#But after they were taken care of; suddenly everyone was able to say fuck

[astro-b-o-y-d]

I think I'm doing myself a service by inserting a running gag into Triangulum that canonically allows everyone to swear and be gay

[fizzie-frog]

You know, the Stolitz scene was a trainwreck as a whole (they usually are), but what honestly got me most was the way Blitz started pleading when he thought his livelihood was going to be taken away.

THIS IS NOT A STOLAS SLANDER POST. I'm coming from a place where I've seen Blitz being mostly, if not entirely blamed for their lack of communication most of the time.

Moving on...

People keep going like "Well if imps are so low in the hierarchy..." - Let's take a break to think. Blitz isn't rich, he's just getting by really. And how is he getting by?

By prostituting himself. To the upper class.

That's what it is, he's a certified whxre. Things may have evolved in the meantime, but that's how it started. Blitz got asked for the deal while being chased by a crazy lady and him, wanting to keep his business and livelihood, said yes, obviously.

Now Stolas was suddenly taking the book back with no apparent explanation (until they got to the crystal), so of course Blitz thought he was doomed. On a side note, why couldn't Stolas say "You won't need the book, I have an alternative" instead of the ominous "I'll need the book back, permanently. I have made up my mind." I would be scared out of my mind.

He teared up immediately and started pleading, you could already see what was going through his head. He won't have the means to support his business anymore, to pay his employees, to afford a home, he'll be homeless and have no means to take care of Loona. Everyone will leave him again and he will starve on the streets all alone.

He'd do anything to be able to live a life a bit better than miserable, of course he would.

And this brings me to Stolas's treatment of Blitz. I see that everything tends to fall on Blitz, and I'm not saying he has no fault (in fact I didn't even like him at the beginning of the series too much), but Stolas treated him like a peasant. Just the episode before Ozzie's he's called him his "impish little plaything" and asked for a reward for the rescue. He put out cigarettes on his horns, he ignored his "stop" most times, he addressed him in this little baby voice with babying diminutives. "Itty bitty" imp.

And I am sure Stolas is socially clueless. He was brought up alone and sheltered, taught to be a prince first and foremost.

Stolas probably saw this as playful banter, as something that is inoffensive, silly. It was only in the Ozzie's episode that he finally saw that actually, his silly play served to make Blitz feel smaller.

And of course in this scenario, Blitz would see this coming out of the nether. He reacted quite badly, but why would this prince be actually in love with him? As he said, he needed to have a minute (or several) to think about everything. They needed to talk this out, and Blitz was about to apologize when Stolas cast him out.

They were both emotionally charged. They fucked up. But I can see Blitz's side. And the power imbalance is so evident, that hierarchy that everyone keeps saying is irrelevant - in a moment's notice, he could have his life swept from underneath him. Just like he thought it happened in that split moment; it worried him so much that he cried and pleaded (and that's not in Blitz's character to do).

And then he was so scared of not being enough too, ugh, his little "I can always do better!". He's so used to everyone just seeing him as a lost cause, better to be discarded. With this amalgamation of things, no wonder he can't believe Stolas would have feelings for him.

So uh, I don't know what the conclusion to this is. Normalize getting imps some actual comfort? So far the only really privileged imp in Helluva Boss is Fizz after getting rid of Mammon. And when I say priviledged, I'm referring to wealth and upper class, not taking into account personal issues such as disability and so forth.

Anyway, this was my two cents on Stolitz. I honestly haven't thought too much on them, I'm riding on the Fizzarolli high. I'm chill over here in my Fizzmodeus bubble, but doesn't mean I have no thoughts on Stolitz.

[candycandy00]

Can you do a Suguru and Satoru fic with them being horny bullies to a shy curvaceous nerdy girl? I love the bully stories!

Hope you like it!

Smut. 18+. Rape/Noncon. Fem Reader. College AU. Bullying. First time sex. Oral sex. Coercion. Gojo and Geto are cruel scumbags. This is a mean-spirited little fanfic! And before anyone wonders, I did discuss details with the requester before writing this. 

You’re sitting at a small table in the back of the empty campus library, peacefully reading your book, when you hear the heavy wooden door open. That alone is unusual enough. At this time of day, an hour after all classes have ended, the library is always deserted, not even a librarian or custodian in sight. But then you hear a pair of loud voices, laughing, talking, and you feel panic rising in your heart. 

With only one way in or out of the library, you know you can’t simply flee to an exit. Those two are near the door. Your only option is to hide and hope they don’t spot you. Maybe you could even circle back around to the door once they move further in. So you grab your book and your bag, so they won’t see any signs of your presence, and move quietly but quickly to the row of shelves nearby, ducking low to try to stay out of sight. 

You can hear them walking around, making no attempt to be quiet. They don’t care if you hear them approaching. Hell, maybe they want you to, maybe it’s part of their plan to terrorize you. 

“You sure she’s in here?” a voice asks as they move toward the tables. 

“I’ve seen her come in here every day this week. This is definitely her new hideout,” the other replies. 

They’re getting closer to the shelves. You’re not an idiot. You know they’ll check them, but if you can time it just right, you might be able to move between the shelves to avoid them. 

Suddenly they go silent. You can’t hear their voices or their footsteps. Fuck. They know you’re hiding between the shelves, and they don’t want you to know which direction they’re coming from. You try to watch both ends of the aisle you’re in, your plan now being to flee in the opposite direction the moment you catch sight of them. 

You stand there, ready to run, your heart pounding, when you finally see it. On the back end, a glimpse of white hair as the tall young man moves around the corner. You immediately make a run for it, sprinting toward the front, toward the library door. But just as you reach the end of the aisle, two strong arms reach out from the side and grab you.

“Got you,” a smooth voice says as you’re dragged back into the aisle, between the tall shelves that now feel like the walls of a cage. 

You struggle and kick, yelling, “Let me go!”

In the aisle, Gojo Satoru is waiting for his best friend, Geto Suguru, to bring you to him. They’ve been bullying you relentlessly all year, gradually getting worse as the months rolled by. It started simple, with them occasionally knocking your books out of your hands and laughing as they gave fake apologies, then shoving you against the wall and pretending they didn’t see you. Lately, their tactics had taken a decidedly sexual turn, as they’d taken to flipping up your skirt and commenting on your panties and even copping feels of your chest or ass when they caught you alone. 

You were an easy target for them. Quiet, reserved, and having few friends to surround yourself with, it was obvious why they chose you. Despite the growing intensity of their harassment, you haven’t reported them. Doing so would make the entire school hate you, and no one would believe you. Gojo and Geto were the school’s golden boys. They were beloved by everyone, and could do no wrong. They were easily the hottest guys in school, got perfect grades despite never seeming to study, and had both won various awards for their performances in several different sports. 

They were perfect, and you hated them. The universe was cruel indeed, to make the two biggest scumbags on the planet also be so gorgeous that everyone was blinded by their beauty. Everyone but you. 

Geto’s grip on you loosens just a bit, but at this point you’re trapped between them. If you try to run again, they’ll easily catch you. They’re both track team stars, for fuck’s sake. 

You try to calm down, to talk to them rationally and pray they’re feeling merciful today. “What do you two even want? Why can’t you just leave me alone?”

Geto is behind you, his hands around your waist. It’s the kind of position you’ve seen couples in. Gojo is standing in front of you, uncomfortably close, a shit-eating grin on his face. “We just wanna play with you,” Gojo says, his eyes hidden behind the dark sunglasses he wears when not in class. 

“Why were you running away?” Geto’s voice asks into your ear. “That hurts our feelings.”

You turn your head to look at Geto. Of the two of them, he’s definitely the most likely to listen to reason. “I-I don’t feel well today. Please, just let me go.”

Geto looks to Gojo. “She doesn’t feel well, Satoru. What should we do?”

It doesn’t sound like he’s asking a serious question. It sounds like he’s mocking you. 

Gojo gives you a look of fake concern. “Poor thing. What’s wrong? You on the rag?”

Before you can even answer, Gojo’s hand shoots out and moves under your skirt, squeezing your crotch through your panties. You gasp and freeze up in terror. He’s never been this bold before.

“I don’t feel a pad,” he says, withdrawing his hand. 

“Maybe she uses tampons,” Geto suggests, his grip on your waist seeming to tighten. 

Gojo snaps his fingers loudly. “That’s probably it! Let’s find out!”

“No, stop!” you cry, wriggling out of Geto’s grasp as Gojo’s hand moves toward your skirt again. “I’m not on the rag!”

Gojo stops, lowering his hand. “Then what’s wrong with you?”

You look back and forth between them, trying to think up a convincing lie. Would they have pity on you if you made up a sob story? You could say your dad died yesterday, or that you just found out you have cancer. But lying about things like that, even to escape danger, just doesn’t feel right. And besides, these two sadistic assholes probably wouldn’t care. 

“I think I’m coming down with the flu,” you say, hoping that maybe, just maybe, they might want to avoid possibly catching it from you. 

“Oh, that’s all?” Geto asks. 

“Should have gotten your flu shot like we did,” Gojo adds with a laugh. 

Your heart sinks as you watch Gojo pull something from his pocket. Geto is no longer holding you but he’s so close against your back that you can feel his body heat. 

Gojo holds up some sort of pen. “I ordered this the other day. It’s a super strong permanent marker. The ink is guaranteed to stay on skin for at least seven days, no matter how much you scrub it.”

He pulls the cap off and points the marker at you. “Why don’t we test it out? I could write, ‘This dumb cunt belongs to Gojo and Geto’ across your forehead!”

You shrink back away from him, but that only results in you pressing your back into Geto’s toned chest. 

“Satoru, I don’t think that many words will fit on her forehead,” Geto says. 

“Oh, right. Well, we can just scribble it all over her face then,” Gojo replies. 

“Please, don’t! Just leave me alone!” you cry out, your voice breaking into a sob. 

They watch you shake and tremble, then look at each other. Gojo nods, as if they had already agreed to something beforehand, and Geto suddenly steps back away from you, giving you space. 

“Okay, we’ll leave you alone today,” Geto tells you. 

You look up at him with teary eyes. “You will?”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand, as if he’s suddenly feeling shy. “Yeah. We didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Gojo pats your shoulder in what he probably thinks is a comforting manner. “The truth is we kinda like you. We didn’t realize we were taking things too far.”

You look at both of them with wide eyes. You don’t trust them at all, so you just want to get out of here as fast as you can. “So… I can go?”

“Sure,” Geto says, smiling at you. 

Without waiting for them to change their minds, you grab your fallen bag and book from the floor and walk down the aisle, toward the door. Just before you get to the end, you hear Gojo’s voice. 

“Hey, Suguru, who’s that nerdy little guy she always sits with at lunch? Mori-something…”

“Moriyama,” Geto corrects him. “He’s always in the chemistry room around this time, with his little club of fellow nerds.”

“Yeah, that’s him! Since she can’t play with us today, let’s go play with Moriyama!”

You stop dead in your tracks and look back at them, a deep, engulfing dread building in the pit of your stomach. “What did you say?” you ask them, your voice weak and quiet but echoing in the mostly empty library. 

They both look at you. “Never mind us,” Geto says with a charming smile. “Go on home and take care of yourself.”

Gojo looks back to Geto, as if he’s ignoring you now. “Hey, let’s drag Moriyama out of the chemistry room, strip him naked, and write all kinds of hilarious shit all over him! Then we can make him walk back into the room like that so all his friends can see!”

You feel your heart pounding again. Moriyama is a sweet, kind, happy young man who has made your miserable life at this school just a little bit bearable. You’ve never told him about the bullying you suffer through, but you think he suspects something is troubling you. He’s always trying to cheer you up and offering to listen if you need to talk. In truth, you’ve started to develop feelings for him, but you haven’t had the courage to tell him yet. 

You can’t let these two monsters hurt him, especially not because of you. 

“Leave Moriyama alone!” you say, more firmly than you’ve ever said anything to them before. “He has nothing to do with this!”

They look at you again, and they both grin. “We’re going to play with someone today,” Geto says. “Will it be you, or Moriyama?”

Your hands are shaking at your sides. There’s something different about them today. They’re more aggressive, more cruel, more terrifying. But you have to protect Moriyama, so you slowly walk back down the aisle to stand near them as you say, “Y-you can play with me.”

“That’s great,” Gojo says happily, then he looks at Geto behind you. “Did you lock the door?”

“Of course.”

You look between the two of them, your eyes frantic. Lock the door? What were they going to do to you?!

All of a sudden, Gojo leans down and picks you up, practically slinging you over his shoulder as he carries your panicked, squirming form to the cluster of tables near the back. He flops you down onto one of the tables, on your back, and starts unbuttoning your shirt. You scream and try to push his hands away, but Geto is at the other end of the table, and he grabs your wrists to pin them down. 

Completely helpless to stop him, you whimper in shame as Gojo pushes your unbuttoned shirt open and shoves your bra up above your ample breasts, exposing you. He lets out a whistle as he pulls his sunglasses down to get a good look. You’ve never seen his eyes up close before, and wish you never had. They’re deceptive, far too beautiful to belong to someone so twisted. 

One of Gojo’s hands squeezes your breast, way too roughly. If the rumors are true, he’s slept with a ton of different girls. He should know how to touch a woman, which means he’s intentionally hurting you. He laughs when you wince under his touch. 

“She’s got decent tits,” he says to his friend. 

Geto releases one of your hands and reaches down to grope your other breast. His touch is softer, but equally unwelcome. You jerk your free arm down and try to push the offending hands away, but Geto pinches your nipple harshly and says, “If you keep struggling, we’ll assume you’d rather we play with Moriyama.”

You freeze up again, dropping your arm beside you. Geto releases your other wrist and looks at Gojo. “So who’s going to fuck her first?”

The words send a spike of panic through your whole body, but you realize fighting will do you no good. They’re way stronger and faster than you, there are two of them, and they effectively have a hostage. The deck is stacked against you so badly, you don’t have a prayer. 

You close your eyes for a moment as tears begin to leak out. You don’t want your first time to be with these assholes. They’ll hurt you on purpose, make it as unpleasant as possible. All you can do is hope they might not notice you’re a virgin. 

“I want to,” Gojo says, unbuckling his belt. “I’ve been hard for like twenty minutes now.”

Geto frowns. “I hate going in after you. You always leave them all stretched out.”

Hearing this terrifies you, but you try not to show any reaction. 

“Okay, fine,” Gojo says. “You can fuck her pussy first. But I’m taking her mouth right now.”

You watch in stunned horror as Gojo pulls out one of the chairs from the table and sits down, spreading his legs far apart and reaching into his open pants. He pulls out his dick, and you can only think to yourself, “That can’t be right.”

They’re not supposed to be that big, are they? How is that supposed to fit inside you? You look at it with terror as Geto pulls you up from the table and pushes you to your knees in front of Gojo. 

“Get busy,” Gojo tells you. “My dick’s not gonna suck itself.”

Thinking only of protecting Moriyama, you scoot closer to Gojo and lean your face forward. You’ve never done this before, but you just have to put it in your mouth and move your head back and forth, right? So you open your lips and let his cock slide in. It feels gross, but you try to ignore that as you make shallow motions, your lips sliding partway down his shaft and then back. 

After a few seconds, Gojo sighs and says, “Use your fucking tongue, sheesh. If this is the kinda head Moriyama’s getting, I feel sorry for the guy.”

You feel your face burning with embarrassment, and you start running your tongue over his tip, hoping it will satisfy him. The sooner he finishes, the sooner you can get his dick out of your mouth. 

Geto moves behind you and pulls your open shirt off your shoulders, then unhooks your bra and pulls it off. Even though your tits have been out for a while now, you still somehow feel even more exposed. You feel Geto’s warm hands on your breasts, kneading and squeezing, then his fingers playing with your nipples. You keep your hands stiffly at your sides, resisting the unbearable urge to pry Geto’s hands off you and shove Gojo away. 

It feels like an eternity of this torment passes before Gojo’s cock suddenly seems to get harder in your mouth. Then all at once, there’s a flood of gooey cum filling you, coating your tongue and throat. You draw back reflexively, letting some of it spill out over your lips. 

“Hey, don’t waste it,” Gojo says, using his fingers to scoop up some from your chin and then shoving it back into your mouth. You gag and heave, but he forcibly holds your mouth shut. “Swallow it,” he says. 

You have no choice but to obey, letting it glide down your throat as tears stream down your face. 

When it’s over, you barely have a chance to catch your breath before the boys pick you up and sit you on the table again. This time Gojo is behind you. He’s climbed onto the table and has his legs on either side of you, his arms around your torso. Geto is in front of you, pulling your skirt and panties down your legs and then tossing them onto the floor. When he pushes your legs apart, you close your eyes, trying to block this all out. 

You feel his fingers on you, opening your folds, feeling around. 

“She’s dry as a desert,” Geto says, a hint of disappointment in his voice. 

“So let’s get her wet,” Gojo replies, one of his hands snaking down to fondle your pussy. You jerk in his grasp, trying and failing to shrink away from his fingers that are now stroking your clit. 

“S-stop!” you cry weakly.

Geto is between your legs, leaning forward. You can’t see what he’s doing, but you feel his tongue glide over your spread open pussy. 

Gojo jerks his hand away. “Dude, you almost licked my fingers. Gross.”

They both laugh as Geto takes over stroking you with his thumb. Soon you can feel it, a slickness you can’t believe. You hate them! Why is your body betraying you like this?

“She’s ready,” Geto says before opening his own pants. 

“That was easy,” you hear Gojo’s voice at your ear. “Guess we were right. She is a little slut. I bet Moriyama would cry if he found out his girlfriend’s getting wet for other guys!”

They have an entirely wrong idea about your relationship with Moriyama, but at this point there’s no point in trying to correct them. 

You raise up as far as you can to look down. Geto’s cock is already out, and it’s almost as big as Gojo’s. He runs his hand up and down it a few times, then he closes in on you. He positions himself just right, and you squeeze your eyes shut, holding your breath. 

Then you feel it, his cock ripping into you. You grit your teeth and hold back any sound from escaping your mouth. You won’t let them hear you scream. 

After a few deep, hard thrusts, Geto pauses. “Satoru?”

“Yes, Suguru?”

“You won’t believe this.”

You open your eyes to see Geto staring down at where your bodies meet. Gojo leans forward to look, then says, “Holy shit! She’s a virgin?!”

They both look to your face for confirmation, but you can only look away without speaking. 

Gojo laughs loudly. “Oh wow, that’s hilarious! You’re losing your virginity to a guy you hate!” 

“Satoru,” Geto says, his voice somewhat strained as he thrusts back into you, “shut the fuck up.”

He’s not going as deep or as hard as before. Is he trying to be gentle with you? Now? He doesn’t need to bother. It doesn’t change what he’s doing to you, what he’s been doing to you for months now. He’s just trying to ease what tiny shred of conscience he has left. 

Gojo is watching your face, seeming amused. “Wait, was that your first blowjob just now? That explains why you were so lousy at it! No offense.”

You turn away from him, just wanting this to be over. All you want is to go home and take a bath, to scrub their touch away, to wash off the smell of their expensive cologne. 

Geto pumps in and out of you for a while longer, then grunts as he suddenly pulls out. Then you feel his hot cum splatter on your stomach. 

“You should’ve given her a creampie,” Gojo tells him. 

Geto rolls his eyes. “Yeah, because getting her pregnant would be a great idea. Idiot.”

Gojo gets off the table and leaves your limp body lying prone, your legs still spread apart, blood trickling out of you. He gets the marker, the one he’d threatened you with earlier, and starts writing on your body. At this point you don’t even have the energy to care. You think you hear Geto telling him to stick to places that would be covered up by your clothes. He’s probably afraid someone will find out what they did. 

Before they leave, Geto throws your shirt over you and says, “I’ll leave the door locked on our way out so no one comes in.” You look at him blankly, not responding. Are you supposed to thank him for this tiny speck of decency amidst a sea of abuse? 

Gojo grins at you as he puts his sunglasses back on. “We’ll see you tomorrow! And if you open your dumb slut mouth about this to anyone, we’ll make Moriyama’s life hell.” Then he blows you a kiss as the two of them disappear out the door. 

For a while, you just lie there, staring up at the ceiling, not thinking or feeling. Then you sit up and look down. The words are upside down for you, but still easy enough to read. Written across your chest is the word “WHORE” in all capital letters. On you lower stomach, Gojo has scrawled, “We popped this cherry!” along with an arrow pointing at your crotch. He even doodled a couple of cherries on a stem. 

With trembling hands, you pull your clothes back on and pick up your bag and book. You’re already sobbing by the time you make it to the door. 

Worst of all is the unsettling realization that you’re only halfway through the year, and now you’re stuck being the fucktoy of your bullies. This was going to be one hell of a year. 

[voltronisanobsession]

Hii, I hope you are having a good day or night! I've recently read your platonic yandere voltron things. And I was wondering if you would make some more headcanons? Or stories with platonic yandere? Here are some ideas you could write either a few headcanons or a story about, for if you have low inspiration. Kidnapped reader with platonic yandere voltron, maybe by an alien species who wanted to help the reader? How would the team react? What would they do? Or maybe the reader get really sick which isn't easily cured cue the panic from the team? Again, just so you know I really like your work! So keep up the good work, and thank you for making your works in the first place! Take good care of yourself, and stay hydrated!

Yandere Voltron’s Reaction to Reader being Taken

O M G DONT EVEN PLAY WITH ME RNNNN!!!! I absolutely LOVE yandere voltron like they’re so fun to write for🤞😜 I love the idea of the group just going crazy if reader were to escape UGHH

tysm pookie, take care of yourself too and ENJOY THIISSSS

OK YOU JUST SPURRED IDEAS INTO MY HEAD

I can already imagine the group going crazy when reader suddenly gets swept up right from their grasp out of nowhere by some random spaceship

I know you said some kind of an alien species taking reader but hear me out

It’s LOTOR AND HIS LITTLE GROUPIES OOOOO

It’s painfully obvious that you’re the real star in voltron seeing as how possessive and protective they are of you, hiding you away whenever danger is nearby

So it only makes sense to Lotor to just kidnap you as leverage for his plans

Little did he know that you would be THANKING him for taking you away from the group lmao😭

Imagine your tied up and homeboys getting ready to explain his super mastermind plan to you when all of a sudden you start rambling about how good it feels to be away from them

“Nothing personal, you were the only thing holding that sad excuse of a team together, so I needed you out of the picture for now.” Cue smirk

“UGH THANK GOD! I was literally starting to lose my mind in there, you have no IDEA how needy they all are.”

Now cue a dumbfounded Lotor

He was not expecting reader to be so relaxed considering how he just snatched you up out of nowhere

You’re just chilling while looking around his ship, maybe making conversation with his generals

You finally get a break from the constant attention and possessiveness, ANYTHING is better than being around the group

While you’re happily talking your voice away with Lotor a group, everyone in the castle is freaking the fuck out

It’s bad enough that they let you slip away from their grasp, it’s worse knowing it was Lotor who took you away💀

We all know how Lance feels about Lotor so I think he would have one of the more extreme reactions to you being taken away

Probably starts pointing fingers and starts blaming everyone for not being able to keep you safe

Lowkey begins targeting Keith because it’s somehow always his fault when something goes wrong💀💀

Lance might even starting crying and wailing out for you with Hunk when the situation finally hits him

Keith is also another one to have a more violent outburst during and after your disappearance

He’s someone I see with strong emotions that he doesn’t know how to handle yet so we already know how he might act

Agitated? Yes. Scared? For you, yeah. Furious? Oh honey absolutely.

Keith might have almost caught you too, but he didn’t. He’s so angry with everything and mostly himself that’s he’s pushing everyone else’s buttons, trying to convince the group that the only right choice is immediately going after you

He’s too anxious now that you’re not in his line of sight, making him kinda desperate to get you back again

Hear me out but I think the calmest ones would PROBABLY be Shiro and Pidge

Now I’m not saying that they’re CALM but they have the nerves mostly in tact

They’re already trying to locate where you are with the secret tracker that have on you so it doesn’t really benefit them to try and blame someone for what happened to you

Pidge’s hands shake while she’s working her whizz tho. She has to type, erase, and retype every now and then because of how nervous and anxious she is

She’s so used to having you around that now her brain can’t function properly without you

She doesn’t want to lose you like how she lost her brother and father so Pidge is trying her best to have a one track mind

Shiro on the other hand is more level headed

He really does try to calm the group down as best as he could but with Lance and Hunk crying, Keith yelling at them to get up and do something, Pidge taking a long time to track you down, and Allura and Coran seemingly in an entire different universe, he can’t help but feel the pressure of this disaster falling on his shoulders

This man is ready to just end Lotor when they find him like I’m not even joking

Everyone is getting on this man’s nerves and knowing that you’re trapped with Voltrons enemy doesn’t really make him feel any better

Hunk might even strike fear into Shiro while he’s babbling on about if you’re hurt or not, if they’re torturing you to get any information out of you etc

Poor Hunk is a flood gate at this point. One moment you’re right next to him and the next you’re not

He’s having a complete meltdown in a corner, maybe trying to comfort himself with a small picture of a selfie you both took together

This dude is already imagining all these terrible scenarios you could possibly be in which makes him feel even more terrible

Quite literally feels like he’s gonna throw up now when he begins thinking about how he’ll never see you again

Allura and Coran are surprising quite and calm during all this

They’d keep to themselves but know that they’re going through some extreme inner turmoil

It’s kind of like Allura disconnected herself from the world ever since you’ve been taken

Her skin itches to run out and grab a pod to find you herself but she knows it’s a brash idea

The only thing she does is mull over the idea of making Lotor regret messing with Voltron

BUT TO MAKE A LONG STORY SHORTT

They are willing to do anything to get you back, not caring for the description they’ll leave along the way

The longer your gone the less control and stability they’ll have as a group

Desperate and irrational are some words to describe them during your being away from them

They will stop at nothing to have you back with them, some more destructive and violent than others

No one holds back when getting you back from Lotor, leaving his ships wrecked and forcing him to put his plans on pause as he recovers

Who knows, maybe him and his group might’ve grown similar possessive feelings towards you as well with the time you spent with them? HMMMM

[i-write-sometimes-maybe]

Broken- Natasha Romanoff X Reader

Synopsis: Nat was supposed to go on a simple mission, collect an infinity stone. Easy, right?

Word Count: 408

Warnings: Canonical Character Death (yes that’s a fucking warning), angst/no comfort, it does not get better, be prepared.

A/n: I’d like to think this one isn’t as bad as it might be but I also like to hurt my own feelings so maybe don’t trust me on this one lmao. Sorry guys, this part of a song was stuck in my head and I wanted to write something and this is the result. It’s kinda short but that’s kinda a good thing. Enjoy 😅

© This is my work, you have no right to repost my work for any reason without my explicit permission, all rights reserved. Likes, comments, reblogs are always welcomed!

☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎☁︎︎

You are broken on the floor…

It happened all too soon.

10 seconds.

10 seconds was all she was supposed to be gone.

But now?

She'll be gone for eternity.

She was just supposed to get a stupid rock.

A stupid rock for the sake of the universe. And for what? What's the point? Your everything is gone. Just like that.

Clint came back silent, something was deeply haunting him. It was clear to everyone.

You could hear Bruce ask him something but you weren't listening to know what was said.

You didn't need to. You knew already.

In less time than what she was supposed to be gone, you lost all of yourself. A deep emptiness overtakes you, but not without its companions of dread and pain.

A silent 'no' came from your lips as you collapsed.

And you're crying, crying...

The word you wanted to say would've come from your lips if the sobs didn't steal the last breath from your lungs.

The pure agony it was, breathing...

You couldn't fathom it.

Everyone on the team surrounded you, taken aback by your sudden lack of composure.

You were known to be the most composed on the team. Never showing true, real emotions, not that you couldn't but rather you chose not to let them see.

The only one that got the privy of seeing the real you was gone.

You are broken on the floor...

Everything was entirely irrelevant now, nothing mattered anymore.

You couldn't care less about the mission at hand, it was fruitless now.

Your hands clawed at the suddenly claustrophobic uniform you were wearing, dying for it to be off.

Everyone stood dumbfounded at what to do. They knew there was nothing that could be said.

Only once you were able to take a breath in did you finally move, hunching over yourself as sound finally came from you.

Only it was the sound of your inconsolable, borderline anguished cries.

How to carry on...?

Only once Clint and Rocket tried to get you to sit up did you speak real words...

"NO! No! This wasn't supposed to happen!" Your palms hit Clint in the chest, with no effect due to you losing all of your energy. "We were supposed to have forever!"

You simply collapsed into him, not knowing what else there is for you to possibly do.

"She was my forever..."

Numbness overtook you.

You no longer wanted to live, after all, what was there to live for?

🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮🝮

Taglist: @v3nusxsky @just-your-casual-nerd @pebbleswritessometimes @bigolgay @scream-queenlover @darkth1ngs @hxzxrdous @sgelessoanddoveykissing @lilfartbox1 @obsessedwjill

As always, leave a comment if you’d like to join my tag list 🥰

[firefirefruit]

Steel in Her Veins, Chapter: Thirty-Seven

Read On: AO3 | Table of Contents | Next Chapter

Characters: Fem!Reader x Roronoa Zoro

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Washed Up

Kozuki Raya

I have to throw him into the lake, I tell myself again. Throw him in the lake, and the water will do its thing.

That’s what Aragnus said to do before he flew away, planting the rest of my crew and allies all across his thick back.

For the millionth time in that hour, he had to assure my enraged ass that he wasn’t going to harm anyone. That they were going to be taken to rest, and that I would be able to see them after dealing with Zoro if that would make me feel any better. Acting as if he wasn’t trying to obliterate me and everyone I knew only a mere minutes ago.

I stare down at Zoro. His entire body is paralysed, his arms and legs splayed on the floor like a dragged across puppet. I try to stifle down a smile as I look at the priceless reaction on his face. Oh, he’s definitely pissed off about the whole thing – and unfortunately for me, Zoro notices the weird contortion on my face.

“I swear if you start laughing, Tenguyama…” he grumbles.

Even though I do bite down on my tongue, I can’t help but teasingly cock my head. “Or what? You gonna suddenly jump right up and fight me?”

He calls me a not-so-nice name that I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear.

Whatever Aragnus did to Zoro… well, his body just wasn’t cut out for it. My small smile starts to fade as I think about that.

This is probably the first time I’ve ever felt afraid for his pain in the ass. And I didn’t like feeling like that.

It’s not like I’m doing this against my will. It’s the opposite, actually. When Franky offered to take Zoro off my hands, knowing I’m going through the worst identity crisis of my life, I had the audacity to bark back at him like a rabid dog.

I guess that sounds pretty on brand, with who I supposedly am, the incarnation of Retribution – whatever the fuck that even means. I can’t admit it to anyone else, but I’m scared. I’m really fucking scared about what that means about myself.

Do you even know who your mother is? Your father?

Aragnus’s weathered voice echoes in my head again, thrumming against the sore walls in my head. It infuriated me. Back then, he was toying with me, trying to pick at the gaps of my history with his enormous chicken claws. Provoking me to turn into a monster.

But Aragnus was right. Gramps, as much as I loved – no, love him - he’s still alive, Raya, don’t be an idiot, he was always so vague with his answers. He didn’t want to say anything, do anything, almost as if he was trying to fool the fates themselves.

Who really are my parents? Where did I even come from? I’m not sure I want to know anymore.

I frustratedly sigh out loud and force myself to take in my surroundings, trying anything to block out my thoughts. I can’t deal with these thoughts right now. I can’t.

I stare, my jaw clenching, at the trickling lake. A large body of surreal, illuminating water drifts within the cavern - yet another vast tunnel that connects to the rest of the Draconian colony - immediately making my body groan and claw desperately for its comfort.

I begin to tug at Zoro’s lean shoulders, drifting his paralysed body into the water with as much care as I can. He lays there silently, his eye staring up at the glittering stalactite ceiling. I let go of him, beginning to unfurl my pants that’s been cindered into pieces, buttons clinging onto them for dear life.

Zoro attention then crosses back to me when he hears a ruffle of clothing coming from my direction. He chokes on water, looking completely pale.

“What the hell are you doing?” he exclaims, making me yelp and jump in surprise. His alarmed voice takes all of the space of the hollow room, echoing over and over again until all I can hear is a dozen of aghast Zoro’s.

I annoyedly give him a look, my fingers pausing in the middle of unbuttoning my shirt. “What do you mean, what am I doing? Don’t you bathe with your crewmates?”

“Yeah, separately, we do.”

“Sorry, Roronoa, you’re so right. I’ll just let you wash your completely paralysed self first, with your completely paralysed hands, and then I’ll jump in straight after!” I muse sarcastically. “How about that?”

Zoro glares at me, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. His frustration is palpable, but there’s not much he can do in his current state. I grin at him, sticking my tongue out.

He kisses his teeth. “Get in, then.”

“It’s not like you’re seeing anything new, anyway,” I mumble under my breath, slipping my half-burnt shirt over my head. My fingers go to my bra, my eyes awkwardly averting to the ceiling as I undo the last latch.

Zoro tries to maintain his angry face, but I can see the faint flush of colour creeping up his neck as he averts his gaze. His eye flickers back towards me occasionally, despite his best efforts to look uninterested, his jaw clenching and unclenching quickly.

“Damn it, Ray,” he mutters, his voice rough and strained. “I said, get in.”

“Okay, okay.”

And then I slip into the body of pure warmth.

When I tell you I can’t even describe in words how captivating this liquid felt against my skin, brewing within my bones, it’s a complete understatement. I gasp heavily, my cracked lips parting. It feels like hope kissing her lips my thighs, her arms reaching for my waist with a melancholic look in her eyes.

Zoro’s presence, however, still lingers like a wounded predator, drifting in the corner with his back facing down. His eyes follow me as I wade deeper, and I can sense his gaze lingering on me, assessing, calculating, perhaps doing something else I can’t put my finger on.

A thrumming waterfall behind me plays endless tricks with the light, casting restless shadows across Zoro’s face. His jaw glints like a sharp-edged blade, constantly refining the line connecting to his shoulder blades and the sinewy muscles running through his relaxed arms. Even the grassy curls that lay across his wet forehead look like they’re pulsating with new colour, more energy.

I tread towards him, not knowing what to say in the midst of the silence between us. All I can do is feel the water rush and lap over my bare body, my lips parting again from the tumult of sensations. Roronoa glares at me, his jaw clenching with restrained frustration, the muscles rippling beneath the surface of his skin like coiled springs waiting to be released. Every movement he makes is deliberate, controlled, yet there’s some sort of intensity that threatens to break free at any moment.

I can feel the heat radiating off him, from his breath, his skin overcome with streams of teardrops over the curve of his muscles, and I can’t help but lean closer to him. My wet brown curls snake over my bare shoulder, pressing across his chest like a string of unfurled ribbon. He releases a breath he was trying to restrain, which makes me suddenly hold mine in.

This is so… intimate. I haven’t even yet touched him, and yet the slightest touch of my hair on his skin feels like we’re breaking boundaries.

Neither of us wants to break the silence as we lay here, allowing the small trickles of waterfalls be the only source of sound within this large cavern.

For a moment, I tip my head backwards, feeling the heat of the liquid flow through me. I sigh dejectedly. This was a painful day. A stressful and a lonely one, to be honest. I’ve never felt so vulnerable and uncovered in front so many people until now.

I raise an arm from underwater, staring at the water that chases past the honey hue of my skin. And for the first time in a while, I notice that my skin is smooth. Bright. Full of life. No colourful bruises, no spurting blood, no torturous metal caging its way into my veins like some kind of hell-spawn.

I hold my breath as the image of myself flashes into my head.

I became light.

I transformed into some sort of thing in shades of gold and black, metal encasing my whole being as if that was my original form all along. My mind starts to race.

Retribution? What does that event equate to? A punisher? A torturer? A Goddess who demands revenge and destroys all for her personal gain?

All I’m missing is a scythe. Then I’d be the fucking Grim Reaper.

Gods, I’m a monster.

“Okay,” I snap out loud with my eyes closed, quickly plunging my arms back into the heat of the water. My voice echoes with no end within the emptiness of the room. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

“You really don’t need to do this,” Zoro quickly says, his eyes trained on the ceiling.

I cock my head at him, frowning. “Come on. It was my fault for getting you into this.” I stare at his beautiful, tense face. “If only I’d shut my mouth and let that bird talk, I wouldn’t have put everyone in danger.”

“What you did was pretty fuckin’ stupid, yeah, but you weren’t making me do anything against my will.”

I shake my head, and finally decide to trace my fingers over one of his rough hands, my skin brushing against his delicious warmth. I cup some water in my palms, sifting some over his coiled, hard biceps and admiring the way the water beads off in harmony to his form. When all of a sudden, I feel his fingers curving over mine, catching my hand into a loose squeeze. I gasp a little.

“I wanted to fight that chicken freak so bad, you know,” Zoro breathes out heavily, his chest rising in reaction to my cold fingers. He’s trying his best to train his eye on the ceiling and not on my bare form that hovers above him.

I snort, cupping more water over his neck and shoulders. My hand doesn’t even manage to wrap even halfway around his bicep, so I decide to use both. My palms slowly ripple over his tense skin, lathering over each surface with silent admiration. “The both of us could’ve skewered him.”

“Given that damn cook something to barbeque.”

I laugh out loud. My burst of joy envelops each and every crevice of the cave, making Zoro’s mouth slightly twitch in return. “Well, you should be glad he wasn’t. You’d be stuck here, motionless, forever.”

There’s a defiant glint in his eye as he locks his gaze onto my face and says, “Would’ve been worth it.”

I lean towards him even closer, slightly drunk on the joy of the water. I hold my breath, taking a moment to stare at him and the thin sketch that runs over his other eye.

Wasn’t I supposed to hate him?

A few other green curls have found its way to rest over his eyes, the heat of the water tracing over his face in dewy drops. My fingers are itching so bad to touch more of him.

Snap out of it, Ray. What the hell am I doing?

I instantly turn away and busy myself with cleaning him up.

Zoro stares at me with an unreadable look as I focus only and solely on his neck. “You don’t need to do this,” he hoarsely says.

I hesitate, my fingers pausing right above his Adam’s apple. “I mean, if you’re so hell-bent on doing something, there is one way you could repay me.”

 “And what’s that?”

“Um…” I swallow, avoiding his questioning stare. My fingers begin reaching for his warm chest, my palm softly drifting across his muscles on its own. I hear him take in a quiet, yet sharp breath as my fingers come into contact with his skin. His eye darkens instantaneously with an edge of wanting.

Obviously, that didn’t last for long as I release the next sentence from my mouth.

“Well, you mentioned somebody named Kuina.”

If a paralysed man could become even more paralysed, that’s exactly how Zoro reacts.

He doesn’t respond for a few moments, almost as if he’s brewing on what to say.

“What… about her?” He asks, his low voice warning me to tread carefully with the topic.

“The Kuina you knew served the Wado Ichimonji, right?”

He gave an approving grunt.

“Short hair? Blue?”

“Yeah.”

“Her dad own a dojo? Was she strong? Fucking amazing with swords? Was always a little bit defiant, but could still act all cool and collected when she had to? Did she—”

“You knew her.”

I pause. My chest feels tight as I force out a fake smile. “Small world, I guess.”

“You knew her,” Zoro repeats, still taken aback by the information. “How? When? But…”

I’m an actual fucking moron, then. I release a bitter laugh from my lips as my fingers clench into fists, resting firmly over his hard chest. Since when had I turned into this thoughtless air-head?

Because the Kuina I knew, the Kuina who would drag her Wado across the deserted fields of the island we would meet up on, would complain to me. How her father couldn’t see her as anything more than a female. That she had noticed herself, how her own limits were only multiplying; her breasts were forming, her body slowing its growth in height and strength. And.. And she’d complain about…

“She’d tell me how this one green-headed, snotty-nosed kid was always running up to her for a fight,” I mutter, my voice cracking. “She’d gloat about it, too. ‘Lil’ fry didn’t know what hit him when his sword flew across the room.’”

“She said that about me?” Zoro snaps.

There’s an uncomfortable silence after that. I can’t bring myself to reply, terrified that if I do, I’d probably just cry.

Zoro’s breathing is harsher now. I can tell just by staring at the way his chest is dramatically rising, trying so hard not to blow up.

Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe it was a mistake, digging up a part of Zoro’s past, because I’ve never heard him ever talk about his life before the crew in much detail. There must be a reason why he doesn’t.

I needed to know, though. Because no one in my life besides my Gramps knew about Kuina, and now knowing that someone else does… it makes her existence more permanent. As if she wasn’t a dream I made up all along, and now I can honour her more by knowing that.

Zoro’s still breathing heavily. “I’ve…never told anyone about her, not even to Luffy,” he mutters. “I can’t… I don’t even know how to deal with this. I didn’t even deal with her…” He stops himself, gritting his teeth hard.

I don’t know how, but I just knew what he was about to say.

He didn’t even try to honour her death.

“I guess that’s where you and I differ,” I mumble, furiously trying to suck in the tears back into my eyes. “I made my own small burial for her, with all the things she liked. Made this tiny-sized shitty dojo out of bamboo, with a sword-shaped locket I made for her placed beneath. There were pictures of us inside, acting like dumbasses in front of my snoring Gramps.”

I laugh out loud, my eyes glazing over. “Man, we attached balloons to his arms and threw darts at them until he woke up. Got into so much trouble with him that day…

And the Wado - it was supposed to be the finishing touch to her burial, you know. And maybe then, I’d honour her by wielding her sword later. But when her father told me that it was gone – given away…I was furious. Enraged. I screamed at him. Sobbed. I told him, who else deserved his daughter’s sword, besides him or…”

I stop myself, biting my lip hard until I feel blood seeping across my tongue. I was about to say, ‘someone who promised her they were forever sisters, regardless of blood.’

I shake my head, moving away as to hide my face from Zoro. “That’s why I hated you so much when you came to my shop, with those three broken weapons by your side. Not only did I think you stole Kuina’s possession, but defacing it like that, like it meant nothing…”

My voice breaks and I dejectedly let myself take a few breaths. I don’t have the heart to continue anymore, so I wait for Zoro to reply.

It’s unbearably silent. I don’t even hear him pause to say anything. The silence feels like an ending more than a continuance, and for some reason I feel dread run cold through my body.

I raise my head up to look at him, and my suspicions are confirmed.

Zoro shakes his head unforgivingly, glaring at me with hatred in his eye.

“What?” I ask.

I notice that his arms are moving by his will now, his legs drifting underwater to steady himself upright. His body’s slowly gaining back sensation. “Who are you, Raya?”

I freeze. I feel like a thousand poisonous daggers are raining over me, a tumult of all my worst fears stabbing me through my skin. “What are you talking about?”

“You know what I’m talking about,” he spits out. He steps towards me, making me stumble backwards until my spine hits the edge of the lake. “I never saw you at the dojo, meaning that every time Kuina said she was off for the weekend with her dad, she was seeing you. People don’t travel across islands to meet just anybody, Raya. So, who are you?”

I press my hand against his chest, forcing him to take a step away from me. I instantly turn from terrified to angry, scowling up at him with defiance.

“You answered your own question. I’m Raya, asshole.”

“Tenguyama Raya?” He pushes. I bristle, feeling his large hand cup over mine on his chest. He swipes it away and advances toward me, his gaze darkening. “That right? Or have you been lying to us the entire time?”

I can’t tell him. I can’t tell him, my mind furiously hisses, whispering over and over again the million different possibilities that could happen if I did reveal myself to them. I’m afraid that things will only get worse if he knows, what could happen to the crew if they all did figure it out.

A small part of me still doesn’t trust any of them. I hate that I feel this way, but it’s true. I don’t know who to trust, and frankly, I don’t want to be known as a Kozuki anymore. I want freedom from that cursed name.

“I’m…” I hold in a breath and furrow my eyebrows in irritation. “I’m just Raya. Can’t you just accept that answer and move the fuck on?”

“No. Not if you’re going to hurt my crew,” he simply says.

Hurt my crew. My crew.

I feel I’ve just been punched in the face.

“You don’t trust me.” I don’t pose it as a question, but instead say it matter-of-factly. I search his gaze and purse my lips. “You never did trust me, did you?”

He scoffs, leaning his head towards my face, his hot breath landing against my cheeks. “You think I want to be this close to you? You think I want to be spending my time, watching you, following you, like some sort of fucking dog? No, Raya, you don’t trust me either. Don’t be accusing me of distrust if you have it.”

I suddenly feel an odd sting to my eyes but I’m not sure why. Blood is rushing through me so quickly, and I’m immediately in a state of fury.

“You should’ve decided that when you kissed my hands, Zoro.” He stares at me with confusion, and I scoff, pushing him away from me. “That day, when I was losing blood and then passed out? I saw you. When you put me to bed, and before you left, you kissed my hands as I was bleeding from them. Why?” I wryly look at him when he doesn’t respond. “What, was that last minute guilt?”

Zoro's expression shifts, a mix of anger and contemplation flickering across his features as he meets my gaze. He considers my question. The silence stretches between us, thick with fury and fear.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and measured, each word weighted with anger. "I did it because..." He pauses, as if searching for the right words. "To show you I’m not afraid of you."

He takes a moment to stand in front of me, his fist opening then closing by his side as if deciding whether to reach for me. He heaves out a frustrated sigh before turning his back to walk to the other edge of the pool.

I don’t move; I don’t look at him or try to even understand what he meant by saying that. The water trickles across multiple broken rocks, calmly fluttering into the lake with a discontented sigh, and all I can do is sink my shoulders deeper into the warm liquid, hoping that maybe it’ll wash even my memories away.

Zoro in the distance begins to dress himself, throwing on his shirt and pants with unnecessary aggression before grabbing at his two swords. He doesn’t offer a look back to me as he storms out of the cave, except he leaves me with a few parting words, the words that will stop me from going to sleep at night.

“You don’t scare me, Kozuki.”

[mychlapci]

If we are going to discuss TFP Bulkhead let's think about post-War all the ex-Decepticons Vehicons being absolutely horny for their foreman. Going to be very, very dubcon (at best). Sorry it got a bot outta hand.

He's a boss but more along the lines of Breakdown who doesn't hit and treats them nicely and knows their names. He even starts to become friendly and knows their names. Everytime he bends over and has to come pick up something heavy, production stalls.

Most accidents are due to eyeballing him. He once got hot working and took off his chest plate casually as it is common with Construction bots to prevent overheating and they all got an eyeful of Bulkhead titties and a ten car pileup happened. Mommy Bulkhead kinks were born that day.

He is just surrounded by lusting Vehicons and one day they can't stand it, after he gets a little tipsy. He complains about how hard it is to find a partner mentioning everyone expects a big strong Wrecker and see him and how he'd like to be the one taken care of a bit you know. Like a hundred engines start growling at the thought and one of them says they could and Bulkhead laughs saying it's fine thinking they are joking. But then they all start complimenting him drunkenly and he blushes, waving off the “You're great boss!” “Anyone would be lucky to have you!” “So pretty!” and goes home but they are all plotting now.

The Vehicons all start a group effort of hitting on him and flirting and little gifts because that's how Autobots convey interest right? Completely goes over his head. Then they decide to do it the way things went on the Nemesis.

Bulkhead gets lured into a construction area below the surface and tries to help by clearing an area out and goes to walk through but the doors of the subterranean temple to one of the Primes shuts down and neatly cinches around his face. He curses but starts directing his team how to get out but things are weirdly quiet and then he feels a hand on his modesty plate. He bulks and then his lead assistant who is now rubbing against it explains that they all deeply care for him and want to show their appreciation and since the Autobot way didn't work they'll try something else.

Bulkhead finds out his comm connection doesn't work and though he struggles doesn't want to hurt them and tries to say why they can't do this because he's talked with them a lot and Decepticons have a really messed up idea of bodily autonomy and consent especially Vehicons who even he, guiltily, genuine thought were more drone than person for a long time.

They all assure him not to worry they'd never hurt him and keep touching him exactly, exactly, how he likes so his protests are interrupted by him moaning as he is getting hot and his vents opening up, fans turning on and getting wet behind the panel. He is suddenly deeply regretting all those interface stories he shared when they were relaxing together after hours. Even worse are the compliments both about his frame and himself that are just so sincere.

He can't stop it and his panel pops.

Things quickly escalate. That split face and long tongue from the zombie/Vampire episode? That's just how Vehicons feed. Soon Bulkhead has one eating him out the tentacle tongue going deeper than it should be able to while one is eagerly deep throating him tongue wrapping around and stroking his spike. He overloads and that's just the beginning.

There's a train of them eager to lick and suck and fuck him. The entire time he has to listen to how pretty his pussy he is how kind and sweet he is how they all just want to worship him and their fields are just a whirl stream of lust and admiration that is tripping him up over and over. The train just keeps going and going. He never gets a moment to feel empty because one replaces the next immediately and when his spike eventually recesses they gently lube that up with fingers and tongues and then his spike casing is being fucked as well which makes him overload even harded because they are small enough to not damage him.

Eventually his charge and fuel levels start to dip but they have a plan for that. Turns out the room isn't as locked down as he thought and some slip in here as they all take a break to massage him, oil his joints, squirt lube generously in all his holes and refuel him while he is dazed he barely reacts until he's getting kissed and that tongue is fucking his intake and his chest plate is getting removed. They give him Energon, engex, hand feed him sweets, and polish him as quite a few also have caretaking kinks.

(And the healthiest Decepticon relationship they are trying to mirror is KOBD.)

When they restart it is from the front and back. Kissing turns into fucking and someone is always sucking, squeezing or fucking in between his boobs and before he knows it he can't even count how many are going at once in his spike, valve, throat, aft, and boobs and he feels like he's stuck in a constant overload interrupted by "so pretty” “our beautiful big boss” “you can take so much so sweet”.

Bulkhead genuinely doesn't know when it ends but he wakes up in his bed fully recharged, body clean with no marks, no transfluid in any hole, but wet behind his panels. There's a message saying he got “overcharged” at the celebration and they tucked him in. The other Autobots comment about the party the Vehicons had.

Bulkhead thinks he dreamed it because everyone is so normal the next day, just warm and friendly, following orders and calling him boss. It makes him twitchy and nervous. He goes down to the Temple and finds they've cleared out the area and started repairs. No sign of him being pinned down there.

He thinks he's going a bit crazy because now he can't stop thinking about it and is horny constantly and conflicted and starts intentionally doing things like bending over or taking off his chest plate and stretching.

Then when he's accepted that it was just his overactive imagination his second comes up to his office leans into his personal space and just gently strokes up his arm pressing a field that feels just like Bulkhead's “dream” and says that the Vehicons are wanting to have a celebration in their barracks and they want Bulkhead there as the centerpiece. It's an invitation and Bulkhead freezes up before saying “of course” and shows up skittish and unsure. Everyone keeps touching him but keeping it PG as he is given drinks and lingering touches and he thinks maybe he imagined it. Then he gets lead into their “recreation area” and they've set up a massive frame with straps and padding designed to fit him.

Bulkhead takes a shot and says “yes”.

makes animal sounds at this because i'm fucking. speechless. Something about Bulkhead being extremely desirable for his size just does it for me. 

The vehicons working under him love Bulkhead. He doesn't scream at them, he doesn't hit them, and he's perfectly built (Bulkhead big naturals will now live in my head forever.) Vehicons being unaware of how to approach the subject of absolutely getting to ruin his holes one by one, they try to mimic autobot courting methods but that just doesn't work on Bulkhead. Getting to pin him down seems like a more efficient method. He's a strong guy, but a fucked up vehicon tongue up his pussy makes him fold so fast… 

Poor Bulkhead gaslit into thinking he just had an extremely vivid wet dream until he ends up down there again and now the room is nicely decorated and the vehicons promise to take care of him… I'll be completely honest with you, I want Bulkhead in a sex swing. I've decided that's going to be my fantasy for tonight. I want him helpless and strung up with vehicons pushing their spikes into his valve over and over again until he can barely feel his calipers…

[setaripendragon]

JSaMN Readalong Liveblog - Chapters 2-3

Honestly, I have no idea if I'll be able to keep up with this, the first one took an entire afternoon, and while I have a lot of free time, I'm not sure I have that much free time XD Either way, I'm going to try, and see how I get on, because this is rather fun, if time-consuming. I've never actually taken the time to write down my thoughts as I read a book before. My approach to fiction is generally that if I'm not so absorbed I forget the real world exists, I'll go read something else, which makes this sort of liveblogging a bit impossible. Alright, here we go.

Chapter 2 - The Old Starre Inn (January - Fabruary 1807)

Every time I read or hear 'the old starre inn', my mind puts it to the tune of The Magician in York. (Warning: song contains spoilers up to chapter 4 of the book, I think.)

Narrator: Chapter 2: The Old Starre Inn Me: All on a winter's day~

I find it very interesting, the fact that Norrell gives them no specifics as to the magic he's done. After all, he hangs so much pride on his status as a practical magician that you'd think he'd want to show off. But it doesn't feel at all out of character, as he sees these 'pretend' magicians as so far beneath him that why would he need to?

Which is in such contrast to Honeyfoot's impression of him as 'humble' that it's funny. But at the same time, I don't think Honeyfoot is entirely wrong in his impression of Norrell. 'Shy' perhaps gives the wrong impression, but I get very vivid vibes from Norrell of that loner kid on the playground who no one wants to play with because they're 'weird', except once they settle into their isolation and do something cool because they're just trying to have fun by themself, everyone's suddenly interested in them, and their response is 'fuck off, it's mine not yours'.

"For the nation's good. He is a gentleman, he knows his duty..." This is such an alien perspective to me. I know it's a very common attitude of the time, and something of a theme in the book, but there's a whole commentary here on community and how people's sense of belonging has changed over time that I don't have the brain-power to make right now.

"Magicians in England are a peculiarly ungrateful set of men." I love this sentence. 'Magicians in England' - you mean the rich white gentlemen calling themselves magicians? Ungrateful? Perish the thought! XD

The fact that York is 'one of the most magical cities in England' with the possible exception of Newcastle is such an interesting piece of worldbuilding, and I can't help but wonder if that's a modern (to the book) thing, that simply scholars of magic happened to gather and set off a positive feedback loop, or if there is some in-world... concentration of magic. Given the connection of nature and magic, and the Yorkshire moors being so very iconic, there might be something to that?

Also, loving another little taste of the Raven King mythos, with the mention of 'the King's city of Newcastle'. Honestly, I've never been overly invested in English history (save for Arthuriana, but that's fantasy), but the way this book builds the fantasy on top of a skeleton of truth makes me much more interested in finding out about reality as much as the in-book lore of the place. (Much in the same way Assassin's Creed made me interested in finding out the truth of the history it depicts to better compare the story to.)

I might have to go on a wikipedia spiral about the history of places like York and Newcastle at some point. If these liveblogs don't swallow my entire weekend XD

"We do not care for men who build their reputations at the expense of other men's peace of mind." I do not like this man. (I know I'm not supposed to like this man, he is a representation of the worst sort of self-aggrandizing and complacent entitlement of rich white armchair-scholars, but it bears saying; I really don't like him XD Much respect to Segundus for not punching him in the face.)

"English magicians were only ever given common ivy." Ah, symbolism. I have a lot of thoughts about why ivy, honestly, and I definitely want to do some research on this later, but the phrasing here is so telling. 'Only ever given common ivy', making it so blatantly not some sort of accolade, but something commonplace and unremarkable. There's also the fact that ivy can be associated with neglect, as it's seen so often on old, crumbling buildings, and as a symbol of nature 'reclaiming' or even taking over that which people have built. (Again with the ominous whimsy of this book; the gothic imagery of an old house all over-taken by ivy matched with the tone in which the comparison is made making light of potential drama of the symbolism.)

There's also the correlation between ivy and lovers (ivy clings and binds and twines around things. And I recall reading somewhere about it being used for symbolism in the story of Tristan and Isolde?) but I don't think that's quite as applicable here, even though my brain does love to chew on it.

I'm noticing now, as well, that the author makes excellent use of 'show don't tell'. Instead of simply telling us that the room was noisy and everyone was shouting over each other, though we do get told that, we're also given the example of an old man being very passionate about some point that no one can actually hear over the noise.

I find it interesting because I've been reading a lot of things expressing frustration with the maxim because, I think, people take it too literally. That you must never tell, and only show, which of course will absolutely ruin your pacing and make your story very boring. But this, here, is what I think it means. Of course we could simply have been told 'it got loud as everyone argued', but the art of writing is not to simply tell people what happened, but to make them feel it. And by 'showing' us this little snapshot, by giving the noise a face in this old man who cannot make himself heard over the din, despite being very engaged in making his point, it makes the whole business feel much more real.

Oh, I feel so bad for Honeyfoot and Segundus in this part. Although I find it very interesting that we never actually got to see whether Norrell did do any magic for them. We cut from him confessing that he's a practical magician to Segundus and Honeyfoot leaving, and we don't actually know what happened in between.

And, of course, neither do Honeyfoot and Segundus. Which is deeply, deeply unnerving to me when I think through the implications. Not knowing where you are is one thing, but not knowing where you have been is a whole nother level of creepy. And yet, the narrative doesn't treat it as a particularly horrifying occurance. (Again with the ominous whimsy.)

There is something of a theme of this, too, in the book, with the truly horrifying things that magic makes people capable of being treated as a sort of just a thing magic can do, rather than lingering on the violations of privacy, personhood, and autonomy. Not to say that I feel that the narrative is treating them as inconsequential or in some way not as bad as they really are, but that it doesn't pass judgement on it, and lets you draw your own conclusions (which is a bit refreshing in this resurgence of purity culture in fandom at the moment).

Like, here, Segundus doesn't react with any particular horror or upset at his confusion and disorientation. Which, honestly, I find only heightens my own horror. He's just... sort of vague and fuzzy about it all, even in his emotional reaction to his memory being vague and fuzzy. (Like how someone with mind control telling someone to 'do a bad thing' is not nearly so horrifying as someone with mind control telling someone that 'you want to do a bad thing')

I find this part particularly gave me shivers, when Segundus and Honeyfoot are being questioned about the library and they're asked of the books:

"Had they been permitted to take them down and look inside them?" "Oh, no."

Like, everything else we hear from them is just... an obfuscation of the facts? There were a lot of books in the library, some of them were very rare, and that's the impression they've been left with even if they can't remember the specifics, but that? That, we know for a fact to be false.

Which then very abruptly throws Segundus's previous assertion that he knows for a fact that he hadn't seen any magic done into doubt.

Honestly I think that whole sequence is masterfully done. Because at the time, the way Segundus explains it, we're given no reason to doubt his assertion. He says he feels as though he saw magic, but knows for a fact that he didn't. Which can very easily explain away his awareness of the extra lighting and the... (I keep wanting to call it a maze-array, but that's the wrong fandom XD) directionlessness of the hallway, as him having the sense of magic, but not, actually, knowing for sure it was such because neither he nor us the audience were shown Norrell actually casting those spells.

Except then we get that blatant untruth, and suddenly that blank space of time between Norrell's confession at the end of chapter 1 and Honeyfoot and Segundus leaving at the beginning of chapter 2 just opens up with posibilities.

There's also the contrast between Honeyfoot merely being affected in the moment he tries to explain, and Segundus having felt 'heavy and stupid' for the entire week in between meeting Norrell and meeting with the Society. I do love how clear it is already that Segundus is sensitive to magic, the way he noticed so clearly the magical lighting and direction-obfuscation in the last chapter, and now this.

"Other men may fondly attribute their lack of success to a fault in the world, rather than to their own poor scholarship." "But what is my reward for loving my art better than other men have done? For studying harder to perfect it?"

Ooooo burn! He's so catty. What an asshole (affectionate)! Not to say that the Society (and Foxcastle in particular) don't thoroughly deserve it, of course. Everyone in this room is so ready to be offended, they're actively looking for reasons. Their lives must be so incredibly boring that this is how they choose to entertain themselves, holy shit XD

Oh, god. This attorney guy. Robinson. He is so... He's something, alright. "He was so clean and healthy and pleased about everything that he positively shone, which is only to be expected in a fairy or an angel, but is somewhat disconcerting in an attorney." No kidding. And during the whole scene he's so... blandly inoffensive and faux-innocent and defferential that it puts my hackles right up. He is deeply unnerving to me.

'This would be only fair' he says, of a deeply unfair and rigged agreement designed solely to punish them. 'Then surely they would recognise magic when they saw it' he says, as if he's not perfectly aware that they've just been given an incentive to fucking lie about it. 'All your friends have done it' he says, as the only argument he can come up with to try and coerce Segundus into signing the agreement. (Once again, much respect to Segundus for not punching this guy in the face.)

Yuck yuck yuck yuck yuck. Creepy motherfucker.

I love the descriptions of scenery and environment in this book so much, they're so damn evocative:

"The very voices of York's citizens were altered by a white silence that swallowed up every sound." "The winter gloom was quite gone, and in its place was a fearful light; the winter sun reflected many times over by the snowy earth."

Oh. Hmm. I can't be sure, but I think this is the first time the narrator has inserted themself quite so blatantly into the narrative. Things have been couched as observations before, but I don't remember before this the narrator actually referring to themself, or directly addressing the reader, or positing an opinion of their own? (I may have to go back and listen to chapter 1 again to check...)

"brooding blue shadows of the cathedral's west face" "sailing magisterially around the corner like a fat black ship" "he had a strong thin face with something twisted in it like a tree root" More great description and more adjective-adjective-noun phrases.

And then we come to Segundus and Childermass's second first meeting. Again, I feel so bad for Segundus, having his mind and memory messed with like this, but, if you'll excuse me a moment, -shipper goggles on- Segundus still remembers him! "I've seen you... I can picture you! Oh, where?" Can't remember so much as taking down the books that so enthralled him in the library never mind reading them, but he remembers Childermass.

"He thought John Childermass very insolent." Aaaaa, that's my blorbo! He's so cheeky, I love him so much.

"Several looked about them before going inside, as if taking a last fond farewell of a world they were not quite sure of seeing again." And we end the chapter on yet another absolutely magnificent line. Not quite the almost-cliffhanger of the first chapter, but still extremely tantalising, baiting the reader with questions about what, exactly, is going to happen next.

Hmm. Since this one isn't quite as long as chapter 1, I think I'm going to stuff chapter 3 in here, too; try and condense things a little bit XD

Chapter 3 - The Stones of York (February 1807)

"The cold of a hundred winters seems to have been preserved in its stones and to seep out of them." I have been in old churches and this is entirely accurate. I've said it before and I'll say it again, the description in this book is really top tier. Simple, but incredibly evocative and poetic.

"Bells often went with magic, and in particular with the magic of those unearthly beings, fairies." More symbolism, and this one I know less about, but at the same time, it feels right in a way I can't actually explain. Just that the vibes, the atmosphere it creates of bells being this ominous sound associated with something dangerous.

That being said, on thinking about it, I find it very odd that bells are symbols of fairies in this book for two reasons. One is the way that humans often get referred to as 'Christians' as a whole (I remember this gets explained later as a consequence of fairies being bad at telling the difference between humans, I think?), and church bells are the most commonplace example of bells I can think of. So why, then, are bells so specifically associated with fairy magic when there's such a strong connection to the way the book talks about the people who are not fairies?

And also, one of the primary uses of bells, with more significance in the past but with the tradition continuing on to this day, is to tell the time. To put order and structure on the otherwise abstract passing of the day. Which is in direct contrast to everything else we've been told about magic so far. Magic thrives in the places that are not structured to suit humans. Trying to impose scientific reason on magic kills it.

...Okay, I am definitely reaching here, but it just occurred to me that the other primary use of bells is as a warning. I can think of a bunch of examples; ye olden ships and fire-engines, castles and forts and such. All used to say 'something is wrong, action must be taken to avoid disaster'. And that makes me wonder if the bells are less a product of the fairy magic and more, perhaps, some other magic acting as an alarm.

And the only person I can think who could have cast such a wide-reaching, long-lasting spell would be the Raven King. And wouldn't that make sense? Wouldn't a King want to have a warning that some other being is trying to abduct one of his people?

...I'm reaching, but I really like this theory actually. Even though we knew the Raven King had no compunctions about stealing his own subjects away himself. (I still think it fits, as a King would feel entitled to privileges that others would certainly not be permitted.)

Which is a whole 'nother thing I have thoughts on. It's very interesting that the second real bit of information we get about him (after the bit about him having 'only three' Kingdoms being mentioned in one of Norrell's books. I think that's the only time he's actually directly named before this?), is that despite being an Englishman, he has the fairy habit of abducting people to other lands. And that ballad about it!

"The priest was all too worldly, Though he prayed and rang his bell, The Raven King three candles lit, The priest said it was well."

What is this? What does it mean? It does answer a bit of my speculation about bells, I think - they're used as a warning/warding off it seems (given that it's paralleled with praying) - but then there's that bit about the Raven King lighting candles and this, presumably, causing the priest to say 'oh alright then, do carry on'? I'm gonna have to keep my eye out for any more candle symbolism as well, I think.

"This land is all too shallow, It is painted on the sky, And trembles like the wind-shook rain, When the Raven King goes by."

-shakes fist at the author- You weren't content giving me chills with your description in prose, now you're doing it in verse?! -weeps- God. God. I don't have words for how this makes me feel. I am going fucking feral. I want to print this song out so I can eat it. Fuck.

And it's followed up by the narrator absolutely roasting the Magicians of York, which is making me cackle far more than it probably should because I'm still high off that absolutely unnecessary bit of poetry.

I love the way the narrative builds up to the magic. We get the bells, and then a voice, and then what it's saying, and then another one, and then that it comes from a statue, and then the rest of them, and between all of it we get these elaborate descriptions of the magicians reactions and fears.

Going back a little bit. The tale of the girl with the ivy leaves in her hair. This coming in the very next chapter after we were told that magicians are associated with ivy I think can't be a coincidence. And I wonder if the girl being a magician might not be a part of why the stones care so much about her murder? Not that I think murder inside a cathedral is all that common, but I find it hard to believe it only happened once in over 500 years.

"Kings, even stone ones, dislike above all things to be made equal to others." Hmm. Given how many Kings we have this story, I have a feeling this is Significant.

The fact that the stone statues that were to be repaired flinched from the chisel is... Oof. The idea of stone having a concept of harm, enough to fear it, is wild. And it raises the question of how... aware of what they are the statues are. Obviously we have the examples of kings bickering and quarrelling because they do believe themselves to be kings. But are they aware that they are statues of kings, or do the truly believe themselves to be those kings? The first statue seems aware, talking about how 'no one saw but the stones', instead of 'I saw'.

And if they know that they're stones, then... what does it say that they're afraid of the very thing that created them in the first place? Or is the fear of being 'remade' into something different? Is it particular to that statue, and another might welcome the chance to transform?

...Apparently I am my father's child.

My dad: But what is it like to be a tree??? -overthinks it- Me: But what is it like to be a stone??? -overthinks it-

I love this conversation between Segundus and Childermass. Childermass is coming at the thing so side-ways and sneaky, and yet... he's so blatant about it? It's so obvious right from the very start that he's leading up to something, and then he just... waits for Segundus to offer, instead of actually just asking? It's such a weird approach to take.

Also, the fact that we get another of those lovely poetic descriptions of the snow and the clouds as Childermass is waiting really gives the sense of a long drawn-out silence, and I can't help but laugh at the idea of this bizarre little stand-off, these two men just... staring at each other in the snow.

-shipper goggles on- "Until all the world contained was the falling snow, the sea-green sky, the dim grey ghost of York Cathedral... and Childermass." Perhaps it's an aspect of the audiobook that doesn't come through quite as strongly in the text, but the weight put on that last? Putting him on the same level as these... rather ephemeral, magical things, the natural phenomena of the snow and the sky, and the 'ghost of York Cathedral'? As well as the contrast of these... pale, dim, ghostly things, to Childermass who's so often described as dark and ragged. Even without that description here, it makes his presence so stark against this hazy, light backdrop. (And all this implied to be from Segundus's persepective =3)

And then there's all those compliments Childermass pays Segundus once he's gotten what he wanted, too XD (Even if I do kind of get the sense that Childermass doesn't necessarily mean them entirely as compliments. I don't think he thinks very well of people who are too obliging, tbh.)

You know, this is very much my brain veering off into the wilds here, but the thing about Mr Honeyfoot pursuing the tale of the girl with the ivy leaves makes me think of... this idea I've had for a while, mostly inspired by a JSaMN fanfic, On the March, where Childermass 'wakes up' the Yorkshire moors, and the notion of how magic, which in this book is so tightly tied to nature and the wild, could so easily be affected by the location in which it's done.

And if a place like York Minster can be aware of what's going on even when magic isn't being done upon it... then are the stones aware of Mr Honeyfoots efforts on their behalf? Do they see, for whatever value of sight they possess, him fighting this battle for them, and does this earn him anything from them? Can a stone feel gratitude? Is there some reciprocity or good will there? Does Mr Honeyfoot forge a bond of some kind with, or win the favour of, the Stones of York Minster?

There's a fic in this somewhere. (Mr Honeyfoot gets into a disagreement inside the Minster, and a stone drops onto the head of his adversary. Crumbly old buildings, you know, someone ought to check and make sure it's not going to happen again!)

'The Last Magician in Yorkshire' Now there's a phrase you could build an entire other story around. Another quite powerful end to a chapter, though not quite as gripping as the last two.

Well, I'm glad these two were somewhat shorter than all my thoughts on chapter 1. And I'm now more than half way through this week's chapters. I hope I'll be able to get 4 and 5 done tomorrow (or later this evening, maybe, if I feel like it?)

[skzhocomments]

THE WHITE LILY (Mafia Book #1 - Bang Chan) - Chapter 5 - An eye for an eye

Story masterlist - please consult it for the summary of the story, trigger warnings etc.

General masterlist

Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

Let me know if you'd like to be on the taglist for this story!

---

Chapter 5 - An eye for an eye

chapter word count: 1.1k words

"What the fuck is this?" the man screamed, while the tied girls on the floor let out muffled gasps.

The sound of the door opening forcefully could be heard loudly, but no one was able to see anything.

I started coughing up again when that bastard's grip was completely gone from my neck and air was suddenly getting into my lungs. However, my head was still feeling light and my whole body felt weak.

Was it the liquid he forced me to swallow? I wondered, and managed to turn myself on my left side, trying not to choke on my own blood.

"It's Dark in here!" a loud, familiar voice shouted, bringing a slight smile to my face.

A small pat on my back followed soon after, giving me all the reassurance I needed. I was not abandoned. They came, just as they promised they will.

I didn't get the chance to find out who patted my back that night. The lightness in my head was getting too strong, and I passed out just seconds after feeling relief that I was no longer alone.

~

"Argh. Turn off that light, would you?" I grunted as soon as I woke up between the four walls of the room that became my new home barely a week ago.

"Hello to you too, Shade. Feeling good?"

"No, Sky. If you're really curious, my head is fucking killing me. And I'm called Shade for a reason. So please draw the curtains and bring some shade back, will you?"

"No. Light is way better for you right now. Besides, look at the Sky for once."

"Ha-ha, very funny."

"I'm glad you're awake though, everyone was starting to get worried. Especially Jeongin and Chris. And by the way, you look like shit. That guy really did a number on you, huh?" He chuckled and handed me a mirror, letting me examine the dark marks on my face and neck.

"Yea, seems like I really got a good beating."

"Disadvantages of speaking with no filter."

"You should know."

"Touché." He smiled and grabbed the mirror from my hands, giving me a glass of water and a small pill instead.

"Jeongin said to give this to you. For your headache, so you won't be a headache to the rest of us later."

"Thanks." I drank the medicine and handed Seungmin the empty glass.

"You should thank him personally. He was really distraught when he saw the state you were in. The fact that you slept for 5 full days didn't help too much either."

"Wait, I WHAT?" I asked, trying to stand up from the bed quickly, only to fall back down due to the immense pain in my temples.

"Wowowwo- Take it easy. I'll go let everyone know you woke up. Maybe take a shower and brush your teeth in the meantime, you stink."

"Fuck you."

"No thanks. I'm off!" Seungmin waved and left the room.

I went to the dresser and examined myself once again in the big mirror. The bruises were looking even worse under artificial lighting. However, everything looked very well taken care of. My busted lip wore a small plaster that seemed carefully placed on; there was no blood on me; my arm, that I don't even know when or how I managed to hurt, was bandaged with the same care as my lip.

Seeing how good Jeongin took care of me made my heart sink and made tears slowly form into the corners of my eyes.

Just like San used to do. I thought, but quickly hopped in the shower and brushed the thought aside.

~

After showering, I slowly got dressed. My whole body was aching, but thankfully the pain in my temples stopped.

Thanks for the happy pill, Jeongin.

Walking back into the room, I was greeted by someone I didn't expect to see yet standing on my bed.

"Chris." Was all I could say before he got up and ran to me, taking me into a strong embrace.

He let go of me and looked at the bruises, brushing his fingers on each of them.

"fucking bastard" he muttered under his breath and caressed my face. "But don't worry, baby, I made him pay for daring to lay his fingers on you. In fact, I made sure to break each and every one of his fingers, one by one, for each small bruise you had. I counted them with Jeongin."

"He did great..." I pointed to the carefully bandaged arm.

"Mhm, he did. He's a very good doctor."

"So... what else happened to the guy?"

"Oh, yea. I... personally thanked him for bringing you to this state. I stumped on his arms, his legs, and I finally pulled a bullet through his head yesterday morning when I saw how pathetic he was begging me to let him die." He said with a dark smile. "And after he gave us all information we needed, of course."

Right, he's a mafia boss. I almost forgot that for a second.

"And the girls...?"

"They're safe now. These past few days you were asleep we managed to eradicate the whole Knife Devils. Might still be a few bastards hanging on, but we'll catch them in no time."

"Mhm." I nodded.

"Now to the more important things: how are you feeling?"

Chan closed the distance between us and pulled me in for a kiss, making my knees grow weak again.

"I thought we'd lose you for a second." He said in a low voice.

"But you didn't. I'm here."

"The bastard gave you some sort of drug – Jeongin was glad he found the flask on him, he managed to find a counter for the poison. But you still weren't waking up."

"Thank you for coming for me. I thought you'd left me there for a second." I confessed.

"I will never leave you." He said sternly, before kissing me again.

I gave into him completely, letting him explore my mouth with his tongue, feeling the ecstasy each of his kisses were bringing me.

~Present Day~

Looking back on it, I should've noticed that I was falling way too fast, way too hard, and that this strong urge to have him flushed over me like a tsunami would only drown me. I wanted more.

I should've known then how dangerous that was. I was oblivious that his kisses were poison. How couldn't I notice just by the euphoria they made me feel?

I should've known it was too good to be true.

But the sad thing is, even if I knew, it probably wouldn't have mattered. As long as it was him, I would've been happy to stay oblivious. I would've gladly drunk any poison.

I should've known then that he wouldn't do the same for me.

It was not poison that I was tasting on his kisses, but heartbreak.

I should've wanted less.

---

Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

[holly-louisexox]

Ribcage X Andy Biersack- Part 26

Masterlist

"There's one thing you should know about me Delia Vincent, I don't date. Got no heart to break and emptiness is safe, keep it that way."

He was adamant in his choices...

...But then things changed.

"Can you drive any faster?" Andy asks in desperation, after hearing from Delia, all he can think about is holding her in his arms and protecting her; something he wishes he had done sooner. He needed her and he hated that it had taken him this long to realise that. Regardless, she was alive and he needed to get to her to keep it that way, if anything had happened to her he did not think he could ever forgive himself.

"If I drive any faster I'll be breaking the speed limit and the law!" Jake explains before looking at the map on his phone, his phone was securely placed on a magnetic car hold so no, he wasn't being irresponsible and holding his phone whilst driving. "We're 10 minutes away, we'll find her and she'll be okay."

"I sure hope so." Andy sighs. "God, what do I even say to her? My head feels frenzied, what if she doesn't even want to see me."

"Don't overthink it. Out of all of us, you are the one she called, she was thinking about you." Shevy states calmly "Let's just find her and go from there. We don't even know what state she's going to be in mentally or physically. I know she said she's not hurt but if there's one thing I've learnt about Delia, she will try to hide the truth to make others worry less."

"Yeah, you're right." Andy nods before picking at the skin around his fingernails, an old nervous habit he had. "I just hope we find her before that psycho does. What if he's out looking for her? I don't want to imagine what he'd do to her if he found her again."

"We're nearly there Andy, Delia will be fine. If she's smart enough to escape this guy she'll be able to wait us out." CC tries to smile, although deep down he was also massively concerned for Delia's well- being.

——————

"There you are!" Delia heard a familiar voice shout.

Shit, Sam had found her. All that hope she was feeling, all that joy passing through her body, it had suddenly dissolved into nothing. She had also seen the gentleman who was kind enough to lend her his phone drive away, he must have mistaken Sam to be her friend. Why did he have to drive away now, he was her only hope, and now with no one around she was screwed.

"Sam!" Delia cowers, all the adrenaline she had felt when escaping him had gone and all she could now feel was the pain coursing through her body; she didn't think she could stand even if she wanted to. "Go away, please."

"Go away, please." He mimics in a squeaky voice before laughing chaotically "Here I was, thinking you were better than everyone else, but no, you're just as stupid as the other girls!"

"Sam let me go!" Delia screams as he proceeds to pick her up off the ground by the collar of the top he had given to her.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kill you and dump your body where I did the other women." He growls as he moves a hand up to her neck slowly cutting off air circling her body.

"Andy..." she chokes out.

"Your precious Andy is not here silly." He laughs before throwing Delia back to the floor leaving her gasping for air. "He's probably forgotten all about you, already, with his big rock star name. Moved on to someone else. He likely doesn't care if you live or die."

"That's not true." Delia sobs, the pain was unbearable and she prayed that Sam wasn't right about Andy; yes she had not long ago spoken to him but in the given circumstances her mind could not help but play tricks on her.

"You will be a loss to this world, I must admit." Sam sarcastically sighs before landing a kick to Delia's ribs causing her to groan in pain as she hurt a crack; he had just broken her rib, she was convinced he had.

"Get the fuck away from her!" Delia faintly heard a voice shout.

Andy. He had come to save her after all, just like he said he would.

"Who the fuck are-" Sam's sentence was cut short as Andy delivered a hard punch to his face.

"Stay away from her!" Andy shouts again.

"Oh, you don't want to do this mate." Sam grins wickedly "I could ruin you. I could ruin the whole band."

"Try it, you son of a bitch!" Delia heard another voice as she watched another punch get thrown towards Sam, this one catching him off guard and making him stumble.

CC.

Delia! Are you okay honey?" She then heard another voice; the pain was starting to take over her body and she was starting to zone out of everything around her but she was able to make out the two figures that had sat next to her.

Shevy and Lonny.

"I will ruin you all!" Sam shouts in anger.

"Yeah, sure you will champ. Try telling that to the police." Jake laughs as he sees the police pulling into the station.

"Shit." Sam mutters before trying to flee only to instead stumble into Jinxx who has been standing behind him all this time.

"I don't think so, buddy." Jinxx laughs holding onto Sam with a tight grip.

"We have the place surrounded. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you." A police officer states as he runs towards the group.

"Sam Todd." Delia mutters.

"What was that?" Lonny asks inching closer towards Delia.

"His name is Sam Todd, he's the one who drugged me and kept me captive." Delia tries to speak a little louder, it must have worked as the police were able to just about hear her words.

"Mr Todd, you are under arrest for the kidnapping of Miss Vincent. Anything you say can and will be held against you." The officer states cuffing Sam and taking him from the grip of Jinxx.

"You're going to regret this, you stupid bitch!" Sam shouts, spitting in Delia's direction, just as the officer starts to lead him away towards the police car; this leaves the group to just stare out in utter shock for a few minutes, unsure what to do or say. That is when another officer walks towards them breaking them from their trance.

"Take Miss Vincent to the hospital, we'll be there tomorrow for questioning." The officer states to the group making them all nod before turning to look at Delia.

Andy could not describe what he felt. He was glad to have finally found Delia, but he was scared for her. The once fiery girl he had met was now curled up on the floor with a look of pain and fear in her eyes. She was bloodied, bruised and it was all his fault. What was he to say to her? He thought words would come to him but instead, he had none. All he could do was crouch down in front of her and gently place a hand on her cheek in hopes it would show her just how glad he was to see her.

"Delia, you look like shit." CC laughs trying to lighten the mood like always.

"I feel it." Delia smiles lightly leaning into Andy's touch; this small movement brought butterflies to Andy's stomach. His Delia was still there deep down, he just knew it.

"Delia, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should have protected you, I should have never let you leave the club alone." Andy finally speaks as he feels a tear roll down his cheek.

"It's not your fault, I shouldn't have walked away." Delia whispers feeling a tear of her own fall down her cheek, Andy instantly wipes it away causing a small smile to show on Delia's face.

"How badly are you hurt?" Lonny cuts the moment short as he stares and the bruises and blood stains that littered Delia's body.

"I'm okay." Delia nods against Andy's hand that was still lovingly placed on her cheek.

"Delia." Shevy looks at her with a serious expression planted on her face. "I know you don't like people worrying about you but you really don't look okay honey."

That was enough for Delia to snap and break down.

"Everything hurts. My ribs are in agony from where Sam kicked me, I think I broke my ankle from jumping out the window and I had to try to walk on it to get here." Delia cries slightly, finally letting her guard down. She hated being a mess in front of people, but the group had become her friends and right now she knew she needed them.

"Badass." Jinxx nods grinning which earns him an elbow from Jake.

"Dude." Jake shakes his head "Come on, we should be getting to the hospital."

"Agreed." Shevy nods before standing up and leading the rest of the group away to give Andy and Delia some privacy for a short period of time.

"Delia, wrap your arms around my shoulders, you're not walking like this." Andy states not wanting to argue it.

"I managed earlier, I can do it again." Delia protests; there was his fire girl, even at her lowest she was still stubborn and he'd never been more glad to hear her stubbornness fall from her perfect lips.

"Just because you have walked doesn't mean you should, if that ankle is broken we don't want it to get any more damaged." Andy couldn't help but smile at her stubbornness as he gently lifts her arms to wrap them around his shoulders.

"Ow, be careful of my ribs please." Delia whimpers slightly as Andy proceeds to pick her up and hold her in his arms as he stands up.

"I'm sorry." Andy grimaces, he remembers the pain of broken ribs all too well. "I promise you're safe now, I've got you."

"Just please don't let me go." Delia begs as she feels herself snuggle into Andy's shoulder whilst holding on for dear life.

"I'll never let you go Delia." Andy smiles slightly pressing a small kiss to her head "I made that mistake once, I'm not making it again, I promise."

"Thank you for coming." Delia mutters feeling the lack of sleep finally catch up to her as Andy walks them both to the van "I was worried you'd forget about me and leave me for dead."

"I've been a wreck without you Delia." Andy confesses "I could never just leave you."

"I'm glad." Delia smiles watching Andy climb into the van whilst not giving up the warm embrace he had on her.

"Get some sleep, I'll wake you at the hospital." Andy smiles as he carefully runs his hands through Delia's hair; he was aware of all the eyes on him at that moment but he didn't care. Delia was safe and back with him, that's all he ever wanted.

"You okay Andy?" Lonny asks.

"I am now." Andy feels his smile grow even more as he looks up at his bandmates.

Andy felt whole again. The past few days he had spent crying almost did not matter to him anymore, all that mattered to him was making sure Delia was okay. He was prepared to spend every waking moment with her to help get her back to where and who she was. He knew it would not be easy and he knew that he was not perfect himself after spending a few years in a constant battle with his head, but he was determined to be who Delia needed him to be. He could not let her down again.

[shippingmclennon]

Trope: Paul gets too drunk/stoned and John takes care of him <3

Teddy boys.

Period typical era.

Confused Paul. Secretly in love John.

(it did not end up being "mini").

Paul looked at himself in the mirror, stomach knotting. He and John… they… they did it…

Three times!

The first time, when they were leaving the pub, and the two were roughhousing, their dicks got in the way, and John was the one who changed their course of focus. The ‘focus’ being their dicks, and getting them off on each other. It felt intoxicatingly good. They hadn't even kissed.

That time, he blamed it on the alcohol.

The next time they were alone, John started with attacking his lips. Paul was curious, so he let it happen. He blamed that time on the arousal.

The third time, they were sober and it was daytime. John kissed him again. Also whispered filthy things into his ears as his hands made their way. Paul couldn't believe how good it felt. Being touched by John.

He didn't know what to blame it on that time. But since then, he wanted more. No drunken self, no arousal, no curiosity. Just desire.

Did that make him queer!?

He never thought of himself as someone who likes blokes.

He never thought of himself as someone who likes John. But here he was, crushing harder than a schoolboy getting his first blowie.

Something about John just did it for him. Maybe it was the difference. This dynamic of being so taken care of in such an aggressive way, rather than some gentle way like with a bird. Or maybe that it was wrong, and doing something he shouldn't gave Paul some kind of sick thrill. Or maybe… it was just John.

But the odd thing about John is, in the moment he acts like he's so gone for him. Saying the most flattering, borderline loving things, being all over him, finding excuses to see him.

But… once it's over… it's all ‘one-and-done’. Like John doesn't give a fuck anymore.

It irritates Paul to no end.

John's the one who's started this! He gets Paul thinking and wanting. And then… changes?

John's a difficult bloke, no doubt there. But… it's like, while they're doing it, everything's perfect. Easy… harmonious. Just like with their music. And when that's over, Johns… ‘cover’ returns, and he's the same difficult ted that he is with everyone.

He's not so bad with Paul. They're mates after all. Best mates, if you'd call it that. But something about the change in their ‘relationship’ caused John to hold some kind of shell over himself. Like… being into Paul means he needs something to prove? Or maybe it's his way of being in control.

Paul hated it. He didn't even want stupid John in the first place! But now, he ached for him and that indescribable pleasure. He was becoming desperate for it. And it was all John's stupid fault.

When they meet up for practice tonight, Paul approaches John after a couple hours of playing. Waiting for a good moment, while everyone's taking a bit of a break.

He stands besides John, trying to look as casual as ever, but feeling so over-thought and rather foreign in his body.

“Comin' over tonight?” Paul asks suddenly, the way that John would so easily do. This was his first time asking for him.

John, no doubt, looks at him with a satisfied, smug smirk. Surprised at first, but now inflated with pride.

“Missin’ me?” He teases instead of answering, the pretentious dick!

“Just… wonderin’” Paul says, trying desperately to sound casual, but knowing he doesn't. John knows it too. He looks way too satisfied for Paul to be pulling off the “cool ted” act.

John steps into his personal space, making Paul panic that they're still in front of others, but even worse, that he isn't able to trust himself from preventing anything. Paul feels John's body heat, and without even touching him, his body flares up in response.

“Well, that depends…” John starts. Paul's staring up at him with his puppy eyes, completely dazed into him, eyes dilating as they stare into John's. He wishes he could kiss him now. Even more, wishes they would keep each other close. For once. “Will ya make it worth me while?”

Paul swallows, but at John's waiting, nods his head. Submissively. Obediently. He hates it. This bastard who he once called his best mate has him wrapped around his finger. And he wants it so bad; hates that he does; but he….

He misses his mate.

That night, John's hands and lips feel like they're everywhere. Each time they've done this was longer than the last, and following suit, this one's setting a new record.

Paul loved it. He didn't want to just get off. He liked John spending time on him. More time for that pleasure. And it made everything more heightened.

They're making out heavily now, much more than they did the last time. John often makes an attempt of claiming Paul's lips in a predatory way. Paul allows it.

John grabs his chin. “Love those lips. So plump an’ good,” John says, making Paul moan. Paul feels his chest flush in arousal. “Want more from ‘em. Put those lips ta good use, Macca. What they're meant ta do,” John says.

Paul's dilated eyes now blink and he frowns. “W-what.”

John brushes Paul's hair before pulling at it in a dominant, suggestive way. “C’mone. Y’know what I need. Promised me a good time,” John says, and kisses him again, sloppily and wet. Paul moans again, hates that he does because John's words do something funny to him, but at the same time, he feels like he can't.

He parts them.

“I… I'm not doin' that!” Paul declares.

“Oh c'mon Paul! We know yer the baby of the group, but ya gotta grow up at some point,” John says, tugging his hair again, hoping to push the lad lower. John angers him. John always made fun of his age and youngish features. He just hasn't grown out of his youthful appearance yet, and he hates John treating him like a baby.

He swats John's hand away. John lowers it to Paul's dick and says, “C’mon, luv. Want those lips wrapped around me.” This time, Paul's eyes flutter closed and he moans, hips rocking at the new touch. “Hm.. look at you. Ya want it. I know ya do.”

Paul gets ripped out of the pleasure and stops John again. “No, John! ‘M not gonna do that! Now shut up ‘bout it!” Paul snaps.

“Why not?”

“Because!” Paul starts, not knowing what to say. There wasn't a 50’s teen bloke questioning his sexuality’s way to describe ‘not being ready’. “It's sick!”

“Oh, like ya haven't done other things ta me… let me do things to you,” John says, starting to tease him again. “As if ya wouldn't let me do it to you…” John adds, voice lingering suggestively. Paul imagines it and his groin heats up in desire, breathing hard at John's advances. But it didn't change the fact.

“It doesn't matter! The answer’s still ‘no’. So we can finish, or you can leave!” Paul says demandingly. John brought out that side of him.

“Fine.” John says. “Prude.” Paul pokes him and gets a swat on his hand, making him smile at the way they're acting like mates again, and like he's not the prey of some heartless sexual predator.

They get it on like normal, and John doesn't bring it up again. Later, they crack Paul's window open to smoke a ciggie beside it.

“Is it true that Stu’s comin' out with us Saturday night?” Paul asks.

“Aye,” John says. “Why? Ya jealous?”

Paul rolls his eyes. “No ya sod!” Paul says, then pauses at the next. “...is it true that he… has pot?” Paul asks. John nods again. Paul inhales and swallows. “Said he'd let us have a go at some… Would… would ya try it?” Paul asks, both nervously and curiously, as if John's answer predicts Paul's own decision.

John laughs cockily. “I already have.”

Paul's eyes widen unexpectedly. “Ya have?”

John laughs again, as if his pride’s been insulted. “Course I have. Stuart’s like me best mate.”

Paul looks down. “Oh.”

“Oh so ya are jealous?” John teases smugly and proud.

Paul rolls his eyes. “I'm not! I just didn't know, tha's all. What… what's it like?” Paul asks, already feeling the nerves of anticipation. This is it. They're talking about it. John's tried it. He's next. No going back now.

“Hm… weird. Really good. Just makes ya feel relaxed. Laid back…”

“S’pose I should try it then, ay?” Paul asks. But he's not asking for John's permission. This was new, and that made it scary, and all he wanted was a bit of comfort. He wished John hadn't done it already, because then they would've been in it together. Forced to experience it side by side, vulnerability and closeness inevitable.

“Ay it'd be perfect fer ya! Maybe then ye’ll loosen up ‘bout the blowies,” John says smugly, tickling at Paul's hairs in a suggestive manner. Suggestive that says, ‘if this'll get me to persuade ya into it, I'll do it.’

Paul frowned. He didn't know why John had to be such a dick all the time.

He found some excuse about calling it a night, and John left. Paul wanted him so badly. More of him than just… this. But John was so difficult to grasp. It frustrated him.

Especially that… this new ‘relationship’ they've entered seemed to make them more distant from each other. Paul'd think it'd make them closer. Hell, they were already close. But now… what was this? He treated Paul like a bit of a sex toy…

On Saturday night, Stuart brought weed like he promised. They were at some low, grotty pub, hiding out in a corner, when he brought it up.

He snuck them out the back alley for all the mates to try out for the first time. Except John and Stuart of course. They each started with one puff. Then Stuart had a couple more. He offered everyone a second hit, which they took. Except John, oddly enough.

Not long after, Paul felt the effects start to kick in. It felt good. It made him feel relaxed. And giggly.

John noticed and approached him, making Paul feel giddy and smile at his presence.

“Likin' it,” John asks. Paul raises his arms to John's chest and shoulders as he nods, wanting the closeness and touch. Besides, everyone else is far enough not to notice, or stoned enough not to care.

Much to Paul's delight, John seems to welcome it. ‘That’s a first.’

“Told ya,” John says. Paul's smiling at him. “So er… when's a good time ta sneak ya off and finish where we left off?” John asks, making Paul frown with a subtle ‘huh’. “Don't think I've forgot,” John teases with his stupid smug grin.

The idea suddenly makes Paul sick to his stomach and wracked with nerves. He drops his hands from John's shoulders.

“I already told ya ‘no’!” Paul says. It's not that big a deal. He could've warmed up to it, but the timing couldn't be worse, and all he could think of was getting out of this conversation.

John scoffed at him. “Fine!” He said, before walking off. Pissing Paul off. But more than that, hurting him. John however, was much more pissed, and much less forgiving.

Paul knew John and Stuart were close, but for the first time, he's actually considering the possibility that they might have the same thing that he and John have, and the idea made him even more sick to his stomach.

John was flirting with Stuart on purpose as some shitty way to punish Paul for refusing him. Paul hated watching it and it made him vile with jealousy, even while high, and left feeling alone and empty with need to fill it with some sort of attention or validation. From John, to be specific. He wasn't getting any from there, however.

He approaches John, who has a lazy arm around Stuart. “How ‘bout a drink ay?” Paul tries. “Could head inside.”

John brushes Paul's hair, but not in a loving or sexual way, but the way an older brother does to their juvenile, younger sibling. “‘M busy. The adults are still smokin’,” John says, eliciting laughter from his mates, and fueling Paul's anger even more. John wasn't even smoking! Paul's pretty sure he's only seen him take that one hit! Why, he wasn't sure, but he was sick of his pissy attitude!

Paul was breathing heavily with rage, when suddenly, the joint got passed and held in front of him.

“Ya want another? Or had enough?” Stuart asks him, and has a patronizing tone, one that has John grinning in approval and everyone else chuckling at. Paul snatches it, as if to prove everyone wrong, and takes the biggest hit he'd probably ever take in his life.

He inhales until his chest is puffed and his lungs are full, so much so that they start to burn.

“Woah, easy there mate,” Sturt says as Paul begins to cough. “Don't take more than ya can handle, ya?” Stuart says with a laugh. Paul says nothing and storms off, heading back into the bar.

John turns his head over his shoulder. He watches as Paul heads back inside. For a second, he worries Paul won't handle what he just took. For another second, he has this sudden feeling that he should go look out for him.

When his mates make another vile joke about nonsense, John joins in and lets it go.

Back in the pub, Paul’s drinking himself into oblivion. He starts by chugging beers, but the rage and dissatisfaction in his gut persist, and he gets a hold of shots. The few mates that are inside with him have some too; don’t notice how hard he’s going. With them here, he’s able to blend in. That is, until, all the alcohol starts to hit him. And worse, there’s all that weed he’d smoked too.

Paul lets his head fall on the dirty table as he groans and clutches his stomach.

“You aright, Paul?” One of his mates asks, but Paul’s too distracted to answer. He feels sick, light-headed, and weak. A part of him wonders if he should just surrender and sleep on the table, or even tumble over to the floor and submit his strength, worried that he won’t even be able to pull himself up without falling over.

Outside, Pete joins the crowd from where he was sitting in the pub. “That Paul might need a sleepin’ bag in there,” he says humorously, making everyone laugh.

“Is he that pissed?” Ivan asks. “What’s he thinkin’. That kid knows he can’t hold his booze,” he says, making everyone laugh.

“Shite, tell me ‘bout it. That sod looks ‘bout ready ta yack all over that pub. If he won’t topple over an’ faint or somethin’.”

John blinks at that, suddenly serious. Faint? He looks at Pete. “He aright? He asks, trying to sound casual, because caring is apparently the worst thing in the world.

Pete shrugs. “Er… dunno. I tried askin’, but he wouldn’t answer. Or, couldn’t.”

John frowns harder. What? What a thick sod! If he can’t answer obviously that means he's not okay! “Er… ‘m gonna… get a drink,” John lies, trying to sound casual as he sneaks off and enters the pub. He spots Paul, who’s slouching over the table, rubbing his face with his eyes squeezed shut.

As Paul opens his eyes, his vision is momentarily blurry. Christ, he felt so sick! He couldn’t tell up from down. He wished he hadn’t done any of this. He wished he was at home now.

Beside him, he spots John approaching him, and in a sudden, unexpected wave, his rage reactivates in his body, and despite himself and his just previous doubts, he impulsively swings at another bottle of beer and begins chugging it.

John catches up to him and snatches it out of his hand, mid sip. “Paul! Whaddya doin’, luv?!” John demands,

“F-fuck off, J-John,” Paul yell’s face scrunched in anger, as he tries to elbow the lad, but stops as it brings him a sudden wave of vertigo. He groans again.

John feels sweat beading his forehead with worry. Christ! What was Paul doing!?

“Stop Paul! Cut that out. We gotta get ya out of here!” John says, using all his power to move Paul, who’s incredibly resistant towards him.

“N-No! S-Screw you, Lennon! ‘M not… ‘M not goin’ anywher’ with you!” Paul says.

“Yes you are!”

“N-No! Y-Yer jus’ gon’ make me…” Paul starts, then John stops in realization.

He crouches before Paul. “What. No ‘m not! Of course not! C’mone, I’m gonna take ya home.” As Paul sits there, John examines his face. He looks at Paul, both his eyes are bloodshot and puffy, his breathing is heavy and strong and he’s moaning and wobbling in discomfort. “Christ, look at you,” John says, mostly to himself. He suddenly feels an array of guilt and regret wash over him.

Christ. It was his fault Paul’s like this. He brought him here. He pissed him off. He pressured him. And now… Now his poor Paulie looks so ill and sounded so lost and hurt.

Suddenly, Paul tumbles to the floor, his body giving out. John scatters to help him, alarmed that he’s passed out or something. He momentarily wonders if he should take Paul to the hospital. Was he still conscious? Was he breathing?

“Mmm! I feel s-so sick!” Paul whines, he looks and sounds like he’s about to cry. “I wanna go home,” he begs, although he doesn’t want to beg to John. He feels like he hates John right now.

John’s brows are furrowed tightly in concern. Christ, he’s such an idiot! How could he let this happen to Paul! How could he let him get so messed up! And how on earth could he be the cause of it?

John cupped Paul’s cheek. “Paulie, listen to me. We gotta get ya home, aright? I know ya feel like shit, but ‘m gonna help ya. I just wanna get ya home an’ make sure ye’re okay, aright? But ya gotta help me out and let me take ya. And I’ll make sure ye’re aright… I promise,” John says, looking deeply into Paul’s eyes. And despite Paul’s vision being blurry and the state that he’s in, he can tell this is the sincerest John’s ever been with him. He nods and allows John to help him up.

He groans as the room spins and his head pounds. John sneaks him out and gets him to the nearest bus stop. Paul barfs a couple times, to which John rubs his back and soothes him. Even kisses his head. On the bus, John’s trying to figure out a way to sneak Paul into his own house in this state. The McCartney residency was tough as nails. It’s almost impossible to do. Jim would undoubtedly catch them, and if he would, John would have no chance at staying.

He thinks frantically of what to do; how he can stick around to take care of Paul.

Finally…

Paul’s not going home. John takes him to his own place. The walk is challenging, but he holds Paul’s weight without a single complaint. Paul’s groaning aches him enough to forget how physically enduring he must be for this.

Inside, he sneaks Paul upstairs, and gets him cold water and advils. Paul chugs everything down, then takes a deep breath. John sees his breathing slow down, which he takes as a good sign and sighs in relief.

John’s crouched beside his bed, where Paul is lying with his eyes closed. John watches him with feelings of pain and regret in his body. John himself feels like he could weep. He did this to him. How could he? How could he do something like this to the bloke he loved. He should be protecting him, and taking care of him… not this!

John strokes the tops of Paul’s hairs. Lovingly this time. The way he’s been aching to do, but can’t bring himself to do in any other moment. “‘M sorry, luv,” he whispers, in the most gentle, hush tone. Paul seems to be asleep. And his aching has settled down. ‘Thank god!’

John undresses himself before laying with him beside the bed. He strokes the lad’s cheek, then kisses it. He kisses it again, and again, and nuzzles his nose into Paul’s face. He loved touching Paul; being close to him.

He… he wished he could show him that.

He stayed close this time. Right where he left off, he left his arm draped over Paul’s, face pressed to his, and fell asleep.

The next morning, Paul wakes up hung the fuck over. It takes him a moment to register the limb swung over his body. He frowns, completely confused. He has absolutely no recollection of last night.

He finally realizes he’s in John’s bedroom.

And that would mean… that would make this… John… sleeping against him like this. Spooning him from behind with an arm draped over his body.

As Paul shifts and turns around, he realizes John’s actually awake.

Wait, John’s awake?!?

Why is John cuddling on him like this?

“Hey,” John says. Paul doesn’t answer. John bites his lip. “How ya feelin’?”

“Hung over. Shite,” Paul says. His voice sounds hoarse and raspy. John offers him the extra advil beside his bed, which Paul takes with a large swig of water.

John strokes his cheek, pulling Paul’s interest. “‘M sorry I let this happen,” John sudden;y says, looking apologetic and guilty. “This is all my fault.”

Paul frowns at him. He still feels drowsy and very confused.

“What… What d’ya mean?” He asks. Why was he in John’s bed? ”Did somethin’ happen last night?” Paul asks. Meaning: did ya finally get me to suck you’re dick?

“No. I just… had ta make sure you were okay,” John admits. John leans in and kisses him. It was sweet, gentle, slow and… not? Leading to sex?

“You… You just kissed me,” Paul says. They’ve kissed before, but John knows what he means. He smiles at him. Then nods. John kisses him again.

“Yer not so bad a kisser,” John jokes, making Paul laugh happily, but sluggishly in the state that he’s in. “You, er… ya had me worried there,” John says, avoiding Paul’s gaze, and playing with his shirt collar.

Paul’s smiling at him. “That so?”

John meets his eyes and lets himself smile. Finally feeling refreshed that he can drop his pride. “Aye,” he lets himself admit. “‘M not lettin’ that happen t’ya again,” he says.

Paul grabs his wrist; the one up close to his collar; and holds it. He yawns suddenly. “‘M feelin’ still sleepy,” Paul says.

John grins. “Go back ta sleep. I’ll be here when ya wake up.”

Paul listens, turning into John, who welcomes him. “Ya gonna make me do sick favors fer ya then?”

John kisses him again. Then whispers, “no,” which Paul is so happy to hear, he almost can’t believe it.

“Johnny?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

John smiles instead of speaking, before kissing Paul’s head, pulling him close, and holding him as he sleeps. He likes it like this. No more hiding himself from Paul. Suddenly, their relationship seems to have changed once again. Only this time, thay have a feeling they’ll like it.

[katyspersonal]

You when you start improving your mental health and your simping tastes start to get somewhat “normal”

Hey, YOU take this back or no extra wheat for you, CHICKEN!

What, you think suddenly finding Radagon attractive is "normal"? Simply because his head is not a blazing microcosm of fire, or simply because his body didn't morph into a horrifying monster or melt into a sludge full of human bones? Is that it?

I'll have you know, if you are still even ABLE to understand the speech that is not just CLUCK CLUCK CLUCK or CUCKADOOODLE, that someone's looks are NOT what makes it "normal". I was preferring Aldrich or Rom or Laurence or whatever when they were still human, I did already simp for "normal looking person" (the Shabriri to Melina switch)...

What makes it normal OR weird is the philosophy and the context they're carrying WITH them! He is 黄金律, ラダゴン ((the) Golden Order, Radagon). Literally the thing personified. My very start of getting ears deep into Elden Ring was marked with how much I hated GO and joked about how bad and oppressive it was, as I posted essays and essays on why Rykard or Ranni were "based" and my endless admiration for them (I still care about them but that besides the point), as I was blinded to all of their war crimes only and ONLY on the virtue of them being in opposition of Golden Order. Does it mean I liked Dung Eater too? Somewhat, at least, the whole "if everyone is oppressed the no one is oppressed" is a solid logic. Still, it was a fundament of my dive into Elden Ring, that still lingered on even after I had to let Rykard go since he was canonically taken far too much for the fire to keep burning and after I saw the true hopelessness of Ranni's ending because even if people are safe from Greater Will's influence, it doesn't mean they're safe from being people.

.......and whereas transition from adoring Gwyn to adoring Manus was fair, reasonable, logical, good character development, then I ask you, what the fuck is THIS. There is nothing normal about DEVOLUTION of my integrity and principles. There is nothing normal about favouring "Marika at home" over Marika who is devoid of her flexibility that allowed her to crash what she created and possibly kindness too. There is nothing normal about rolling that imaginary scene from me writing with a friend about how he points towards the Rennala's moonlight sword that he remade into an image of Elden Ring and saying "he will do the same to you" in my head over and over and feeling my knees grow sooooo weak.

Now get OUT of my inbox, you STUPID bird, before I decided to break my no-sweets no-fish no-chicken health-stabilising diet just for you.

[darkthingshappen]

Reckoning (Merry Whump of May Day 1)

A Brother's Keeper Story Set about seven month's after Ben's initial rescue after fourteen months of captivity with Volkov.

Thanks to my always whumperful crew @whumpcereal @sparrowsage @quietly-by-myself, and @oddsconvert for the flash beta job this afternoon.

Tags list at the end.

Warnings: BRIEF mentions of past torture, captivity, and noncon. Though nothing too explicit. PTSD. Ben just has a moment where he's tired of being told it's okay and unfortunately, Jake gets the full brunt of it. Ben's not wrong, but Jake... well... you'll see.

@themerrywhumpofmay (I'm so excited this is back this year!)

The kitchen was brightly lit, it was Fall again.  Ben and Jake were doing the dishes.  They were nearing the second anniversary of Ben’s abduction, but it felt like the first since he’d spent the previous one still with Volkov. Jake was dreading it.  Everyone was dreading it.  Ben was jumpy and distant, caught up in far too many dark memories.  

Still, he had made so much progress, especially in the last month or so.  He was smiling more, Jake had even seen him laugh once, with Zoe.  Ben was slowly coming out of his shell after a brief stint in a mental hospital and months and months of intensive therapy.  Ben stared blankly out the window.  He never seemed to be able to get enough of looking outside.  

Jake slapped him playfully on the arm with his wet washcloth as he’d done a million times throughout their childhood.  

He shouldn’t have done that.  The loud smacking sound of the cloth on Ben’s arm sent him to the floor, arms over his head, curled in a ball and rocking.  

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Ben whimpered. 

Jake glanced around the kitchen in panic.  He was alone with Ben.  Their parents were out, his dad at work and their mom grocery shopping.  They were counting on him to take care of Ben.  He’d told them he could do it.  He was eight years Ben’s senior for god’s sake.  Think!  He could do this.  He could handle it.  Couldn’t he?  

“Shit!  Benny.  It’s okay.  Sorry.  That was stupid of me.  I was just playing like we used to.  I didn’t think...  Shit I’m sorry.  Please Benny.  Please,” Jake begged, trying to recall what the therapist had said about how to bring Ben out of these horrible flashbacks.  

Jake got up and ran to the living room.  He grabbed the heated and weighted blanket they’d got Ben recently.  They left it on most of the time for emergencies like this.  Jake draped the warm blanket over Ben and held Ben’s hand, rubbing soft circles on the back of it with his thumb.  

“It’s okay, Ben.  Don’t worry.  It’s okay,” Jake assured him for the millionth time since Ben had come home and had one of his prolific flashbacks that, at best made him freeze dead still and zone out, and at worst made him panic and react as if he were in the moment that he was seeing in his head.  

“It’s not fucking okay!” Ben snapped suddenly, throwing the blanket off and getting to his feet.  “Stop fucking telling me that!  You don’t know a damn thing about it, do you?”  He glared at his brother.  “You.  Weren’t. There!”

Jake recoiled, taken aback by the sudden and uncharacteristic anger and volume.  Ben was always quiet now, rarely talking and when he did it was barely above a whisper.  Jake attributed it to months of wearing a fucking shock collar.  He stared at Ben in disbelief.  He knew he deserved his brother’s anger.  Whatever Ben wanted to say, he deserved it.  He deserved to be reviled by the shell of a brother in front of him.  He wished to God he could fix it; could make his baby brother whole.  

“He didn’t take you, did he?  He didn’t fucking torture you on daily basis, did he?  He didn’t ra-” Ben’s voice, dripping with rage, cut off and he was left standing, heaving in breaths of air.  His whole body trembled and Jake saw the dam of emotions and torment and memories that threatened to overwhelm his baby brother.  

They both knew what he was about to say.  

“It’s not okay,” Ben finally finished, more quietly than before.  

“I-I know, Benny.  I’m not meaning to make light.  I know what he did to you.-”

“No.  No you fucking don’t.  Seeing my scars or reading that damn file that they gave mom and dad doesn’t mean you know.  It doesn’t.  It doesn’t.  There’s so much more than what they could fit in my fucking file.”  Ben made air quotes over the last word.  

“I spent almost every night curled up in a cage.  A fucking cage, Jake.  No blanket.  No pillow, no mattress.  Just a hard plastic or metal bottom of a cage.  And it was cold.  All the time.  I asked for a blanket one time.  Do you know what he did to me?”

Jake’s expression reflected the horror of what Ben was telling him.  It was the most Ben had directly said about what happened to him when he was with Volkov and Jake felt ashamed to want him to stop talking.  He shook his head minutely.  

“He tied me to a fucking cross outside.  Outside in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs.  Outside in the fucking Russian winter.  I thought I was gonna die.  Over and over and over I thought I was going to die.  Until it shifted from being afraid of dying to…” Ben’s voice dropped to a whisper.  “To hoping for it.”  He looked at Jake.  “I don’t know who I am anymore because of what he did to me.  Do you know what it’s like to hurt so bad, in every part of you, that you just want it to be over.  Permanently.  Do you?”

A tear slipped down Jake’s cheek and he shook his head,  “N-no.  No, Benny, I don’t. I’m… I’m sorry.  I wish I knew what to do.  I wish I knew how to take it away.  God!  Fuck! Benny I wish it were me.  You have no idea how badly I wish it had been me.  It should have been me.”

And for once, Ben didn’t disagree.  He just stood there watching his brother crumble.  He had always said, believed, told himself, that he wouldn’t wish what happened to him on his worst enemy.  But he was so angry, and so terrified, and so overwhelmed with all that he had been through, that a furious mean little voice that he never used to have reared its ugly head and screamed inside him, ‘I wish it had been you!’

Ben clamps his lips shut before he can utter the hurtful words, but he knew it was too late, he may not have said them, but Jake heard them loud and clear all the same.  Ben sighed.  

“I… I need to… I need a break, Jake.  I-I-I don’t blame you.  I don’t.” He said the words, but he was no longer sure if he believed them.  “But I can’t do this right now.”

Ben turned and walked out of the kitchen, leaving Jake standing in the middle of the room, holding a warm blanket that offered him no comfort. 

Tagging List: @i-can-even-burn-salad @peachy-panic @deluxewhump @arwenadreamer @whumpcereal @melancholy-in-the-morning @dont-touch-my-soup @whumpsday @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @oddsconvert @melennui @susiequaz12 @morning-star-whump @crystalquartzwhump @whump-and-other-things @mylifeisonthebookshelf @reflected-pain @hold-him-down @quietshae @quietly-by-myself @there-will-always-be-bloodblood @whumping-seven-days-a-week @hiding-in-the-shadows (I hope I’m not forgetting anyone - please let me know if I am and I’ll fix it. I’m still getting used to this) 

[beaker1636]

Single Lyrics Part 6 - Ryan Sitkowski

AN: So I got really into this and wrote a second part today, so you get a double update. Things are getting tense and serious, will they be able to fix the relationship or is it time to walk away?

A few moments after y/n stormed out of the bus Ryan comes out to the front, looking rather exasperated, quickly finding where Vinny was sitting and giving the drummer a glare.  If looks could kill he would have just taken Vinny down without any hesitation.

“You are close to her, what the fuck just happened? Why is she suddenly mad at me and wanting to quit?” Ryan asks, desperate to know what is wrong and how to fix it.  “Wait, where is Violet?”

“Justin took her to the playground so she wouldn’t what the blowup that was happening, and why don’t you ask the fucking dancer that was all over you backstage why the girl who is in love with you is hurt? Why she still fucking wants you is beyond me, but for someone who claims to care about her you have a shitty way of showing it,” Vinny snaps, glaring at his friend.  He may care about Ryan but he is not going to let him hurt his best friend, especially when he has been venting to them that he is pretty sure he wants to be with her again. “You need to figure out what it is you actually want. Now if you’ll excuse me I am going to go watch her from a distance to make sure nothing happens while she is vulnerable like this, because that is the thing you do for someone you care about, asshole.”

Vinny storms off the bus, in search of where you are at and leaving Ryan feeling like the biggest asshole on the face of the earth. As far as just about everyone on the bus is concerned he is, especially after throwing it in your face that you should know what it’s like to be abandoned knowing that he is the one who did it to you.

A few moments later Justin and Violet climb on the bus. “I saw her go storming by and figured it was safe to bring Violet back as she said she is hungry.  If I need to leave again I will after grabbing her something to eat.” 

“No, it’s safe now, the fight is over for the time being.  I think it is going to be awhile before we have to worry about her acknowledging Ryan exists,” Chris answers honestly, letting out a sigh before stuffing his phone in his pocket. “I’m going to go watch someone else, anyone coming with?” 

“I’ll go,” Rick says quickly, not really wanting to be around Ryan at the moment.  

After they both step off Ryan lets out a sigh, feeling the weight of his actions and words hitting him hard. Justin looks over at his friend after handing some fruit to the little girl and walks over, setting a hand on his shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it man?” He asks, looking at his friend who is sitting on the couch, clearly distraught by the events of the day so far.

“What did I do? I thought things were getting better between us, that we were in a good place and now I don’t know what to think anymore.” Ryan says, looking out the window of the bus as he sits there, taking everything in.

“Can I be honest? I think where you screwed up is that you keep pushing the being friends thing without addressing the problems that both of you have together.  The two of you need to sit down and civilly discuss the past and what you want moving forward before anything can change.  You say that you care about her and act like you do, and then you let another woman have her hands all over you backstage in front of her.  She tries to talk to you, explain why she wants to leave, basically tells you she loves you and you turn it into a fight.  I mean honestly, you are pretty fucking stupid.  We can all tell from a mile away that the more time the two of you have spent together that she still loves you, how did you think she would react when she saw that today?” Justin says, trying to put it as plainly as he could, as obvious as he could so maybe it would soak into the mans skull finally.

“I didn’t think that it would come across that way, you know how girls get with us.  I guess I can see how that would hurt her though, but Justin I messed up.  I fucking cornered her back there and before she left I kissed her.  I expected it to make her happy, to show her that I want to be with her too but clearly that didn’t work,” Ryan admits, looking at his friend for advice.

“Yeah, that was a dumb move.  She was upset and cornering her only to do what you wanted, it came across that you didn’t give a shit what she was feeling right then, you screwed up.  You only have two weeks to fix it before this tour is over and she walks away, and we both know if she walks away you aren’t going to get another chance so you better figure out how to fix this Ryan.  But I can’t help you with that, it has to be something that comes from you, that means something.” Justin says, moving so he can help the little girl wipe the mess off her face.  “When things calm down I think you need to sit with her and actually talk things out, explain to her why you did what you did.  I’ll watch Violet for you so you have that chance.”

“Thank you Justin, that would be great.”

Meanwhile

You find a spot in the grass by the fence over by the mainstage where there aren’t many people and sit down, letting your emotions hit you finally.  You aren’t stupid, you know that Vinny has followed you after you left but you haven’t acknowledged it yet.

When you finally let the breakdown hit and start to cry a set of arms wrap around you, letting you know that the one person you feel like is there for you is beside you, supporting you.  Without a word you turn and bury your face into his chest, letting the sobs escape, glad that you are far enough away from people that nobody is paying you much mind right now while you let this happen.  Vinny doesn’t say anything to you, he just lets you cry it out, his hands rubbing soothing circles against your back while you let everything you are holding escape while you accept his comfort.

When you finally start to calm down several minutes later you pull away, mumbling a sorry to Vinny who doesn’t seem to care that you have soaked his shirt in your tears, that you left a trail of your makeup on it in the process.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, you are allowed to be upset after he threw everything in your face while you were doing the right thing.  I however may be in trouble when we go back, I may have lost my shit on Ryan before I followed you,” Vinny says with a nervous chuckle, relieved when that made you giggle.

“Why does that not shock me? Vin, thank you for being here for me,” you say softly, watching the crowd further below you continue to rock out and enjoy the shows that are going on below you.

“Someone needs to be, I’m tired of everyone acting like he didn’t do shit to you honestly.  Especially when you are the bigger person and have been helping him like nothing ever happened, to make sure Violet is being loved and cared for.  You’re too nice a person to be put through hell,” he says with a smile.  

You let out a soft sigh, debating if you should let what happened at the end of the fight out or not but you need to talk about it with someone, and you know your friend Miranda, while you love her, will talk you out of everything and into coming home.

“Vin, he kissed me back there.  That’s what made me panic, I didn’t know what to do because part of me wanted it…” you trail off, unsure where you are going with this.

“But part of you was scared?” Vinny finishes for you, knowing where you were going with this.  He knows you a lot more than either of you would probably admit, having gotten close throughout this tour.  Vinny is the one who has gone out of his way to include you in things, make sure that you haven’t felt alone, something that you can never thank him for.

“What happens when I am not enough again? When I am home with Violet and he is out meeting women who are more what he wants than I am? I don’t know why he did what he did but I don’t think I can just get over that and allow us to have that type of relationship again without knowing why, without knowing things would be different.” You admit. 

“Do you think that if he actually explained why he left like that years ago that things could change between both of you? If he gave you that closer that you never had?” Vinny asks you, watching your face as he tries to gauge your reaction to his questions.

“I-I don’t know Vin.  I want to think that it would help but what if the reasoning is awful, if it is something that I hadn’t considered before?  I feel like it could completely shatter what little hope I have left and ruin everything.” You answer truthfully, you do want to know why he did what he did, but you are scared to know at the same time.  

What if things are past the point of no return, if there is no fixing the wounds that this fight has brought back up.  You genuinely thought that you could get past everything to help take care of Violet and now, you aren’t so sure anymore.  

“I think that both of you need to just sit down and explain everything.  You explain all your doubts and emotions and you let him explain why he did what he did, what he is feeling for you.  Until the two of you can be honest about everything there is no repairing anything, and I think that even if you left that for yourself you need to tell him everything.  You will never get any closure if you don’t express what is going on in your head.  If that leads to you leaving you know that I will support you all the way, but that is a conclusion I think you need to come to together.” Vinny says, hoping that you can understand what he is trying to tell you.  

“Since when have you been so smart, I’m used to knuckle head Vinny,” you say with a laugh. “You are right though, we really need to just sit down and civilly discuss things.  Thank you for being there for me.”

“I will always be here for you, now lets get you back to the bus and cleaned up because no offense, you look like a hot mess,” he jokes, standing up and offering you a hand.

You laugh and take it, feeling much better than you were before now that you have spoken to Vin and cleared your head some.  But that now means you will have to go back and see Ryan, and that scares you.

“When we get back can you please make sure that he doesn’t come near me? I am not ready to face him quite yet, I hate to ask you to get in the middle of this but,” you look at him, hoping that he will agree.

“Of course, we will get you straight into the bathroom and then in your bunk so that you can read or whatever and decide when you are ready to see him,” he says before opening the door to the bus so that you could get on.

You do and quickly notice Ryan and Justin sitting on the couch, who both look up at you.  You just continue past, not saying anything as you make your way towards the back.  But you pause when Violet toddles over to you, wrapping her little arms around your leg.

“You sad?” She asks you softly, noticing the look on your face.

You pull her up into your arms, giving her a tight hug as you soak in the love she is giving you. “I am sad Violet, but it is okay to be sad sometimes. Thank you for the hug.” You decide being honest is best, but not too honest.  You set her down before you continue to the back and take a seat in your bunk for a moment, grabbing your makeup remover wipes before heading towards the bathroom.

“Nope, stop.  Let me at least help clean you up first,” Vinny says, making you sit on the floor in the hallway as he takes the wipes from your hands and helps you clean up your face.  Making jokes to get you to smile and laugh, which is exactly what you needed at the moment before you get in your bunk and take some time by yourself to just watch your favorite show on your phone and disassociate from everything for a little while… until you get a message a couple hours later.

“When we get to the hotel tomorrow can we talk? Justin said he would watch Violet and I feel like I need to explain things to you.”

[seancamerons]

✍

Under the cut. ✍📝😊

“You’re so unfair grounding me two days before Christmas.”

“You’re lucky to be allowed to hang with the adults, you also can’t nap because Auntie Em is probably not gonna be able to help.”

“You’re so lucky you can drink.” Kat muttered.

Emma joked plainly to Kat, “Be careful what you wish for, kid.”

“So Kat you will be a good host and help your mom.”

“Yes m’am.” She rolled her eyes. “Can I get a few bucks sugamomma for lunch?”

Manny pulled out a five and a ten, “You can get yourself something from The Dot. As far as moms go, you can do worse.” Manny was in a good mood or she was trying to be and masking by immating the wives she sees on the shows she watches, very June Cleaver as she fried the bacon on the griddle for everyone. “ Also you’re very lucky Santa is coming after the stuff you pulled at school the parties, the sneaking out, you can forget about Disney World Senior Trip you keep it up, or university?”

“Ugh! Mom please, you can be so ugh!”  She took off her sunglasses to show she ‘means’ business or wants to be tough. Kat is far from a morning person and Manny experiences this on a daily basis the back and forth. If mom says no ask dad, they both say no ask Joey, if all three are united on no she calls her rich auntie Em and of course it’s always a yes. Emma sees it from Manny’s perspective and her own and suddenly it seems kind of fucked.  “I don’t care, what’s the point? Go to college be trillions in debt, whoo hoo. It’s all a joke. Neither of your guys went to university.”

“Honey, we did, maybe not your aunt no offense.”

“None taken.”

“We saved up, your father and I, we didn’t go right away but you have an amazing opportunity. Your dad and I, Aunt Em, we didn’t go to a four year university, and your lovely aunt Emma didn’t put your college fund together and gift you money for you to throw away your potential and your future.”

She drank some coffee picking at her poptart unphased and sounding like a spoiled brat with little to no opinions or cares. She proceeded to get super cultural maybe she was trying to paint a picture for Emma and be generally rude, “Paul said that college is a trap and a money grab for the rich elite.”

“Who is to say Paul’s sticking around?" Manny questioned shaking her head and adding, "you’re going to college end of story."

“Why are you so unfair mom? Why must you have to rain on my parade all the time?” 

“Guys, I have a headache. Keep it down to a dull roar.” Emma groaned and moaned as she got up and rummaged through the fridge and got a bottle of water out and something to snack on as Manny was prepping things in the kitchen. “Oh and Kat?”

“What, Auntie Em?”

“Did you tell your mom how disrespectful you were to me yesterday when all I asked was where you were planning on going dressed like your mom at that rave circa 2003?”

Manny was shocked and a little bit humiliated, “Emma!”

“Mom! Why am I just finding that out, you held out on me? You were a raver mom? I can get used to Auntie Em, who I suddenly forgive now.” She clinked Emma’s coffee mug with her own. 

“Emma! Why?” Manny widened her eyes and was still recovering from that humbling moment, still humiliated by that revelation and her daughters reaction. “Not another word about my life before you were around. A very long eighteen years ago. You weren’t even a glimmer in my eye. Your father was not even supposed to be there.”

“You peeled off early with Kat’s father, and I walked in on you two making kissyfaces in my twin bed because you left me there if I remember that night correctly.”

“Em, must you? Now go sleep it off. I'm having a very serious conversation with my very impressionable teenaged daughter. I don’t want to remember that. We almost stopped being friends over that. Ugh, no.” And turned to Kat, “Please don’t make the same mistakes I made in fashion.”

Emma was about to retire herself from the conversation at Manny’s request and left them with, “Manny for the record I hope you’ll always remember thongs go inside the jeans.” In a sing-song voice, she bid them goodbye for now, “I’ll be outside.” With her, she took her hot coffee that finally finished percolating in the Keurig.  

[acourtofthought]

Azriel is very incorrectly characterized as sad emo baby who just needs some love.

- He spent 11 years in complete darkness and silence.

- Was only allowed to see him mom for one hour every day, but how much love can his mother fit in just one hour (when she herself was going through hell)?

- Saw his mother get mistreated and was unable to do anything about it. It’s never explicitly stated, but since his father was married with 2 sons and his mother was a servant (slave?), it’s safe to assume Azriel was not the product of consensual sex.

- His brothers tormented him for fun. I can’t even imagine the trauma and fear after they burned his hands.

- At 11 he was taken from a dark, silent place and thrown into Windhaven. He was surrounded by other kids who were probably not overtly friendly. Cue in the scars and shadows… even Rhys and Cassian bullied him. Rhys’s mom is probably the only reason he survived.

- No idea when his mom was freed or if he was able to see her after going to Windhaven.

- Rhys’s father separated the three of them and kept Azriel. He was taken away from his support system and who knows what Rhys’s father had him do?

I’m not even gonna touch the Mor/Cassian situation (that should have never been allowed to go on for so long). Purposely being touchy with Mor in front of Azriel just becomes cruel at one point. She doesn’t have to come out before she’s ready, but saying she likes things the way they are is fucked up.

He needs to heal and accept that just like everyone else, he’s not all good or all bad. The trauma Azriel has isn’t gonna go away if he gets a mate, because then his self-worth will be based on what one specific person thinks of him. That just means he’ll spiral and go back to self-loathing every time they fight or have a disagreement, especially if the mate remains angry with him. That’s just not a HEA to me.

"The trauma Azriel has isn’t gonna go away if he gets a mate, because then his self-worth will be based on what one specific person thinks of him. That just means he’ll spiral and go back to self-loathing every time they fight or have a disagreement, especially if the mate remains angry with him. That’s just not a HEA to me." That's really perceptive of you and a really excellent reason why him ending up with Mor or Elain isn't the best thing for him. There are many, many other reasons why he's not well matched to either of those females but one major problem is he's now tied his self worth into the two of them. He feels like there's something wrong with him because he didn't get a bond when Rhys, Cass and Lucien did. He feels like the females are too pure and bright for he and his darkness and true self and that must be why. And him suddenly ending up with either of them when he's become so fixated on them as the thing that he wants above all else (a Mating Bond. He didn't get one with Mor so now he's wondering why he also didn't get one with Elain even though he's still not completely over Mor) would be an instant and euphoric shot of "I am worthy!" but it would only last for so long because it doesn't really fix the problem, just temporarily masks it. And the relationship would suffer (like you said) because any tiny threat to the relationship would cause Az to go berserk, even typical arguments. Az doesn't just need love, Az has love and it's still not been enough. He's decided his entire happiness revolves around a bond even though he has an entire group of people who care about him and would die for him. But his childhood definitely messed him up and definitely not in a sad emo baby who needs cuddles kind of way. Az is angry and full of rage and really, no female interested in a relationship with him should be anywhere near that until he gets it under control. I'm not a big fan of the grown man child who needs to be mothered. I want a partner who has his shit together because while his neediness / clinginess might seem cute at first, it gets old real quick when you're going about your business like a grown ass adult and your partner is still wrapped up in himself. I do think Gwyn will be the right person for him, they already read as healthier than how he behaves with Elain or Mor. But it would be nice for Az to have a personality for an entire book where he's not fixated on unattainable females. (side note, I do agree that the Mor / Cass / Az situation was a mess of epic proportions and I really wish it wouldn't have been written that way. Because Mor owes him nothing but to write her so she actively flirts with others in front of Az just to prove a point even though it's not what she wants is 😬)