#hooooooooooooo

[the-unsung-lament]

He's a man.

He's older (40).

He's powerful (very physically strong and has a cult).

He has sharp teeth and claws (as long as he's in his human disguise or when in full Himmelian Petrel form.

He's big enough for anyone to sit on his lap (6'5").

And quite honestly, he is REALLY easy to get wrapped around someone else's finger (there is Ga'bi, for instance).

[telthor]

So I guess my pipes are getting replaced This week instead of next.

[birdears]

guess who is listening to the audio drama for wen guan. this fucjing fruit

[multi-lefaiye]

post: hey, under this read-more is a screenshot of something extremely upsetting and triggering. do not click this if you can't handle that.

me: oh i'm sure it's not that bad. [clicks it and immediately dies]

[deamazed]

@asundered.

I know what you are thinking.

It would be easier to just answer you before you ask me: Nick, what the fuck are you doing? It would be easier, but Amy is teaching me. Easy is not always better.  She is right. That is the case a lot of of the time, and I can admit that, because I am not my father. Amy is smiling, not a  too - wide smile, not a smarmy smile, not a false smile that someone could point a finger at and say hey, doesn't she look a little fucking demented? Amy would not. Amy could never.

Somebody clears their throat from the front row of chairs seated down below the panel, and says something to me that I do not hear at first, because I am looking at Amy, and she is not looking at me. I am studying the side of her face as if I have never seen it before, because I am noticing for the first time how much it must hurt to hold her muscles just so, so perfect, so that she can look demure and beautiful and sexy and wise and angelic. She never so much as twitches, even when her beautiful, pale hand slithers up over my knee and her short, clean nails press into the seam of my pants, and I can imagine so clearly how it would feel if there were nothing there to stop her, how she might dig down deep into the meat of my thigh and even deeper to the bone and its marrow and take a chunk of me into her hand. I would still be watching her. I would still be waiting, reading, and committing to memory. But for now, I need to make Amy happy. Happy wife, Happy life. I swivel my head back to the columnist, and I smile, and I smile.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? It's so hard to take your eyes off her, isn't it?"  A chuckle, resounding. Good. The reporter asks again: If you could describe Amy's book in one word, what would it be?

It's so easy. It's so easy I almost waver, I almost say something else, I almost overthink it, because I am still Nick and I still want to be clever. But I am not my worst impulses anymore. I am the man that she has made me.

"Well. It's amazing, of course."

Why did I marry a man so fucking glib? Dear Diary, my husband thinks I’m fucking crazy. No, worse than that — he looks at me and he sees the spider that’s crawled into his ear and left him without so much of a flinch. It’s impressing.

The cameras are all on us, sweetie. It’s time to give them a show.

A strong, stable show. We are two people who have just come out the other side of total fucking ruin. If you want to see how strong your relationship is, see how the man you love reacts when you get kidnapped and tied to the corners of the bed by a scornful lover. Hm. Maybe I should rephrase. Desi was never much of a lover. He smelt like cucumber water and his mother’s perfume — wet lettuce is just about ample enough to describe the way he looked at me. See, reader, we have been through so much together, that Nick comes out the other side, dusts off whatever hang-ups and kill-my-wife tendencies that are bound to run in his blood, and he smiles that gorgeous, charming, southern hospitality smile.

I am naught but a doting wife. The blood, the shame, the crocodile tears aside, and that’s who I’ve become. I hold him close, like it’s some twisted, all-American show of true fidelity — don’t worry, listeners, watchers, America’s Public: we can get through this. We can get through anything. My sweet hubby played away, but now I know he’s here to stay. (Anniversary six anyone? The traditional gift is iron. My exasperating husband is no doubt thinking that that means manacles.)

Amazing. Sometimes I fucking hate my husband.

I am not amazing. I am exceptional. Perfect. Calm. Fantastic — flippant, that might be, it’s a better fucking word than amazing. Amazing Amy shoves a box cutter into a rapist’s neck. Amazing Amy drinks Windex to keep Darling Husband close to her side. Amazing Amy digs her fucking talons into Darling Husband to keep him from floating away.

He makes me laugh. He makes me giggle like a fucking school girl and I run my hand over the inside of his thigh. Raunchy, no? Ellen Abbott looks like her head’s about to fucking explode, but I lean back and rest my perfect little head against his shoulder for just a beat.

“Oh, he’s too sweet. Isn’t he, Ellen? My little Nicky.” I squeeze. It’s playful, fun — just like me! — but also a warning. One fucking toe out of line, Nick.

“I couldn’t have written it without him. Gosh, I mean — my husband’s a real writer, Ellen.”

[twohundredpower]

Lloyd.. was tired.

His body ached from days of infiltrating the human ranch; of keeping Anna safe through all hours of the night, rescuing prisoners, taking down Desians one after the other. His shoulders felt heavy, as did the palms of his hands; having to grow used to not carrying his swords constantly now that the entire nightmare was over. Everyone was safe, Kratos was by his side again.. and everything finally felt right. Lloyd could finally shut his eyes to the world around him and rest.. but every time he did, the voice of his mother brought him out of slumber; swearing he could still feel her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders.

Sometimes, he was able to find sleep, but it was only when he was curled up next to Kratos; sharing the bed Baizhu had been letting his father recuperate in after everything he had endured. Eyes would creak open ever so slightly throughout, watching the man’s chest rise and fall until the slow rhythm was eventually able to lull Lloyd back to rest.. but it never lasted very long. 

It didn’t really matter, though. Not to him. Kratos was sleeping through most of everything, whenever Baizhu came to check on him, whenever Lloyd brushed some of the hair out of his face. He could be happy knowing that he was finally getting the rest he deserved, the rest that he needed, and was finally letting the people who loved him take care of him.  

.. but maybe things were weighing on Lloyd more than he thought they were. He almost.. lost Kratos. He could have died in that ranch if not for the efforts of the people who cared about him, who all rallied together to save his life. If it wasn’t for them.. what would Lloyd have done? How could he have moved on from watching both his mother and his father slip through his fingers..?

Just as that thought crossed his mind, Lloyd felt a nudge from a familiar snout up against his arm; turning his head to find Noishe snuggling up to him where he currently sat on the floor, next to Kratos’ bed. The brunette smiled ever so slightly, running his fingers through the Protozoan’s fur, as the creature lowered its body and laid its head in Lloyd’s lap.

“.. I gotta thank everybody for helping dad somehow. I dunno what I could give them all that would be enough, but.. I can’t ignore what any of them did. It wouldn’t feel right. Once dad’s up and out of bed.. I guess I have a lot of work cut out for me, don’t I?”

“Awoo..”

“Mm, I’ll be okay. I promise I won’t work myself too hard. It’s just.. he’s my dad, y’know? He means everything to me. If I lost him too, I don’t know what I..”

He felt his throat go tight, warmth suddenly searing in the corners of his eyes. Noishe lifted its head just in time to catch sight of Lloyd’s expression changing, whining worriedly up at him.

“S-sorry.. thought I got all of this out of me already, heh,” he raised his free hand to wipe away at his tears, sniffling quietly. “I know, you were really worried about him, too. ‘m sorry it was so scary for you in the beginning.. but you got to be with mom again, too. I’m glad you got to see her. The real her.”

...

He could feel his lip beginning to quiver, just as Noishe snuggled its head and upper body into Lloyd’s chest; allowing him to wrap his arms around it, burying his head into its fur. And he cried, quietly; squeezing his eyes shut, careful not to make any sounds to stir Kratos. But for a moment, Lloyd would allow himself this; a quiet instance to release all of the fear he’d been holding onto, the relief for everything he still had.. and the grief for everything he lost.

“I wish.. she could’ve stayed with us this time.”

[captainsaltypear]

being a darkiplier stan is simultaneously wanting to admire the stars with him in space and also wanting to punt the glitch demon into the depths of space out the space chute

[grubarchived]

catch me on my hands and knees in the front yard, face down ass up digging furiously with my bare hands and swearing under my breath as i fill a tin can with lesser peach borer larvae