go as far as to say he likes him. “of the avidya forest watchers, yes,” he murmurs. “i will reach out.”

he glances over at you when you shift in your seat, glancing at him with that look in your eyes. the one that tells him you have something you want to say. 

but then one of the faculty members begins a highly dramaticized account of an lab incident in pardis dhyai that “demands” the proper allocation of funds, and he sighs, realizing this will have to be addressed another time.

_____

the next few days are busy, as the shift of power within the akademiya demands near the entirety of his attention. that, combined with his reluctance to bring work home, lead him to follow up with you a week after the amurta faculty meeting. 

“what were you going to tell me?”

“hm?” you roll onto your side to face him, eyes barely open, considering it’s two in the morning. “when?”

he feels bad for waking you, knowing you’re exhausted from a twelve hour shift at the bimarstan. but he’d been penning his letter to tighnari earlier, and couldn’t stop pondering what you’d wanted to tell him last week.

“at the meeting,” he clarifies. “you were giving me…a look.”

“i give you lots of looks,” you yawn, nudging your face further into your pillow. “you are quite handsome.”

“don’t be cute,” he mutters, hoping the darkness of the room hides his blush. “you were looking at me like you knew something i didn’t.”

you blink a few times as the memory comes back. “which time? i give you that look multiple times a day, darling.”

normally, he finds your sass to be quite a turn on. just not when it’s directed at him. “the first time.”

“when you were talking about research grants?”

“not that time,” he frowns. “but— what do you know about that?”

“nothing,” you say much too quickly, but then you lean over, cupping his chin and looking him in the eye. “but when someone so, so pretty and extremely smart submits a grant application…”

“i will set up a private channel just for your submissions,” he promises.

“i was actually talking about kaveh, but that is very much appreciated. we do need new stethoscopes.” you pat his cheek a little harder than necessary, smiling.

“wait, kaveh?” he asks. “really?”

“oh yes,” you nod. “he was talking about an affordable housing project the other night. if the akademiya could spare the funds, he could even move into one of said houses himself…”

“finally admitting you want him to leave?” 

“haitham, he used that last of that face cream i bought in fontaine and keeps moving our furniture around. i don’t just want him to leave, i need him to leave. remember when he organized your bookshelves by colour?”

oh, he remembers, trust him. “i’ll have amani pull his application for review first thing tomorrow.” 

“a most wise decision,” you hum, about to roll back around when he gently grips your arm.

 “we’re not done. i was talking about when i mentioned reaching out to tighnari.”

“oh, that look,” you blink. “he won’t accept the position.” 

his brows raise in surprise, because who in their right mind would deny the role of sage? “and you know this how?”

“because we’re friends,” you tell him matter-of-factly. “and i know he’s made a commitment to lead the forest watchers. he’s doing good work there, along withconducting his research. i doubt he’d want to be saddled with a desk job on top of that. let alone one with the akademiya.”

“okay,” he shrugs. if you say he doesn’t want the job, then he doesn’t want the job. there’s no need to delve further into the specifics. “you know the amurta faculty better than i do. who should i ask?”

this time you send him a flat look, pulling away from him and taking the duvet with you. “haitham, i’ve entertained your poor attempt at pillow talk thus far, but if you wish to continue discussing this so bad, why don’t you go find amani? i’m sure she’d love to spend the night with you.” 

he rolls his eyes, trying and failing to reclaim the duvet. “jealousy is quite the unbecoming trait, you know.” 

“go to sleep, acting grand sage.”

alhaitham shuts up, because, well, you’d titled him. that was a warning sign in itself that he’d deprived you of your sleep for long enough. but you don’t protest as he pulls you close, pressing a kiss to the back of your head, still overthinking. his mind won’t rest until he finds a solution. 

“stop overthinking it,” you mutter into your pillow. “you’ll figure something out. you always do.”

you’re right, he realizes. maybe the solution is right in front of him. 

_____

alhaitham is halfway through reading kaveh’s application when he hears your muffled threats to his assistant right outside his door.

“move, amani. or i’ll make you!”

amani has a much better sense of self-preservation than he thought, because it’s not a second later that his office doors burst open, and you let yourself in. 

“when i told you that you’d figure it out, i didn’t mean this!” you exclaim, waving his letter in his face.

he takes your hand, pressing his lips to the back of it in an attempt to placate you, murmuring, “you don’t want to be a sage?” 

“of course i do,” you huff, snatching your hand back. “but— but i’m—”

“the logical choice,” he finishes for you, folding his hands atop his desk. “you obtained two degrees before 25, your thesis on elemental healing techniques is the gold standard, you’re the head of medical and you’re decently versed in botany.” 

“botany?” you repeat incredulously. “so maybe the neighbors are jealous of our garden and tighnari taught me how to use naku weed to make special brownies that one time–”

“they were very good brownies,” he assures you. “and you’re still an excellent candidate.”

you go off again, listing off all the reasons why it shouldn’t be you, but all that alhaitham sees is someone who is brave enough to hold their own in council meetings and even yell at the acting grand sage. you’re perfect.

even you sigh unnecessarily loud, pinching the bridge of your nose. “you’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“i don’t intend to, no.”  

you’re silent for a long minute, clenching your jaw so hard that alhaitham worries for your teeth. 

“i want to make my own hours,” you tell him firmly. “i’m not going to be tied to a desk all day.” 

that was something he could certainly get on board with himself. “fine. anything else?”

“give me the day to think on it,” you shrug, moving to sit on the edge of his desk. alhaitham slides his chair back so your knees fit between his legs. “you really think i can do this?”

“the pros of you being amurta’s sage greatly outweigh the cons, so yes.” 

you fix him with a long-suffering look. “what were the cons?”

alhaitham thought himself an intelligent man, but he very nearly opens his mouth to answer your question before realizing the answer will likely end with him sleeping on the couch tonight. he chooses to keep his mouth shut, earning himself a little kiss before you sign the contract on his desk.

[fangirleaconmigo]

Lambert and the Tribute

Ok. Hear me out. You know how there is the porny/smutty trope of the witcher who saves a family/town from a dangerous beast? And the towns folk are like, well, we don't have (or want to spend) money, so, here is our young sexy innocent but eager son/daughter as a tribute? *cue porn music*

So as usual last night, I was thinking about blorbos and shit instead of sleeping, and was like...how about we turn that trope around a bit? (not that there is anything wrong with it, I just like fiddling with tropes)

I present to you my concept, and I'm using Lambert for this because as I thought of it, I could hear his voice in my head.

...

So, Lambert comes back from the hunt, exhausted, out of breath, bruised, cut up, but triumphant.

He stands in front of the penniless farmer with the gnarly severed head of a beast. He has saved all of their lives. Because of him, life continues.

But the poor farmer is clearly distraught. He is a young man, early twenties, and is like...thank you so much Mr Witcher sir, we are mighty obliged. But sadly, tragically, we have no money. The harvest was lost, and we are hungry as it is.

The poor farmer tries to explain. Sir, I would gladly offer you my sexy and eager but wide eyed and innocent daughter as tribute, but tragically, my kids are too young to be sexy tributes. Mr. Witcher, they simply aren't reproductive age yet.

And the farmer is standing there, just anxious as hell about what the witcher will demand instead, like, will it be his young bride? His beautiful raven haired wife? They're basically newlyweds still and so very much in love. He can't abide the thought! He's racking his brain, is there anyone young and nubile and teen of aged in the next town???

And then he realizes fuck, WORST OF ALL, I hope this fucker doesn't want the law of surprise because that never ends well. Inside, this man is screaming, please do not take my kids in any capacity.

But isn't that what witchers ALWAYS want??? Children to make into MUTANTS????

So this poor (in every sense of the word) guy is stammering and angsting, but Lambert isn't paying any attention to him. He literally has not said a single word to him. He's not even looking at him. He's leaning a little to the right and looking past this guy, over his shoulder.

The farmer starts to get annoyed. Mr. Witcher, he thinks, I'm struggling here, help me out a little.

Lambert drops the nasty monster head with a thunk and turns back to the guy. Lamb is not particularly put out. He knew this family was poor. But still. This doesn't have to be for nothing.

He wipes the bloody sweat off his forehead with his arm and nods behind the man.

"What about him? He game?"

The farmer looks like his brain has just blanked out. He stares in silence. He slowly turns and looks behind him. Then he turns back to Lambert, waiting for him to laugh or to clarify. Lambert just stares at him expectantly.

"Well?" Lambert asks.

The penniless farmer is like.. "You---you want...m-...m-"

The young farmer doesn't wanna say it because that can't be right and he doesn't wanna embarrass himself. But Lambert is not helping him out at all. He's just looking at him like he's an utter dumbass, just waiting for him to get his shit together. "Spit it out, man."

Farmer tries again. "Mr. Witcher, sir. Are you saying that you want...my... FATHER?"

Lambert looks back at the object of his fascination. An older man is working, hauling bales of hay, loading them up in a wagon. And this man is like, mid-fifties, barrel chest covered with gray hair, full beard, inhospitable expression, overalls, dusty boots. He's thick, muscled and hard, he's covered in sweat, he's got calluses, he looks exactly like a man that's been busting his ass in the fields for more than a few decades.

As Lambert stares at the father, his expression starts to look a little hungry. "Is that your pops?"

"Uhhh yes?' The farmer's voice kind of screeches into a higher register.

Lambert shrugs. "Ok, well yea, your pops then. Ask 'im if he's game. Go ahead. I ain't got all day."

The young farmer just swivels, his eyes still in disbelief, still thinking he's going to humiliate himself. He wants the ground to open up and swallow him. He is starting to think maybe his youngest kid would make a good witcher after all. But Lambert is waiting and doesn't look perturbed. He doesn't look like he's kidding.

"Uh, dad?" The farmer is well, well into adulthood but his voice still cracks. But his dad hears.

The big older guy drops his bale and turns around. His eyes are sharp and hard. "Yep?"

The young farmer swallows. "Yes, um, father, the witcher here saved us."

"Obliged." The older man's voice is low, gravely, and he sounds like a man who does not suffer fools.

Lambert nods, an eager twinkle starting to gleam in his eyes. "Glad to help. It's what I do."

The young farmer continues, "And well, you know, we don't have any money to pay him. What with the bad harvest and all."

The dad nods, waiting. He's quiet too, not helping the young farmer out at all. So the younger farmer soldiers ahead. "So, father, he, the witcher that is, was wondering, um, if you would, um, want to be the uh..." he takes a breath and tries to say it fast, "tribute."

The young farmer almost faints from mortification. He's waiting for his dad to laugh at his idiocy. To shout at him. To kick his ass.

But what the Dad does is slowly raise his eyebrows. Then he turns purposefully towards Lambert. He switches his weight a little to one of his hips, and just quietly begins to look Lambert up and and down, assessing him with extreme interest. He is silently just raking his eyes from the top of Lambert's head down to his toes.

Lambert's grin gets wider, like it gleams, because at this point, he knows he's in. If the man is checking whether he is his type, then well, he's good with men. And Lambert just knows he'll be this man's type. Why wouldn't he be for fuck sake?

When the older man's gaze gets to his crotch, Lambert gives his prick a cocky little squeeze and licks his lips.

The older man grunts, and if the young farmer didn't know it was an interested noise, he certainly does when his father gives Lambert a wink. "Name's Abe, young buck."

The young farmer whispers several prayers for the gods to deliver him from this moment.

"Hi Abe," says Lambert, just eager and smug sounding as shit.

Abe takes his gloves off and hands them to his son as he passes him. He only says three words. "Don't wait up."

Lambert chuckles to himself, and there is a little hop in his step as they walk off together, since he is already anticipating the cock in his ass and could not be more overjoyed. Abe slides his hand down Lambert's trousers and squeezes his ass possessively.

The younger farmer just stands there with his jaw dropped. He had no idea whatsoever that his dad has this side to him. That man silently and stoically raised a family of seven children with his dearly departed mother, rest her soul. All his father ever did was work. You think you know a person. Honestly.

Lambert and Abe are long gone, and the son is still standing there in shock, when his beautiful young bride comes out of the house with a toddler on her hip. "Where did father go?"

The young farmer always likes that about his bride, she calls his dad father. "Yes. Heeee, um, went to pay the witcher for his services."

The young bride is surprised, she didn't know that father had money after the poor harvest they'd had, what with the locusts and all that. But oh isn't that a nice surprise, she thinks. "Well how generous of him. What a kind and giving man father is."

The young farmer puts his arm around his beautiful bride and pulls her in tight. "You know what my darling," he says, "it didn't seem like he minded in the least."

---the end

(and if any of you talented writers out there wants to write the sex scene, I would pledge my eternal friendship and love to you)