#this shit killed me to write

[clovermunson]

king hargrove — b. hargrove

summary: billy never saw himself as a dad, but he’d never trade his two little girls for anything— even when they ask him to dress up like a princess and have a tea party with them.

warnings: tooth-rooting fluff. like eating two bags of cotton candy and chasing it with a 72 oz. big gulp soda at the state fair. brief mentions of billy’s upbringing (not detailed). bee’s full name is beatrice but she’s called bee. oh and a mention of mechanic!billy. no use of “y/n”. first fic i’ve written and actually finished in…months? i think?? that’s about it really.

pairings: billy hargrove x fem/mom!reader

word count: 1.7k

author’s note: i told y’all motherfuckers i was gonna give billy something happy, and here it is!! it’s the most i’ve written in about two weeks and y’all can thank this lovely goon: @bookshelf-dust for that. anyway, as always likes and reblogs (especially reblogs) are greatly appreciated, i just ask that you DO NOT copy and repost my writing and claim it as your own!! — xo, morgan🖤

Billy Hargrove was many things. A bad influence, a womanizer, some might even say an antagonizer, of sorts. And while he’d agree to being all of those things before he met you, if someone would’ve told him that he’d become the father to a little girl in the spring of 1989, and then again in the summer of 1991, he would’ve told them they were crazy.

But now as he sat at the ridiculously small white dining table set, on the floor with his legs outstretched rather than in one of the dainty chairs that he was sure would crumble under his weight, he was certain that he wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

“Daddy, you gotta wear it.” Bee, your youngest daughter, had shoved a pink feather boa at him, making him jump back.

“Pleeeease? And this?” Juno, your eldest daughter had asked, holding a tiny plastic tiara out to him, “pretty please?”

“Okay okay.” Billy held his hands up, finally accepting defeat before letting Juno place the tiara on his head as he took the boa, wrapping the feathered accessory around his neck, then smiling for his girls.

Lord, if the guys at the mechanic shop knew about this, they’d never stop giving him hell over it.

“You look pretty.” Juno giggled at him as she pretended to pour two cups of tea.

“Pretty, huh?” Billy chuckled, “I don’t think the pink goes with my shirt.” He tugged at the material of his dark red shirt, showing how it contrasted.

“Oh well.” Bee shrugged, “gotta wear it.”

“Bossy.” Billy couldn’t help but laugh at the miniature version of himself, but if anyone asked where Bee got it from, he’d say it was from you.

“Get it from my daddy.” Bee didn’t miss a beat with her response, further showing just how much she was like her dad. All Billy could do was smile to himself, knowing that she was right.

Before he knew it, Juno had offered him an empty teacup, and he’d be damned if he turned it down. The floral patterned cup was abnormally tiny in his hand, but he still brought it up to his lips, pretending to take a drink.

“Pinky up.” Juno was quick to correct him, wiggling her tiny pinky at him.

At first, Billy looked confused. Why did he need to have his pinky up?

He felt Bee’s little hand grab at his, trying her hardest to raise his pinky.

“You’ve gotta put your pinky up, daddy.” She tried to pry his pinky from the tiny cup handle, giggling as Billy fought back with her.

“Daddy!” She whined, pouting at him. It didn’t take much for Bee to get her way. All she had to do was get those big ocean blue eyes a little misty, and she’d convince anyone to get her whatever she wanted— mostly her dad and her uncle Steve.

“Alright, alright.” Billy raised his pinky, waving it at Bee, “better?”

Bee simply nodded, appeased with her dad’s actions as she sipped her fake-tea.

You’d been carrying a basket full of laundry when you’d heard the giggling coming from the girls’ room. Instead of going on your way to the laundry room, you’d stopped just out of sight, leaning against the wall beside the doorway to listen in. Though you had to admit, seeing Billy in a tiara was quite the spectacle.

“You’re the king of the castle!” Juno exclaimed, quickly jumping up from the wooden chair to twirl around, her yellow polka-dot skirt twisting around her, the sleeves of her white blouse flowing from the small breeze she’d created.

“Is that so?” Billy watched as Bee joined in with her sister, both of them twirling around the table, skipping and jumping over their scattered toys.

“Mhm.” Bee agreed, “you’re the king. The king makes the rules.”

“I dunno about that, kiddo.” Billy snorted, “I would say I’m pretty influential around here though.”

“Infuwentual?” Bee stopped in her tracks, a bewildered look on her face. She struggled with the word, but Billy had quickly realized his mistake by using a big word.

“Influential.” He gently corrected her, “it means that daddy’s got a lot to do and say with what happens around here.”

Bee nodded, seemingly understanding the meaning of the new word. “So you make all the rules?”

“Not necessarily, babygirl.” Billy shook his head, smiling. “I do get to help make them though.”

“That doesn’t sound fun.” Bee crossed her arms, expressing that she didn’t agree with that decision— or whoever made it. Clearly an attitude she’d picked up from her father.

You smiled to yourself at that. Of course you and Billy made the rules together, and it was a very delicate balance of give and take between the two of you. But if your little girl could have it her way, she’d be running the world in no longer than two weeks’ time.

“But that’s how the world works, Bee.” Billy shrugged, “what can you do?”

Bee sat for a moment, seemingly contemplating her choices. Finally she spoke, and her little voice carried so much certainty with it, that even you were sure you’d let her have whatever she demanded. “Become the queen.”

“You wanna become the queen, is that right?” Billy couldn’t believe what he was hearing, feigning shock.

Bee nodded proudly, her plastic tiara nearly falling from her head.

“Well, you’ve gotta be a princess for now.” Billy had made it fairly obvious that he could match his daughter’s sass, “you do such a good job at that already.” He adjusted her tiara, making sure it was straight again.

“‘Course I do.” Bee sounded almost offended, “I am the princess.” She annunciated the word, only to add emphasis.

“Yeah, the mean princess.” Juno stuck her tongue out at her younger sister, knowing that Bee would retaliate.

“How rude!” Bee tossed one of the little building blocks at Juno, pouting.

“Meanie.” Juno threw a block back at her, which Billy had caught with astonishingly quick reflexes, making both of his daughters’ eyes widen.

“Girls.” Billy’s voice was firm, yet gentle with them, “that’s enough.”

“Sorry…” both girls mumbled, afraid to even look at each other.

“Neither of you are in trouble.” Billy felt the need to clarify, as he always felt like the bad guy when he had to scold them, “you just can’t call each other names and be mean to each other.”

The girls nodded in unison, showing that they understood the ground rules.

Since Billy had become a father, he’d become more gentle and less abrasive. He’d never once yelled at either of your girls, choosing to raise them with the kind of gentleness and unconditional love that you’d find in a family movie— the kind of home that Billy wasn’t lucky enough to have growing up.

He’d be damned if he didn’t give his little girls the best life they could possibly have though. Juno was the surprise baby, and sure money got tight at times, but he always worked extra shifts and overtime to make sure she had everything she needed and wanted. Then when Bee came along, Billy had been promoted to assistant manager, which came with a nice paycheck every week that was more than enough to support your little family.

Instead of continuing on to the laundry room, you decided instead to turn on your heel, heading back to the living room with a bright, almost dopey smile on your face from witnessing possibly the sweetest thing you’d ever seen. You set the basket of laundry down on the couch, making your way to the kitchen where you began to prepare dinner.

After about twenty minutes, Billy had gotten himself out of the princess tea party by claiming that he had ‘kingly duties’ to attend to, and while the girls were upset over it, they allowed him to leave.

“Mmm,” Billy hummed as he approached you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, then he inhaled the aroma of the kitchen, “whatcha making?”

“Spaghetti.” You responded with a giggle, “or as Bee calls it, ‘pasghetti’.”

“She’ll get it eventually.” Billy chuckled, “she’s got her mama’s brains for sure.”

“And your attitude.” You laughed, scrunching your nose, “what a killer combo.”

“Tell me about it.” Billy grinned, pressing a kiss to the soft skin of your neck.

“William.” You scolded him, giggling as you shimmied out of his grasp, “not here.”

Before Billy could even put some space between the two of you, Juno and Bee had come barreling down the stairs, stopping just at the threshold between the kitchen and living room.

“Can we have ice cream for dinner?” They both asked, their puppy dog eyes on full display.

You looked at Billy, a brow arched as you continued to stir the pasta noodles.

“Don’t look at me.” Billy held his hands up, shaking his head, giving you that million-dollar smile of his, “I didn’t tell them they could”.

“But you’re the king!” Bee shouted, the anticipation was clear in her voice.

“And if the king says we can have ice cream for dinner…” Juno trailed off, looking up at her dad.

“I may be the king, but mama’s the queen. What she says goes around here.” Billy leaned over to press a kiss to your temple, knowing that the girls wouldn’t even try to argue with you over it. “Even I can’t get her to change her mind.”

Juno sulked, padding over to her chair at the table, seemingly having accepted defeat.

Bee took a big whiff of the air, then smiled. “Mama, is that pasghetti?”

“It is spaghetti”. You gently corrected, knowing she still wouldn’t say it right anyway. “Go sit at the table with your sister and I’ll make you a plate.”

“Okay.” She chirped, nearly sprinting to the dining table, taking the seat right next to Juno.

Billy watched as the girls chatted amongst themselves, their senseless babbling making his chest swell with pride and an almost overwhelming sense of joy. Everything he never knew he needed was right in front of him, and he wouldn’t trade it for the anything. He leaned back against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest as he felt that warm sense of comfort wash over him that he’d been waiting years for.

Seeing the opportunity to tease your husband, you took it without so much as a second thought, though you kept your focus on making dinner.

“You may be the king, but you make a pretty princess too.”

Billy’s eyes darted over to you, and he smirked to himself. He knew that arguing was pointless, because the queen was always right.

[soliusss]

Funniest thing I’ve seen on tiktok are those sigma male boys getting mad that American psycho was written by a gay man and going “well I like fight club better” buddy I’ve got some world ending devastating news for you

[spacedace]

“Hey, I need to get married for bullshit Infinite Realms reasons, you two in?”

“Tt, of course.”

“Sure thing! Do we need to get going for that like, right now? Or later?”

“Eh, like in a couple of hours? The Observants are demanding some Royal Ball or something and they pulled out some stupid old laws out of their collective asses that if I’m not married by the time it starts they can assign me spouses of their choosing, can you fucking believe that shit?”

“Woah, what the hell? Can they even do that?”

“I was under the impression they were only permitted to observe.”

“Right? It’s total crap, but apparently there’s like this super old law on the books and they didn’t bring it up until now when there’s like no time left to try and force me to marry someone they pick.”

“They are training to gain influence over you?”

“Eh, more like they’re trying to get control of my Dad by way of me. But still fucked as hell.”

“So why do you need to marry both of us? Or do you just need to marry one of us and we should play rock paper scissor for it?”

“Technically I only need to marry one of you, but I don’t want them pulling out any loopholes or something. So, it’d be great if one of you could be my consort for my role as Queen of Mirrors, and one could be my consort for my role as Crown Princess. You two can figure who’s who on that all that, I’m good with whatever.”

“Oooh, can I be consort for the Mirror Court? I can annoy Kon more that way.”

“I am amenable to that. Grandfather will have a fit when he learns that I can cut his access to the Pits off at my discretion and there’s nothing he can do about it.”

“Awesome, okay are you two good for meeting up at like, three? We can pop over to my Lair and get everything sorted out there.”

“Works for me, my only class til this afternoon is at one and the professor already said we’re cutting out early because she has to go out of town this weekend.”

“Four would be more agreeable if possible, I have to take Titus to the vet for his checkup.”

“Okay let’s aim for four then. It’s just signing some paperwork, making some quick blood-slash-ectoplasm pacts and swearing a couple binding oaths… Should only take like five or ten minutes?”

“They’re not gonna make you have a huge royal wedding or anything?”

“Nah. Dad keeps things pretty chill so as long as the paperwork is all in order we’ll be good. Though once Auntie Dorathea finds out she’s absolutely gonna make us have one. She loves planning weddings. Swear its what she makes her hoard out of somehow.”

“So long as we have a say in some of the proceedings I have no issue with that eventuality.”

“Same, it sounds like it’d be a fun way to annoy the Observants even more.”

“Don’t for get all the weirdos trying to be my suitors and all that bullshit.”

“We have an accord then. We can reconvene at the usual place.”

“Awesome, you two are the best! I gotta jet and let everyone know and get the ball rolling on the paperwork stuff. See you guys at four!”

With that, Nomad - Stella Phantom, Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms, Queen of Mirrors, Core of the Speedforce and ghostly hero of the Titans and the Justice League - tore a rip in the fabric of space and time and darted out of the room the same way she came. Through the mind-bending tear in reality the eerie, eye-searing green of the Infinite Realms glowed in all its unsettling glory, Phantom Keep a glittering expanse of night sky made solid in the distance.

Jon waved at her cheerfully as Damian gave a nod of farewell before both silently turned their attention back to their respective tablets as the portal closed behind their friend and teammate and the glimpse of the Ghost Zone disappeared again. Completely unbothered by the conversation just held or the life changing implications that came with them.

Jon was humming as he tapped away at something on the screen before him, Damian propping his head up on his fist in vague boredom as he frowned down at the information he was reading.

The rest of the room Nomad had left behind was caught in a frozen, stunned silence in the wake of the baffling conversation they’d all just been witness to. All eyes in the room darted between Flamebird and Pheonix seated calmly at the end of the table, then to the space where Nomad had disappeared to, back to the young men, and then towards the head of the table where Superman and Batman sat looking bewildered and a bit on the verge of heart attacks.

The short status update meeting was about to become much, much longer it seemed.

Though a lot more entertaining.

[hypertechnica]

i’m going to make fiddauthor art with fidds wearing his wedding ring and you are NOT going to like it

big obligatory banner that says “cheating is bad don’t do it i just like stories with relationship drama”

closeted, internally homophobic gay men who are married with kids has to be the trope i’m weakest to. no person involved is escaping the despair brought on by a relationship built on a well intentioned, desperate lie, born out of a desire to be normal and good

he WANTED to love her so fucking badly. he felt no ill will towards her and he loves their son more than words can say. he thought the attraction, the way she felt about him, would come with time. it didn’t. he doesn’t want to hurt her yet was doomed to from the start, and he’s truly, truly sorry. this does not absolve him of anything whatsoever and she has the full right to never want to speak with him again. he lied! he pretended to feel the same when he never once felt anything but platonic affection! he’s been in love with someone else this whole fucking time! and their kid… he’s caught in the middle of it all, too young to understand why his father would hurt his family like this.

and then he disappears and never comes back. imagine you’re 5 and your dad goes to the middle of the woods with his buddy for science shit, all of the sudden your parents are yelling on the phone and signing papers, and then he goes MIA. for years.

imagine your husbands “buddy” was the one he was thinking of all this time, not you, never you. and the first chance he gets to run away from you, he takes, and you should have been suspicious by the rushed frenzy of it all, the phone calls getting shorter and shorter until it fizzles to nothing. he forgot to get you a christmas gift. he hand-made him two. there has to be something wrong with you, it has to be your fault. you wish you married the man he becomes when he’s in his presence.

he folded when you started questioning him directly - he’d been to neurotic to ever be a good liar. you thought he was the one. he thought you were nice.

by the time the divorce is finalized he’s different in a wrong way. confused, angry, forgetful, insane - if the giant homicidal robot pterodactyl you’ve been harassed by is any indication. (he’s had a bad habit of building homicidal robots when he’s mad since they met -engineer things- but it was never directed at her - thankfully it never actually does anything) he’s clearly abusing drugs - you’d feel bad if he hadn’t abandoned you with the burden of explaining why your son can’t see his father anymore.

it’s a rotten bit of your soul, but time heals you. you move on and no longer think of him. trust in your career. find a man who truly loves you with no motives attached. raise your kid to be a good man. and in a fashion not unlike shakespearean dramatic irony, this makes him move to gravity falls to find and take care of his father. you couldn’t care less what hee doing now, but damn it, it’s his father, what is the kid supposed to do? but its futile- he appears to have no remorse, hell, no memory of the incident in the first place. (this isn’t his fault but how are they supposed to know that?) so he grows bitter and cold just like his mother used to be.

imagine that.

all over a mans inability to do anything but live in denial. to force himself to live in a box and pine like a dying man over the right one at the wrong time, destined to crash and burn. to take denial to a new level- a cult, brain damaging radiation, a total ego death - just to take the edge off. take off that damn wedding ring

[boimgfrog]

it's always "autism acceptance" until the autistic person is weird, or fat, or a man, or has poor hygiene, or a POC, or makes unfunny jokes, or isn't a cute feminine gay, or is actually bad at communicating, or needs to have things explained to them, or is too loud, or too quiet, or needs to be told something multiple times to understand it, or has mannerisms that make people stare at them, or, or, or, etc. if you would show patience to the cute autistic girl who collects plushies and stims by flapping her hands then you MUST show equal patience to the large autistic boy who stims by humming or hitting his head and worms underwater welding into every conversation. I am no longer asking. your acceptance cannot begin and end with people you deem palatable.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-dragonage]

Every time I see someone earnestly say that Carver hates Hawke, I have to exercise such restraint to not scream.

Every day I get closer to writing a deep dive about him because that's my guy. He's so interesting. He feels so much. He tries so hard when talking to the other companions and some of the dynamics he has with them are so good. He can be so fucking funny and sweet and awkward. He so badly wants to be wanted and appreciated and to protect everyone he loves.

Carver Hawke, they could never make me hate you.

[shit-talker]

Roach makes a tiktok rating the signatures the 141 use on their emails;

"Regarding question, please refrain, Lt Riley"

Roach : Very in character for the big man, unfortunately it was in regards to a question of requesting leave so. 4/10.

"Your brother in Christ, Sg Garrick"

Roach : Wonderful form. Made me laugh. Solid score. 7/10

"Stay positive and test negative guys, Sg McTavish"

Roach : Covid jokes are always funny, but he's made this one several times now, and I'm bored of it. 3/10 for fuckery.

"Don't fuck this up you little enabling shits, Cpt Price"

Roach : Hilarious. Our group chat is now titled "little enabling shits" not very professional from the captain. Still 9/10.

"We will discuss more later, SC Laswell."

Roach : Terrifying. Actually, bone chilling. Scared all of us so much. 10/10 for pure fear.

"Eat my ass, Sg Riley xx."

Roach : This one's super old now, but I love it, so it's staying here. 11/10. Gods speed, Si.

[callsthefaithful]

b4 death B) - angel w a little hat below cut <3

tried to stick to their death dates a bit but. idk i only googled for like 5 mins. also i wanted those old news print colours 😌

[theodeckrs]

some of you moved on from this way too quickly. i, however, DID FUCKING NOT!!!

[ghostbsuter]

"That's all, thank you, Bruce." Jazz could cry from joy and grief, their uncle was so kind to take them in after she'd got danny and herself out of that house.

"Of course, if you need anything else, don't hesitate."

Danny perks up at that, jumping away from his seat and rounding on the man.

"You got an empty meeting room I could borrow? I have to prepare a court meeting."

Surprise colours Bruce and he's quick to smile.

"Of course, Alfred can lead you to it, but out of curiosity. What court meeting?"

Blinking confused, Danny turns to jazz. "I thought you told him everything?"

Jazz blinks back, just as confused. "I did? I covered the ghost situation, the government, and our parents. Was there more?"

Clarity rains on Danny in small steps, he curses, hand already pulling out a dollar and giving it to Alfred.

"Okay– jazz you should sit down."

"What? Why?? Danny?"

She was ushered to his previous seating place, Bruce and Tim watching, calculating.

"Okay so, don't kill me for this. I might have forgotten to tell you something."

Alarmed, Jazz attempted to stand up but was pushed down once more.

"Remember the big bad evil king I fought and won against?"

"Yes?"

"It was right of conquest. Congrats, your a princess."

Her brain shortcuts, it takes a moment for her to reboot.

("Undead royalty. Huh, that's a new one."

Bruce sighs at Tims comment, fingers pinching his nose.)

"You're a prince." She observes, slow.

"Yep."

"And you forgot to mention it."

"Yep..."

"I want to see the castle and have a week of vacation. You're going to introduce me to all your court members and give me a full tour of your apparently new dimension." It's not a request nor a demand, she's getting it.

Danny won't be denying her that.

"Planned and dealt, anything else, Princess Jasmine?"

She scruncles her nose and gives him a shove.

"Never call me that again."

"Yes ma'am, supreme sister of all."

[izel-scribbles]

just finished malevolent relisten. needless to say the obsession has been rekindled tenfold its previous magnitude

[blindmagdalena]

Trick & Treat

18+ 2.1k Dullahan!Homelander x F!Reader. established relationship, body horror, dirty talk, cunnilingus, cream pie. written for monsterlander mania

A world in which all supes are the results of humans experimenting on one another with the blood of Fae from the Seelie Courts. Homelander is one such amalgamation, and as a result of his Gan Ceann blood, he has a particularly neat party trick to show you. 

Homelander always kisses you like he means to devour you. You’re certain he could, especially when your teeth touch the sharp juts of his canines. Never do they seem more like fangs than when he’s dragging them along your throat, licking the salt from your skin with a wicked, hungry noise.

“You said you were going to show me a trick,” you remind him with a giggle, carding your fingers through his hair.

“Mmmm, that I did,” he hums, walking into you, forcing you backwards until the back of your legs bump his bed. You laugh as he gives you a gentle push, sending you down onto the plush bedding with a bounce. “Think you can handle it? It’s an awfully spooky trick,” he warns, those fangs of his flashing in a brilliantly white smile.

Sitting up, you scoot forward on the bed so that you can begin working his belt loose. “I’ve handled everything else you’ve thrown at me, haven’t I?”

Dating Homelander has more or less been a gauntlet of how many strange quirks you can endure from a single partner. You’ve grown accustomed to his fussiness when it comes to the rules of hospitality, his severe aversion to any and all iron, his penchant for milk–he likes it best when you leave it out for him unprompted–and most importantly of all, his deep love of jokes and trickery.

“True,” he supposes, cupping either side of your face. He strokes the rise of your cheeks, smiling down at you with the kind of tenderness that makes your stomach flip.

Returning his smile, you tug at the zipper of his pants, but he stops you. “Ah ah ah. I’ll be the one giving you head tonight, missy. But first,” he says, which tells you he most definitely has a scheme in mind. “Undress for me.”

Huffing a playful breath, you withdraw your hands and instead pull off your own shirt. You shimmy out of your pants and underthings next, leveling Homelander with an expectant look once you’re fully undressed. He lets out a low whistle, leaning down to kiss you. “It’s like a self-opening present. Never gets old,” he says, nipping at your bottom lip.

“What’s the trick?” You ask, bouncing lightly on the bed. 

He laughs. “So impatient! Fine, fine, alright, Christ,” he says, reaching up to the collar of his suit. He unzips a concealed zipper, and tugs the opening loose. Watching you, he places both hands flat over his temples, and gives you one last lingering look, lips curled in a devious grin. “Y’ready?”

Apprehension crawls into your gut and nestles there, your own smile faltering slightly. “Ready…”

You jump when he snaps his head to the side with a strange sound. It almost sounded like the tear of velcro, and before you can question what the hell it was, the wind is knocked completely from you when he lifts his head clean off his neck. No connective tissue, no blood, no gore. He simply holds his head up like a trophy, the bottom of it an empty, black abyss.

“Surprise!” He says, his disembodied head still grinning as he suddenly holds it out to you.

You scream, scrambling back on the bed, your eyes wide. “What the fuck! Oh my god, what the fuck? What the fuck, Homelander!?”

He starts laughing, kneeling on the bed. “Whaaat? I thought you liked tricks,” he says, placing his head on the bed while he adjusts his collar. “Yeah, we don’t advertise this one too much. Freaks people out,” he says, rolling his eyes. It’s beyond surreal to watch him emote like this, his neck cushioned by the bedding while his body continues to operate behind him.

Mouth agape, you continue to stare at him, a morbid curiosity slipping in amidst the horror. “How… How is this possible?”

“Same bullshit that makes flight and laser vision possible,” he says, watching you. It takes you a moment, but beyond the perverse enjoyment of your shock, you’re sure you see a flicker of apprehension in his expression. He’s waiting, you realize.

Waiting to see how you’ll respond. If you’ll reject him.

These are often the stages of your relationship with Homelander. He parts the curtain of himself bit by bit, daring you to flee with each confession about his existence. This is by far the most alarming reveal so far.

“Does it hurt?” You ask, the tension in your body easing.

He looks surprised, as if no one has ever asked him that before. Behind him, his body shrugs. “Uh, nope. Feels like stretching.”

“This is insane,” you say, crawling towards his head. Of all the things supes are capable of, you’ve never seen anything like this.

His smile slowly returns. “Pick me up.”

Your expression blanches. “What?”

“C’mon! Pick me up. Gimme a kiss,” he says, puckering his lips, coaxing you with kissy sounds.

Oh god.

“I…” You sigh. “...Alright, I’ll… Okay. Let me just…” You slip your hands behind his jaw, cupping the back of his neck, using your thumbs to brace him from tipping forward. “Oh, god, okay, I don’t want to drop–your head is really heavy,” you grunt, surprised by the density of it.

“Thirteen pounds, baby,” he confirms proudly.

“I was sure all the hot air would lessen the load,” you say, hefting him up to your eye level.

“Veeery funny,” he drawls. “Kissy time.”

After one last beat of hesitation, you lean in, bringing him close as you do. Closing your eyes, kissing him feels like it always does. His lips are as hungry for yours as ever, coaxing them into a dance. If not for the weight of all thirteen pounds of his head in your hands, you might forget anything was different at all.

Distracted, you don’t notice the bed dip behind you until you feel Homelander’s gloved hands on you, pulling your back to his chest, startling you. “God,” you gasp as you look back, a shiver running up your spine at the image of his headless torso poised behind you. “That is so fucking scary,” you say, returning your gaze to his head in your hands.

“Relax, babe,” he purrs, licking his lips. “You got your trick. It’s only fair you get a treat now.”

“What do you–oh!” You startle at the press of his fingers between your thighs, grip tightening on his skull. “You seriously want to–to fool around like this?” You ask, unable to do anything but fall back against his chest while his fingertips stroke your clit, his other hand sliding up your side, cupping your breast.

“Do I seriously want to eat your pretty pussy while I fuck you? Uh, yeah. I do,” he says, which admittedly lights a spark right at your core. “C’mon, sweetheart. Like this,” he says, taking his hand from your chest to grab a handful of his own hair, pushing your hold on him down, bringing his head between your legs. He nudges your knees further apart with his own, and brings himself close enough to drag his tongue over your clit, glancing up to watch you shiver, the glint in his eyes downright wicked.

“This is so weird,” you say, but it fades off into a moan as his tongue swirls. He only stops so that he can suck his own fingers into his mouth, thoroughly wetting them before he returns to licking your clit while his spit-slick fingers stroke your cunt, rubbing back and forth a moment before slowly sliding in.

Your head falls back against his shoulder, hips jerking. “Oh, ffffuck…”

It’s almost like being in bed with two different people at once. Homelander is as voracious as ever, licking and sucking every drop that spills from you. You feel his tongue lap at where your pussy is stretched around his fingers before dragging back to your clit, lips closing on it while the pointed tip of his tongue swirls.

“That’s it,” he says between the drags of his tongue. “Taste so fuckin’ good, babe. Ready for me?” He asks, slipping his fingers free. You’re not left hanging for long, the wet head of his cock eagerly nudging your pussy. He moans at that first hot press, giving a playful little growl as he nuzzles against your cunt, sucking hungrily at your clit.

“Yeah, yes, yes, m’ready,” you pant, thighs shaking. His head is getting heavy, but his tongue feels too good to let go of, or even adjust. “Don’t stop, keep–keep doing that.” He eagerly complies, humming against you while the head of his cock splits you open in one slow delicious slide.

You’ve had his head between your legs, and you’ve had the fullness of him inside you, but never could you have imagined both at once. The sheer heat of him is overwhelming, and you shudder bodily against him. His arms move to either side of you, and he nudges your hands out of the way, taking his head from them and relieving you of the weight.

“Touch me,” he groans against you, bracing you firmly in place within the bracket of his arms. You do so readily, slipping one hand into his hair while your other falls to his thigh, gripping it tight. He snaps his hips harder, knocking a moan out of you as he picks up a rhythm, his tongue never once faltering. Your breaths grow pitchier the faster he moves, his arms giving you nowhere to squirm, no reprieve while he fucks and devours you to his hearts content.

All you can do is hold on.

“I-I’m gonna come,” you whine, struggling to get the words out with the way each crack of his hips knocks the breath from you, edging you closer and closer to your climax.

“Me too,” he murmurs, though you feel it more than you hear it. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Do it. Wanna taste it when you come on my cock.”

“Fuck, fuck, Homelander, Homelander!” You cry, your nails biting into the fabric of his suit, yanking hard on his hair as your body locks up. The orgasm that hits is torrential, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you. Your thighs shake, and if not for Homelander’s arms braced on either side of you, holding you tight to his chest, you’d collapse. 

All the while he sucks and licks you through it, fucking greedily into your quivering pussy, gasping hot and wet against your clit as he comes, too, fucking it into you as deep as he can while lapping up whatever spills on his tongue.

You sink back against him, loose-limbed and shuddering. Every pass of his tongue earns a jerky little thrust from you, the wet slide of it creating a burst of little aftershocks of pleasure.

Eventually, overstimulation begins to edge out your enjoyment. “Okay,” you rasp, giving his hair a gentle tug at the same time you pat his thigh. “Okay, good, good boy, that was… Fuck.”

Homelander pulls off of your clit with a pop, humming a pleased little purr. You completely collapse against him as he lifts his arms from you–lifting them over your head like the bars on a rollercoaster–and takes his head with him as he does. You hear a shuffle of fabric, and then an odd kind of crunch not unlike the one you heard when he first popped it off.

“Mmmmm…” He sighs, wrapping his arms around you, nuzzling at your neck. As he tenderly kisses up your neck, it's good to feel his lips where you expect them to be relative to his body again. “God, I’ve been thinkin’ about that for awhile,” he says, nipping playfully at your ear.

“I can confidently say that I had never once considered that,” you say, your words half slurred. You barely feel like your own head is attached after how hard you came.

He laughs, the heat of his breath on your ear giving you goosebumps. “Think you’d do it again?” He asks, voice pitched low and wicked, but you can hear the slight edge to his voice. You’ve been with him long enough to know that he wants to know that you liked it. That you like him. 

You turn to look at him over your shoulder, and you can’t help but smile. You kiss him, licking the shared taste of you both from his lips. He squeezes a little moan out of you, hugging you like he’ll never let you go.

“Yeah,” you say softly, toying with the hair at the nape of his neck. Part of you is surprised you don’t feel some kind of seam. “In a heartbeat.”

[shannonsketches]

Thinking about how Toriyama wrote an Entire Plot centering around how Vegeta has spent the last seven years learning how to be happy and comfortable with his family on Earth and how he loves his wife so much that being Gently Reminded that he loves his wife was enough to pull him out of a violent midlife crisis and made him such a powerful guardian of Earth that Heaven broke its own rules just to put him back in that position

and Toei was like 'okay but in the sequel to that plot their marriage is terrible and he's never home'

[transparentgayprotector]

Lazerus water is Poop water.

Okay hear me out.

Hear me out, Lazerus water is always compared to sewage in DpxDc fanon, why not go all the way?

Danny might have to destroy some Lazarus Pits because of the Rats but he's not happy about it.

Since he always said they stink can I tell you what I think they are to him and everyone else in the Infinity Realms?

Pariah Darks Poop and Pee. He was the only one who didn't have a sewage system because he was too busy being a bitch.

That's why the color is different, like digested food looks different out of your body.

Danny can tell people when they finally ask him that too.

Danny: Yeah they're bathing in the waste of the old King. The reason your acting like shit is because you've got literal shit in your chest. Gross.

The Old King was a big gu who most likely had a some holes he would just poop in on some random dimensions planet.

When the pits were put there, humans probably were small in number, and many animals stay away from waste matter in large quantity, except Rats and roaches, which The League of Assassins are now.

Damian attitude changed because he got away from the sewage and started eating Real food(Natural Ecto).

Jason was dumped in Shit after being brought back to life by the natural Ecto, but Gotham is so cursed he kinda needed a minute to process his food because he was given too much, Like a feast when your stomach is small.

That's why his mood swings were so severe. He was given good food then forced to eat shit. He's constantly trying not to vomit (pit rage) because he'll lose the good food too and probably die again. Or constipated. Yeah he's also ghost constipated because of the Lazerus Pit.

Anyway, essentially The League of Assassins are Rat people, Ra's is the King of the Rats and Now Danny has to deal with them.

Will Danny's poop do the same thing? No, because he's half human and poops in much smaller quantities than a guy the size of a building while using a proper sewage system in his paranoid parents house.

They most likely do something to the sewage anyway. Danny too after he looks at the Rat People bathing in ghost poop.

Plus, he never uses the Bathroom in his ghost form, only him human one.

[utilitycaster]

The narrative of D&D

Fantasy High Junior Year has made its exploration of the tropes, mechanics, and structures of D&D readily apparent, perhaps even more so than the earlier two seasons. This is unsurprising for a show in which the characters are, in-universe, extremely aware of their mechanics and indeed in a high school intended to develop them. And yet, while Brennan Lee Mulligan pokes at these structures, the story still rests squarely within them.

This is not accidental; in longer form narratives (and Fantasy High as an overall story certainly is one, though each individual season exists in a strange no-man's land of campaign length) there is a distinctive pattern to the D&D narrative, one that is outright stated in the player's handbook. D&D is a progressive advancement game; characters grow in power and in sociopolitical import as they level up. They begin, even at level 1, as exceptional people (no commoner stats for them) and are destined by the fact that they are in a D&D game for greatness. There are things D&D supports well; travel, social interaction, one-time skill use, and combat. There are things it does poorly, notably downtime and stories that are not built along the lines of heroic fantasy.

I think this is a value neutral statement, in that I think that trying to avoid playing D&D while playing D&D is a futile exercise; your character will become more powerful while playing it and the only way to avoid gaining this power is to play a different game. I also think that while D&D has the potential to comment on our world from a new perspective, as most speculative fiction does, and is certainly not without flaws, that conversation is one for a later date. The structure exists; like it or not, it exists. There are other games to play that support other stories.

Fantasy High is direct in its engagement: characters are aware of their classes. They learn about the conventions thereof in their high school coursework, and must justify their multiclassing, both with their current level of power in their base class as well as with what they have done (both narrative and mechanical justifications). The antagonists of Junior Year are the Rat Grinders, explicitly commenting on Experience vs. Milestone leveling; several characters provide an eye into such D&D player tropes as min-maxxing and focusing on RP vs only on the game and mechanical elements. The Seven, set in the same world, operates on a similar premise; the party risks being broken up because half are still in high school and they would not survive a split of that level. Adventurers at the Aguefort Academy must adventure, and both the humor and deconstruction come from the juxtaposition of the conventions of D&D with the typical life of a high school student. The characters do level up; they do become more recognizable; they do have to save the world, repeatedly.

A somewhat subtler deconstruction comes in the form of NADDPod's first campaign, or as it was introduced, The Campaign after the Campaign. As envisioned by Brian Murphy (a player in Fantasy High; it is perhaps relevant that the two shows both began production around the same time), the world in which it is set is grappling with the aftermath of the "campaign" of the three legendary heroes Alanis, Thiala, and Ulfgar, who had slain Asmodeus, among other feats. While this ended a war, it set off several crucial events. Most centrally to the story of NADDPod, Thiala, disillusioned with her role as the healer, broke her worship of Pelor and used the heart of Asmodeus to ascend to godhood; she would eventually become the final antagonist of the campaign. However, the death of Asmodeus also set off a power vacuum in Hell. NADDPod's third campaign is set two centuries after the first, and the new legendary heroes (the Band of Boobs of the first campaign) have been dealing with the aftermath of an extraplanar war of the gods; Mothership, the main antagonist, arose in Thiala's wake. This is all typical actions leading to consequences, but the idea that the butterfly that flapped its wings was the resentment of someone having to play the cleric is notable (and is directly contrasted by Emily Axford's Bahumia characters, who openly embrace healing and support casting, breaking Thiala's cycle while cleaning up her mess.) But NADDPod too is heroic fantasy, even with the science fantasy elements present in the second season, and even slots nicely into the PHB tiers.

Critical Role does not, per se, strive to deconstruct in the same way (though Matt Mercer does provide some direct retorts to Forgotten Realms lore, particularly that of drow). But like NADDPod, the consequences of past campaigns influence subsequent ones. Campaign 1 is very easily recognizable as a classic "gain influence and power" story, and while Campaign 2's heroes the Mighty Nein retain a refreshingly low profile throughout the story, it does still progress in a typical way, though in a rather more self-directed manner.

Campaign 3 is interesting, in that it initially deviates from some of the more classic tropes of early D&D, but ultimately succumbs (to its benefit, in my opinion) to the inertia of the heroic fantasy arc. Bells Hells do not work their way up from level 1 or 2 taking on odd jobs; they begin the campaign by joining up with a benevolent patron, and several party members have pre-existing powerful connections. They receive the use of a skyship by episode 22 and level 6 (something even Vox Machina considered having to steal at level 13) and inherit it not long after. And yet: despite this, and a pivotal set piece of the apogee solstice in which a comparatively low level party plays a part among many factions, following a brief split the campaign begins to run on more familiar tracks. For all the early privileges the team enjoyed and the theological debates they engaged in, they ultimately find themselves in a position identical to that of the archetypal Vox Machina: facing an evil wizard who, after a rushed solstice ritual mid-campaign, only partially unsealed a long-imprisoned ancient deity of manipulation and destruction and now wishes to finish the job. One must assume Delilah Briarwood is appreciating the parallels from within Laudna's psyche.

Worlds Beyond Number is a player on the scene to watch out for, especially because Mulligan has shown himself to enjoy playing with these tropes and his players are all immensely knowledgeable and experienced players (and in Aabria Iyengar's case, DMs) themselves. Rather like Bells Hells, two of its three characters are coming in already in storied positions, despite being level 2, and it will be interesting to see if it bucks the trend. I don't think it needs to. I think there's plenty of variety to be had within this subgenre, and I think a quiet pushing at the boundaries is frequently more effective than full-scale subverstion. But should that be the plan, it will take a lot of work; even with immense awareness of the path D&D sets forth it seems DMs - and players - tend to stay on it.

[promptfiction]

kid!gojo is so insulted that toji is the only one who is capable of escaping from his six eyes that he starts to follow toji around like a homeless puppy, trying to be sly about it.

Toji finds it funny that the gojo kid is fucking hopeless, so he starts to provoke the kid because if that little shit is going to be the Strongest he better be stronger than him.