#CAUSE ALL I RESPONDED TO THE HATE WITH WAS

[winterferger]

So I was on Youtube and some video came across my algorithms talking about tariff shit. I forgot what the actual conversation was because I got so annoyed that this one woman would say something about another aspect of the economy to start to make a point, and all the men around her would start responding with some other angry rebuttal, and she'd be annoyed 'cause now she had to defend a whole other point that she didn't even want to talk about and wasn't even hers. Then the men would smile smugly that they'd irritated her because obviously the woman was emotional and didn't know what she was doing. Not that they were purposefully not letting her make her own point.

In the comment section I repeated something a friend told me. A metaphor about how someone argues, if you said 'I like pancakes' they'd respond 'Why do you hate waffles?!" and then you'd have to explain how you didn't hate waffles instead of why you like pancakes. And that these were obviously waffle men.

All the responses? People saying something like, "Spoken like someone that doesn't understand tariffs." Like it was truly incredibly how they immediately did the same exact thing immediately.

I've just taken to calling people who do this 'waffle people'.

If you go on this site and say something like "I'm broke right now, I'll have rice instead of steak for dinner" then somebody will come into your notes with the most condescending tone possible and say "EXCUSE ME but rice is FAR more expensive than steak", and if you disagree with them then they'll be like "Fancy gourmet rice cooked for you by a professional chef is much more costly than if your parents give you the steak that they won in a raffle" and act like this is a reasonable reading of your original post and they've successfully corrected you

[plethorawrites]

"Haven't I given enough?"

Character: Jason Todd x Reader

Content: Hurt with comfort

Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: First post?!? I've written a few of these and published them anonymously on AO3 but figured I'd give it a shot on here as well.

Jason was troubled. It was a label that others had branded him with, but one he never tried to deny either. He thought it was true. He was screwed up, his body marked by years of scars and his mind equally as traumatized with the kind of scars you couldn’t see but definitely knew were there. It didn’t mean he couldn’t be kind or gentle, especially to you, but sometimes, the only way he really knew how to cope was through doing something physical.

At first, that was running, or hitting something. Even going to the salvage yard outside of town to scream for a while. That’s what he had always done when things got really bad. Then, slowly he realized you’d be there and you could take him. Literally. You could tolerate him fucking all his stress out through you. Using you.

Sometimes he felt bad about it, but you always seemed so sure that it was okay. That even if he happened to leave bruises (like he usually did) they never hurt too bad. You enjoyed too, so he kept doing it. Not often, just on the particularly bad nights.

Nights like the one he just had.

When he slammed the door shut behind him all the lights were off in the apartment and he was worried you might have been asleep. He really hated the idea of waking you up, but God, he was so...unexplainably upset. Angry, frustrated, sad in ways his mind couldn’t quite comprehend.

His mind was a mess and to be completely honest, he was so worked up he couldn’t figure out what to do. Kicking something, screaming, maybe crying. No, definitely not crying. Even if he could feel a few tears pricking in the back of his eyes he choked them down, refuses to let them fall. Instead, he walked towards the bedroom, just hoping you were still awake.

You were, of course. But even if you had been asleep, the door slamming would have woken you up.

He pushed the door open and his expression immediately softened upon seeing you, sitting up in bed, wearing one of his shirts.

“You’re home late,” you remarked, closing your—his—book and setting it on the nightstand. “Did something happen?”

He knew you knew something was wrong. You could always tell. But you were too nice to outright tell him how shitty he looked and instead sat up even further, causing some of your hair to fall over your shoulder, grazing your collarbone.

“Nothing I want to talk about,” Jason replied. He hated talking about his feelings in general, but would do it occasionally, under the right circumstances. These were not them.

He kicked his shoes off by the bedroom door and started pulling his clothes off as he walked towards the bed, dropping his gloves on the floor alongside his pants and the rest of his things. He could see the shift in your demeanor; you knew what he wanted. To forget, to let you take away all of his anger and pain so he didn’t have to deal with it for the night. He wanted to get lost in you and forget about how bad everything hurt. Physically and emotionally.

He sat on the bed, instantly reaching for your face, pulling you towards him, kissing you harshly. His teeth scraped yours, noses bumping against each other as the tightness of his shoulder’s coiled further, the action seeming to make things worse. Still, he didn’t stop.

Jason pressed his other hand to the back of your head, pushing himself further into you as your hands instinctively began to roam his abdomen. “Bad night?” you mumbled just before he bit down on your lip, tearing a bit of skin.

“Bad night,” he responded succinctly, grabbing your waist, squeezing it tightly. His head was a jumble of loud thoughts, for some reason harder to ignore than usual but he kept trying.

Reaching for the bottom of your shirt, he pulled it up over your head you let him. To his dismay, you had a bra on under it, and panties too.

Wrapping your arms around his neck as he laid you down on the pillows, his body pressing into yours firmly as your lips locked again for a moment. Jason kissed down your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin eliciting a gasp.

For a split-second, the voices were quiet. They always were when he heard you moaning and whimpering or saying his name over and over. The pain always stayed though, but usually he could tolerate it if he just focused on the motions, on pushing you as deep into the mattress as possible, on rutting his hip into yours until he physically ached from something other than sore bones and old scars.

His hands groped the soft flesh of your waist and hips as he tugged at the top of your underwear, his hand slipping inside.

Jason froze.

His hand still in your underwear, his lips paused against your neck, breathing heavily as the heavy silence made his ears ring.

That had never happened before. Ever. But in that moment, he couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

He couldn’t do this with you, not tonight.

Quickly, he removed his hand, pushing himself off you until he was sitting up. He couldn’t breathe. The room suddenly felt a lot smaller than he always remembered it being. Had it always been so cramped? Or this hot, for that matter. Did you turn the heater up tonight?

Jason swallowed, his throat feeling dry and heart hammering in his chest. “I- I’m sorry,” he apologized as he got up. “I need to get some water.”

“Wait a minute-” you sat up as quickly as he had, grabbing his wrist. You knew he could easily pull away, but he didn’t. He didn’t turn to face you either, though. “What’s wrong?”

Jason’s chest heaved as he tried to breathe, it felt tight, it ached. He hated it. “I just can’t do that tonight,” he managed to say.

He remained—mostly—calm as he kept his eyes glued to the floor. He hated to envision the look on your face. Was it confusion? Was it anger? Something worse, like pity? He didn’t know which of those options seemed preferable.

“Okay,” you agreed easily, tugging on his wrist lightly. “We don’t have to do anything,” you assured him. “Just come lay down.”

He shook his head, swallowing again, his heart still thumping rapidly. “No- no I have stuff to do, I—”

“Jay,” you said calmly, the sound of his voice soothing him slightly. “You’ve been working all night and it’s late. Just lay down.”

Jason bit the inside of his cheek as he stared at the ground. He could feel it, the tears pricking in his eyes again. It had been like that all night and each time he kept pushing them down and now he heard your voice, so gentle and sweet and it made them reappear again.

He took a deep breath. You wouldn’t let this go. If he left the room, you’d follow him and stand with him in the kitchen while he drank his water. He didn’t want that. He wanted this day to be over as soon as humanly possible.

But... “I’m not tired,” was all that came out of his mouth.

Exhaling, Jason turned around, barely able to look at you. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you with your haired messed up and your neck covered in two or three small bruises on your neck, your chest falling and rising as you caught your breath as well.

Should he hand your shirt back? Apologize again? Leave?

Before he could decide, you were sitting up onto your knees, reaching for him, trying to pull him back towards the bed. Back towards you. He reluctantly let himself be moved, taking a heavy step closer, then another. He sat back down, his gaze falling to the blanket.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, even though you both knew it was futile. He shook his head, his jaw clenched tightly to remind himself to keep it together. At least in front of you. You held his hand, your thumb swiping over the back of his knuckle as you nodded slowly, taking your other hand and placing it on his shoulder. “Just lay down,” you suggested.

Jason nodded and tried to move to his side of the bed, but you wouldn’t let go of his hand. Instead, you gently pulled him forward, laying back down, insisting he follow. He hovered above you, unsure of what to do. He didn’t want to hurt you.

“Lay down,” you repeated gently, your eyes softening even more.

“I don’t wanna crush you,” Jason confessed.

“You won’t,” you assured him.

He hesitantly lowered himself down, pressing more and more of his body weight against you. He could feel the mattress dipping as he did. He’d pushed you into it plenty of times, but not like this.

With his entire body weight on top of you, he exhaled, propping his chin on your chest, staring at you for a few seconds, not quite sure where else to look or what else to do with his hands or legs.

You fixed that.

Jason could feel you tangle your legs with his, wrapping your arms around him, one of your hands finding the locks of his hair to fuss with while the other traced random shapes on his shoulder.

Suddenly, the heat from before that felt like it was suffocating him evaporated, replaced by the warmth of your bare skin against him. He carefully wrapped his arms around you. He’d sure they would go numb soon, after all his entire weight, plus yours were laying on top of them now that they were under your back.

He wondered if that was uncomfortable for you, if maybe he should pull them away and just with them by his sides but before he could ask your hand was tugging at his hair, gently pressing his face into your neck. Not to kiss or mark it. Just to lay there, to breathe you in and hold you.

“I’ve got you,” you promised him, running your hands through his hair, scratching his scalp lightly.

Jason nuzzled your neck slightly, inhaling deeply, the scent of you filling his senses. Before he knew what was happening, the tears in his eyes started to fall without warning.

He didn’t have the chance to fight them at first, a few dampening your neck, but the second he realized what was happening he pulled away, pressing his forehead against the valley of your breasts while taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. “Sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. The sound was so pathetic it made him hate himself even more.

You shushed him gently, still playing with his hair as your other hand laid flat on his back. “It’s okay,” you assured. “You’re okay.”

That was the final straw, the supportive tone of your voice broke the dam he had built and his tears started to fall as he shook his head. “I’m not okay,” he confessed, his words spoken into your skin. “Nothing is okay.”

Your heart broke for him, feeling his grip on you tighten even more. You let your hand fall from his hair, wrapping around him, trying to pull him closer or at the very least keep him from leaving like you knew he was contemplating doing.

What could you say that would help? Nothing seemed good enough, so you just let him bury his face in your chest, holding him as he shook from the tears, muttering apologies and words of self-deprecation.

“I’m right here,” you swore. “You don’t need to apologize for anything. Not to me.”

Each word you spoke was like a dagger to his chest, the soft reassurance and whispered praise mixed with how firm your grip on him was made his chest swell as all the pain he refused to let himself feel hit him all at once with an overwhelming force.

Jason hated the burning in his chest, the sting in his eyes, the weakness he felt. Most of all, he hated feeling all of this in front of you. But more than that, he refused to pull away or deprive himself of your touch. He needed it to damn badly. It was the only thing keeping him afloat most days.

“It hurts,” he told you. “So badly. All the time.”

Your arms tightened around him again as you tried to keep yourself from crying with him, the sound of his sobs escaping making your heart hurt more with each failed attempt to make himself stop.

“Let it,” you breathed, resting your jaw on the top of his head as he hid his face in your breasts. “Just for tonight.”

Feeling the pain seemed like a foreign concept to him, but you made it sound so appealing, to just let himself feel weak. Just this once. Just for tonight. He could do that. The only reason why was because you were holding him, comforting him as the pain in his chest grew and grew until he was nearly hyperventilating.

Once again, you were shushing him, your hand softly stroking his hair. “Breathe,” you murmured, inhaling deeply, hoping he could feel it while laying on you. “I know it’s hard, I know it hurts. Just breathe.”

Jason sniffled, taking a shaky breath, timing it at the same time as your own deep inhale and holding a few seconds like you did before exhaling.

“Again,” you whispered, your nails trailing up and down his spine in a soothing motion. He listened and you could feel his body calming down just a little. “Just like that.”

His continued to cry, this time much softer. Like a residual that he needed to get out. Your skin now wet with his tears, but it didn’t matter much.

You placed a kiss to the top of his head. “I love you,” came out in a small whisper as you nuzzled the dark locks of his hair. “So much.”

Jason sniffled again, lifting his head to look at you. He was ashamed to. He felt weak and pathetic and hated to think of you seeing him like that, but he needed to say something and he needed to see your dace when he did.

You could see the redness in his eyes, a stark contrast to the dark purple circles under his eyes from lack of sleep. His nightmares had been particularly bad lately, no doubt contributing to the mountain of problems that led to his breakdown.

“I don’t know how you can love me when I’m this messed up,” he confessed, his voice sounding vulnerable and raw from crying.

You pushed the white streak in his hair away from his face, gently running the back of your knuckles over his cheek. “Everyone is messed up, baby,” you told him quietly. “But I’m not going anywhere.”

Jason’s hands had gone numb underneath your back, so he couldn’t feel them, but he was fairly certain he was trying to squeeze you harder. That’s what he thought he’d be doing, at least.

He dropped his head, kissing the middle of your clavicle where your collarbones met. Just once. Softly. He could the salt from his tears on your skin and it made them prick in his eyes again. He didn’t fight them as hard this time.

Laying his head in between your breasts, he inhaled and exhaled, closing his eyes. Another tear rolled down his cheek and he let it, choosing to instead focusing on the feeling of your skin. Your bare stomach against his, your arms around him, your nails scratching his scalp and back.

This wasn’t what he wanted when came home tonight. But falling asleep in your arms, using your chest as a pillow, listening the sound of your heartbeat and feeling the steady rhythm of your breathing was so much better.

[sylusdarling]

Caught Kitten

Sylus x reader

✧ How to deal with naughty kittens who don’t listen

Content: Sylus x fem!reader, vaginal sex, evol useage, switch!reader, riding

A/N: This is my first fic on this blog. I’m so excited to post. I hope you all enjoy!

You weren’t planning to give up. You had to prove to that bastard that you weren’t weak and that you were more than capable to win a simple bet like capturing a brooch. It was your third time sneaking into Sylus’ room within the past few days. Each time you’ve failed to find the brooch and it resulted with a snarky Sylus kicking you out of his room. But not tonight, you were going to find that goddamn crow brooch.

You approached the large red doors that lead into the silver haired man’s bedroom. Standing outside for a moment you inhaled a deep breath preparing for whatever may be on the other side. With a soft push of your palm against the door it opened. Cautiously you poked your head into the room, you were met with silence.

Taking soft, calculated steps you began to step foot into the room. Unfortunately for you, you failed to notice the main obstacle that was present in the room, Sylus himself. He sat on his king size bed with his head down. He sat in his signature crimson robe that unfortunately for you, hugged his body much too well. After taking a closer look you noticed that he was currently cleaning his gun. His large hand roamed over the gun as he cleaned it with a black silk handkerchief.

You prayed that he was focused enough at the task at hand that you would get a few minutes in without being kicked out. Your first stop was his bedside table. Right before you got there Sylus turned around unexpectedly and aimed the newly cleaned gun directly at you.

“Freeze.” He ordered.

You sighed already defeated and stuck your hands in the air. He approached you, gun still pointed at you. “Seems like a little kitty stumbled into somewhere she shouldn’t be once again.”

Your head drooped. “I’ll see myself out.” You turned onto your heel to leave but Sylus unexpectedly grabbed your wrist. “And who said you can leave?” His sharp red eyes starred at you as he awaited an answer.

“Well I just assumed you were going to kick me out again.”

Sylus tsked. “And I guess that means you already forgot what I said if I were to catch you sneaking into here again.” Before you could respond he began to drag you to his bed.

“W-wait!” Sylus threw you onto his bed and you landed with an “oof.”

Sylus climbed on top of you. His sharp red eyes piercing you as you were trapped underneath him. “I told you, if I were to catch you again you’d be punished.”

You scoffed, “As if being trapped here with you isn’t already punishment enough.”

“Oh sweetie, don’t say that. You’ll hurt my feelings.” The silver haired man smirked.

Flashes of black and red swirled around you and suddenly you were bound in place. Sylus used his evol to tie your hands down which left you helpless.

He grabbed your chin between his thumb and index finger as he stared at you. “Now, what will I do with you?”

You struggled against his evol even though you knew you were trapped. You laughed bitterly. “You hate me enough that this is what you resorted to?”

Sylus’ eyes narrowed dangerously at your statement. “Oh is that what you think?”

“Aren’t I right?” You scoffed.

He hummed, “I’d say it’s quite the opposite.”

He leaned down and captured your lips in a kiss. It was forceful, heated even. Like he was trying to convey something.

Once he pulled away you took a deep inhale trying to catch your breath.

“Why don’t you put your claws away, kitten?”

Turning away from Sylus you hmphed at him.

Quirking an eyebrow up, Sylus spoke. “Seems like someone has some attitude today.”

The dual coloured tendrils began to slither up under your shirt. It caused the buttons to pop.

He ran his hand up your bra. “Hm, black lace. A nice choice, It suits you.” He hooked his finger in the middle of your lace bra and pulled down which caused your breasts to spill out.

You yelped in shock. “Sylus!”

The silver haired main took one of your nipples into your mouth without breaking eye contact. His sharp, ruby eyes gazed directly into yours as he sucked which caused a full body shiver. “Maybe your mouth does have another purpose other than being a cocky bastard.”

Pulling off of you with a ‘pop’ he grinned. “Careful, talk like that will only make me harder sweetie.” Taking your hand he pressed it against his robe covered groin. And he indeed wasn’t lying about that. Feeling the hardness in your hand made you clench around nothing. Clouded by arousal, your dislike for Sylus began to fade. Instead you desired him. You needed him.

“Sylus.”

“Hm?”

“Fuck me.”

He snickered, “Seems like someone had a change of heart.”

You struggled against his evol once again. “Please. If you don’t fuck me, I will.”

“Oh really?” He flicked his wrist and suddenly his evol around your wrists dissipated. “Go ahead then.”

You glared at him as you sat up. In a swift movement you crossed the bed and pushed him down. Now he laid under you with your hands at either side of his head. His silver hair laid messily against the comforter as he looked up at you. “Oh, is kitty feeling feisty tonight?”

Your hands fumbled with the knot that held Sylus’ robe together, “You said to go ahead, so I did.”

Even though you didn’t like the man’s personality, you had eyes. He was good looking with his toned body and handsome face. It pissed you off. The fact that you couldn’t deny wanting him any longer also pissed you off. Once the robe was undone your hands glided across his skin, feeling him up. Your heated gaze scanned every inch of skin, every mole and every divot of his abs.

“Like what you see, sweetie?”

“What if I do?” You retorted.

His large hands snaked up around your waist, “Then that means I can admit that I like what I see as well.”

“Sylus, I can’t wait any longer.” You panted as you reached for his cock. His tip was already leaking, clearly affected by you.

“Then don’t.”

Lining his cock up with yourself, you began to sink down on it. He was so large and thick that you were struggling to get it to all fit. “It’s so big.”

“Come on, kitten. You can do it. You’re almost there.” Sylus was grabbing your hips to help you sink down.

Sylus threw his head back in bliss as you clenched around him. “God, you feel divine.” He spoke in what sounded like a growl.

“D-do you think I can move?” You asked.

“Take your time. If you think you’re ready go ahead but don’t push yourself too hard.” He was surprisingly caring.

Once you were comfortable enough you decided to move. Slowly you pushed yourself up almost off of his cock before you sunk back down with a whine. It felt so good. You needed more. You repeated the process slowly picking up speed. Sylus watched you like a hawk, making sure to not miss any of your gorgeous facial expressions.

He was lost in the way your body moved. Mesmerized even. “You’re absolutely perfect, kitten.” His hands roamed your body. Up the sides of your hips, your breasts, your neck. Anywhere he could get his hands on. He needed to feel you.

“I think I’m going to come.” You panted as your legs were getting sore and sweat dripped down your forehead.

“Go ahead, sweetie. You deserve it.” He said as he tweaked your breast. He leaned into your ear and on his deep, husky voice he whispered “Come for me.” And that tipped you over the edge. You saw white, blinding light as you came with a cry on Sylus’ cock.

You could tell Sylus wasn’t far behind. Leaning in, you kissed him. Tangling your hot tongues together as you grinded down on his cock.

“I’m coming, kitten.” He breathed out before he came inside you The white, hot cum filling you up. You pulled away from the kiss and let out a huff of air.

Pulling of of Sylus, you flopped down beside him on the bed absolutely exhausted. The silver haired man leaned over and brushed your messy hair out of your face.

“You did very well, kitten.”

“Thanks.” You mumbled out, exhausted.

He grabbed your hand and placed something inside of it. “I think you deserve this.” Opening your hand you were met with the brooch that you’re been searching for the whole time.

“Does this mean I pass the test?” You giggled.

He hummed, “Yes, I think your…determination is rather admirable.” You felt the weight beside you on the bed leave. Looking up you saw Sylus standing above you. He slotted his arms underneath you and picked you up bridal style.

“How about a shower?”

You snuggled into his warmth with a smile. “Sounds good.”

“Snuggling into my chest, you really are like a kitten.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he said that.

[mymindisneverhere]

FAVORS

Part Six

warnings: 18+ MDNI!, sub!Terry, soft dom!black fem OC, explicit language, angst, lots of dialogue (forgive me if I missed any)

a/n: Don’t hate Khloé too much.

Masterlist: Favors 1-5

Khloé looked up at the large clock that hung above her sofa. Terry was running 20 minutes late which meant they’d be running late for her mother’s party. He knew how Khloé felt about being late to things, especially family gatherings. Although this was only his first time being late, she’d make sure he wasn’t late again.

“I’m sorry, Summer needed help with her car. It took longer than expected.” He said walking into her home. “I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” 

Khloé exhaled, letting all of the breath out of lungs, attempting to keep control of her anger. 

“I know you will.” Khloé responded, not bothering to look up at him. “I’m ready to go, the car is downstairs.”

Khloé was really trying to suppress her jealousy but the more she heard Summers name, the more she became annoyed with her and she didn’t even know her. She could tell in the small amount of time she had known Terry, how selfless he was, especially for those he cared for most. But her constant need for all of his attention was getting the best of her. 

The ride to her parents house was dead silent. Terry couldn’t help but sense the attitude she had with him. Ever since the night she opened up about her personal dreams, she had become more talkative with him. Sharing her opinions and views on things that interests her most. 

But she was silent for the entire ride. Terry didn’t know what to think. Usually her attitudes would follow up a threat, that way he’d know what he was in for later in the evening. It would also be a sign that she didn’t plan on staying mad at him for too long. But she just sat quietly, staring out of the window until they arrived at her parents home. 

Terry parked the car and looked over at her as she grabbed her purse from the passenger floor. She searched through her small Chanel tote, looking for her signature lipstick to apply another layer before entering the house.

“You didn’t say anything the whole ride. Are you that mad at me for being late?” Terry asked, eyebrows raised. 

“No.”

“Then why were you so quiet the whole ride?” 

“I’m just thinking about how I want to deal with you later on that’s all. But I’m not upset with you.” She said, putting emphasis on you. “Let’s go.” Khloé sat back, waiting for Terry to get out and open her door. 

He made his way to her side and helped her out as he always did. She grabbed his hand and they held onto each other as they entered the large home, falling into the routine they’d practiced too many times. 

They stepped into the large foyer, immediately being greeted with the delicious smell of food and soft music playing. 

“There she is!” A woman exclaimed, holding out her arms as she approached Khloé and Terry. 

“Kandace!” Khloé yelled, letting go of Terry's hand and embracing her big sister. They rocked back and forth expressing how much they missed each other and couldn’t wait to catch up. 

“Wait a second, who is this?” Kandace asked, staring up at Terry with a raised brow. 

“Kandace, this is my boyfriend Terry. Terry, this is my big sister/second mom Kandace.” Khloé said, keeping her eyes on her sister as she approached Terry. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you Kandace.” Terry greeted, with a warm smile, holding his hand out. 

“I’m a hugger.” Kandace said, pulling him into a snug embrace. “It’s nice to meet you as well!”

She released Terry and turned to her sister. “Dad told me you brought someone to the family banquet but I didn’t think you actually had taste.” 

“Shut up Kandace!” Khloé playfully slapped her sister's arm, rolling her eyes. The interaction between the two sisters caused Terry to crack a smile.

The three of them engaged in conversation, totally forgetting who they were there celebrating. Kandace talked about the time she spent overseas living in Japan with her husband. Terry was genuinely intrigued, amazed at her love for the culture and the people. 

Khloé stared at her older sister, pure admiration in her eyes. Kandace was everything Khloé wished she could be. They both were bold in the way they presented themselves and fearless in demanding what they wanted but Kandace always made it her mission to live her life the way she saw fit. Something Khloé was obviously still having a hard time doing. 

Terry noticed this, the way Khloés eyes sparkled as she listened to her older sister tell stories about her time spent in the foreign country. He could tell they were close, the way they clung to each other, sharing inside jokes and exchanging compliments. 

“Well are you here to see Kandace, are you here to celebrate your mother?” Khloé heard the deep tone from behind her. Heels clicked the floor slowly as she turned to meet her mothers gaze. 

“Happy Birthday mom!” Khloé smiled, walking into her mothers arms. 

“Thank you dear.” Mrs. MacArthur smiled. Her smile slowly turned into shock as her eyes landed on Terry. “Terrance, it’s so good to see you again!” 

Mrs. MacArthur instantly released her daughter and practically ran over to Terry. It caught him by surprise when she hugged him, squeezing him tight. Not wanting to be rude, he hugged her back, a pair of puzzled eyes on Khloé as she stared blankly at them. 

“It’s good to see you as well ma’am.” 

“Princess!” Mr. MacArthur announced, walking over to his youngest daughter, placing a kiss on her forehead. 

“Hi daddy.” Khloé smiled, hugging her father. 

“Terrance, good to see you son.” Mr. MacArthur said, shaking his hand firmly. 

“It’s good seeing you as well sir.” 

“Well I hate to break up this reunion but dinner is ready. If everyone could make their way into the formal dining room that'd be great.” Mr. MacArthur said to the room full of family and friends. 

Terry couldn’t help but notice Khloé stuck in a daze as her eyes locked onto the floor where her mother was standing. He immediately made his way over to her, stepping around her mother. 

“What’s wrong?” Terry asked, looking down at her. 

Khloé quickly shook her head and cleared her throat. 

“Nothing, I was just thinking about the good food we’re about to eat.” She answered with a fake smile on her face. Terry stayed put for a few more seconds. He knew she was lying but he wasn’t one to push her beyond her limits so he nodded and held his hand out for her to take. 

The guests made their way into the formal dining room to see a long table covered in dishes from end to end. Mr. MacArthur sat at the head of the large table while his wife sat on the opposite end. Everyone took their seats and prepared their plates as small conversations filled the room. 

Khloé took a seat right next to her sister Kandace who sat next to their dad. Terry was right beside her. They fell back into their conversation from earlier never missing a beat. Mr. MacArthur joined in sharing his experiences from traveling abroad and the many cultures he learned about as well. 

*Clink Clink Clink* 

The sound of a silver spoon tapping against a champagne glass caused everyone’s head to snap in the direction of the sound. Mrs. MacArthur stood at the end of the table as she made sure she had everyone’s undivided attention. 

“I just want to thank everyone for coming to help me celebrate my 60th birthday. Although I don’t look my age.” She joked, receiving small chuckles from the guests at the table. “To be surrounded by friends and family and my husband who I love, this has really made my night. If only my pride and joy were here to help me celebrate.” 

She was referring to her son, also known as the “Golden Child”, Kameron. Khloés older brother, the one who could do no wrong in her mothers eyes even when all he did were the wrong things. Kameron was a free spirited person who came and went as the wind blew. 

Khloé expected him to show for their mothers birthday but then again if he had something more important to do that always came before family. Even if the important thing was laying up under his ex-stripper turned fiancé who he met on tour as a DJ. Khloé was here every second her mother needed her while her siblings were nowhere to be found unless they wanted to be found. Even still she went unnoticed. 

“Thank you all for coming and I hope you enjoy the amazing food Lucille has cooked for us. Let’s dig in!” With that everyone turned to their plates. Before anyone could return to their conversations Mrs. MacArthur decided to get Terry’s attention. 

“So Terrance, what exactly is it about my daughter that piqued your interests?” Mrs. MacArthur asked, placing her fork that held her Caesar Salad into her mouth. 

Everyone’s attention turned to Terry awaiting his response.  

“Well uh, it’s her passion, her fearlessness, her determination. She’s very proud to be herself, she doesn’t let anyone stop her from being all that she is.” He responded, looking over at Khloé. “I admire that about her.” 

Khloé smiled softly at him as she took a sip of her drink. Everyone nodded, pleased with his answer, silently whispering their compliments for him to each other. 

“She gets it from me.” Mrs. MacArthur started, “I’ve always expressed to her the importance of presence.  You have to let everyone in the room know that you’re there, if not they’ll look right over you.

“But I have to say I'm quite surprised to see you at another family gathering, I was sure she’d run you off with her inability to keep someone around.” Mrs. MacArthur spat, not bothering to meet her daughter's eyes. 

“Angela.” Mr. MacArthur gave his wife a look, warning her to stop while she was ahead. 

“I’m just being honest dear. She’s in her 30s with no husband, no children, no real home. I was beginning to think she’d be one of those women who owns animals to take the place for the lack of human interaction in her life.” She joked, laughing to herself. 

A few guests laughed at that last statement, all but Kandace and Terry. Khloé sat quietly but her anger didn’t go unnoticed. Her sister patted her leg, silently letting her know she was supporting her. Khloés jaw clenched as she felt herself beginning to tear up but she didn’t want to give her mother the satisfaction of knowing that after all of these years, the things she said still got to her. 

“I think she has plenty of time to experience those things. I mean we only get one time to live a life we truly love, I believe moving at your own pace is important. Rushing into things never really works out anyway, most things are worth waiting for.” Terry stated as respectfully as he could. 

Her mother looked over at him, a small smirk spreading across her face. She nodded, raising a shady brow as she finished her champagne. 

“Well said son.” Mr. MacArthur nodded. 

A smirk crept onto Khloés face as she noticed her mothers silence. There was rarely ever a time where she didn’t have a rebuttal for someone who didn’t agree with her. Khloé looked over at Terry as he dug into his plate nonchalantly. Her admiration for him was growing greater as the days went by. 

His ability to shut her mother down respectfully and gracefully had her wanting to pull him away from the table and into the powder room down the hall, fuck a punishment. 

“Keep him.” Kandace whispered into her ear causing Khloé to look at her. Kandace gave her a ‘bitch you better’ look while taking a sip of her wine. 

The family conversation continued with Khloé no longer being the topic of the table. The small group wined and dined as they shared personal stories, experiences and laughs amongst each other. 

Terry reached into his pocket to grab his cell phone that was vibrating. It was a message from Summer. Khloé couldn’t help but to look down at his phone. She only saw a glimpse of the name before looking away, hoping Terry didn’t see her looking. She stared down at her plate as her mind began to fill with thoughts… again.

‘She’s like family.’ 

‘I just wanted to return the favor.’ 

“Well that was delicious.” Mr. MacArthur stated loudly, snapping Khloé out of her mind. “Terrance, come. I want to show you my latest purchase, a 1967 Convertible Mustang. I’m sure you know a lot about cars, don't you son?” He smiled and nodded before getting up from the table. 

“Oh yes sir.” Terry answered. “It’s okay if I leave you here with your sister right?” He turned to her wanting to get the okay to step away from her. 

Khloé nodded, giving him an artificial smile. With that, Terry stepped away from the table and followed her father down a long hallway to their six door garage. Mrs. MacArthur sat silently as she had been watching the whole thing play out. 

“Gosh, that food was delicious.” Khloé said, opening the door to her old bedroom. It was still decorated from when she was a teenager. Mindless Behavior posters, Bratz dolls and her old Nintendo DS that still worked if she could find the charger to it. 

“Girl forget about that food, tell me about that snack you got downstairs! “Kandace said, following right behind her. “So spill it, where the hell did you meet a man like that?” Kandace took a seat on Khloés childhood bed.

Khloé paused for a while before answering her sister. She wanted to give her the same bullshit story she’d given everyone else about Terry but she couldn’t. Her sister was her rock and no matter how big of a lie she told, Kandace always saw through it. 

“Kandace, I’m a bit embarrassed but I don’t want to lie to you.” Khloé started, taking a seat at her small vanity covered in stickers. “He’s a worker.” 

Kandace’s eyebrows bent in confusion. “What do you mean by worker?” 

“He works at one of the warehouses in the rural area, just off the freeway. I was visiting a while ago, doing my usual “check ups” and I saw him.” Khloé was so ashamed. 

“Okay so what’s wrong with that? You fell in love with a regular guy, that’s better than those attention junkies you used to date.” 

Khloé braced herself for the harsh truth she was about to reveal. “He’s not really my boyfriend. I’m paying him to be here with me.” 

Kandace sat up straight and stared at her baby sister, her mouth slightly open. She stared at her sister for a while, completely confused as to what she was doing and why. 

“Why are you paying him?” 

“Because I can’t keep a man to save my life.” Khloé leaned against the vanity with her head in her hands. “The last thing I wanted to hear from mom and dad was how I was gonna end up all alone and miserable. I just wanted them to lay off of me for once.” 

“Khloé.” Kandace spoke softly, inching closer to her sister. “Why do you let what they say get to you so easily? Who cares what they think about your love life?” 

“I do.” Khloé shot back, meeting her sister's eyes. “Look how long they’ve been together, all of the things they’ve accomplished together.” 

“They are not the couple you wanna model your relationship after.” Kandace mumbled. 

“Knock Knock!” A high pitched voice sang out, interrupting their conversation. The strong smell of cheap perfume took over the room as Khloé realized exactly who had entered her bedroom. 

“Nia, where have you been? How are you?” Kandace smiled, getting up to hug her. They embraced each other, pulling away to look each other up and down, taking note of their outfits. 

“I’ve just been in the wind as usual. I’m doing good girl but how are you? You’ve been traveling the world so much we barely get to see you anymore.” Nia stated. 

Khloé rolled her eyes as she tried to get herself together. Aside from her mother being one person she didn’t wanna let see her sweat, Nia was second on that list. She cleared her throat as she turned around to face her cousin. 

“Khloé girl, I saw that man of yours downstairs.” Nia stated, with a raised brow. “You’ve got him trained, he barely said two words to me.” 

“Well he wasn’t sure if he was speaking to Nia or ‘Imani’.” Khloé spat bluntly. 

Nia paused before letting out an obnoxious laugh, grabbing her stomach as if what Khloé had said was the joke of the day. 

“Oh girl you need to lighten up, I was just playing a little joke on him that’s all.” Nia rolled her eyes. “I mean he’s gonna be family eventually, he’ll get used to my humor.” 

Kandace looked back and forth between the two women as she could obviously sense her sister's irritation. Nia was exactly who Khloé said she was, a sneaky bitch. However Kandace, being almost 10 years older than the two girls, never witnessed any of Nia’s conniving ways. But Kandace also wasn’t that damn stupid. 

“You introduced yourself to him as Imani?” Kandace questioned. “Nobody calls you that.” She chuckled at the thought of it. 

“Well maybe I want to start being addressed as Imani, is that a problem for y’all?” Nia shot back in defense before turning her attention to the window. 

Kandace looked over at Khloé who was burning a hole into the back of Nia’s head. 

“Doesn’t matter anyways, he won’t be here long.” Nia mumbled to herself. 

“What was that?” Khloé asked, leaning her body forward so that she could hear Nia a bit clearer. 

“I’m going downstairs to get some food.” Nia headed toward the bedroom door. “It was really good seeing you Kandy girl and you too… Khlo.” 

Nia exited the room and Khloé immediately shot up from her seat. She paced around the room as she tried calming herself down, looking at her sister with wide eyes. 

“I told you that bitch was trifling but nobody wants to listen to Khloé, the spoiled brat who thinks everybody’s out to get her.” Khloé said, walking back and forth. 

“She was usually a sweetheart around everyone else, I thought you were just jealous of the attention she got.” That last part earned her a dirty look from Khloé. “My bad, you were right I guess.” Kandace admitted, throwing her hands up in defeat. 

“Fuck her though, the real problem I’m having is this Summer girl.” 

“I’m listening.” 

Khloé vented to her sister, telling her all about how she found out about Summer. She told her who Summer was to Terry and how even though she knew nothing was going on between the two of them, she still wanted her out of the picture. 

“You’re sounding a bit insecure Khloé.” Kandace had to admit it. 

“I know but I don’t care. I want him all to myself!” 

Kandace leaned back in shock at the words she just heard from her sister. “Wait, you actually like this guy and if that’s the case, why do you need to pay him?” Kandace whispered, keeping in mind that anyone could enter the room at any moment. 

“At first it was just supposed to be sex, nothing serious.” Kandace already knew about her sister's sexual desires, this revelation was nothing new to her. “But then after a few glasses of wine we started talking and I told him things I hadn’t shared with anyone but you.” Khloé walked over to sit next to her sister on the full size bed. 

“He was so interested to hear what I had to say, he was so patient with me. I talked his ear off for hours, he never interrupted me one time. I just feel so comfortable with him. Even my sexual appetite doesn’t bother him.” Khloé kept her voice low and looked over at her sister. “I just don’t know if I’ll ever meet someone like him again. I don’t know if this will last for a long time but I want it for right now, while it feels good.” 

“Well do you think maybe it’s because he’s getting paid to do those things?” Kandace had to keep her sister grounding in reality. 

“He kept asking to hear more though. Every time I apologized for rambling too much, he’d remind me that I didn’t have to.” Khloé stated. “The deal was to attend things with me and sex whenever and however I choose.” 

“But he’s been doing way more than that.” Kandace added, finished her thought for her. 

Khloé nodded. “And with Summer always grabbing his attention, I’m afraid that once this is all over, it’ll be over permanently.” 

Kandace sighed loudly. “So this Summer girl is your only problem?”

“Yes.” 

“Then get rid of her.” The infamous deep voice spoke from the doorway. 

Khloé and Kandace looked up to see Mrs. MacArthur standing there, her fingers interlocked resting at her waist. She stood there with a sharp brow raised high. Khloé was silently praying her mother hadn’t heard their entire conversation. From the look of her face, it didn’t seem as if she had. 

“If this woman is causing a riff in your relationship with Terrance, get rid of her.” Mrs. MacArthur stepped into the room, slowly making her way to the chair that sat in the far corner. “It’s the same woman who called his phone earlier right?” 

Khloé stared at her mom, wondering how in the hell she knew that. Always under her constant observation but never actually being acknowledged in totality. 

“You want her gone, do it yourself.”

“She’s a good friend to him, I can’t just ruin their friendship.” Khloé responded. 

“Then you will lose him to someone less deserving.” Mrs. MacArthur uttered those words. Those same words that haunted her every time she was next to Terry. 

“That’s ridiculous.” Kandace scoffed. 

“Do you love him?” Her mother asked, ignoring Kandace’s remark. 

“No but I do like him a lot.” 

“And do you think you’ll ever get the chance to love him if this friend is always in the picture?” 

Khloé sat silently. She didn’t know what to do. She was completely aware of her own inner turmoil and didn’t want it to control her behavior. But would she ever get the chance to love him if she didn’t have his undivided attention? Would he actually even consider being serious with her? 

“I don’t know.” Khloé answered herself and her mother. 

“Get. Rid. Of. Her.” 

“I know you’re not about to sit here and listen to this bullshit advice Khloé.” Kandace finally spoke up, bothered by the things she was hearing. 

“And what do you suggest Kandace?” Mrs. MacArthur asked playfully, not taking her seriously in the slightest. “Should she hop on a plane and go overseas to find love?” 

“You know what-“ 

“Can y’all not do this right now?” Khloé yelled. 

The room fell silent as the three women exchanged looks. Mrs. MacArthur sat unbothered as she eyed Kandace. Kandace stared back at her, not hiding the disdain for her whatsoever. She repeated herself once again hoping Khloé would get the picture and remove all distractions from Terry’s life. 

“Get rid of her.” 

“I’m sure you could teach a masterclass on getting rid of women can’t you?” Kandace spat, never breaking their stare down. 

Mrs. MacArthur cleared her throat and stood from the chair, smoothing her dress down. 

“You’ll thank me later dear.” Those were the last words she offered her daughter before leaving the room to return to her guests downstairs. 

Khloé looked over at Kandace with a look of frustration. 

“Why do y’all hate each other so much?” Khloé asked. 

“I don’t want her ways to take hold of you.” Kandace shot back. “You cannot make the same decisions she makes, take the type of advice she’s giving and expect a happy ending Khloé.” 

Kandace stood from the bed and exited the room, leaving Khloé there with her thoughts. They were racing a mile a minute. Fear, doubt and the possibility of being lonely forever was consuming her, making her head spend in more ways than one. 

It was like the devil was on one shoulder and an angel on the other. One side being her mother, the other being her sister. It felt as if she was being tugged in both directions, she just wanted to stop thinking so much. 

“Your sister said you were up here, is everything okay?” She snapped her head in Terry’s direction. “Your mind has been elsewhere all day, what’s going on?” Terry stepped into the room, stopping a few feet away from her. 

Khloé stared at him as the thoughts slowly began to drift away. He tilted his head slightly, trying hard to read the expression on her face. She just blankly stared at him, not saying anything. Finally given an opportunity to take her mind off of this mess she was creating for herself, she stood and walked past Terry, pushing the bedroom door closed and locking it. 

“Fuck me.” Khloé stated before snatching off her top and walking him backwards until he fell against the bed. 

“In your parents house?” Terry looked up at her, a shocked expression on his face. 

“Yes!” 

The public library was silent, only the sounds of soft keyboards and papers being turned filled the room. Khloé searched around the open floor, desperately looking from aisle to aisle. 

The guests sat faces buried into their laptops and library books. Khloé continued walking up slowly, her black blazer hanging off of her shoulders as she held onto her bag tightly. 

“Hello ma’am, are you looking for something in particular?” The familiar voice spoke from behind her and she slowly turned around to come face to face with her. 

“Summer right?” Khloé asked, a smile spreading across her face. 

“Yeah… wait you’re Terry’s boss.” Summer stated, pointing a knowing finger at her. “Is he okay?” 

“He’s just fine. I actually came to speak with you if that’s okay.” Khloé whispered. 

“Sure, I’m just about to take a break, we can step right outside.” Summer offered, leading the way to the large double doors that sat at the front of the building. 

They both took a seat on the large bench that sat a few feet away from the entrance. Khloé sat one leg crossed over the other as Summer stared at her. 

“So Summer, I’m sure you aren’t aware of this but Terry’s been having a lot on his plate lately.” Khloé lied.

Summer sat quietly unaware of what Khloé was referring to. 

“With him having to take on this new job, losing all of his savings, he came to me looking for help and so I helped him. But one thing led to another and we ended up spending a lot of time together.” 

“Wait, y’all are seeing each other?” Summer asked, frowning at the revelation. 

“Yes.” 

Summer looked down at her feet and then back up at Khloé. 

“It was supposed to be a secret of ours, no one knows. However, it’s just so hard to sit back and watch him stress due to your constant need for his assistance.” Khloé went on. “He’s not going to tell you this because he’s just a sweetheart and he tries to help as much as he can but I’d really appreciate it if you did me a favor and maybe step back from him for a while. I’m sure he’d appreciate it as well.” Khloé placed a soft hand on Summers' forearm. 

“Why would he have you come and tell me that?” Summer tilted her head slightly. “No disrespect to you um…” She trailed off 

“Khloé.” 

“Khloe.” Summer finished the statement. “Terry and I have seen a lot and been through a lot together. He could’ve just come to me himself and again no disrespect to you but I’ve never heard of you. He hasn’t told me anything about you.” Summer added. “So why should I do you a favor?” 

Khloé smiled softly before delivering the blow. “Who do you think sent you that check in the mail?” 

Summer's face dropped. Khloé smiled to herself, the conversation was going just as she planned. 

“He told me about your situation with your daughter.” Khloé admitted with a remorseful look. “I know that’s tough for you but it’s also taking a toll on him. I know you’re a good friend, he tells me this all the time so I'm sure you’ll understand that he just needs some space from you right now.” 

“He told you about my daughter?” Summer questioned, hurt from hearing that her good friend had revealed a very personal thing to a stranger. Summer was under the impression that Khloé knew about her addictions and her struggle with gaining custody. 

But Khloé was insinuating that he had told her more on purpose. The truth was she didn’t know much about Summer or her daughter, only that they needed help and Terry wanted to help them. But the look on Summers face told Khloé everything she was saying was sinking in exactly how she intended it to. 

“Look Summer, I care about him a lot and I’m sure you do too so the less stress on him the better, yeah?” 

Summer sat silently taking in all of what she had just heard. She stared down at the ground, not bothering to look up at Khloé. It was hard for her to hear that essentially she had been a burden to Terry. He had never made her feel this way but to hear this information coming from Khloé was devastating to her. 

“Yeah I guess so.” She responded, voice low. 

“I’m glad you understand.” Khloé smiled. “It’s just for a little while, until he’s able to clear his mind.” 

Khloé stood and placed her sunglasses on her face. Summer remained seated on the bench, her gaze stuck on the ground. 

“I wish the best for you and your daughter Summer.” Those were the last words Khloé said before strutting away to her car. 

A small wave of guilt washed over her body before quickly dissolving. It wasn’t like she was telling Summer to stop talking to him all together. She just needed more time to secure a real relationship with Terry. Summer would understand this in the future. 

Khloé took her phone out of her purse and dialed the number she had learned by heart within just a few days of having it. 

“Hey you, I was thinking I could do pasta tonight.” She smiled. “A friend of my mothers gifted me a bottle of white wine, I think it’ll pair well for the evening, what do you think?” 

“I think it sounds good.” Terry responded. “I take it you’re not mad at me anymore.” 

“Not at all Mr. Richmond.” 

to be continued… 

[thedaselcor]

Here's my take on this one, I did it as my Chater 13!

Thorsday, the 2nd of Maius, 524.

Arthur woke to Merlin thrashing, convulsing through some sort of night terror. He held Merlin close, and tried to keep him from injuring himself through the spasms, but he was entirely uncertain whether that was even the right thing to do.

He noticed, as the minutes went on, that Merlin had been getting increasingly warmer. With growing terror he realized that Merlin was incredibly hot, burning up as if the dreams themselves were causing some sort of incredible magical fever. Arthur couldn't remember the last time he’d felt so powerless. It was a relief then, if a surprise, when Morgana knocked on their door and entered as soon as Arthur was able to stammer some sort of assent.

Morgana walked in, with a confidence and certainty of action Arthur couldn't remember ever seeing in her before. The room seemed to drop in temperature as she crossed in, and, in moments, she brought a hand to Merlin’s chest and one to his face. Arthur could feel the cold radiating off her. Merlin’s temperature crashed drastically as he woke with a start to the cold shock that rippled through from the point of Morgana's contact, and he breathed in sharp and deep like a man just saved from drowning.

“More like the pyre…” Morgana said, responding to the thought Arthur had never voiced.

Merlin panted as he assessed the situation, assessed the room around him, came back to reality, blue eyes betraying an equal measure of absolute understanding and complete bafflement.

Arthur shifted his gaze to Morgana, searching her face for the answers he didn’t know how to ask for. “How did you know?” he managed to ask finally, though the question was woefully inadequate.

“Sometimes we can hear each other, like when I was in the library, like when you helped us with the druid boy,” Morgana answered, but it wasn’t an answer to the question Arthur had been trying to ask.

“No, I mean…” he shook his head, trying to assemble a better question. Still, he only managed, “ how did you know ?”

“Oh!” Morgana exclaimed, as if understanding the misshapen question better this time. “It’s not as complicated as it seems, it was just illusion magic, I focused on making Merlin feel cold rather than changing anything, normally it wouldn’t affect other people, but you and Merlin are… very close , magically speaking. It’s… unusual.”

“ No,” Arthur let out a long, frustrated sigh as he forced himself to reshape the question, to add words. “How did you know about the dream, about the pyre?”

Morgana let out an uncomfortable laugh, as if that question was too obvious to need an answer.

Merlin, gaining more and more of his senses by the minute, ran his fingers gently along Arthur’s arm before answering, pragmatically, “all my dreams end in the pyre, Arthur. Beheadings are reserved for strangers.”

He was too kind to say the rest. Too kind to say, explicitly, your father would punish me for loving you, and he’d make sure that I burned alive if he ever knew the most beautiful part of me , but Arthur still heard it. 

It had been easier to ignore his father’s monstrosity when it wasn’t aimed at the people he wanted most in the world to protect, when it was abstract obligation to Uther versus abstract duty to the people of Camelot. Now, when someone he loved stood in the balance between, when they faced a worse fate because he loved them--the burgeoning flame of Arthur’s hate, so small before this Beltane trip to the country, was bellowed anew by the vile truth of Uther Pendragon, and it threatened to grow and grow until it could consume the world.

Arthur said nothing. He buried his face in Merlin’s shoulder, and dangled in the silence. Arthur had often felt lost in the world or words and feelings, in the world realisations like this one always seemed to thrust him in, and he’d long since learned to be silent and seem uncaring rather than ever risk seeming incompetent--in front of his father, in front of his kingdom, in front of anyone. 

Now, when what Arthur wanted most in the world was to connect, to be soft and vulnerable and honest, to do anything other than dangle in the silence, he had no idea how to find a ledge back out of the chasm. But Merlin just kept running his fingers along Arthur’s arm, and Mrogana didn’t give him the look she often gave him when she thought he was cold or uncaring. It was like they saw him there, dangling and lost, deep beneath the mask that had always rendered him invisible before. Being seen was new, hopeful but uncomfortable. Being seen protected the spriteling flame, promised to direct it to purpose where once it would have been extinguished along with everything hopeful in Arthur’s spirit. Being seen could change everything.

merlin magic reveal fic where arthur asks “why didn’t you tell me?” and merlin says, mirthless smile and haunted eyes “all my dreams end in fire. fire and burning and dying”

[foodtruckery]

I've been having crazy Stancest brain rot thinking about an AU where they don't have the portal incident and instead have crazy marathon hate sex instead (Inspired by some amazing art by @CoreArde on Twitter) and I thought it'd be fun to share that with you.

They start off arguing in the lab and then oops they're fucking on the lab floor, and they really should be thinking this through but nope now they're upstairs fucking on the kitchen table and okay maybe now they'll finally talk about it nah, they're fucking in Ford's bed now.

It starts off as rough hate sex getting out years of frustration, but by the time they make it to the kitchen its become insanely desperate and cloying because they missed each other, and their bodies fit so well together, and GOD how could they have not been doing this all time? They're going at it so long that they basically end up passed out in Ford's bed by the end, and Stan's not going to be sitting down for a while after this. He's probably just happy to be sleeping in a bed, but Ford is trying to figure out how he got so far from the initial plan.

Even better if the two of them have been harboring feelings for years and never acted on it, because they get the one-two punch of all the weight of their time apart and processing the fact that OH GOD I JUST FUCKED MY BROTHER (which of course they both wanted to do but still).

I have no idea what would happen after that, but both of them waking up sore, sweat soaked, sticky with cum (some still inside Stan because of course Ford didn't use a condom this wasn't supposed to happen) after having gone at each other like rabbits in heat despite never having expressed their attraction to each other before is a hilarious and hot idea to me. What do you think?

HI THERE ANON. i am so fucking sorry that i left you waiting for so long about this, but i need you to know it's because i was FUCKING OBSESSED with this. like just absolutely beside myself over it, and i refused to respond until i had a chance to sit down and respond PROPERLY.

cause uh YEAH FRIEND i know the exact fucking piece of art (explicit) you're talking about, because it's INCREDIBLE. and in case you didn't know, the artist is over here too and shares some fucking fantastic writing and headcanons also! (seriously, go check out @/cartoonsinthemorning if you haven't. and cart, i hope you don't mind that anon and i both kinda lost our minds about your art over here! i genuinely have no idea what tag etiquette is on this site and didn't wanna bombard you, but you did this. again.)

i'll be honest, anon, this kinda got away from me (fucking shocker) and i am too tired to do any legit editing of it right now, so please forgive any typos or weirdness! i'll try and clean it up before it eventually goes up on ao3. but thank you for such a LOVELY ask because this was so hot, and so inspiring, and i hope i did a little justice to your idea and cart's gorgeous art!

--- Ford isn't entirely sure how it had started. His memory, his perception of time, his ability to follow a linear order of events -- all if it is less than reliable at the moment, so he can't entirely blame himself for losing track of things here and there. But the jump between trying to wrestle his journal out of Stan's hands to trying to wrestle Stan out of his dingey jeans is a jarring transition to lose in the dull static that's been edging around his awareness for weeks now. 

Not jarring enough to stop him, though. 

He thinks, vaguely, while he's blindly tugging at Stan's denim, that there's a concerningly high likelihood that he's hallucinating. His head is swimming in so much caffeine and adrenaline that he doesn't even feel the rough concrete of the lab floor under his knees -- maybe that isn't where he is? Maybe he'd nodded off without realizing. Maybe he's going to come to with another lapful of polaroids and a new humiliating tattoo. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe -- he can reckon with a probability model later. For the first time in what feels like months, the stability of his perceived reality is not actually at the forefront of Ford's mind.

Pressing in on him harder than the doubt, harder than the disassociation from his physical body, and harder than the threat of the creature lingering in the depths of his subconscious is anger. It feels like a beacon in the muddled, fuzzy mess inside his head, something bright and real and his. It's searing through him, slicing away all the frayed edges of his paranoia and doubt like a hot blade through so much butter. 

Ford clings to the sharp edges of that anger and feels more alert than he has in weeks. 

He can't remember how their bickering had taken this particular turn, but if he's liable to lose his eyes and his life in the next few days, Ford will be fucking damned if he squanders the opportunity. He knows he's made a mess of things, that he's made the sorts of mistakes that can't and frankly shouldn't be forgiven. 

But he also knows with blinding, white hot certainty that he's only here, now, because of Stan's mistakes.

Ford may not deserve absolution, but he does deserves this. 

Laughter cuts through the lab, rough and mocking, and Ford's attention finally falls, properly, on Stan. He has a bruise blooming on his cheek and a snide smirk twisting his lips. He's also on his back, his jeans and a threadbare pair of boxers bunched in Ford's fists and pulled so low he can see the tight curls of his pubic hair and the root of his cock. 

"What's wrong, Poindexter?" Stan asks, mocking, and it's only then that Ford realizes he's paused halfway through stripping his twin's lower half. The bite of the cold concrete under his knees still feels far away, but the rough material in his palms, and the heat of Stan's body so close to him are sharp, clear details. "No hands on experience with a dick that ain't your own? Afraid you might actually be bad at somethin' for once?" 

Ford narrows his eyes, feeling the hot point of anger cutting through him, steadying him, and he jerks Stan's clothes hard enough that he gets the material past his knees in one tug. Stan laughs at him again, but it stutters into a little 'oof!' when Ford flips him onto his stomach. 

He doesn't care that Stan's pants are still caught around his calves and his boots. He doesn't care that Stan hisses something that sounds like pain when he's yanked onto his knees and dragged backwards several inches across the concrete. He doesn't even care that, once upon a time, he'd dreamed of this, of crossing this line with the only person he'd ever really loved in any way that mattered, and it's nothing like the softer, sweeter picture he used to imagine. 

Stan's hips are soft, and the skin gives easily under the iron grip Ford has on them, holding him in place as he grinds against his ass. Even through his slacks, the heat of Stan's body is intense, addictive, and he grinds forward again, harder, watching the friction rub a pink  patch against his skin. 

Stan, shameless and selfish as always, pushes eagerly back against him. Ford has barely done anything beyond rocking the outline of his cock against his hole, but he can hear Stan panting against the ground, can see his hands curling into fists. He remembers how many times Stan had called Carla McCorkle "easy" in high school and thinks, now, that the easy one had been his brother. 

"You gonna keep humpin' me, or are you gonna fuck me?" Stan demands, rocking as firmly back as he can with the bruising grip Ford has on him. 

"What makes you think you deserve that?" Ford bites out. It would serve Stan right, he thinks, if he got himself off exactly like this, no different than grinding against a particularly firm couch pillow. Just a conveniently warm object for Ford to release some tension with. 

Stan looks back over his shoulder and flashes teeth at him. It isn't a smile. "Oh, I get it. Cold feet? Well, we can just chalk it up to one more thing ya promised and then backed out of as soon as you actually had to make a choice. Good to know some things never change, Stanford."

He's being goaded, and Ford knows that. But the anger boils in his chest, and he thinks, why should he care about what Stan does or doesn't deserve from him? This is about what Ford deserves.

And what Ford deserves is to have his dick so far up Stan's ass he'll be able to feel it in the back of his throat. 

"Do you ever shut up?" he snaps while he releases one of Stan's hips to yank his slacks open. The bruise of his fingerprints already forming against Stan's skin thrills him, almost to distraction, if it weren't for Stan laughing again. 

"'Course not," he says, shifting his center of balance to dig into the pocket of his dirty red coat. The little packet he tosses over his shoulder bounces off his own ass to land by Ford's knee, the word LUBE printed in large, bold letters across the front. He should be surprised to see it, and part of him is. The word "easy" comes to mind again. 

Ford rips the packet open with his teeth. 

"F-Fuck!" Stan curses, turning his forehead against the ground when Ford presses his slick cock into him a moment later without warning. 

Ford grabs him roughly by the waist when he twitches forward and yanks Stan back until his ass hits the open fly of his slacks. He makes a choked sound at that and turns his face into the crook of his own arm when Ford pulls back and rocks hard back into him. 

"What's wrong, Stanley?" he parrots. He pistons his hips at a punishing pace, watching his cock pumping in and out of the greedy, grasping ring of Stan's hole. "Nothing to say?" 

Stan makes a noise that's too muffled by the sleeve of his coat to understand, so Ford reaches down to take a fistful of his stupid mullet instead. The hitching gasp that escapes his twin when his head is forcefully jerked up makes him groan. "What was that? Come on, Stanley, use your words." 

"F-Fuck off," Stan says, his voice strained, almost whining. 

"I see you haven't gotten anymore eloquent since you left," Ford scoffs around the breathlessness in his own voice, feeling the anger and pleasure coiling harder in his gut. "What was it you said? Good to know some things never change." 

When he pulls Stan's hair again, just because he can, Stan moans. And when he shifts his hips, driving in just as hard at the new angle, Stan shouts. With his own knees bracketed on either side of his, Ford can feel the way his thighs tremble when he clenches around his cock, and he can feel the sweat beading up under his palm where he's digging darker bruises into Stan's side. 

Ford feels like he's on the edge of delirium again, consumed by every sound Stan makes, every twitch of his hips, every ounce of his heat. He thinks, a bit wildly, that Stan may have been made for this, made to take his cock, for how well he does. 

It isn't until Stan jerks under him, going hot and tight around his cock and making a strangled noise in the back of his throat, that Ford realizes he may have said part of that out loud. That Stan came over it. 

He groans low in his throat and thrusts half a dozen more times into Stan's clenching hole before he comes as well. 

It's quiet for a few minutes other than their ragged panting, but it's Stan who eventually reaches back and swats at Ford's hand until he lets go of his hair. He takes the hint and pulls out, watching with no small amount of satisfaction as his come trickles down Stan's thighs. It strikes him suddenly that he wants to follow the wet trail back up with his tongue. It's enough to make his cock give a feeble, appreciative twitch. 

He isn't sure if he's just terribly distracted or if he loses time again, because when Ford next lifts his head, Stan is on his feet, pants pulled up around his waist but still open, and he has his journal in hand. This might be more jarring than the last transition he'd lost. 

"What are you doing?" he demands, shoving himself back onto his own feet. He doesn't bother to tuck his cock back in, and he spots the moment Stan's eyes flick down. It's brief, but he'd seen it. 

"What does it fucking look like I'm doing? I'm taking your stupid diary and disappearing like you begged me to," Stan says. His voice is still a little raw, and Ford has a moment to realize how much he likes that, before the words catch up. 

He scoffs. "Oh! So now you want to actually help?! Is it always this easy to fuck the sense into you?" 

Stan's expression does a few things Ford doesn't understand before his brows ultimately slam down and he turns his back, storming towards the door with Ford's journal still in hand, and Ford himself hot on his heels. "You're fucking unbelievable, Stanford, you know that?!" 

"Me?! You're the one who came all over my lab floor and then decided he was ready to be reasonable!" 

Stan jams his thumb against the call button for the elevator several times in quick succession, despite the car already being on their floor and the gate sliding open. "Most people would just say thank you when someone agreed to help them out, but not you! What does Stanford Pines have to be grateful for? We're all just fucking lucky to get a task from ya, huh?" 

Ford crowds into the elevator with him before Stan can try to pull the gate or call the doors shut behind him. He punches the button to take them up himself, before making a grab for the journal, snarling when Stan leans back and holds it up above his head. 

"You're the one who threatened to destroy my work twenty minutes ago, Stanley! Why would I trust you with it now? Hell, I can't figure out why I trusted you enough to bring you here in the first place!" 

"Oh really? You can't?" Stan sneers, leaning in close. And when Ford takes a step back, Stan follows, backing him into a corner of the car. "I don't think you fuckin' trusted me to do shit, Stanford. I think you were all outta options cause nobody else could stand to put up with you anymore." 

Stan doesn't so much as hit a nerve as he takes a sledgehammer to it, and as soon as the elevator dings, Ford shoves him as hard as he can out into the study. Stan yelps when he stumbles, nearly tripping over his own feet, and it's only knocking into a cluttered desk that keeps him from falling on his ass. 

Ford doesn't give him any time to right himself, storming in after him and grabbing him by the front of his jacket. Stan flinches, like he'ex expecting a punch, but Ford yanks him in and crushes his mouth against his instead. 

There's a dull thump that Ford only realizes was the journal being dropped when he feels both of Stan's hands on his shoulders. They curl briefly, grasping at him, and Ford feels his mouth starting to go soft and slack. But as soon as he presses in, runs his tongue along that loosening seam, he's suddenly being shoved backwards. 

If he weren't so damn confused, Ford would probably appreciate the picture Stan makes, lips slick and pants open, leaning back against one of Ford's desks. 

"What are you doing?!" Stan demands, like he's the one who doesn't know what day it is, and keeps losing track of events. 

"I would think even you could figure that out after what happened downstairs, Stanley."

Stan flushes, visible even in the low light of the study, though Ford isn't sure if it's embarrassment or anger. The scowl on his face doesn't help clear things up, either, though the fact that he isn't actually looking at Ford is...telling.  

"That ain't happening again," Stan states, and there isn't anything convincing about the way he says it at all. But when Ford steps forward, Stan sidesteps him and the desk. He makes a wrong turn in the dark, in a house he isn't familiar with, and flinches when Ford flips on the light in the kitchen he's walked into.

"I don't know how you expect to leave and hide my journal after leaving it in the study," he points out, frowning at the back of Stan's head. 

He isn't surprised when Stan whirls on him. He is, however, stunned still when he realizes Stan's eyes are wet. 

"What the fuck do you want from me, Stanford?!" Stan shouts, his voice cracking over his name, and it makes something feel like it's cracking inside his chest. 

Ford has to wet his lips when he finds them and his throat dry. "...I told you what I wanted," he says.

"Yeah, you did! And when I finally agreed to do it, you threw a fucking fit about it! And now you're pissy because I'm not?! What do you want?" 

The anger sparks sharply inside him again, and Ford grasps at it like a lifeline, willing to bloody his hands for that bite of stability. 

"You tried to burn it! My life's work! And you only decided you would help me after we--"

Stan cuts him off, looking towards the cabinets while he raises his voice and waves his hands. "Jesus Christ, I'm sorry about the fucking lighter, all right?!"

Ford frowns. He takes a step forward and, still without looking at him, Stan takes a step back. It's the elevator all over again, but this time Ford is pressing in, backing Stan into the cabinets. He grabs the counter on either side of his hips when he tries to side step him again. 

"Stanley, look at me," he demands, frowning harder when Stan sets his jaw and stars determinedly at his shoulder. "Stanley--"

"What do you want, Ford? Just...just fucking tell me and I'll leave, all right?" Stan says, his voice tired and soft as he reaches up to rub a hand over his own face.

He wants a lot, honestly. And hasn't that always been the problem? He's always wanted -- to be normal, to be respected, to be the best, to be special. 

To be wanted. 

To be enough.

To fix things. 

"You," he realizes, watching Stan jerk his head up. His lashes are still wet, and Ford can't stop himself from reaching up and pressing his palm to Stan's cheek, skimming his thumb gently under one of his eyes. 

When he leans in to kiss him again, Stan makes a small, wounded little noise under his mouth, but he parts his lips for Ford's tongue this time. Stan's lips are chapped and he tastes vaguely of stale cigarettes, but Ford is still struck by how soft and sweet he is. 

More than anything else that had happened that evening, this is the moment that Ford knows he should suspect most of all. The way Stan relaxes between him and the counter, the almost tentative way he lifts his tongue to meet his, the careful fingertips touching the edge of Ford's coat and brushing against his loose tie. It's tender in a way Ford didn't think either of them were capable of, and it should be setting off warning bells and red flags in every part of his mind. 

It isn't. 

Ford is more certain of  the reality of this single moment, the gentle slip of Stan's lips against his own, than he's been of anything in a long time. 

And then Stan sighs between them and murmurs, warm and hopeful, "Ford," against his lips, and he's done for. 

It doesn't matter that they just fucked, that Ford's come is probably still drying between Stan's thighs -- he can't keep his hands off of him. Ford is suddenly frantic and desperate in a way that he hadn't been downstairs. He needs to relearn the new, wider shape of Stan's shoulders and pecs. He needs to feel out every new scar and take stock of all the old ones he remembers Stan collecting for him as kids. He needs to be surrounded by him again, soaking in the warmth of him. 

Ford doesn't deserve absolution, but he thinks he may be able to find something close to it in the low, shaky way Stan moans his name. 

And there's familiarity in the way Stan grabs at him in turn, tugging at his jacket and tie and surging into another, harder kiss. Ford thinks he may not be the only one looking for expiation. 

Then Stan drops to his knees between him and the cabinet, and Ford stops thinking so much. His cock is still out, and Stan wastes no time in getting his fist around the shaft and his lips around the head. He suckles and swirls his tongue, and Ford shoves the beanie off of his head to get his hands in his hair. 

"Stanley," he gasps, stroking his fingers along his scalp and fisting the strands between them. 

Stan moans around him and shuffles closer, sliding the seal of his lips further down the length of Ford's cock. All he can do is groan and try to keep from rocking his hips as more of him is greeted by the warmth of his mouth and the wickedness of his tongue. 

He keeps waiting for Stan to reach his limit, to back off and give himself room to breathe. He doesn't. He keeps leaning in, keeps taking him, and then Ford feels his cockhead slip into Stan's throat, sees his lashes are wet again, and he has to put one hand on the counter to keep himself steady. "Fuck, Stanley, you're so good at this."

Stan makes a horribly sweet sound around the girth of Ford's cock and reaches up to hold his hips as he swallows, and Ford is suddenly afraid he's going to embarass himself.  His hips twitch despite his best efforts to keep them still, but Stan simply relaxes his jaw and his throat and tugs a little to encourage him to do it again. He does, of course, how could he not? 

Despite the heat clawing its way through him and the pleasure mounting dangerously high, Ford almost feels outside of himself again. The picture Stan makes, with his eyes damp and heavy lidded, his lips wet and stretched around Ford's cock, his hair fisted in Ford's fingers and his own clinging to Ford's hips -- it's lewd, debauched, and so horribly sweet that it makes Ford's chest hurt. 

Stan gasps raggedly when Ford pulls him off. "I was go-gonna...I mean you can--"

Ford kneels down to kiss him, tasting stale cigarettes and himself, cock throbbing over the rough state of Stan's voice. "Not done yet," he manages, before tugging Stan onto his feet. 

They lose clothes and time on the journey upstairs, tripping over the steps and Ford's discarded pants, and stumbling into his wreck of a room. If Stan notices the state of things, he doesn't comment, mouth latched onto Ford's shoulder and hands all over his back and hips. 

The back of Ford's legs hit the bed and he sits hard on the mattress. Stan doesn't hesitate to crawl up into his lap. He'd lost his boots in the kitchen and his jeans and boxers somewhere on the way to the stairs, giving him ample opportunity to rub his bare cock against Ford's. 

Cursing, Ford rolls his hips and only belatedly remembers to reach up and tug the hideous red coat off of Stan's shoulders. 

"Oh, fuck, hold on. I think I have another one," Stan says, panting softly as he digs into the pockets of his coat. Ford takes the opportunity to run his hands across Stan's thighs and ass, squeezing whatever skin he can until Stan makes a triumphant sound and pulls another little packet of lube free. 

Only then does he let Ford toss his jacket aside and tug him further up the bed with him. He doesn't protest when Ford takes the packet from him, lowering his head to work open mouth kisses up Ford's throat instead, and he rolls his hips distractingly while Ford fights to get the damnable thing open. He ignores the snickering against his skin in the process. 

It stops anyway, hitching into something warm and startled when Ford sinks two slick fingers into him. 

"Oh, fuck," Stan breaths, reaching up to grab Ford by the shoulder, holding himself steady. "Y-You know you don't have to do that, right? Pretty loosened up already."

He is, to be fair. His hole is still soft and loose and fucked open. But Ford enjoys petting his fingers against the tender muscle and stroking them inside anyway. He likes watching Stan bite his lip and push himself back onto his hand. When he slides a third in after the first two, Stan's thighs tremble on either side of his own, and he makes a low, throaty sound. 

When Ford curls his fingers just right, Stan yells and grips his shoulder hard enough to hurt, and it makes warm satisfaction curl in his middle. So he does it a few more times, alternating between spreading his fingers and rubbing the tips against Stan's prostate until he's squirming in his lap. 

"I-I'm gonna come if you don't knock that sh-shit off," he gasps, slumping a bit when Ford chuckles and slides his fingers out. 

"I think I'd like that," Ford says, squeezing his slick fingers against Stan's thigh. 

He snorts and straightens back up, finding the discarded lube packet to squirt the remainder onto Ford's cock. "Yeah, I bet you fucking would," Stan agrees, but there's no malice in his voice, just warm amusement. 

His fist is warm and wonderful when it curls around Ford's cock, spreading lube, and then Ford is being held steady, Stan adjusts himself on his scuffed knees, and there's nothing else to do but hold on as Stan lowers himself into his lap. 

It feels as good as it had earlier to be inside of him, and Ford squeezes the thigh under his hand tightly, fighting against the need to buck his hips. Stan is panting softly, his head tilted back and a pretty, pink color is crawling up from under his t-shirt to flood his neck and face. 

Ford groans and leans forward, finding a nipple through his thin shirt to get his teeth and tongue against.

"F-Ford!" Stan gasps, fumbling the hand not clawing at his shoulder up into his hair, and Ford sucks hard on the firm nub,  rubbing spit-soaked cotton against it with his tongue until Stan rocks in his lap. 

Fuck, he likes that, the way his name sounds in Stan's voice, especially warm and rough after fucking his throat earlier. 

He squeezes Stan's thigh and his hip, giving him a little tug, and that's all the encouragement Stan needs before he's bouncing on his cock. Ford has that thought again -- that Stan was meant to be filled by him, that they're a perfectly matched set. But it isn't just feeling good and hot while Stan fucks himself in his lap. It's feeling like he's been missing something and he finally has it, like he's finally complete again. 

He's missed this, Ford realizes. 

Not the fucking his brother part. He'd fantasized about that for years but it still feels like a dream that it's happening, like something that's too good to be true. 

But being able to put his arms around him? To be this close to him again? 

Ford rocks his hips up, hard, and Stan says his name. He wraps his fingers around Stan's cock, and he gasps his name. He bites the same swollen, pink nipple through his shirt, and Stan shouts his name. 

He snaps his hips up to meet him a few more times and rubs the sensitive glans under the head of Stan's cock, and then there are teeth digging into his other shoulder and his fist and stomach are being striped in Stan's come while he shudders and jerks overtop of him. 

Stan goes easily when Ford rolls them over and pins one of his wrists to the bed. And despite the way he squirms and how his spent cock twitches and leaks, blatantly overstimulated, he hooks his ankles behind Ford's back and urges him on. 

"C-C'mon, give it to me. Fuck, just like that, Sixer!" 

The nickname hits him with all the subtlety of a truck and all the heat of a volcanic eruption. 

He doesn't even remember coming so much as he remembers every synapses in his brain trying to fire at once. Coming back down to reality is a little clearer, with his head spinning and pulse racing as he flops onto his back, but it still takes several long minutes before he feels fully cognizant again. 

Something makes the bed shift, and he looks over to see that Stan has rolled onto his stomach. Ford wonders if he looks half as fucked out as Stan does, with bruises blossoming across his body, his shirt rucked halfway up his stomach, and come staining his ass and thighs. Ford realizes Stan still has his socks on, and he can't figure out why that makes something twinge, hot but exhausted and halfhearted, in his gut. 

"Gonna...gonna get up in a minute," Stan says, his voice slurring and his eyes already closed. Ford watches him rub his cheek against one of Ford's pillows, and the soft sound of snoring follows soon after. 

The reality of the situation starts to settle in shortly after that, and Ford stares wide eyed up at the ceiling as if he'll find some sort of answers there. Unsurprisingly, there are no secrets etched overhead for how to reckon with the fact that he had just fucked his brother, twice, while the fate of the world was still very much hanging in the balance between his fraying sanity and Bill's looming threat. 

".....Fuck," Ford murmurs.

When the adrenaline finishes seeping out of his system, Ford expects to crash. The exhaustion certainly climbs back into his bones, but he's surprised to find himself still clear headed. Focused. 

The sound of Stan sleeping soundly beside him is as soothing as it is mocking, but he doesn't want to separate himself from it even though he knows he needs to get up. There's soft, gray light starting to creep in through the windows, and distant birdsong calling for the start of the day. He needs to readjust, to come up with a new plan, find some way to explain to Stan what's going on so they can buy themselves a little more time. 

Against all odds and his better judgment, there's a tiny, optimistic voice in the back of his head reminding him that there's strength in numbers. He isn't surprised that it sounds like Stan.

[cursedextrovert]

*signs* I dont like that we are fighting about Caitlyn so I would just like to point out some of the things I noticed.

Cait never apologise in words but I think its for the better. Her apologies doesnt make things better. She accounts for her action(saying shes aware of the pain she has caused siding with Ambressa) and she has only tried to be better. She was blinded by her grieve and agreeing with Ambressa because shes the only one justifying her grievance and rage toward Jinx. Even herself might have been aware that Jinx's act wasnt simply a deranged person doing but a respond from generational opression(hence her line: its so easy to hate them). Nothing that she does will change the past, even her apologies, so

- In the ending scene we see that Cait was holding part of Jinx's bomb while looking at the building blueprint. Shes trying to find her! For Vi!

- She told Vi that she doesnt have anyone guarding the cell because she wants Vi to get Jinx out. She cant because she still has lost her mom to this person.

- The scene where Vi rests her head on Cait's shoulder, we see Cait's eye open. Maybe she never find peace, maybe she will spend her whole life living knowing what she did.

- That line: Are you still in this, Vi? Cait doesnt expect Vi to, she knows she doesnt deserve to ask Vi to stay. She can just hope.

Like everyone's emotions are valid Im not saying you shouldnt be upset or disappointed that the media didnt deliver what you expect. But maybe we will all feel better reading into the nuance. I think Cait suffers, and eventhough the fact that she suffers doesnt erase what she did, she still a person that did something bad and suffer the consequences of her actions. And Vi love her, she didnt ask her for an apology and she chose to stay(so maybe we give some credit to Vi character's agency?).

We always say we want a morally grey character, Caitlyn is one no?

[oddsandends-dirt-to-dust]

ppl saying the caitvi sex scene was rushed, came out of nowhere, and can’t understand why Vi went straight to fucking cait after what just happened with jinx is odd to me.

Vi blames herself for the problems in her life consistently, and violently. she hates herself for how things have turned out.

when cait walks into the cell, Vi is blaming herself out loud for “making mistakes and loosing everyone”. when cait tells Vi that she let her steal the keys to jinx’s cell on purpose, it’s straight up confirmation that what Vi thinks to be true, is wrong.

she hasn’t lost everyone, cait hasn’t changed beyond repair. It started in ep 6, when cait betrayed ambessa to help Vi and her family. then this moment in ep 8 showed Vi that cait loves and trusts her enough to finally put aside her hatred for jinx, and support Vi in whatever choices she makes.

idk how long the time skip was but judging by Vi’s hair it was probably somewhere between 6 months and a year. imagine thinking of the girl you love everyday, thinking she was lost to anger and hatred, and then seeing her again and slowly realising she isn’t gone.

Vi is a physical person, we see that all throughout the show. Whether she’s punching people or walls, throwing things, screaming, she lets her emotions out through physical motion. in emotional moments with cait, she’s always touching her. when she pushes her up against the wall in the brothel, when she’s stroking her face or her hands during intimate conversations.

so Vi responded to the confirmation and the surge of emotions it caused with kissing cait, and then doing the most physically intimate thing possible with her. cait showed Vi she was willing to fight for her, and Vi dropped straight to her knees for cait. because that’s the kind of person Vi is.

they weren’t fucking they were making LOVE 💔

sure it’s not exactly healthy behaviour, but it’s not out of character for Vi to act that way. look at how she acted with jinx in that very cell 5 minutes earlier. when she realised her sister wasn’t gone, she stopped “hating” her, instantly jumping right back into the older sister role.

and i don’t think Vi forgave it all right there, the last scene shows her and cait clearly still have some issues - Vi calling herself the dirt under caits nails is a clear indicator of how cait made Vi feel with her actions.

but the sex scene is totally in character for Vi, i don’t think it was bad writing, it’s just tragic.

i do agree, in the cell is crazy, Vi deserves better, she always has. but they’re in the middle of a war, and it was an emotionally charged scene. they’re not gonna pause and go all the way up to a bedroom to fuck when troops are on their way to kill everyone.

so i don’t think it was rushed, or out of nowhere. Vi deserves better, i’m not defending cait, but i feel like some ppl don’t get it 💔

[ask-codeearasure]

STOP LEAVING THIS SHIT IN THE TAGS I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD DUDE

This is the kind of shit that wakes me up from the afternoon sluggishness, the mindset of "fuck everyone I'm not going to work today and everything is shit".

Jesus Christ I'm gonna get you one day. I will make myself an idiot sandwich when I do. I will make you understand the brainrot you curse me with, the dull sense of fascination I feel about these faggots, stages and headcanons and all.

It has become a great point of borderline-obsession for me to imagine Stage 1 and Stage 2's complicated dynamics with Color before they finally both understand he's got no ulterior motives. Then they turn against each other full-force because Stage 1 is a wuss with attachment issues.

I think it would be funny if Stage 2 is the Stage that starts trusting Color first, no apprehensive questions asked, and then Stage 1 starts having a fucking conniption over it, like they don't understand what the fuck #2 is doing or why so they automatically assume the worst when really #2 is just happy to finally have a guy that doesn't treat him like the odd one out or try to alienate him over premeditated assumptions.

#1 recognizing Color is safe and trustworthy is the equivalent to strangling themself to not fuck up the one good thing they have going for them while #2 would appear to just accept it, like a simple "okay" while he's constantly making calculations about the what-ifs anyway. They're both paranoid, but #2 picked up the habit of scheming so he always has a semblance of a plan if anything goes wrong while #1 constantly obsesses over the potential of everything going to shit, not so much how they'd react aside from breaking down, running away, and maybe finding a way to finally die.

Color gives #2 basic fucking respect then goes beyond that as they keep interacting and #2 finds he likes that a lot actually, only for #1 to try and sabotage their relationship through their paranoid bullshit.

And like, I'm not saying #1 has no reason to be this way, they do, it's all just popping up at the wrong time where these behaviors and habits aren't necessary anymore.

#2 is bound to get pissed at #1 openly at some point. He just wants to be around his pookie and chill, no bloodshed needed, and the constant hot-and-cold, yes-and-no, will they-won't they, push-and-pull attitude #1 resorts to makes him realize that maybe, just maybe, he's gonna have to invest in a notebook to start communicating with this bitch thoroughly. Cause his main man, his one trusted guy being pushed away is not doing them any favors and he wouldn't know what to do if Color had enough at some point and just left like #1 seems to want.

So they have this back-and-forth for several months while Stage 3 is the one actually chilling. It gives no fucks about the other two imbeciles, it's enjoying every minute it spends with Color, but may or may not scream when #1 or #2 try to switch in.

...imagine what a blend of #2 and #3 would act like. I think they'd be extremely clingy to Color, maybe hug him with their entire body and stay like that even as he's moving around doing his own thing, but retains the #2 behaviors of studying everything that piques their interest and not responding to much emotional stimuli, and all while they're heavily dissociating. Once separate, neither of them remember where they got that information but just accept it.

ANYWAYS I hate these fucking people, I should stick them in the pear wiggler and lock the door behind them.

#2 I believe, while he's trying to do better through his bond with Color, still has manipulative habits compulsively. He knows he has an issue with that but the problem is he doesn't recognize the hows and why's. But #1 does and reacts the completely wrong way in getting anyone to notice the signs. They are set in fucking over #2 when what #2 actually needs is a clear reference in how he can change these behaviors.

He really does value Color, all of them do, but he feels like at this point in time he's the only one actually being productive about it and that's gonna be another reason why he's so infuriated with #1.

He's trying to get better for his own sake, taking notes and observing Color's needs as well so he can stick by him more effectively. If only #1 stopped destroying those notes under the pretense #2 still thinks of Color as a jumbo-sized lab rat and not the most reliable ride-or-die in existence.

I am waiting for the time #2 finally snaps openly and Color receives a rant about #1 being a bitch while he's stuck in sleep paralysis. That would be one hell of a way to find out yo boy's got suppressed issues he's struggling to sort out himself.

-- Sarco

the way stage 1 handles the other stages and advises others to the same is just both hilarious and sad

“Yeah no don’t trust me when im like that. im sure being told that everything i do or attempt to express is just me manipulating and lying won’t have consequences”

“oh yeah just kill me when im like that. what? I tried to defend myself against being murdered and killed when I was like that? gee golly im just so insane and crazy and violence is all I know you simply must kill me”

“what? hiding this part of myself and trying to suppress and resist it and pretend it doesn’t exist has consequences in that it will only make itself more know the more I resist?..I need to hide all evidence of its existence even more! In fact you should kill me before i ever become like that!”

like is it any wonder you feel so threatened in other stages when you actively turn others against you and encourage them to dehumanize and demonize you, thinking you’re doing anyone any good

[snuffysis]

TW/CW; Dad tells daughter she was hot as a kid (if you don't wanna read that then skip like the first 5 sentences in paragraph 14)

The last parts were rushed and a little lazy bc I gave up.

I was in the car with my dad and three brothers, I was the passenger princess, like always, while my brothers were in the backseats and dad was driving. "We're going to be up here for a full week, baby." Dad said and put a hand on my thigh, he always said that it was his way of showing affection. "Yeah, that means no crying like a little bitch." Michael said from the middle seat, he was leaning back and staring up at the roof of the car. "Hey-!" I responded and pouted, causing our dad to glare at him in the rearview mirror. "Leave your sister alone." Dad said in his deep voice, I always found it soothing and used to make him read all my bedtime stories. "Why does she even have to come? This is more of a guy thing." My other brother, Dylan, said, his slight Australian accent slipping out. "Because your mom is on a business trip, I don't feel like paying for a babysitter, and she's only seventeen." Dad responded, causing me to chuckle softly. "I'm eighteen, my birthday was last week, remember?" I teased, my dad always accidentally said I was a year younger than I was for a few weeks after my birthday. "Yeah, dad, we're eighteen." My twin brother, Kyle, spoke in an annoyed tone, he hated when our dad accidentally said we were younger than we just turned. "Right.. I'm sorry kiddos, I just got used to saying you were seventeen." Dad responded and rubbed my thigh. "It's ok, dad!" I said, smiling at him while Kyle just rolled his eyes with a small smile on his face as he looked at me. We sat in silence for a while when I decided to play some music. "Diggy! Diggy! Diggy!" The crowd cheered in the song. "This guy? Seriously?" Michael asked with a disguised tone, he absolutely HATED Diggy Graves because I listened to him constantly. "Think I'm seein' ghosts again, in my home again, all alone again, I rot.. Thoughts in my head, in my head, won't stop.." I mumbled along to the song. "Better off dead, let the gun go pop." Kyle said, giving me a small smile. "Shut up." Michael said, groaning in irritation. "Why you screamin' ladies?" Dylan joined in. "You know Diggy don't die! Even if I wanted to, probably do it with a knife!" The three of us sang, smiling and laughing a bit. "Dad! Tell these brats to shut up!" Michael complained. "They're just having fun, Mike." Dad responded, a small smile on his face as he looked at me. "I've been twisted in the head, ever since I could write. Ever since I learned to walk, I started running from life. I'm tryna haunt my way to fame, call me poltergeist." We sang, watching as Michael got more pissed. The rest of the car ride was us torturing Michael with songs he hated. "We're here." Dad said as he parked the car and got out. "Finally.." I mumbled, getting out and immediately walking into the forest. "Where are you going?" Kyle asked as he followed me. "I have to piss. Stay there." I walked behind a tree and pulled my pants and panties down before popping a squat and pissing on the leaves below. Kyle walked away only to return with toilet paper which he handed me. "You could've at least stayed behind the tree." I said, taking the toilet paper and using a bit to wipe. "Oh please, we're twins, it's like I'm looking at a female version of myself." Kyle responded, crossing his arms and leaning against a tree that was behind him. I rolled my eyes and stood up, fixing clothes before burying the toilet paper I used. Kyle took the roll and led me back to the car. We got our stuff and walked into the clearing in the woods where our dad and brothers were already setting up the big tent. "I'll set ours up." Kyle said and took the tent from me. Typically during camping trips we'd have one tent for two people but since Mom was on a business trip Dylan and Michael agreed to sleep in the big tent with dad while Kyle and I wanted to keep our smaller two person tent. I watched as both tents got set up, Kyle never let me help even though we shared the tent and dad wouldn't let me help with his because he doesn't believe a woman should work… and Dylan and Michael thought I'd mess up or break something.

I snuck off to gather some rocks and sticks for a fire pit, putting them in a grocery store bag that I knew would come in handy. I walked back to the campsite where Kyle immediately spotted me. "Kitty. Come." He demanded and snapped his fingers, pointing at the ground in front of him. "I'm not a dog." I responded, rolling my eyes as I handed him the bag since it was hurting my hand. "You ran off like one." Kyle responded and began setting up the fire pit. "Don't run off like that again." Dylan said, he emerged from the forest as well, he was carrying a bloody rabbit body. I looked at him confused before realizing it was sunset. "I must've lost track of time.. I'm really sorry.." I said, lowering my head. "Just don't do that again.." Michael said, hugging me from behind, his arms around my waist. "I-I won't." I said, gently rubbing Michael's arms, unsure of what else to do. "Good girl.." Michael responded, pressing a kiss to my head. I smiled but Michael let go and cleared his throat while walking away. I pouted a bit, it was a rare occurrence for Michael to show affection and every time he pulled away was sad. My dad ran over and squeezed me before I could react. "Don't run away again!" Dad sorta yelled as he held me. "I was worried something bad would happen to you.. take Kyle next time.." He said and let go, making me look up at him. Before I could say anything he pressed a kiss to my cheek, his lips lingering longer than they should. "Ok, dad.." I smiled and gave him a quick kiss on his forehead. Dad gave me one more squeeze before walking over to Dylan. I smiled and walked over to Kyle who stood up, done with the fire pit. "Need something?" Kyle asked, reaching a hand up to my cheek and caressing it with his thumb. "No, I just wanted to come hug you." I said before wrapping my arms around his neck, pressing close against him so I could hug him super tight. Kyle moved his hands to my waist and gently hugged me, his hands loosely hanging, grazing my ass. "I love you.." Kyle whispered before kissing the side of my head. I smiled and relaxed in his arms, feeling an odd bulge in his pants. "Your hunting knife is pressing against me, y'know.." I said quietly, oblivious to what it actually was. "Oh.. uh.. yeah.. sorry sis.." Kyle said but he only held me tighter. "I love you too, brother." I said which made him press his knife against me harder. "I love you so much, sis.." He managed to get out, moving his hips slightly. "Are you ok?" I asked, confused. "Mhm.. just.. standing uncomfortable.." He responded, hesitantly letting me go.

I gave Kyle a quick cheek kiss before walking away, not noticing the bulge in his pants. I walked over to Michael who was hiding behind a tree, playing with his lighter. "Whatcha doin'?" I asked even though it was obvious. "Are you blind?" Michael responded before pulling me behind the tree and holding me, except I wasn't facing him. "You're a big softie." I teased, getting a small chuckle in response. "At least I'm not pushing you on the ground and pinning you there like I do everyone at school." He teased in response before placing a kiss on my neck. "I love you, big brother." I said, something hard pressed against me again, only this time it was against my ass. "I love you too, lil sis.." He responded, his arms wrapped around my waist and he rocked his hips. "What are you doing..?" I asked, a strange warm feeling in my most intimate part. "I'm just being a good big brother.." He responded, rocking his hips harder, causing me to whimper softly. I stood there, not moving, I didn't know what to do, I didn't even know if this was alright, but he's my big brother so it must be ok, right? "Kids! Come here!" Dad hollered, causing Michael to stop and groan before dragging me with him back to the tents. Kyle and Dylan were already there, dad had blood all over his hands, pants, and shirt along with some rabbit fur. "So, kiddos, I need you to all gather firewood in pairs while I clean up, remember, we'll be out here for a week and it might rain so we need a lot." Dad said, I could've sworn his gaze went to my small tits for a split second. Michael had a devilish grin as he wrapped an arm around me. "I'll take Kitty, she needs someone big and strong to help her, after all.." He said, looking at me, I watched his gaze drift down my body but before I could say anything, dad spoke. "No. She's going with Kyle. You'll most likely leave her in the forest as one of your pranks and then she'll actually get lost." Dad said, his tone stern, leaving no room for Michael to argue.

Kyle and I walked into the woods, I picked up the wood and handed it to him so he could carry it since he was stronger than me. "This is nice.. just you and me.." Kyle said, a small smile playing on his lips. "Mhm! Super fun!" I responded before walking a little ahead and bending down to pick up another piece of firewood, unaware he had the perfect view of my ass in my leggings, because the stretched a little too much he could see a little bit of my pretty pink panties before I stood back up. Kyle paused for a moment before walking over, his cheeks slightly pink. "I think we have enough, it's getting cold and it's almost dark.." He said, I just nodded and carried the piece of wood I was holding back to the tents, looking back at him occasionally. He seemed to be walking a little slower than usual but I assumed it was just because of all the wood. Our dad was cooking the rabbit with the wood I got earlier. "We're back." I said, walking over to dad and putting the piece of wood down and kissing his head. "Hey, princess." Dad responded and looked up, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. I smiled and walked to the entrance of my tent and grabbed a bottle of water, twisting the cap off and taking a sip. "Boo." Dylan's voice sounded behind me, his hands grabbed my waist. "Whatcha doin'?" I asked, turning my head to look at him. "Just checking on my little sister." Dylan replied and leaned in, gently kissing my lips. I kissed back, he's my brother so of course he wouldn't do anything bad to me.

Dylan eventually pulled away and went to help our dad with something while I stepped inside the tent and pulled my shirt off. I pulled my sports bra off, releasing my small tits and tossing the fabric on the ground. I pulled my pants and panties off, setting them with my bra and shirt before slipping a nightgown on and walking out to my dad and brothers, the four of them were illuminated by the fire light. "Already in your nightgown?" Michael asked, looking me up and down. "Yeah, I'm going to bed after I eat." I said, sitting in one of the camping chairs. "Your nightgown is a little short, isn't it?" Dylan pointed out, pointing to the nightgown that only covered down to the middle of my thighs. "Yeah, but I don't feel like changing." I responded, crossing my legs. My dad smiled slightly and handed me a bowl. "Here, hun." He said, smiling at me. "Oh, thanks dad." I responded and took a bite, he'd made rabbit stew, Dylan's favorite, no wonder he ran off to kill one earlier. Kyle was being surprisingly quiet, scrolling on his phone. We talked and ate, Kyle was still being unusually quiet before he got up and went to the tent. I continued chatting with the others as we ate before setting my empty bowl down and walking into the tent as well. I walked over to my sleeping bag and laid down, glancing at Kyle who had his back turned to me. "Goodnight, Kyle." I said, turning over and closing my eyes. "Goodnight, Kitty.." Kyle responded, his voice low, barely above a whisper. I smiled a bit and fell asleep surprisingly fast. I woke up to my face in my pillow, unable to move as something slid in and out of my pussy, my virginity being taken without my consent. I looked at Kyle's sleeping bag from the corner of my eye but I didn't see him, until my assailant intertwined his fingers with mine, I recognized that black nail polish, it was Kyle's hand. My mind raced, what was happening? Why was my own twin brother doing this? My thoughts continued until suddenly his cock was removed, that's when I felt cum leaking from my pussy. I panicked but couldn't speak for some reason. "I'm so sorry.. I love you so much.." Kyle whispered and got up, moving over to his sleeping bag.

I must've passed out because the next thing I knew I woke up to the birds chirping the next morning. "You must've had loads of fun.." Michael's voice came from behind me, his fingers running through my slick folds. "N-no.. I-I didn't.." I tried to explain what had happened but Michael just chuckled and fingered Kyle's cum back inside of me. "Don't act innocent now, sis." Michael said as I moaned and whimpered. "Dad..!" I tried to call out, my voice hoarse. "Dad took Kyle and Dylan out fishing." Michael said, curling his fingers inside of me. "Mmph.." I groaned and tried to push his hand away but it was no use. "Stop fighting it." Michael said and withdrew his fingers before forcing his cock in my pussy, it stretched me more than Kyle's. "No.." I murmured as he began pounding my cunt, causing me to moan and whine. "Fuck.. you're my cock so good.." Michael groaned, the sound of skin hitting skin filled the tent along with my moans and pleas for him to stop. "You were made to be a cocksleeve.. my cocksleeve.." Michael growled in my ear, his hands grabbed my hips and lifted my lower half. I moaned louder, the movement he made making his cock hit a little deeper. "You're so pretty, moaning while I rape you." Michael said, his hips stuttering as he came, a gutteral groan escaping his lips. "Fuck.." He panted, his cock buried inside of my pussy. "You're such a little whore, kiddo.." He said, pressing kisses on my neck. I cried, my world practically shattered, my oldest brother and twin brother both raped me in less than twenty-four hours. Both of them came in my cunt, there was no way I wouldn't get pregnant. Michael kept saying things to degrade and praise me, each one made me feel worse about letting them rape me. Michael eventually pulled out, fixed his clothes, and left. I got up and used my dirty clothes to try and clean up the cum but it was too deep inside for me to completely clean. I took my nightgown off and slipped on sweatpants and a sweatshirt on over some underwear and one of my bras.

I sat by the fire pit and stared at the ashes in it, zoned out as my mind replayed what happened with Kyle and Michael. I zoned out a little too long since I suddenly felt some grabbing my shoulders, massaging them. "You ok?" Dylan asked as snapped back into reality. "Mhm.." I responded, lying to him, how would he believe me that both of our brothers raped me in this trip? "Wanna go for a walk?" Dylan asked, pressing a kiss to the back of my head. I nodded eagerly, wanting to get far away from Kyle and Michael at least temporarily. Dylan grabbed my hand and we walked into the forest, I could feel Kyle and Michael's cum coating my panties as it continued to leak out of me. We talked and he even made me laugh and smile as we walked, we talked about how amazing our mom is, how pretty she is, even joked about her not being a traditional wife since she worked too much, couldn't cook, she was always too busy to clean, etc. We walked for a while before Dylan pushed me against a tree and pulled my sweatpants and underwear down. "What are you doing!?" I asked, trying to push myself off of the bark as he unzipped his jeans. "Shh.. it's ok.." Dylan said as he pushed the tip of his dick into my ass, no lubricant or anything. "N-no-!" I shouted but he didn't thrust, instead there was a warm stream of liquid filling me. "Shh.. it's ok, Kitty.. you're ok.." Dylan whispered in my ear as he pulled out before putting a plug in me, holding his piss. "All better, little sis. It wasn't that bad." He said, leaning over and kissing my cheek. I was shocked and confused, I expected him to rape me, not piss in me. Dylan seemed to notice the cum dripping into my underwear and ran his cock through my cum-slick folds, making me feel as it got hard. "Slight change in plans, your big brother's gonna help make sure you don't use your fingers again." Dylan said, he somehow thought the cum was all mine, all from me masturbating. "It's not-" I was cut off by a small gasp escaping my lips as the plug was pulled out only for it to be replaced by his cock, slick with our brothers cum. Dylan stretched me out so much I thought I might tear like a woman giving birth. I moaned and cried out as he brutally raped me, begging him to stop before I felt myself clenching around his cock, my cunt getting wet, I was… enjoying this. My mind went blank as I focused on the feeling, it felt so good despite hurting so bad, my clit ached with the need to be touched. "Good fucking girl.." Dylan cooed in my ear as he reached in front of me and rubbed my clit, it felt so good, I didn't want him to stop. I pushed back against him, my cries stopped, replaced by whore-ish moaned and encouragement. "Oh fuck.. like that.. please.." I moaned out, my hands moving up to grope my small tits through my sweatshirt and bra. My mind was full of nothing but the intense pleasure my brother provided. "Fuck.. mom and dad neglected my needs for far too long.. now that I have you, I'm not letting go.." Dylan spoke as his hips stuttered. I felt myself cum, squirting onto the ground as Dylan's cum mixed with his piss from moments ago.

Dylan plugged me up and we went back to the tents, I had a slight limp so we agreed to say that I'd twisted my ankle if anyone asked. Michael and dad were cutting something bloody up while Kyle was playing on his phone. Dylan and I snuck a quick kiss before walking over to the fire pit and sitting down. The mix of cum and piss being plugged didn't feel too nice but I just shrugged it off. "Welcome back, princess." Dad said, giving me a small smile that actually made my heart skip a beat for some reason. I smiled back and yawned softly, between the walk, Michael, and Dylan I was pretty tired. "Tired already?" Dad questioned, setting his knife down. "Just a little.. Dylan and I went on a pretty long walk." I responded, Dylan nodded in agreement as he yawned, although he also went fishing earlier. "Go take a nap, you could even lay in my sleeping bag if you'd like." Dad suggested, it was obvious he was talking to me, not Dylan. "Oh, ok, thanks dad." I responded, smiling. "I have to go to the bathroom first." I said and got up, walking to dads tent and grabbing the toilet paper before walking into the trees. I removed my sweatpants and underwear and squatted, taking the plug out of me and pushing my brothers cum and Dylan's piss out. I wiped myself clean as well as the toy and put my clothes back on. I went into dads tent and slipped the toy back in Dylan's bag then laid in my dads sleeping bag and fell asleep.

"Kitty.. hey.. food's done.." Kyle said as he shook me awake. "Dad wanted me to come get you so you could eat.." He smiled a bit and kissed my forehead. "Mmph.. ok.." I said and slowly got up. Kyle led me to the fire pit where dad handed me a bowl of food. I sat beside him and smiled, taking a bite. "I was thinking, your brothers could go out hunting tomorrow and you and I could have a daddy daughter day, how does that sound?" My dad asked, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "That sounds amazing, dad." I smiled and kissed his cheek. "We'll go up to the river, I know you love swimming." He said, kissing my head. "Alright." I responded and continued eating. Dad turned to my brothers and started talking to them, making sure they were prepared for going out without him. "Dad, you taught us all how to hunt when we each turned 8. I'm 25, Dylan's 22, and Kyle's 18. We've got this." Michael said, his tone confident and pretty cocky. "Yeah, we're good with guns and knives." Kyle added, smiling sinisterly, that comment sent chills down my spine as if it was a threat to me. I finished eating and put my bowl down. "I'm gonna go to bed, make sure I'm well rested." I smiled at dad and kissed his cheek again. "Alright, sweetie." Dad responded and hugged me before letting me go to my tent. I changed into shorts and a t-shirt as well as clean underwear before laying down and falling asleep.

The next morning I woke up to birds chirping again and looked around, my vision slightly blurred with sleep. I noticed Kyle on his phone and followed his other arm to see him stroking his cock, his hand moving up and down. "Morning.. I'm gonna change.." I sat up and grabbed some of my clothes before leaving the tent, not letting him give an explanation or anything. I walked into the treeline again and stripped before slipping into my red bikini, the only bathing suit I had brought. I put on a white button-up shirt made out of towel-like fabric and matching shorts before walking back to the tent and putting my t-shirt and shorts with my dirty clothes, that's when I noticed the underwear that had Kyle and Michael's cum missing. I looked over at Kyle who was stroking his cock with them and trying to check me out. I turned around and walked out, disgusted by him. Dad was sitting by the fire pit with some coffee so I walked over and sat on his lap. "I love you, dad." I said, wrapping my arms around his neck as I hugged him. "I love you too, kiddo." He responded, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing my cheek. I smiled and rested my head on his chest. "We'll leave in just a minute, love." Dad said, taking a sip of his coffee. "Ok." I happily hugged him, relaxing in his arms.

Dad made sure my brothers were ready before we headed off to the river since it was a decent day anyways. I took my shirt and shorts off and got into the water, looking back at my dad whose eyes seemed like they were on my ass for a brief moment before he pulled his shirt off and stepped in the water as well. I walked further in the water until the cold water was up to my neck. My dad followed but it didn't go as high since he was taller than me. "You look pretty in red, kiddo." Dad said, hugging me from behind, his hands on my tummy. "Thanks, dad, you bought this for me when I was like 16, remember?" I responded, smiling up at him. "Oh.. I remember.." He replied, his grip on me getting tighter, pulling me flush against him. I gently rubbed his arms, enjoying the feeling of his warm embrace. Dad picked me up and set me on a smooth rock. "I want to help you if you'll let me, princess." He said, pushing my thighs open a bit. "But- but dad.." I said, trying to push my legs back together. "Just let me make you feel good, sweetie.." Dad said, pulling the fabric of my bathing suit bottoms to the side and giving my clit a gentle lick. "Mm.. dad.. no.. this is wrong.." I protested but didn't push him away, his tongue just felt so nice. He gently kissed my clit and sucked it softly before moving his tongue down to my entrance, teasing it. "Mm.. d-dad.. dad.. ah.. no.." I protested, squirming slightly. "Mm.. princess.. say 'dada' again.." Dad groaned against my pussy, his tongue pushing inside. "D-dada.." I moaned softly, hips bucking forward. He groaned against me and pumped his tongue in and out of me. "Oh god.. dada.. no.. this is so wrong.." I moaned, my hips grinding against his face as I came on his tongue.

My dad licked up my cum and pulled his swim trunks off. "Dad? What are you doing?" I asked, closing my legs. "You're going to feel every inch of the cock that made you." Dad replied, forcing my thighs open and pulling the fabric of my bathing suit bottoms to the side again "D-dad-! N-no-!" I tried to get away but he forced his cock deep inside of me, setting a rough pace that made me scream and cry. "Dad! No! Stop! This isn't right! Please! Stop! You're hurting me!" I yelled, trying to push him off but I was too weak. "I'm hurting you? Oh please. You've hurt me for years. Not letting me fuck your cunt. Being so fucking innocent. Always announcing your period. You're a fucking tease." Dad said, pounding into me way too hard. I screamed louder, my tears streaming down my cheeks as my pussy bled from his aggressive thrusts. Dad groaned and watched as his cock got bloody as I cried harder. "Fuck.. so good.. keep crying.. you're so tight.." He groaned as he violated me, his own daughter. I gave up on fighting and just laid down, legs spread wide as he fucked me like some hooker. He slapped my tiny breasts with my bikini top on, making them jiggle. "Dada.. oh fuck.. dada.." I moaned, my cries dying down as I enjoyed the feeling of my dad fucking me. "Fuck.. kiddo.. that's it.. clench around the cock that made you.." Dad said as his hips stuttered and he buried his cock in my pussy, ropes of his hot, thick cum filling me.

My dad and I rested, catching our breath and sitting in the water before he sat on the smooth rock he set me on earlier. "I'm sorry, kiddo, I didn't mean—" I cut my dad off, pulling on my dad's swimming trunks. "I-I wanna.. explore.. I've never seen a guy naked and I wanna.. touch.. a-a.. umm.. a-a thing.." I blushed slightly, looking at the rock. "It's called a penis, a dick, or a cock, not a 'thing'." Dad responded, lifting his hips and pulling his swimming trunks down, his cock hardening before my eyes. I gently grabbed it, my fingers wrapped around his cock and I moved my hand up and down. "Mm.. good girl.. just like that, kiddo.." Dad groaned, his head falling back as he fought the urge to help me. "Th-that's good..?" I asked, moving my hand a little faster, more confidently. "So good, princess.. so good.." He assured me, putting a hand on my cheek. I smiled and looked at his cock, stroking a little faster. "Kiddo, could you use your mouth a bit..?" Dad asked, his thumb gently pulling my bottom lip down slightly. I nodded slightly and leaned in, licking the tip as my hand continued to work his shaft. "That's it.. keep going, princess.." He groaned, a hand moving to my head, his fingers tangling in my hair. I slightly stopped moving my hand, moving my tongue down his shaft slightly, causing him to groan again. "Wh-what about these..?" I asked, pulling away and moving my other hand to gently grab his balls. "Oh god.. kiddo.. you're really good at exploring.. just keep touching.." He responded, head falling back again. I leaned in and gently sucked on one of them, causing him to tighten his grip on my hair.

I licked up dad's shaft, a hand massaging his balls as I gently took the tip in my mouth and started sucking. Dad groaned and slightly guided my head up and down, unable to hold himself back for much longer. "God.. kiddo.. you've always been so hot.. all those little dresses and skirts your mom put you in.. those skimpy kids bathing suits.. fuck.. your mom let me bathe you a few times and you were just so hot.. I wish I did this sooner.." He said as he clearly thought about those scenes. I was disgusted and went to pull away when he pushed my head down, his large cock making me gag as he moved my head. "Fuck.." He groaned, using my mouth like a fleshlight while I struggled to breathe. I scratched at his thighs, tried to pull away, everything I could think of but I was too weak. My vision blurred as I blacked out, the only thing I could remember was his cock down my throat before waking up to Dylan raping my ass. I moaned and looked at him, vision still blurred. "Shh! You'll get us caught.." Dylan said and covered my mouth. I moaned against his palm and that's when I realized we were in the forest, the tents just a few yards away. The sun wasn't up very high, it was barely sunrise. "I just had to.. you liked it last time.." He whispered, pounding my ass. I nodded, my moans muffled by his hand. My eyes rolled back as I came, gripping the leaves below me. Dylan groaned and buried himself in me as he came and moved his hand from my mouth. "I love you, little sis." Dylan said, panting. "I love you too.." I replied, smiling at him. "So, you like anal. You're really a whore." Michael's voice came from behind Dylan who quickly pulled out and turned to face our older brother. "Don't worry, I won't tell dad… as long as I get to… have a little fun." Michael smirked at me, I was laying there with Dylan's cum leaking out of my ass, naked and vulnerable. "O-ok.." I said, causing Dylan to look at me. "Ok!? Kitty, seriously!?" Dylan looked shocked that I'd agreed to Michael's words.

Michael stepped closer and rubbed his boot against my cunt, my cum and arousal fluid making a little string connecting to his boot. "Fucking whore.." Michael groaned and pulled his sweatpants and boxers down, his already hard cock springing free. I blushed slightly and made sure my legs were spread as much as possible. "Good girl.." Michael said as he lined himself up and carefully pushed in, letting out a long groan as I whimpered softly. "There you go.. just take his cock, little sis.." Dylan whispered, gently running his fingers through my hair, he was trying to help comfort me despite raping me moments ago. I looked at Michael as I moaned, his hips moving slowly to let me adjust, as if he hadn't raped me before. "Fucking slut.." Michael groaned as he snapped, a hand clamping over my mouth as he thrust into me like my feelings didn't matter. "You're so fucking tight.. damn whore.." He said, I could feel his cock ramming against my cervix. I moaned and screamed against his hand, the sounds muffled by it, my walls clenched around his cock as I enjoyed the feeling of being pounded into. "He doesn't actually think you're a whore.. he loves you.. so much.." Dylan reassured me, his fingers brushing through my tangled hair. I felt myself cum on my big brother's cock, my body trembling slightly. "Oh fuck.. that's it.. mark your territory.." Michael groaned and filled my cunt with his cum. "You did so well.." Dylan said, kissing my cheek as he lifted me into his arms. Michael pulled out and let Dylan hold me. "Kyle's gonna wake up any minute.. I have to get you back to bed.." Dylan said as he began carrying me towards the tents. Michael followed and helped clean me up, wiping my puffy pussy lips with a rag. "Mmph.. what the fuck..?" Kyle's voice sounded beside us, I closed my legs and turned my head, looking into my twins eyes. "Dad! Come here!" Kyle yelled slightly, watching Dylan and Michael quickly try to cover me up as our dad entered. "Wha– Michael. Dylan. What the hell are you doing to your sister?" He asked, looking at the three of us. "We were.." Dylan started but trailed off. "We uhh.." Michael looked down, guilt in his eyes. I opened my legs shyly and hesitantly rubbed my clit, my dad looked shocked but the bulge in his pants was obvious, Kyle was glancing away, trying to get subtle glimpses, Dylan and Michael both looked conflicted, on one hand the two were aroused but on the other hand they didn't want to do anything in front of our dad.

"P-please..?" I said in a soft tone, still rubbing my clit as they watched. The four of them looked around at each other and seemed to realize something and without another word they grabbed me and led me into the larger tent only to push me onto my hands and knees. "At least you were kind enough to say 'please' this time.." Michael said, pushing my head down against the tent floor. Kyle pulled out his knife and stepped closer, gliding the cold blade along my side, slightly cutting into my skin. Dad walked over and stood by my head, looking down at my body while Dylan grabbed my hips and pressed his cock against my ass again. "Watch this.." He said to the others as he pushed in, my little cunt drooling as he thrust into my ass. "I knew she was a pathetic fucking whore!" Michael said, smacking my ass with one of his hands, causing me to yelp. Dad kneeled down and rubbed my back. "That's it.. take your brother's cock in your ass, princess.." Dad said, his touch was gentle and comforting although I didn't need it, Dylan felt so good like this. I moaned and whimpered as Dylan got more aggressive with Michael's encouragement. Kyle began carving their names into my side with his knife, I felt each cut.

I felt rope after rope of thick hot cum fill me up, sometimes in my ass, sometimes in my cunt as they each had their way with me. I was covered in cum, piss, blood, pen ink, cuts, bruises, scratches, and bite marks by the time we were done for the day. Only to be used over and over again until the trip was finally over…

[theoisdaydreaming]

So tomorrow drops arcane's last three episodes and since I'm delusional here's my idea of how the story will end (highly unlikely however, so imagine more an AU were everyone is happy and no one died + timebomb bc I want and I can)

The writers don't hate us AU :D

A familiar tune echoed among the last drop's walls, the bar, now slightly run-down from the years but filled with life like never before, hosted it's new owners inside the warm lit room, where a blue haired girl gently rocked her hips, leaning against the well used jukebox.

Jinx closed her eyes and smiled at the nostalgic sound; it was her mom's favorite song.

Despite being too young to remember a lot about her, jinx's childhood had been filled with stories about her, as to not completely forget her, thanks to Vander and Vi. The music played slow, it was nostalgic and it remembered her of a happy place; where three revolutionaries once drank in the bar, three, much younger ones stood now.

"haven't heard that one in a while" an amused voice chimed from behind the bar counter.

"thought it was fitting" jinxed smiled, as she stepped back and started to gently away her body.

"it is" Vi responded with a happy sigh as she hold up another glass cup to clean.

It was exiting, to behold a sight like this; the last drop almost back in its original state, free from neon party lights, it's well-loved wood chairs and tables back where they were supposed to be, some of silco's decorations still hanging in the walls at her sister's request, but most of its coziness from back when Vander owned the place back.

She also took sometime to admire the newly acquired photos placed above the counter, Jinx, ekko and her, the day they opened the last drop's doors again, some disheveled members of the revolution grinning to the camara with food on the table and several stages of drunk, some sporting the now familiar jinxer look, more photos of jinx, now with Isha, another one wich she took with her, jinx, Isha and a crouched down Vander to be seen in the frame, but most importantly, the flag that hanged to the side, unmoving due the lack of wind but still standing proud, to be seen by everyone that entered the bar. The nation of Zaun's flag. The independent nation of Zaun. The thought made her smile.

The entrance door then, suddenly bursted open, a dark skinned man carrying some heavy looking boxes, wich obscured most of his view.

"hey, you back with the supplies little man?" Violet looked up to see ekko struggling with the door.

"need help with that?" Jinx asked not bothering to stop her slow dance, only turning to her boyfriend's direction still swaying her arms, throwing a cheeky smile to ekko while now throwing her arms up as the chorus starts. Her motion emphasizing her swollen belly in her already small frame.

"you're not carrying anything remotely heavier than a gun while pregnant, Jinx" ekko said, rightly scandalized.

"okey, okey, I was just offering!" the girl answered, holding her hands up in surrender.

"don't act innocent, I saw you serving customers drinks the other day" Vi jokingly glared at her while approaching ekko to take some of the boxes in her hands. "you're not supposed to be working!"

"I know" jinx whined dramatically "but the place is bursting with people ever since we opened up, I have to help some way!" She pouted.

She was right, ever since the big battle ended the last drop became a safe place for all of Zaun's fighters, even months after they won, the place was flooded with comrades; people that fought along side them,that were lead by jinx and moved by her cause. Either way, business was growing rapidly, most people wanting to revel in their new found independence; they had to restock half the place when the celebration ended, they even had to leave mid party to run for more supplies i.e. alcohol and other beverages.

With only the three of them running the place and the occasional help of Isha, who mostly served tables, and Vander being way too big to properly fit, less move freely inside the bar, they could use all the help they had.

"just take it easy" Vi rolled her eyes at her sister.

Vi and ekko set down the boxes down while jinx came closer to the bar.

"I'm not serving you anything" Violet quickly said.

"I know that, silly" Jinx sat down.

Ekko then sat besides her while Vi took place behind the counter, whipping something and serving it Infront of ekko, who was being looked at with jealousy by his knocked up partner.

"don't worry brought you juice" he looked bemused at her.

"bummer" the blue haired girl responded but still accepted the glass that Vi offered, the same one she always used, that was probably a hundred years old and it looked like it too but never changed it, from back when she was younger and Vander still served her, to when the place switched to being silco's and he discreetly threatened the new bartender into keeping it, to now.

"cheer up, baby, just a couple more months to go"

"I know,,, as much as anxious and moody I've been, I so excited" she looked down and smiled at her drink. "They're going to arrive to a new nation and a dysfunctional yet loving family"

"they will grow in the city we are building, jinx, the city we fought for" ekko caressed his lover's hand reassuringly. "We will make sure this place turns into the best a baby could ever be born in"

Jinx could only give ekko's hand a firm squeeze, admittedly, having a baby in the middle of re building a whole nation after several long lasting battles, that even though they were found to be victorious, lead to an incredible amount of damage control to be done, was not easy. In the midst of everything, however, was ekko, her anchor of hope, he who saved Isha, and indirectly her, from going off the deep end, shattering the fabric of time, just for her; her boy savior.

"a toast, then!" Vi bounced up, the only other two people at the other side of the counter looking startled at her, but quickly recovering and piking up their respective glasses of beer and juice alike.

The pink haired woman taking a whole bottle instead of serving herself and dirtying another cup lifted her drink.

"to us, for keeping the dreams of the ones before us, to them, for inspiring us" she lifted her bottle higher and looked at the eyes of her sister, Jinx.

"And to the nation Zaun's first independent baby, and the ones that will come after"

The older woman swinged at the bottle, the two lovers following suit. Three people, the ones that started it and the ones that finished it, laughing and drinking, celebrating the life that is to come, the future shining brightly in the shape of an itty bitty baby.

"our love, our love, our love, our love" the voices sang as the music faded out.

[captain-dville]

There is something new in the Aurora. Perhaps a kind of glitch. Perhaps something that just managed to sneak into her systems, into her general orbit.

And it is Almost familiar. Where it came from exactly, she probably doesn’t know. All she knows is it is something from Somewhere Else.

A voice comes out of one of the speakers of the Aurora, one of her cameras flickers, comes into new focus.

“Hello..? Where-”

It sounds like Jonny’s, but less loose. More tight with confusion, fear, uncertainty. More tired. There is a slight robotic tinge to the voice, probably courtesy of the Aurora and her systems. The camera lens narrows as it focuses on the captain.

“What the hell? Who are you?”

*Jonny wrinkles his nose as he follows the movement of the camera, his footsteps slowing. What was that?*

"Rora, are you trying out a new voice for the intercom? 'Cause not that I'm not flattered, but I hate it. Go back to your normal one."

*As he talks he walks over to the camera, watching as it follows him. Weird. He checks his eyeliner in the reflection of the lens, then glances down at the nearby console panel, waiting to see if Aurora responds. He'd originally been headed towards the galley to get something to eat, half-humming the chorus of Hellfire as he walked, but this seems more interesting.*

[dawnofiight]

Btw guys I had another dream that an anon was bullying me HARD ASF

@jamieeeeee33333 you were defending me hard hun I appreciate you

But I know in my heart that Anon was Kody.

[myfairkatiecat]

not my friends being 400x less supportive about me being Christian than I am about them being atheist

[littlest-bugz]

Does anyone else go thru phases where you don’t want to talk to anyone?

Like,,, I love you so much, but I just need to RECOUP. I need my alone time so I don’t have another breakdown.

[icterid-rubus]

I agreed to meet up with someone for dinner and I just found out the whole polycule is coming.