#Tw: mentions of abuse

[silenceofthecookies]

CW: past mention of abuse, possessive behavior

You sat down behind your desk, grateful for the silence your office brought. Being the assistant of a harbinger wasn’t easy, but the job came with its perks, a calm work environment being one of them. Especially after the mess with your fellow Fatui members yesterday… 

You jumped as the door slammed open. Scaramouche, who seemed to be in a fouler mood than usual, walked in. He didn’t bother to close the door behind him, simply heading to his chair. You could hear him mumbling something about Dottore, but couldn’t exactly make out what. You didn’t ask either, it was none of your business. Scaramouche may not have been kind with his words, but he was always clear when he’s addressing you. You got up to close the door behind him before sitting back down at your desk, processing the documents Scaramouche had asked you to work on yesterday. 

“Hey, you,” Scaramouche barked. Him addressing you as ‘you’ was nothing new. He never used your name. “go wash this for me.” 

Scaramouche held out his catalyst to you, which you could see was covered in blood. You got up from your desk and accepted the weapon, taking it to an adjacent bathroom to wash it. As much as you were not a fan of it, you were used to it. You rolled up your sleeves and got to work. 

Once you were done you went back to your office and placed the now sparkling catalyst on Scaramouche’s desk. Before you could walk back to your desk, you heard a firm ‘stop’. You froze in place and looked up at Scaramouche. His eyes seemed trained on your arm. 

“Lift your sleeve.” 

You looked down at your arm and felt anxiety settle in as you realized part of the bruise from yesterday was showing. 

“Sir, it’s nothing se-” “I told you to lift your sleeve, not to talk back.” 

Anxiety turned to fear as you saw cold eyes glaring at you. He was angry. You lifted your sleeve, revealing the hand-shaped bruise under it. Scaramouche’s eyes narrowed as he saw the bruise. He glared at it for a few seconds, before looking you in the eyes.

“Who did that?” His voice was colder than you had ever heard. 

“Sir, it-” “I asked you who, y/n.”

You muttered the name, hoping to not anger him any more. Scaramouche nodded and left the office without another word. He would teach them that nobody messed with what was his.

It was only after he closed the door behind him - gently - that you noticed that for the first time, he had used your name.

[wxnheart]

Worshipping him.

Admiring his body, your eyes sparkling with wonderment and love.

Leaving him flustered under your gaze; you make him feel beautiful. You make him feel sexy. You make him feel... safe. And loved. So damn safe. So damn loved.

His body is a canvas made of stories, some good and others downright horrifying. And with every ridge and scar your fingers run across, you hear them again. You never tire of hearing them.

Cupping his cheek, a cheek that's seen a fist or felt the sting of a slap more than it has the warmth of a kiss. You remedy this. You'll always remedy this.

Running your thumb over his lips. A kind or vulnerable word may seem few and far between with some people, but you know that when he speaks them, it's genuine. It comes from the heart. You feel the gentle pressure of his kiss against your finger and god, he's so fucking beautiful—

Resting your palm over his heart. A heart that beats strong and steady, a heart that's experienced so much pain and suffering, that's been broken more times than you two can count and he's always had to pick the pieces up and glue them together himself. A heart that dares to be vulnerable, to open up and love in its own gruff way. A heart you wish you could make anew but can only try your damndest not to break again. And he believes you. He'll always believe you.

You worship him and he falls deeper into you...

[wishful-thinking-is-dumb]

Hi! I was wondering if you were going to do a pt. 2 of the ghost and thief reader post? Also, I hope you drink enough water and have an amazing day!

Simon Riley - Medieval Au Part 2

Knight Simon Riley x Thief Reader

Tears stream down your face and your heart pounds out of your chest as he drags you inside of a cottage just out of town. You continue to beg him not to kill you, clutching at his wrist. He shuts the door behind him with a slam, and you choke out more sobs, he's gonna do something worse than kill you.

His grip loosens on the collar of your worn shirt, and he grabs your bicep instead. You finally start to notice that you aren't in the dungeons, and you are so confused. You glance around, eyes flickering over the room. He's brought you to his home, and by the looks of it, he is a very high ranking official.

Your sobs stop in a moment of confusion as he drags you by the arm to his washroom. It's a miniature bathhouse, you've only ever dreamed of such luxury. The floors are ornate, handmade tiles and you can smell all of the expensive soaps. He closes the washroom door and he sits you roughly against the wall, you start to cry again as he takes off his armor.

He removes his helmet last, and he is the most angelic person you've ever seen. It's ironic to even call him angelic after the treatment he has put you through in the last 20 minutes. He ignores your crying as he takes off his boots and rolls up his sleeves. You scramble away as he approaches you again.

His face betrays no emotion as he grabs you by you arm again. He sits you back in the original spot he had placed you in by the door.

“Don’t fucking move.” He lears at you, and he seems satisfied when you freeze in fear of his tone. He narrows his eyes and lets go of your arm. He goes to the corner on the other side of the door where he starts to warm up some water over a fire. It's a giant metal basin, and you shakily watch as he fills it up to the brim. He makes sure the fire is big enough to warm up the water. He glances back at you to make sure that you haven't moved.

After several minutes, steam starts to fill the small bathhouse, and the air gets warmer. You watch the man with wide eyes as he makes sure the water is warm enough, and he effortlessly bumps the basin into the porcelain bathtub in the middle of the room. He returns to the fire and refills the basin full of water, then he turns to you.

You begin to cry as he grabs you, he doesn’t seem to be as rough anymore. He shushes you as he takes off your shirt, and you scratch and fight him. He seems annoyed but he makes no comment as you try to fight him.

He pulls your trousers off as you cry and sob, begging him to not hurt you. He picks you up by your underarms and he plops you into the warm bathtub. You are shaking from fear, you've never had a warm bath before. The water is nice but not nice enough to fight off the thoughts of what he might do to you.

He looks over his several bottles of soap, you’ve never seen a bottle up close before. He decides on a green glass bottle, and he pops the cork off and he dumps the soap onto the top of your head and the rest into the warm bath water. He starts to scrub you clean, starting with your hair.

His movements are very firm, like he wants to scrub your skin off. You feel so vulnerable and exposed by his treatment of you.

“You're not as filthy as I thought’ you’d be..” He says to you, rinsing your hair out with a clay bowl and the warm water from the basin over the fire. He moves to scrub your arms with a rag and more soap from the green bottle. You finally notice how nice it smells, like wild mint and rosemary.

“Makes things easier for me.” He mutters the last part as he finishes cleaning you up. He picks you up out of the bath as you continue to sob quietly. He rinses you off with the clean and warm basin water. You feel goosebumps all over your body as the heat from the water quickly leaves you. You curl into a ball on the tiled floor and shake from the cold and the fear of the unknown.

He dries you off with a towel, and he wraps you in it. He picks you up and puts you back by the door. You shiver and try to cover yourself up more as you watch him empty the bathtub of dirt water. He pours the water outside his window using another large clay bowl as you dry off.

You can’t believe that this is happening to you. Is he going to sell you for money? Is that why he gave you a bath, so you could sell for more? You can only imagine, and the thoughts of horrible things seem to consume you.

[literallyjusttoa]

What’s better Christmas present than a bit of angst huh?

When Apollo was young, not yet a year old, he was banished from Olympus due to his crime of murder. Gaea called for his head, but Zeus shielded him.

“I will not rule as my father did,” he said “The boy can learn, he can be better.”

Apollo was sentenced to exile. Nine years, though he was not told this. No, Apollo was certain that he had lost his chance to join his family in the heavens. His father had spared his life, and as penance he now had to stay on the mortal realm for all eternity, alone.

The young god made due with what he had. He wandered through the fields of Greece, tending to the animals he found along the way. He would sing, as light and clear as the birds, and mortals would flock to the sound. Apollo was never allowed to linger long, but he fell in love with that feeling of warm comfort mortals seemed to carry with them, that joy that he could never quite reach. When he could, he worked, often for little reward. He wanted another taste, another glimpse of a less lonely existence. So he became a shepherd, a soothsayer, a musician, always a few steps away, watching but never being.

One day, in the middle of the coldest months, Apollo was hired by a farmer in the Vale of Tempe. He had a large herd of cattle and was in desperate need of a someone to care for them. Apollo traveled through the backroads and forests, making his way to the valley. When he arrived, however, he found no farmer, and no cattle. Instead, a lone man sat at the base of the river that flowed through the vale. The water was near frozen over, but the man did not shake. Instead, he turned, and smiled wide.

“Apollon,” Zeus said, “Olympus has missed you.”

Apollo was shocked. Had his father truly come for him? He dropped into a low bow, too nervous for words.

Zeus chuckled, low and warm, “Rise, son. There is no more need for humility. It has been decided you have done enough.”

“Truly?” Apollo asked, “May I truly join you on Olympus?”

“You may join me at home, Apollo.” Zeus responded, “Your home. Come, we shall perform a rite of purification in these waters, and then you will ascend to your throne.”

And so the rite was performed, and Apollo was cleansed. As far as the rest of the world knows, the two immediately ascended to Olympus, to the glorious applause of the other members of the divine court. Apollo took his throne, next to his dear sister, and began his immortal duties.

But there was a moment, one moment, which was kept away in that sheltered vale. Once Apollo had been cleansed, he stood at the bank, waiting for the next step. Any demand his father asked of him, he would have agreed too. But Zeus held nothing over his head. Instead, he summoned a cloak of sheep’s wool, and placed it over Apollo’s shoulders.

“A gift,” he murmured, “The golden treasures you were born with will bring you glory, but this my son… I hope this will keep you warm.”

And Apollo believed, with all his heart, that he would never be lonely again.

Time is a cruel master. As years bled into centuries that bled into millennia upon millennia, Apollo realized that loneliness would be his most constant companion. He realized that the source of this loneliness, this suffering, would often be the very man that promised to keep him warm. The fire of his father’s hearth burned everything it touched, leaving Apollo with blistered hands and a scorched heart.

But he still wore the sheepskin. When the loneliness crept into his bones. When the lightning crackled across his limbs with a burning pain, as warm as his father promised with an agony he’d never mentioned. When all seemed lost to the ground and the dust. Apollo found that wool cloak and cast it over his shoulders. Even broken promises can bring some sort of comfort. Even old sheep’s wool can bring an illusion of warmth.

I was his child once. He used to love me.

If only the bite of a king’s cruelty could be chased away as easily as the chill of a winter’s day. The wool does nothing, and the loneliness remains. Apollo shivers, and goes to rest.

[kevin-winfield]

Kevin Day and Riko Moriyama - Sons of Exy "Let dead dogs lie" Silas denver melvin// "Selene Thrown Down by Argus", Ferdinand Keller// "All for the Game", Nora Sakavic // "Will She Rise Again?", Francisco Goya // "Boy Frightened by a Man" Francisco Goya // Extra Content, Nora Sakavic // House of The Dragon // "Prey of Ravens", Marceli Harasimowicz// "The Two Crowns", Frank Dicksee //"Brutus", The Buttress// 'Cain and Abel', Orazio Riminaldi

2nd Version of my old post

[ladykailitha]

Grief (A Friend Indeed) Part 7

And now you see why I waited until I had this part written before posting the last one? That was one hell of a cliffhanger. Also everyone gets a dig at Al in this. It's family bonding event. But Steve has the best burn I think.

Just a heads up, Steve talks about being abused...heads up if that's a trigger for you.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

***

Steve placed his hand on Eddie’s back the second he felt his friend stiffen next to him.

“Deep breath, Eds,” he murmured. “There is nothing he can say to you that I will let him get away with, okay? Deep breath. Let me and Wayne handle this.”

Eddie let out a deep breath. “Just careful, Stevie. He’s been known to charm snakes out of their skin.”

Steve’s jaw clenched. So that’s the kind of man he was. He knew that kind of man intimately. His own father was like that. He knew what to watch for now that he had been forewarned.

He plastered a solemn expression on his face, that to everyone who didn’t know him well enough would think sincere, but to Eddie and Wayne, they could see the hard set line of his jaw as he kept one eye on Al and the other on the proceedings.

The funeral wrapped up and everyone lined up to throw dirt on the now lowered coffin. Al tried to get directly behind Eddie, but Steve seamlessly inserted himself between them.

Al bristled but the portly man next to him coughed and he was forced to back down.

Finally the family was all that remained as they all walked back to the church.

The portly man stuck to Al like glue and Steve felt a sudden warmth for the boys in blue at that moment. Because he was pretty sure that even though Al Munson had been granted a furlough, someone was paying to keep that man on a short leash.

The family and a small handful of friends arranged themselves on the pews and waited.

It wasn’t too long until a funny little man with thick bottled glasses came hurrying in.

“I’m sorry Mrs Nelson,” he twittered to Penny. “I had a hard time getting to the church.”

Penny just nodded. “It’s all right Mr Mulbury, you’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He walked up the pulpit and put his briefcase on it. He pulled out a piece of paper of it and then walked back around the pulpit, leaving the briefcase where it was.

“Ehhm,” Mr Mulbury coughed. “The last will and testament of Gina Munson goes as follows...”

He read it out, people getting little trinkets and things that were meaningful to them, instructions on what to do with her clothes and other things that wouldn’t be given to friends or family.

And then it came time to divide up her meager savings. “My savings of five thousand dollars will be divided three ways. To Penny, you get a thousand to repair that lovely house of yours. I know you didn’t want anything, but use it for your family, dearest girl. Love you all the best.”

Penny laughed a watery little chuckle. She shook her head fondly.

“To Wayne, you get two thousand dollars to finally get that motor home you always wanted. When the time is right, retire and see the world like you always dreamed of. See the stars, my beautiful boy. You deserve stars.”

Wayne teared up, coming down in rivers down his face. Both Steve and Eddie hugged him tight.

“To Allen, who had squandered every good thing he every had, his loving wife, his devoted son, his talents and his good sense, you get nothing. You deserve nothing. If you are here to hear this, I hope it is because the state of Texas deemed it so, and not because you have been set loose again on the world.”

There was a gasp from those gathered and they descended into harsh whispers as they wondered aloud who got the remaining two thousand dollars.

Mr Mulbury cleared his throat. “Instead the remaining two thousand will be given to your son, Edward. Through your actions that boy has suffered so, and because of your actions he will receive not only the money, but all my love as well. Live your dreams, Eddie. Be that star for your uncle. Shine brighter then even that of Polaris. Butterfly kisses into the sunset, darling boy.”

Now Eddie was crying too. Two thousand wouldn’t get him far, but it could get him started. He raised a shaking hand to his quivering lips. Steve grabbed his shoulder and squeezed it.

Eddie looked over and Steve mouthed, “you deserve it.”

He nodded back.

Finally there were some other little things to be wrapped up in the will and then it was all over.

Everyone stood and Steve looked over at Al for the first time since they entered the church. The man had a smile plastered on his face that sent chills down Steve’s spine. Whenever his father wore that expression it meant trouble for someone, usually Steve.

They mingled for a bit, waiting until Penny’s friend came back to tell her that dinner was ready for them. Penny, Wayne, Steve, and Eddie all clustered together while everyone else gathered in other groups.

People were coming up and telling Eddie how much he deserved the money and how much his grandmother loved him. It made Steve puff out his chest in pride.

Finally Al came over and all four of them stiffened.

“Eddie, my boy!” Al greeted warmly. “You’ve grown so much since I last saw you. You’re spitting image of your old man.” He lifted a handcuffed hand with a jaunty little wave. “I’d hug ya, but I’m on a bit of a leash.”

Penny bristled. “I paid good money for that leash, I’m glad to see it working.”

The men turned to her in shock.

“Did you know,” she said through gritted teeth, “that the state of Texas was going to let him come to the funeral without a guard to make sure he didn’t escape? And that you actually have to pay for that service?”

Al grinned. “Ah...Penny-elle-oh-pee, you shouldn’t have.” His voice dropped low and menacing. “You really shouldn’t have.”

The portly man nudged him with his elbow. Al straightened up, his charming mask firmly in place.

Wayne shook his head. “Al, Al, Al...you never did know when to fold and when to call.”

Al turned to his brother for the first time. “Big brother always watching out for everyone and never getting ahead. How much they pay you at that workhouse? You know the one, the one that took Dad’s life?”

Wayne grinned. “Pretty good considering we union’ed up about five years ago. Which would have known if you actually read any of the letters I sent you. Just like you would have known about what Eddie looks like now...”

Steve hurried to cover his snort, but Al whipped his head his direction.

“And who the hell are you?”

Steve eyed him with a raised eyebrow. “Steve Harrington, my mother is Sophia Kincade, of the Lexington Kincades and a good friend of your son’s.”

Al turned to Penny. “Why he is here with family?”

Wayne bristled. “This is the boy that saved your son during that major earthquake we had earlier this year. Another thing you’d know if you’d read my damn letters. He deserves to be here just as much as you if not more so.”

Just then Penny’s friend came in and told them that dinner was ready for the family.

Al ran his tongue over his teeth and grinned. “Hey, Bernie, how much time have we got?”

The portly man looked at his watch. “We’ve got about an hour before we have to leave to catch our flight.”

Penny furrowed her brow but knew she couldn’t deny him dinner as much as it grated.

The friends that had been at the reading made their goodbyes and soon everyone else was filing into cars.

Penny and her family in her blue Chevy, Steve, Eddie and Wayne in his BMW, and Al and Bernie in an unmarked Crown Vic.

They get to the house and the scents of a home cooked meal waft from the open front door.

They all go sit down at the table, Danny and Wayne pulling out two more chairs for their unwelcomed guests.

Steve was disappointed to see that not only was there enough food to feed Al and Bernie, but that there was enough food to feed a fucking army.

Penny’s friend’s name is Lucy and her daughter Beth is one of Lauren’s friends, too. They’re both blonde with bright blue eyes and curvy bodies.

They are bustling around the table making sure everyone has enough food.

About half way through dinner Al speaks up. “So you still playing that guitar of yours, Ed?”

Eddie stiffened. “I’ve got a red NJ Warlock that I play now.”

“Ooh...fancy,” Al whistled. “You steal it?”

Lauren and Wayne bristled, but Eddie scoffed. “No, but I did steal an RV once while on the run wanted for murder, but they were a bunch of pricks anyway.”

Wayne and Steve stifled a laugh while the rest of the family looked as though they weren’t sure if he was telling the truth or not.

“Cleared of all charges,” Steve added with a sly smile. “Court ruled it extenuating circumstances.”

It was Eddie’s turn to hide his smile in his napkin.

Al’s mood darkened. He didn’t like being out of the inside joke. “You gonna do anything with the talent I gave ya, teaching you how to play on that beat up ‘ole six string?”

This time Eddie rankled. How dare AL imply that he had anything to do with his ability to play guitar? As if the real reason wasn’t sitting right there at the table.

Steve put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, calming him.

“Was that before or after you taught him how to hotwire a car?” he asked, faux innocence.

Al sputtered.

“See, I always got the impression,” Steve continued, “that instead of teaching Eddie how to play guitar or throw a ball you were too busy trying to make sure your son followed in your footsteps straight into the penitentiary.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide with barely contained glee.

“While Wayne on the other hand,” he said scratching his temple, “was working hard to put on the table, get Eddie through school, and give him the best life he could given the hand you dealt both of them. Now, I’m just some outsider, but I know what it’s like to have a shit dad.”

The room was stock still. Steve didn’t think that they were even breathing at this point, but he pressed on.

“Didn’t fit into the box he built? He hit me. Didn’t get captain my sophomore year, something that had never been done ever? He hit me. Didn’t date the right girl? He hit me. Ditched my asshole friends? He hit me. Now, I don’t know if you’re cut from the same cloth or not. I don’t give a fuck. But you tell another lie like that one to these honest folk, and Officer Bernie here will be taking you back to Texas in a body bag.”

Al jumped to his feet, but before he could even twitch Steve’s direction Bernie whipped out a taser and zapped him with it. Soon he was doing a different kind of twitching.

On the floor.

Bernie began clapping and soon everyone else was too.

Steve blushed. “To think I could have been like that asshole if it wasn’t for getting some sense knocked into me by people who actually gave a damn. I’m sorry he ruined dinner.”

Penny scoffed. “Dinner isn’t ruined. Wayne, Danny please help the kind officer take out the trash.”

Officer Bernie chuckled. “Much appreciated, ma’am.”

Wayne and Danny stood up and helped him take Al back into the Crown Vic.

Wayne went through and made sure that Al didn’t steal anything or had anything that might be a danger to the good officer. He never had trusted Al, even as kids and he sure the hell wasn’t going to start now.

Soon the officer was on his way and the family sat down to eat the dinner that was so wonderfully prepared in peace. Like Gina had always intended.

Wayne smiled at Steve. He was proud of how he had stood up to Al for his boy.

****

Pt 8|Pt 9|Pt 10|Pt 11|Pt 12

Tag list: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @chaoticlovingdreamer @messrs-weasley @goodolefashionedloverboi @maya-custodios-dionach @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @emly03 @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @bookworm0690 @itsall-taken @bookbinderbitch @redfreckledwolf @vecnuthy @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @mira-jadeamethyst @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @gutterflower77 @genderless-spoon @hel-spawn @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @mamafaithful @yikes-a-bee @dragonmama76 @flaming-reauxster

[kaeyachi]

So...I finished the Arlecchino story quest...

Spoilers below!

TW: Mentions of Suicide, Child Experimentation, Child Abuse, and Murder/Death

This is, by far, the best story quest I have ever done!

First of all, CHILDE?! CHILDE ESCAPING HIS PERSONAL AMBULANCE TO SNEZHNAYA JUST TO COME BACK TO FONTAINE TO ASK SKIRK A QUESTION? Bro is so funny, please-

please save him.

Wait, actually, yeah please do save him. Pulcinella and Pantalone are both plotting in the background, and they got Childe involved...

I also loved the children! Look at how terrifying they are! They're my absolute faves!!

Lyney cementing the reason as to why Arlecchino chose him as the next King is wonderful to see as well. For some time, I thought Freminet and Lynette had a shot, even with reading their lore. What I have failed to realize is that Lyney really is the inspiration for all of the people in the House of the Hearth. His frustrated and disappointed spiel about Freminet not trusting him with Clervie struck me to the heart. This is an older brother at work here people!

Also if I had a nickel every time a cryo younger brother hid a dangerous secret from his pyro older brother which got them into an argument once the truth came out, I'd have 2 nickels ✌️ (somehow gave me war flashbacks to a scene that doesn't even exist lmao)

LYNETTE IS THE FUNNIEST SIBLING BTW. SHE'S MY QUEEN FOR THIS.

Clervie! Our dearest! I'm not fully sure what part in her design did it, but she barely looks like an NPC somehow. Like, yes, this is still an NPC base model, but... is it perhaps the hair? And the extra lashes??

Also, her calling Arlecchino "Perrie" made me sob. I wasn't ready to hear nicknames!!

The mention of Snezhnayan auroras also made me sob again as well. You know what? This entire thing made me sob.

Clervie's dread and horror at the thought of her own mother, her unrelenting spirit that kept her going in her fight for her fellow peers freedom despite the abuse that she will receive, and her unfulfilled dreams repeatedly being mentioned throughout this quest was heartbreaking.

I do have to say- the animations they released for Arlecchino helped a lot with the emotions we are supposed to feel for this quest. Not only was that good Advertising and promotion for the Arlecchino banner, it also set up the plot that would have not been well presented ingame had they chose to do that instead.

Crucabena and Clervie part of this quest were not the only ones mentioned in this quest, but also that damn dude that she killed with her heels! I personally like the way they released all those animations because the quest feels more emotional and alive now, and we could follow with the story better than before (and it effectively increased the hype)

Speaking of more alive, the facial expressions have definitely improved! This quest had them utilizing various expressions well, specifically for the playable characters, so, again, this really helped with the feel of the quest.

Additionally, adding a picture to scenes also set the tone really well. It's not that pictures have never been included in quests before, but the way these were framed(?) made it look way better than the ones before.

By the way...is it just me? Or did Paimon's voice somewhat mellow out for this quest? I had recently played some other story and world quests, and Paimon's EN voice is admittedly high-pitched and painful to hear in those, but for this quest, it's as if her voice was toned down (like Mondstadt Paimon, but with current Paimon energy). I'm hoping this was them taking the criticism from past and adjusting their instructions to Paimon's VA accordingly, because I loved Paimon's voice in this quest (that or I'm delulu)

Quick lore tidbits before I go back to gushing about this quest:

1. Arlecchino confirmed not from Fontaine (like I legit thought she may be Khaenri'ahn due to the blood moon thing she has going for her, but it's nice to confirm her non-Fontainian status)

2. Crucabena was the one who had a deal with Dottore on sending members of the HotH to him for experimentation. Anyone who was physically impaired or left alive after a duel to death are automatically sent to him. Clervie has described this as a fate worse than death... Peruere rejected Dottore's partnership offer once she became the next knave. Also, Crucabena used Clervie as an "example" for those who wish to escape, meaning Clervie received the most abuse (which apparently worsened as the years went by). Clervie lost hope sometime along the way and was basically suicidal as well by the time she and Arlecchino had their duel... Her mindset by that time is that the only hope for freedom to her is death. The popular theory of Clervie letting Arlecchino kill her is proven in a horrifying way with this discovery... (yes, she wanted Arlecchino to be the king, but at the same time, she took this situation as a chance to hit 2 birds with 1 stone)

3. Project Stuzha is apparently something highly dangerous, and Pulcinella and Pantalone are trying to get Childe and Arlecchino involved (Childe was told to aide the project by Pulcinella, while Arlecchino says she doesnt want the HotH to be involved in it)

4. Here is me reannouncing that I am in fact taking the L on the Freminet and Crucabena situation. Basically, the timeline is that at age 16, Clervie dies, and we are left with a 1 year time period for a 6 year old Freminet to enter under Crucabena (I'm guessing this is either a retcon or a means to hide the Arlecchino plot by not having them directly say mother in Freminet's character story 4). After that said 1 year, Peruere kills Crucabena and has spent several months in Snezhnaya before reviving the House of the Hearth and adopting Lyney and Lynette (perhaps the children of Crucabena's HotH simply stuck together during that time)

Basically, yes, Arlecchino is in her mid-20s. Not my personal cup of tea, but hey, genshin ages are confusing most days (Ayato is older than her, and Ayaka may actually be older than her as well... ugh I need a moment please... I MAY BE THE SAME AGE AS HER. NO-)

5. Freminet used to also call Lyney "brother". What changed that, I'm not sure (and if I had a nickel...), but the thought of baby Freminet following around big bro Lyney and big sis Lynette makes my heart melt. Freminet actually cried after Lyney basically told him how important Fremi is to him, so whoever made Freminet think otherwise... 😡 they better square up because we ride at dawn

ok back to me gushing

THE BOSS FIGHT? IT WAS SO COOL! It was beautifully animated, and the fact that they added this at the end?

The fear on the traveler's eyes upon realization of what true power Arlecchino held was amazing imo. We canonically cannot defeat Arlecchino in her boss fight! She will be a weekly boss that we can defeat, but in actuality, we really cannot beat the number 4 of the Fatui Harbringers.

We now have actual proof that harbringers 1-4 are not within our capabilities to challenge, and to add to that horror, this is us fighting Arlecchino with Lyney, Lynette, and Freminet. This is also actual proof that we, the traveler, cannot defeat a ton of other characters as well! (were cooked if we never get a power boost and plot armor✌️)

Also let me sneak in this picture:

Cunty as fck. Powerpuff girls energy. They're the Heathers, and we, the traveler, are Veronica.

And finally, the last part of my commentary that cemented this quest as my top 1:

Everything Arlecchino has done for the House of the Hearth, it was all thanks to Clervie and her dreams.

Arlecchino has shaped the HotH into a more honest relationship between her as the father and them as her children. Everything Clervie hated about the old HotH is now nonexistent in this version.

The children could be set free.

Duels are not to death.

They will not be sent to their doom if they lose.

This is everything that Clervie dreamed of, and this is everything Clervie tragically never got to see and experience because she lost all hope.

Clervie's story ended in tragedy, but Peruere lived and breathed Clervie's dreams for her anyway. Seeing the aurora was the start of Peruere finding the goal of living Clervie's dream, and now, Arlecchino strives to do her best to see those dreams come to fruition.

And the qualities that Peruere admired in Clervie are the same qualities that made her want Lyney to become the next king. Hopeful, caring, protective, passionate, and full of conviction. Lyney will take the mantle and live and breathe for Clervie's and Peruere's dreams someday.

Honestly, I have more to say, but I think this is a good place to stop for now. The dynamics of all these characters have made this experience worthwhile, and I hope that genshin continues with this sort of style in the future. Here's to more amazing stories from genshin!

Bonus screenshot while we are still here:

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

saw you might be taking requests? can you do a drabble where y/n is a survivor of domestic abuse and levi ends up raising his voice at some point and y/n gets triggered and levi comforts them? pls skip if ur uncomfortable with this!

absolutely LOVE that my very first aot request is heavy angst

You're Safe | Levi Hurt/Comfort Oneshot

✧ word count ➼ 1.6k (i think this word count is just my standard at this point lmao) ✧ content/warnings: mentions of abuse, panic attacks, dissociation, canon!verse, reader is a survivor of domestic abuse, levi being comforting in his levi way, all the not fun stuff that comes with being a survivor, please let me know if i missed any trigger warnings! ✧ notes ➼ I know that everyone's experience with being a survivor is vastly different. If you would like it portrayed in a different way, feel free to send me another ask and I will try my best to match it :) Not sure if this needs to be said, but if you ever need support or solidarity, my ask is always open!

You could tell that something was off the minute he walked in through the door. 

While Levi was rarely in a “good” mood after expeditions, you could tell that this most recent one must have gone much worse than anticipated. It was already getting late into the night and your anxiety was already elevated, having been waiting for Levi to arrive back home all day. The debrief must have taken much, much longer than usual, which was never a good sign.

You came out of your study to meet him in the living room, your heart dropping when you saw the dark look on his face and how ruffled his uniform and hair was. 

“Levi?” you asked quietly as you approached him. 

You could tell that he was exhausted and incredibly stressed at the same time. He looked like he was about to collapse down onto the ground and that it was taking all his energy to keep going.

You reached out slowly and placed your hand on his arm, gently holding him. 

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” he grumbled, shrugging you off. “Just a long day.”

You gave him a small, half-hearted smile, knowing that it was definitely not “just a long day”. However, you knew that it took Levi much longer than a normal person to process distress and decompress and given the fact that he was in the Scouts and took regular deadly expeditions outside of the walls, distress was a constant in his life.

“You know that’s not true,” you said quietly, turning towards him as he walked past you. “Talk to me, Levi.”

He stopped walking and you heard a soft sigh come from his mouth. 

“Not now, _____.”

You frowned at him, knowing that “not now” easily translated to “not at all”. Although you knew to give him space, you also knew that if he went to bed in distress tonight, then he would wake up even worse tomorrow, which would make him detach even more, leading into an endless cycle of self-destruction and stonewalling.

“Levi, please,” you said, approaching him again. “What happened? Talk to me.”

He stopped walking and quickly glanced at you with irritation showing in his eyes.

“I said not now, _____!” he yelled out, a bit louder than he had intended to.

You felt yourself flinch and freeze as your blood ran cold. The sudden and drastic change from near silence to his voice bouncing off the walls immediately brought your mind from the present reality and into a dissociative state as you felt your eyes lose focus and your ability to perceive the room around you began to dissipate. Your breathing destabilized as you took a step back away from him.

Given your current state, you weren’t able to see Levi’s eyes widen as he realized what had just happened. You couldn’t see his face pale upon seeing your reaction. You couldn’t see him walking towards you as you quickly turned away, maintaining distance from him. You couldn’t see him open his mouth to speak or hear any words that were meant to come out after.

“I need to go to the restroom,” you muttered quickly as you rushed to the bathroom in the most composed way that you could, as tears began to cloud your vision.

Once you were in the bathroom, you shut the door behind you and leaned over the sink, unable to keep the tears back any longer. You shut your eyes as disturbing memories, ones that you thought you had stored away for good, emerged. You shook your head in an attempt to get them to go away and took a sharp inhale, your breath getting caught in your throat. You vaguely heard that your sobbing was audible due to your unsteady breathing and you quickly covered your mouth in an attempt to muffle yourself.

You felt the world begin to spin around you as you cursed at yourself in frustration. You didn’t understand why you were like this. What had happened was a long time ago. You knew that Levi wasn’t that person. You knew that he wouldn’t hurt you. You knew that, even when he was frustrated, he would never take his anger out on you. 

So why the hell do I still feel this way?!

You opened your eyes again once you heard a gentle knock on the bathroom door with it slightly opening since you hadn’t closed it all the way. You saw Levi approaching from the other side of the door and you immediately looked away, quickly wiping the tears off your face in a vain attempt to keep him from seeing your crying, although there was no hiding your swollen eyes or how red your nose had become from sniffling.

There was a solemn look on Levi’s usually expressionless face. He knew what was running through your head. He knew about the rampant thoughts that must have been plaguing your mind. His heart had dropped once he saw your reaction, but at that point, it was too late to take back what had just happened.

“Hey, _____,” he said, his voice gentle and soft.

You continued to look away, averting eye contact. 

“I’m fine, Levi,” you said with a flat tone, desperately trying to mask your vulnerable state.

You saw him place his hand down on the sink near you without actually making physical contact.

“Can I come closer?” he asked, still keeping his voice low, never taking his eyes off you.

You were quiet for a second as you continued to try to control the tears that were gathering in the corners of your eyes again. You shakily nodded at him as you slowly turned towards him again.

He slowly approached you, pausing for a second before gently placing his hands on your shoulders. He had approached you slowly, noticing that you slightly flinched again when he raised his hands. The most important thing to him right now was to ground you back to the present moment, and indicate that there was no danger.

After he felt you slightly relax upon his touch, he pulled you into a tight hug, placing his hand at the back of your head to hold you in as you buried your face into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered to you. “I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”

Upon hearing that, you weren’t able to hold your tears back anymore as you gripped at him, with your sobs becoming audible. You pressed your face against him, as if you were desperately trying to hide.

“N-No,” you said quietly, with your voice slightly muffled. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I still act like this. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t t-trust you or that I’m afraid of you or that I-”

“Stop,” he whispered, cutting you off. “It’s okay.”

He gently ran his fingers through your hair in an attempt to soothe and comfort you, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

You continued to press yourself against him. Although you were still sobbing and soaking his shirt with tears, your breathing had stabilized and you no longer felt like there was a storm tearing through your mind.

You both stood there for a minute as he continued to soothe you and ground you back into the present. 

Once he heard you take a deep breath, he spoke again.

“Come,” he said quietly, pulling away slightly, and gently directing you out of the bathroom and into the living room, leading you to the couch.

He sat down, pulling you in as you followed suit. 

You curled yourself into a ball, resting your head against his chest, taking comfort in the gentle rhythm of his heartbeat and the warm touch of you leaning against him. You still felt incredibly embarrassed from getting so heavily triggered and continued to hide your face in him.

After a few minutes of silence, you finally took another deep breath and pulled away slightly to look up at him.

“I’m sorry,” you said, wiping away any residual tears that had gathered on your cheeks. “I feel pathetic.”

He looked at you, his eyebrows slightly coming together as worry entered his eyes at your statement.

“Well, you don’t have to, but I know it’s hard,” he said quietly, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek and tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear so that he could see your face better. “It’s okay.”

He placed his other hand on your waist, giving you a gentle squeeze as a method of reassuring you of his prolonged presence.

You gripped at his shirt to ground yourself. You were here with Levi. The person you lived with currently was not your abuser. The person you found yourself being held by was someone that loved you unconditionally, in the best way that you wanted to be loved. This person cared and would never bring harm to you. You knew that. 

Slowly, a small smile appeared on your face as you parted your lips to speak again.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He returned the smile, pulling you into a gentle kiss that lasted for more than a few seconds. 

You allowed yourself to relish in his scent, his touch, the sound of his breathing, the feeling of his hands against you, and how, despite him being relatively small as a person, you felt engulfed by him, as if his presence was able to wash away all of the chaos that resided in your mind.

He pulled and rested his forehead on yours.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he whispered, matching your volume. “You’re safe.”

[fizzigigsimmer]

Back At One Part 2

Pairing: Caligator, Billy Hargrove x Gator Tillman

Fandom Fusion: Stranger Things & Fargo S5

Dom/Sub au

*Title taken from this truly sappy love song by Brian McKnight that these boys would NEVER admit was kinda okay lol.

<<<<PART I

“When is that fella of yours gonna make an honest man out of you?" Dot asks, just as Gator reaches for the pans stacked on top of the fridge, and he jerks, pulling too quickly, sending a cookie sheet clattering toward the kitchen floor - he just manages to save it. Scotty raises the cover of her book to hide her face, but his ears work just fine and he hears her snicker.

"What do you mean?" he gripes as he fumbles with the cookware. This is what he gets for trying to do something nice for his boyfriend on his birthday. "Billy's already registered as my dominant."

Which means if Gator really does burn the house down trying to make this fucking cake, Billy can have the honor of identifying his barbecued remains and save Dot the trouble.

Dot’s giving him this look though. Like she can see right through his bullshit. Let's get real. She always could read him like a book and play him like a fiddle.

“Alright, lets bake this mother fu-uuning,cake” Gator self corrects, remembering Scotty at the last minute. Shit that was close. Dot only has a few rules for when they’re together: no talking about the past when Scotty’s in earshot and no potty mouth. She literally calls it that. It’s kind of annoying though, cause the kid is like twelve right? Gator could curse in three different languages by the time he was twelve. But apparently that’s not the thing to be proud of that he thought it was when he was twelve.

“Real nice save Hon.” Dot laughs at him.

“Yeah yeah. Let’s just do this.” Gator grumbles in reply, and they do. 

Dot ties an apron around Gator's waist and hands him a mixing bowl while Scotty eagerly climbs up on a stool to read out the recipe as they work. She’s only meant to be walking him through the basics of a simple white cake with Billy’s name spelled out on it, but somehow the kitchen quickly descends into chaos. 

"Okay, first we need to cream the butter and sugar together until light and fluffy," Scotty reads.

Gator dumps an entire stick of butter and a heaping cup of sugar into the bowl. He picks up the electric mixer and jams it in after, cause that much he can figure out for himself. Only it sends a plume of sugar into the air the minute he powers it on. 

“Holy shit!”

"No, silly!" Scotty giggles. "You have to soften the butter first or it won't mix right."

Grumbling, Gator fishes the hard butter out of the bowl and tosses it into the microwave. A few seconds later, there's a loud pop - because he’s a fucking idiot and apparently it doesn’t take more than a few seconds to warm butter. One glance inside confirms the worst: the stick is now a molten mess, and butter drips down the microwave door.

"Oh honey," Dot sighs, grabbing a towel to wipe up the mess. "Just grab another stick and leave it on the counter for a bit to soften."

“Jesus. Come on. Get your head in the game!” Gator admonishes himself, trying to shake off his embarrassment and the feeling of shame welling up inside of him from fucking up something so simple. “I have cooked before. I’m just -”

What? Nervous? Fucking stupid? What else is there to say when he can’t even melt butter.

Dot lays a hand on his back. She doesn’t need to say anything, and she doesn’t as she hands him a clean bowl and Scotty reads out from Dot’s phone that it’s time to sift the dry ingredients together. He upends the bag of flour over the sifter, and thinks it might be too much. It definitely is, because he doesn’t get more than a few taps in before flour has started to overflow everywhere, dusting his hands and the arms of his black t-shirt. But hey, some of it is getting into the bowl.

Somehow with Dot's patient guidance and Scotty's enthusiastic "assistance", they manage to get the cake batter mixed and poured into pans. Gator slides them into the oven, sets the timer, and leans back against the counter with a sigh, his shirt and jeans thoroughly dusted with flour, bits of batter streaked in between.

Dot chuckles as she hands him a damp towel. "Well, that was an adventure. I think Billy will appreciate the effort you put in, even if it's not perfect."

Gator wipes his hands and grumbles. "It better turn out decent after all that. I still think I shoulda gotten him something else though. Something big, to really wow him, y'know?"

Dot studies him for a long moment, and then finally broaches the subject that has been festering like a smelly turd in the corner of the room.

"Want to talk about what happened at the store today?"

No. No he really fucking doesn’t. Gator turns to snap on the faucet, thinking that he’d like to stick his head under it and drown himself right about now. He focuses intently on scrubbing the batter caked on his nails instead.

"Nothin' happened. She was a stuck-up bitch is all. Lookin' down on me like I'm nothin' just 'cause I ain't some fancy dom in a suit."

He hears Dot murmur something quietly to Scotty about going to get her things together, and grunts in acknowledgment when the twerp says a shy goodbye before slipping from the room. He immediately feels like shit, because Dot can’t really punish him anymore - it’s not her place, and she’s got too much respect for Billy to overstep - but she can take away the one thing she knows he really wants. He wasn’t ready for them to leave, but he can’t blame Dot for not wanting her kid around him when he’s like this.

Her family is not something that Dot plays around with, and Gator might be someone she cares about, but there’s a stark line between whatever the hell they are to each other and the beautiful thing Nadine - fuck - Dot, built for herself with her own grit and guts in the aftermath of the Tillmans.

He understands. He gets it. He does. And yet he still flinches when she speaks again, body somehow unprepared for her to still be there even though he would have heard her leave if she wasn’t.

"She shouldn't have treated you that way," Dot says softly. "But Gator, how you reacted wasn’t like you. I haven’t seen you do something that rash in a long time. What’s this really about?”

Gator's jaw clenches and his hands still, suds dripping from his fingers into the sink. The air grows heavy with all the things unsaid between them.

"It’s nothin'. Alright?" he mutters unconvincingly. "I lost my cool is all. Won't happen again."

Dot sighs and leans her hip against the counter next to him, arms crossed. Her eyes are filled with gentle understanding and he hates it. Hates how much it reminds him of his mom, and all the times after, when she was gone and it was Dot standing in her place, filling the void as best she could. Hates most of all that he’s never been strong enough to resist the comfort Dot offers and the temptation to fall apart in her arms. She was his safety, even when safety was a lie and she was just a kid who couldn’t do shit to keep herself safe, let alone him.

But no matter how hard Gator had tried, he’d never stopped needing someone to lean on and take him apart and clean out his rust and dust, to put back together again good as new. That’s his curse, the sub in him, which is hard to swallow most days but Billy makes it better. No one does any of that for him like Billy Hargrove does. Even when Gator makes it hard on him, Billy always knows just which way he’s bent and how to fix it. Yeah it bugs the shit out of him, but he wouldn’t know what the hell to do with himself now without it. If Billy left he’d -

Stop that shit! He flinches away from the thoughts, and reminds himself for the umpteenth time that Billy isn’t going to leave him over some dumb shit like a lame birthday gift. He needs to just quit already. Why can’t he make the thoughts stop?

"You've been doing so well lately, Gator. Really making progress in therapy, communicating better when you’re dropping... What happened today?" Dot presses again.

Gator's throat works as he swallows hard. His hands clench the edge of the sink, knuckles going white. He doesn’t want to talk about this but maybe it will help. God he hopes it helps.

"I just... I wanted to get him somethin' special, y'know? Somethin' to show him how much he means to me." His voice cracks slightly on the last word and Dot's face softens. She reaches for him, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

"Oh honey... Billy knows how much you love him. You don't need fancy gifts to prove that."

"Don't I though?" Gator argues, a bitter edge creeping into his tone. "He does so much for me, Dot. Takes such good care of me, even when I'm a pain in the ass. And, like when am I not a pain in the ass, huh? You were gonna kick his ass and like send him to the Gulag. How am I worth that?”

Dot laughs, giving Gator's shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Listen to me. You are a pain in the ass, but only when you’re trying so hard not to be the sweet, kind, and wonderful man I know you are. You're a good boy, Gator. You always have been. And yes, at first I was worried when I found out your Saftey-Dom had a thing for you. Who wouldn’t be?”

Gator shrugs away her very good point - doms who are employed to counsel and provide subs with therapeutic care are bound by a strict code of ethics. Billy could have been in deep shit if anyone other than Dot had found out about their relationship before Billy stopped being his therapy dom.

“I kissed him Dot, and he never let it happen again while I was still just a case.” Gator laments. “That’s what I’m talking about though, all I could do was think with my dick - meanwhile I could have seriously fucked up his life. And he still took care of me!”

“He did. Which is what convinced me he’s the best thing for you.” Dot says. “It’s because he loves you for who you are, flaws and all."

Gator shakes his head, jaw tight. "You don't get it, Dot. I'm not...I'm not good like you keep saying. The shit that goes through my head sometimes…”

He trails off, shame burning hot in his gut. He can't even bring himself to say it out loud. But with Dot he doesn’t need to. 

She was there through the worst of it. She’s seen the worst of him. Shit Billy knows about, but hasn’t seen. Hasn’t really lived it, the way Dot had to live it, and maybe that’s why Gator’s been fucking everything up. 

Maybe he’s trying to see once and for all whether or not someone who isn’t trauma bonded to him will stay once they see him for what he really is.

"I know I'm fucked up, alright? I know I got a long way to go before I'm anything close to the kinda sub Billy deserves.” He tries to shrug off the admission like the words aren’t sending pain twisting inside him like a knife.

But Dot, perceptive as always, cups Gator's face, turning him back to meet her gentle gaze. "Oh honey... Is that what this is about? You want Billy to collar you?"

Gator's breath hitches. Hearing it stated so plainly sends a jolt through him, equal parts longing and terror. He jerks away from Dot's touch, arms wrapping defensively around himself.

"No! I mean... Fuck, I don't know," he stammers, the words tangling on his tongue.

Dot is quiet for a long moment, letting his confession settle heavily between them. When she speaks again, her tone is thoughtful.

"Have you talked to Billy about this? About wanting his collar?"

Gator barks out a harsh laugh. "No. No fuckin' way. He'd probably laugh in my face if I did.”

Dot's brow furrows, her eyes shadowed with concern as she clicks her tongue in admonishment. "I don’t believe you really think that for a second. That Billy would laugh at you for expressing your needs."

Gator's shoulders hunch, defensive. He keeps his gaze fixed resolutely on the mixing bowl in the sink, watching the dregs of batter slowly dissolve under the running tap. The sweet scent of vanilla and butter hangs heavy in the air, incongruously cheerful.

"I didn't say I needed it," he mutters. "I'm just sayin'... a guy like me askin' for a collar. It's funny right? Like, I’m not some needy bitch who needs a collar to keep from dropping, and I don’t need Billy thinking he gets to boss me around more than he already does. Guy’s an absolute control freak."

"Uh-huh and you love it. I've seen the two of you together. The way Billy is with you... It's special. He'd move heaven and earth to make you happy. To give you what you need." Dot says. Her voice is soft but sure.

Gator swallows thickly, his eyes stinging. He blinks rapidly, determined not to let the tears building behind his lids fall. "Sure. Why hasn’t he done it then? I’d put that shit down in two seconds, but he hasn’t even tried. Y’know?"

And the reason why is obvious. Yeah, there’s the fact that Gator doesn’t need a collar, but even if he wanted one he’s too much work, too damaged.

Dot sighs heavily, like he said the last part out loud.

"Honestly Honey, I think you should think about it from his perspective. With the way you talk about it... He may not realize how much this would mean to you. Billy does a good job, making sense of what’s going on in that squirrel head of yours but he’s not superman. Talk to him.”

Gator grunts noncommittally. Because hell no. He will not be begging his dom to collar him any time soon thanks, but he doesn’t want her to worry either. 

Dot says she has to get Scotty home in time to start dinner and he follows her out to the front door where Scotty is waiting with Dot's purse and her school bag. He sees them off with a wave and a promise to attend some talent show at Scotty’s school next week. Dot gives him a kiss on the cheek, urges him to talk to Billy one more time and reminds him that her mother-in-law knows the president, and really can get Billy thrown in the gulag if he really does laugh in Gator’s face.

And then he’s alone. Alone with his thoughts. Which is frankly the best way to be. Gator can think much more clearly about this now that Dot’s not here, reminding him of the past and making him feel weaker than he actually is. He can totally still salvage this situation. He’ll just make the cake really impressive. Like those 3D ones that look like real shit? Billy loves to chill with him on the weekend and watch that show where people try and guess which random item is cake or not. Gator’s usually tied up, plugged or gagged when that happens so his memories are a little hazy - but it doesn’t look that hard. It’s just cake right?

When the timer goes off Gator brings the cake out of the oven.

He whips out his phone and starts scrolling through cake decorating videos on YouTube, determined to find something suitably impressive. His eyes light up when he spots a tutorial for a realistic 3D surfboard cake, uploaded by some fruit calling himself Barry Bakes. He doesn’t really want to take advice from some dude with pink hair, a full face of makeup, wearing a sparkly crop top with the word TWINK encrusted on the front, but the cake is undeniably badass.

"Alright, let's do this," Gator mutters, cracking his knuckles. He fast forwards through the beginning of the video, impatient to get to the good stuff.

First step - carving the cakes into a surfboard shape. Easy enough. Gator grabs a serrated knife and starts hacking away at the layers, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth in concentration. Crumbs fly everywhere as he saws off uneven chunks. When he's done, he steps back to survey his work. It...sort of looks like a surfboard. If you squint. And tilt your head to the side.

Next up - the "ocean" frosting. Gator mixes a batch of blue buttercream, dumping in what is probably way too much food coloring, but whatever at least he softened the butter without blowing up the microwave this time.

Gator continues to follow along with Barry Bakes' tutorial, growing increasingly frustrated as each step seems to go awry. The blue buttercream frosting he mixed up is a garish turquoise color from the excessive food dye. It's also too thin and runny, dripping off the cake in gloopy rivulets.

He blames Barry, that fucking fruit, because if he weren’t so hell bent on turning everything into some kinda innuendo maybe Gator could actually concentrate on what he is doing!

"Shit shit shit," Gator grumbles under his breath, frantically trying to smooth the messy frosting over the lopsided surfboard shape he carved. It's a losing battle. The cake looks like a melted smurf.

Next, Barry cheerfully pipes delicate white frosting swirls and curls to create realistic seafoam on his perfectly smooth blue surfboard. Reminding the audience that big tips are better for piping, and everybody loves a good pipe.

Gator glares at the screen. His own piping bag is loaded with frosting that's somehow both too stiff and too drippy at the same time. When he tries to pipe, it comes out in sad, deflated spurts. He can only imagine what Barry would have to say about that.

"Motherf-!" Gator bites off the curse, chucking the piping bag down on the counter. This was a stupid idea. He's no baker, who was he kidding? He should've just bought Billy a damn gift card like a normal person.

Dejected, Gator slumps against the counter, hanging his head. Failure churns in his gut, sharp and nauseating. He can't give this monstrosity to Billy. He just can’t. Can’t bear to watch him try to hide his disappointment.

Frustrated and embarrassed, Gator gives up on trying to salvage the cake. In a fit of pique, he grabs a spatula and starts roughly shaping the blue frosted mess, not even bothering to smooth it out anymore. He carves angry slashes and gouges into the cake's surface with the edge of the spatula.

Before he even fully realizes what he's doing, the cake has taken on a new, crude shape under his hands - a lumpy, misshapen hand with the middle finger extended in an unmistakable gesture of "fuck you".

Gator steps back, breathing hard, and stares at his handiwork. The hand is far from anatomically correct, with uneven sausage-like fingers and a palm that curves at an odd angle. Globs of sticky frosting cling to the digits in gloopy turquoise clumps. The raised middle finger lists slightly to the side, like it's too heavy to hold itself up properly.

It's possibly the ugliest cake Gator has ever seen. So ugly it crosses the line twice and becomes perversely impressive in its sheer awfulness. A surprised, slightly unhinged laugh bubbles up from his chest as he takes it in.

This is what he has to show for his efforts. This fuck-ugly, lewd gesture of a cake, cobbled together from the dregs of his failure. It suits him.

“Yeah don’t know what the fuck else I expected.” Gator grumbles, despondent. He goes to the fridge to fetch a beer and tabs it open roughly, determined to drink thoughts of the stupid cake away. 

He’s not crying over cake like some lame ass. It’s whatever. It’ll probably still taste good, and if Billy doesn’t like it he can throw it in the trash. They’ll order a pizza or something and Gator will ride him till his dick goes numb and call it a night. Happy birthday.

Gator stomps to the bedroom he and Billy share and pulls out the trunk where he keeps his hunting gear from under the bed, because it’s been awhile since he polished his knives and that always helps lift his mood. He takes the trunk out to the living room and gets to work. Ques up his workout playlist on his phone and connects it to the TV so he can put it on blast.

It helps a little. Allows him time not to think. But the time gets away from him, because he doesn’t even hear the sound of the front door opening and closing. 

Billy's entrance is marked by the faint scrape of his boots against the hardwood floor as he turns the corner into the living room. He pauses briefly, taking in the scene before him—Gator, surrounded by an array of gleaming knives, his trunk spilling open on the coffee table, and the ear splitting rifts of heavy metal blaring from the television speakers.

A faint smile tugs at Billy's lips as the dom sets down his bag and sheds his leather jacket, revealing the broad contours of his chest hugged by a tight white T-shirt. The room is thick with the scent of metal and leather, a comforting familiarity that wraps around Billy like a second skin. He approaches Gator slowly, noiselessly, his gaze fixed not on the array of blades but on the man holding them as gently as baby chicks.

Billy casts a long shadow across the coach and Gator finally notices him. He jumps up, fumbling the knife in his hands which clatters to the floor. The music crescendos, a dramatic backdrop to the moment. Gator lowers the volume, and whips around to glare at Billy who laughs at the fright he gave him.

“Hey, Baby Gay.”

“Don’t call me that!” Gator snaps. “And don’t sneak up on me. I was like, this close to killing you!”

“Oh?” Billy arches a mocking brow. “Probably shouldn’t have dropped the knife then.”

“Haha. Very funny asshole. You’re lucky I did,” Gator grumbles in reply, bending down to pick up the fallen knife. “You know how sharp one of these babies are? With one o’ these I can cut through the shell on a coconut just like that.”

He flicks his wrist to demonstrate the ease with which he could peel Billy’s flesh off, and Billy gives him this look - like Gator is just fucking adorable - and it’s god damn condescending, is what it is. But it also makes the back of Gator’s neck tingle with awareness, and his dick try to get hard. So yeah.

It’s probably a good thing that Billy’s so distracted anyway. Because swearing at his dom is firmly against their rules on account of the fact that Gator uses it as some kinda defense mechanism to keep Billy at arms length.

Or that’s what Billy said anyway when he made the stupid rule. Gator doesn’t make the rules here, he just follows them.

“I’ll count myself lucky then. I think I’ll get a beer. You want one killer?” Billy asks, already on his way to the kitchen. 

FUCK! The Kitchen. Gator remembers too late that he forgot to clean up and do something with that awful cake and scampers after him.

Billy strides into the kitchen before Gator can stop him.

His stomach knots as Billy pauses, his gaze landing on the misshapen dessert surrounded by strewn icing bags, crumbs and powdered sugar. Slowly a grin spreads across Billy's face, and blue eyes sparkle as he turns to look at Gator, where he lingers hesitantly in the kitchen doorway.

"Is this cake trying to tell me something?" he teases, amusement rich in his voice. He leans forward slightly to inspect the cake more closely. "Is this your way of telling me you don’t want to sixty-nine later, or is it a failed science experiment? Hard to tell."

Gator feels heat rush to his face, embarrassment mixed with irritation bubbling in his chest. He knows Billy is just poking fun, yet it stings, tapping into that deep-seated insecurity instilled by years under his father's critical eye.

"Scotty was here with Dot and it gave us something to do. That’s all," Gator mumbles defensively, his words sharper than intended. Then, unable to stop the words from tumbling out recklessly, he adds, "Just thought it would be nice to share, but you don’t have to have any if you’re just going to be an asshole."

As soon as the words are out, Gator regrets them. Swearing at Billy is one thing, but lying to him breaks one of their most cardinal rules. It’s not just about respect; it’s about trust.

Billy’s expression shifts subtly; the playful light in his eyes dims as he adopts a more serious demeanor. He closes the distance between them with measured steps. "Gator," he says softly yet firmly, "That’s the second time you’ve pulled that tonight. Watch it.”

Gator snaps his mouth shut and fumes silently, hanging his head. God, Billy sounds so disappointed in him and it’s worse than he even imagined.He wants to puke.

“Did Scotty really make this?” Billy asks, and Gator can tell just from his tone that Billy already knows the answer, but he’s waiting for Gator to fess up to it. Gator shakes his head, hot tears stinging at his eyes that he blinks away as rapidly as he can.

“It’s for you.” He confesses, feeling a weight lift off his chest despite his overall misery. “I made it for your birthday, and you made fun of it.”

“I did.” Billy acknowledges too easily for Gators liking, but before he can say anything Billy goes on. “I could have handled that better. You’re right. But before we get to that, don’t you have anything to say to me?”

“No. Can’t think of anything.” Gator immediately denies, because how is it fair that he has to apologize for a little white lie when he only did it in the first place because he knew Billy was going to laugh. He knew it.

“Oh?” Billy’s face is impassive but he’s unhappy with Gators answer. It crackles in the air between them. “Do you need a reminder of the rules?"

Gator swallows hard, defiance battling with remorse inside him. He shrugs stiffly, avoiding Billy’s gaze. “Let's just forget it. I don’t need a lecture right now.”

“I’ll decide whether you do or not.” Billy’s tone is calm but carries an undeniable edge of authority—one that sends shivers down Gator’s spine and fear bolting through him all at once. “You know, I was looking forward to a nice night with my boy. Didn’t know I was coming home to a brat.”

Gator ignores the voice inside that screams for him to stop stop stop, barreling ahead in desperate angry defiance.

“Fuck you and what you want! Maybe I want a boyfriend who knows how to lighten up huh?  Sorry I’m not your perfect little bitch. Go cry about it to someone else!” 

His insides shake from the fear and lingering tension. Gator has just royally pissed off his dom. It’s in Billy’s eyes and the slow exhale of breath he takes. Punishment is inevitable. Gator longs to take it back but he can’t - can never take it back - and nothing will fix it. Or fix him. He’s all wrong inside and nothing works no matter how hard he tries.

But the thing is, Billy is safe.

Billy is angry and Gator is terrified and trembling but It’s nothing like it was before, in his father’s house. When the fear of a hand went bone deep and lived in his nightmares.

Gator loves Billy’s hands. They way they touch him. The way they hold him fast and glue him back together. They’ve never let him down those hands, which is why Gator is shaking like a leaf right now, terrified that they won’t reach for him.

He didn’t yell those things at Billy because he wants more space. It’s stupid, he knows, but he yelled them because he needs Billy to take over. He can’t stop himself running full speed ahead toward a punishment. Billy will straighten him out. He can trust Billy to know what to do even when he��s lost sense of which way he’s turned.

Gator’s dom considers him for a long moment, the silence stretching taut between them.

“Go in our room and get me a paddle.” Billy finally orders. Then, deliberately turning away, he starts rummaging through the kitchen cupboards - no doubt in his mind apparently that Gator will obey him.

Of course he does. Knees shaking, Gator stumbles out of the kitchen because now that he’s driven them to this point his skin is crawling with the need to make it right. He’s aching with the need to be good so bad his knees feel like jelly and it’s everything he can do just to follow the order. He wants to hit the floor - go to his belly and plead for his dom’s forgiveness but that’s not what Billy asked for.

He will be good. He’ll make Billy forget that mouthy idiot who talked back and clearly had shit for brains. He can be such a good boy. The best boy! Just give him a chance and he’ll come wagging his fucking tail.

It’s pathetic.

But it’s also a relief, when he returns to the kitchen a few minutes later with a paddle from their toy chest and sets it on the table and Billy acknowledges it with an approving nod.

“Good boy.” he says, and Gator’s knees buckle. He catches himself on the table, holds himself up with palms pressed firmly to the wood because Billy hasn’t told him to kneel yet. He forces himself to focus on Billy as the dom takes an empty glass vase inexplicably sitting next to a bag of rice on the table, and places it on the floor between their feet.

Gator watches warily as next, Billy grabs the open bag of rice and tilts it sending a stream of white grains cascading down onto the tile. He stops when the bag is empty and kneels briefly to stir through them gently with his fingers before straightening and meeting Gator’s eyes again.

“Pants off.” he orders, and Gator sucks in a breath. He doesn’t have to ask why, and doesn’t bother, cheeks hot with shame as he reaches for his belt and gets to work.

"On the floor," BIlly commands softly, when Gator is down to his underwear. The dom points to the pile of rice on the floor.

"Kneel."

And Gator folds like fucking cake batter, sweet sweet relief coursing through his veins. He puts himself at Billy’s feet where he belongs, where he wants to be and shudders, biting his lip to stop himself from begging for the dom’s touch. He hasn’t earned that. Doesn’t make him want it less, but he can be good for Billy and prove when he remembers how.

Billy picks up the paddle that Gator chose – sleek and dark, crafted from polished walnut. As Gator settles on his haunches, head lowered in submission.

“You picked the heavy one. My favorite.” Billy remarks. “That why you picked it, or do you just really need to feel it tonight? You can answer.”

“Want to feel it.” Gator licks his lips. “Want you to be happy.”

“Good boy.” Billy says, leaving Gator to wonder which he is pleased with: that Gator wants his ass beat so raw he can’t sit or Gator wanting those things because they please his dom?

“Alright Baby, are you listening? I want you to pick those up and put them in the vase. Count each one,” Billy instructs, motioning toward the scatter of grains. His voice is firm. It brooks no argument.

Gator looks down at the nearly indistinguishable mass of tiny grains and feels a rush of frustration. "All of them?" His voice is a mix of incredulity and unease. What if he can’t do it? What if he can’t be good and Billy is disappointed in him again?

“Every last one Baby boy," Billy confirms with an implacable nod. “Don’t think about it. It’s not your job right now to think. Just do what I ask you to do. Can you do that?”

Gator takes a deep breath, steadies himself on the sound of Billy’s voice and nods. He can do that. He can follow Billy’s instructions. He doesn’t have to worry about ho much rice there is or whether he can even find it all. That’s not his to worry about. Not his place. He just has to listen. 

He reaches out shakily to touch the closest grain, his voice barely audible as he starts, “One… two… three…” His fingers tremble slightly; counting each grain feels like an impossible task. But Billy never sets him up for failure - not the way his dad used to. Billy doesn’t ask him to do things he’s not capable of just to fail. He asks Gator for things he knows he can do, and if he fails anyway it’s because Billy wants to be there when he breaks. He won’t leave Gator laden with shame and misery that will eat away at his insides.

As Gator focuses on the rice, Billy steps behind him. Without warning, he brings the paddle down gently but firmly across Gator's backside. The sound cracks sharply in the air, followed by another count from Gator's lips that judders from the impact.

“Four… five…”

Billy administers each swat in time with Gator’s counting—methodical and paced.

The pain is not harsh but it accumulates with each slap—the stinging warmth spreading across Gator’s skin contrasting starkly with the coolness of the floor beneath his knees and hands. Tears prickle at Gator’s eyes as he continues—his voice breaks around “twenty-nine… thirty…” 

It’s more than just physical pain; it's a release valve for all he’s been holding inside. Every impact sends ripples through him, but it’s not just his body. It does something to his soul too that he can’t explain. Something he no longer wants to deny.

“Let it out,” Billy murmurs close to his ear between paddles—a soothing contrast to the sharp swats.

“Thirty-one… thirty-two…” The numbers start blurring together as sobs hitch in his throat. The task which seemed merely frustrating at first now feels poignant— slowly, bit by bit, Gator cleans up the mess on the floor, and swat by swat Billy cleans up the mess inside. He doesn’t hit Gator after every grain, that would be excessive. He takes breaks at interment periods, spacing them out so that it’s impossible for Gator to try and guess when he might start up again. The fresh sting whenever he does is brutal, worse in some ways than if he had just continued until Gator’s cheeks were numb.

“Two-hundred and ten…” 

Billy pauses, placing his hand gently on Gator's shoulder as he surveys his progress.

"You’re doing well," he encourages softly, and that little praise, that nothing bit of touch, is enough to break him. Gator chokes on a sob, hot tears spilling down his cheeks despite his best efforts to hold them in.

“Keep going.” Billy reminds him and Gator nods emphatically, tears dripping off his chin, because he hadn’t meant to stop. He was doing so well. Billy said so. He’ll never stop. Not until Billy tells him too.

With shaking hands Gator pinches grains of rice between his fingers and continues to count aloud between sobs and hits from the paddle—each number spoken is more than just an acknowledgement of rice grains; but of his submission to Billy. 

Billy’s little murmurs of praise and sounds of pleasure make him feel high. Like his head is floating in the clouds.

He loves subspace. Wishes it were easier for him to reach and he didn’t have to be taken down so hard. But finally he feels the familiar edges of it and the tears fall faster as he lets himself go.

Gator sinks into the feeling of weightlessness as it rises up to take him. Billy maintains a rhythm that is both firm and considerate, attuned to Gator's responses—his body language, his breathing, his blown out pupils and slurred speech. 

This is no longer about punishment. It’s a guided breakdown.

As Gator’s cries begin to subside into quiet murmurs and his ability to speak leaves him, Billy lessens the intensity of his strikes until he stops altogether. 

“That’s enough. You were beautiful Baby.” Billy halts Gator’s hands woozly still trying to lift rice and the sub sags against him. “You’re always so good for me baby boy.”

He brushes his fingertips along Gator's heated skin, tracing the raised welts along his buttocks and thighs softly, and making him shiver. Gator’s mouth stretches in a dopey lopsided smile, beaming from inside and out. He soars. Works his mouth to ask Billy to do it again - he can take more - but can’t get past the mushmouth.

The room is heavy with the scent of sweat and leather, the only sound now the quiet thud of Billy’s heart and Gator’s shaky breaths.

Hands roam over Gator’s back and legs, soft, soothing caresses that glide over his flushed skin. Billy leans close, his breath warm against the nape of Gator’s neck, whispering reassurances that float through his head like feathers.

The shift is gentle, a tender transition as Gator's breathing evens out and his trembling subsides. Billy’s hands are confident, knowing exactly where to touch to bring Gator back from the intense high of subspace. With each calculated stroke on his back and whisper against his ear, Gator feels the ground slowly come back under him, the weightlessness dissipating as reality takes hold once more.

Billy finally eases back, giving space for Gator to gather himself in the afterglow of their session. He cups Gator’s face tenderly, wiping away the trails left by tears with his thumbs. 

“Talk to me, Gator. What’s been eating at you?”

The use of his real name pulls Gator further out of his dazed state. He blinks slowly, focusing on Billy’s concerned face, grounding himself. “I... I’m scared,” he admits, voice still hoarse.

“Scared of what?” Billy probes gently, petting the long side of Gator’s hair now.

“I’m scared I’m not enough for you,” he confesses, dropping his gaze to where their fingers are entwined. He knows the words will hurt Billy. Make his dominant frown in the middle of his brow and start thinking of all the ways Neil Hargrove used to tell him he was a waste of space - too broken and wrong to ever take proper care of a sub. Nothing could be further from the truth. But if there’s one thing Gator knows it’s daddy issues and how they can haunt you.

But to his surprise Billy’s expression doesn’t change. He just nods quietly, still petting Gator’s hair. “Why would you think that?”

Gator hesitates, lips parting but no sound coming out. He swallows hard and shrugs.

“Listen to me Baby.” Billy says after a moment, fisting Gator’s hair between his fingers and tugging until he brings his eyes up. “You’re what I want. You. Even when you’re being a greasy dirtbag leaving your shit everywhere and blaring your candyass music.”

“Hey, lay off my Skyfire man.” Gator can’t help but smile, because Billy’s lips have curved up in amusement and they’ve had this argument a dozen times or more and it just makes him feel so good, that Billy pays attention to which albums he gravitates to depending on his moods. “They aren’t candy. Fractal is the best album produced since Reign In Blood.”

“Why are we talking about fucking Slayer, or Skyfire, right now when Ride the Lightning exists?” Billy growls, tugging on Gator’s hair until his scalp stings just the sweetest bit. “I should beat your ass again just for that.“

“Yeah. If you wanna.” he pants, eager, and Billy’s smiling mouth kisses him, hot and hungry. Billy licks into Gator’s mouth, possessive and sweeping, until he whimpers. The dom nips at his plump lower lip with a grin before pulling back.

“Don’t think you realize how sore you’re gonna be when you come down off this high babe.” He says. “But you heard me right? When I said I loved you? Cause I do. I wasn’t about to lose you before over shitty timing, and I’d never let anything take you from me now. Not Dot. Not him. Not anyone or anything. Okay?”

Gator shivers, but even the mention of his father can’t intrude on the blanket of safety Billy has woven around him, the sure way his gaze holds Gator and rings with truth.

“Yeah.” he sighs, breathless.

“Yeah?”

But it’s not good enough, according to Billy’s tightening grip. And fuck that feels good. Gator is suddenly aware of how hard he is in his briefs, but it’s strangely distant. Like he’d be happy to just sit here hard for another hour or more, letting Billy play with him.

“Yes Billy.”

“Good boy.” Billy's voice is soft, infused with a warmth that seeps into Gator's bones, coaxing his tight muscles to loosen.The room around them—their living room with its deep blue walls and plush gray couches— disappears momentarily, focusing all existence on their intimate bubble.

Billy lifts Gator’s chin so their eyes meet. "Nah nah, stay up for me Baby boy. I need you present." His thumbs brush under Gator’s eyes, rubbing warmth into his skin while he waits for Gator’s eyes to focus. "I think it’s time I show you something," Billy continues, when Gator’s gaze is clear once more.

"In the bedroom," Billy instructs softly, "In my sock drawer, there's a small white box. I want you to go and bring it to me."

Gator feels a jolt run through him. It shocks him rather unpleasantly back to reality, like he’s been dropped from a short height.

“Wait what?” he tries to ask, tries to think, because Billy can’t be hinting at what his muddled brain is trying to convince him he is. Can he?

“Shh. Don’t ask questions.” Billy warns. “And absolutely no peeking either. Just go get it.”

Gator’s movements are slow and automatic as he stands and makes his way down the hallway. This isn’t happening. Well obviously it is, he is on his way to their bedroom to open Billy’s drawer - which is strictly hands off unless he has permission - and get some mysterious box. But it’s probably like some new toy they can enjoy together. Maybe Billy went out and finally got those chains Gator found on that web store, the ones with the studs that dig into your wrists the more you struggle? He’s going to feel so owned wearing those. It’s gonna be great.

He’s convinced himself down off the ledge by the time he gets to the bedroom, but his heart hasn’t gotten the memo because it starts going double time in his chest as he reaches for Billy’s drawer. It slips open smoothly under his fingers which are trembling slightly. From fear or excitement, he isn't sure.

Inside lies a small white box, unassuming in its simplicity yet Gator just stands there and stares at it like it’s a bomb for a full minute before lifting it from its nest among Billy's socks. The weight of potential futures presses down upon him as he clutches the box in his hands.

He should be a good boy. He can just turn and go back into the living room and - Fuck it! Gator’s not kidding anyone. Least of all himself.

Before he knows it, Gator has torn off the ribbon and lifted the lid on the box to peek inside.

And there lies a beautiful black leather collar, its surface smooth and flawless except for the bold engraving of 'GATOR' studded across it in shining silver letters.

Gator stares at it in disbelief, eyes flooding with fresh tears. His heart trips over itself in his chest, thrumming against his ribcage like a caged bird desperate for flight.

The room is silent except for the sound of Gator's shallow, ragged breathing. Gator runs his fingers over the cool, shining letters that form his name, the studs scraping against the pads of his fingers sending tingles through him.

He lifts the collar, feeling its weight in his hands. It's heavier than it looks. He brings it closer, inhaling deeply—the leather smells rich and earthy. It’s the good shit. Supple and strong enough to take some serious pull, and yet the inside of the collar is lined with soft velvet, ensuring his comfort.

Something white resting on the blue lining of the box catches Gator’s eye. It’s a folded card, its crisp edge nearly taller than the sides of the box. Gently plucking it up, Gator flicks it open and scans, eyes widening at the one word message inside.

Peeker!

An unexpected burst of laughter escapes him as he wipes away tears. The simple word on the card speaks volumes, but so does Billy’s presence in their bedroom doorway where Gator finds him leaning when he looks up.

Billy is gazing at Gator with an intense mixture of emotions.

"Do you like it?" he asks, and there’s something like worry there. As if Gator might actually have shit for brains and do all that stupid stuff he’d told Dot he’d do back when he was scared shitless. All because he’d convinced himself that Billy wasn’t true - that he’d disappear like every other good thing has.

“Yeah.” Gator sniffs through his red nose, rubbing fiercely at his eyes. “Shit man. How long have you had this?”

“Since right after your birthday actually.” Billy confesses with an easy shrug. Like he isn’t just standing there admitting that he bought a collar for Gator and has been hanging onto it since September.

“Billy! It’s fucking March!”

“I know! I thought if I forbid you from going through my drawer eventually you would. I know what you’re like.” Billy said. Meaning of course he knows that no matter what, Gator eventually messes up.

But Billy says, “I guess I underestimated what a good boy I’ve got, huh?” with this soft look in his eye, like he’s looking at the best sight in the world and not his fuckup boyfriend standing in the middle of their bedroom in his tighty-whities.

Gator might be melting a little, which is why he has to sit down heavily on the bed before he crumples.

“Hey Billy?”

“Yeah, Babe?”

“I’m your sub…” Gator begins and Billy laughs, the sound loud and full of joy instead of mockery.

“No shit?”

“Come on, Billy please. Don’t be mean.” Gator whines, lifting the hand still holding the collar wordlessly and Billy finally takes pity on him and crosses the room to take it from him. Gator trembles, straightening up and bending his neck a little to give Billy room as he claps it on. He gasps a little, shuddering when Billy leans back and the heavy weight settles against his skin.

"You’re my sub," Billy repeats with finality."With or without this. But when you wear this, I want you to remember," he pauses for effect, letting his fingers softly caress down Gator’s neck and over the dark leather. "You’re my gift. The love you give me, makes me Gator, and I thank whatever lucky stars I’ve got that you came into my life when you did. Okay?"

A simple nod is all Gator manages in response; it’s all that’s needed. The smile that spreads across Billy's face is radiant—as if a piece has clicked into place within him too.

Carefully, lovingly, Billy cradles his chin and pulls him into a kiss.

It tastes sweet… like buttercream icing.

[calitsnow]

Summary of all mentions of members of Hong Lu's family in the game + comparison with the original book

Summary:

Mention of his “family” in general in the game

Mention of the family elders in the game + comparison with the original work

Mention of his grandmother in the game + comparison with the original work

Mention of his grandfather in the game + comparison with the original work

Mention of his father in the game + comparison with the original work

Mention of his siblings in the game + comparison with the original work

Mention of his brother (Jia Huan) in the game

I wanted to recap all the times Hong Lu talks about his family or a particular member of his family while at the same time comparing them to their version of the original novel by giving some info on the latter (assuming that Hong Lu = Jia Baoyu ). I excluded from this list the uncles and aunts by marriage as well as Baoyu's cousins ​​ for various reasons (too long otherwise, not mentioned...) but I will perhaps do a part 2 to talk about them.

Was also excluded, the entire branch which stems from Jia Yan (the brother of Jia Yuan (the father of Jia Daishan, the husband of Grandmother Jia)), a branch which remains important since it is this one who leads to the actual Head of the Ningguo Mansion (Jia Zhen) when the story takes place. But since, they are distant relatives/cousins ​​of Jia Baoyu, that was taking me too far and so I had to remove them from this list. But I still wanted to mention it since it is an important branch of the family

The Jia family is mainly composed of 4 great families: the Jia Family, the Xue Family, the Wang Family and the Shi family in other words those who were born with the name Jia and those who joined the family by marriage / alliance / by being the brother / sister of one of the grooms… (born Xue or Wang or Shi).

There are also other families like the Xing or Lin family joining the Jia family but whose name appears (very) less often and which are also not considered as one of the great families of the novel.

This list of family members is made in relation to the place they occupy in relation to Jia Baoyu.

I/Mention of his “family” in general in the game

LCB sinner, chatter#3

Abn. logs, Pink shoes: lacking data

Abn. Logs, Sign of Roses: level 1

Abn. Logs, Sign of Roses: level 3

Liu Association South Section 5, story

Liu Association South Section 5, story

K Corp. Class 3 excision staff, post-uptie chat 2

W Corp. L2 Cleanup agent, Idle

Main story, Canto II, episode: 3

Detour Tales, Chapter 5.5, Miracle in district 20, episode: 13

Main story, Canto V, episode: 2

Hong Lu’s promo pre-limbus company release (Hong Lu also mentions the family’s chef’s side dishes but I didn’t include it because it was not about his family specifically)

II/Mention of the family elders in the game + comparison with the original work

W Corp. L2 Cleanup agent, story

W Corp. L2 Cleanup agent, story

Main story, Canto IV, episode: 27

To tell the truth, I don't really know what the term "elders" is supposed to encompass in this context in the sense that, I don't know whether or not parents and/or uncles/aunts should be included in addition to the grandparents.

In my opinion the term "elders" refers to all the generations who are above the one who uses this term (in this case Hong Lu / Jia Baoyu) so I would tend to want to count the parents and uncles / aunts but I cannot say this with certainty.

I will therefore base myself on my interpretation so that it will allow me to talk about more characters of the novel but do not hesitate to let me know what this term encompasses!

1st generation:

Grand parents:

Jia Daishan:

Son of Jia Yuan

first Duke of Rong

husband of Grandmother Jia

father of Jia She, Jia Min and Jia Zheng

grandfather of the three first Spring Ladies (Jia Yuanchun, Jia Tanchun and Jia Yingchun), Jia Zhu, Baoyu, Daiyu, Jia Huan, Jia Lian

died before the beginning of the novel, reason why we don’t know much about him

Grandma Jia (the Dowager):

Daughter of the Marquis Shi of Jinling

Wife of Jia Daishan

Grandmother Jia is a generation above the oldest member of the Rongguo Mansion (Jia Jing)

Thus, members of the Jia family all defer to her

For further information, refer to the paragraph dedicated to her below

Great uncle(s):

Dowager’s brother:

We don't know much about the Dowager's brother

He is Grandmother Jia’s brother

He is the father of Shi Ding and Shi Xiangyun's Father

He is Shi Xiangyun’s grandfather

died before the beginning of the novel, reason why we don’t know much about him

2nd generation:

Parents:

Jia Zheng:

Jia Zheng is the second and youngest son of Jia Daishan and Grandmother Jia.

He has a wife, Lady Wang, and two concubines: Zhao (with whom he had two children) and Zhou

For further information, refer to the paragraph dedicated to him below

Lady Wang:

Daughter of one of the four most prominent families of Jinling (Wang)

Primary wife of Jia Zheng

Mother of Baoyu and Yuanchun

Because of her purported ill-health, she hands over the running of the household to her niece, Wang Xifeng

In the eyes of her servants, she appears as a statue of a lifeless Buddha.

Although generous, she is described as without will or conviction.

Lady Wang seems kind and caring but can be cruel and ruthless when her authority is questioned.

She shows excessive concern about her son Baoyu's romantic relationships and closely monitors his maids.

Lady Wang plays a role in the death of Baoyu's maid, Qingwen, due to her suspicion and cruelty toward maids she perceives as threats to her son's virtue.

Uncles:

Jia She:

Elder son of the Dowager

Big brother of Jia Zheng and Jia Min

Husband of Xing furen

He has 2 concubines: Yingchun’s mother and Jia Cong's mother

Father of Jia Lian, Jia Yingchun and Jia Cong

He inherited the title of Marquis Rong

He is treacherous and greedy, as well as seductive/woomanizer.

He feels jealous towards his younger brother, favored by their mother.

He was later stripped of his title and banished by the government.

Father of Wang Ren and Wang Xifeng:

Lady Wang’s brother

Also brother of Wang Ziteng and Wang Zisheng

Father of Wang Ren and Wang Xifeng:

Wang Ziteng:

Lady Wang’s brother

Also brother of Wang Xifeng’s father and Wang Zisheng

Wang Zisheng:

Lady Wang’s brother

Also brother of Wang Xifeng’s father and Wang Ziteng

Aunts:

Jia Min:

Daughter of Jia Daishan and Grandmother Jia

Sister of Jia She and Jia Zheng

Wife of Lin Ruhai

Mother of Lin Daiyu

Xue Yima also known as Aunt Xue:

Sister of Lady Wang

Sister of Wang Ziteng, Wang Zisheng and Wang Xifeng’s father

Mother to Xue Pan and Xue Baochai

She is generally kind and affable.

However, she struggles to control her rambunctious son.

III/ Mention of his grandmother in the game + comparison with the original work

K Corp. Class 3 excision staff, story

K Corp. Class 3 excision staff, story

K Corp. Class 3 excision staff, story

K Corp. Class 3 excision staff, story

W Corp. L2 Cleanup agent, chatter #1

K Corp. Class 3 excision staff, post-uptie chat 1

Detour Tales, Chapter 5.5, S.E.A, episode: 4

If Hong Lu is indeed the equivalent of Jia Baoyu in the world of limbus company, Hong Lu's grandmother should be the one known as Grandmother Jia, née Shi:

Grandmother Jia:

Also called Dowager Shi or simply the Dowager

She is the daughter of the Marquis Shi of Jinling

Grandmother Jia is a generation above the oldest member of the Rongguo Mansion (Jia Jing)

Main elder of the great family, she is the oldest and most respected authority of the Jia Clan

Of an enjoyable temperament, she does not intervene in the private lives of her children provided that they do not disturb her, even if they have become debauched or high rollers.

It was she who arranged for Daiyu, her only "outside" (i.e., maternal) grandchild, to come to the Rongguo Mansion

She spoils her grandson Baoyu whom she carries in adoration

Despite this, she does not approve of his love for Daiyu

She is the one who supports the marriage arranged by Sister Pheonix (Wang Xifeng) between Baoyu and Baochai

She will die at the ripe old age of 83

Maybe it's just me, but she seems to be one of the people if not the person who pays the most attention to Jia Baoyu's jade, reminding him to take care of it, asking him if he knows where it is his jade when he is not wearing it, paying attention to the stone...

IV/ Mention of his grandfather in the game + comparison with the original work

Detour Tales, Chapter 5.5, Yield my flesh to claim their bones, episode: 4

Abn. Logs, Pink shoes: lacking data

Hong Lu’s promo pre-limbus company release (yéyé" (爷爷) meaning "grandfather" or “grandpa”. It is an affectionate term used to refer to one's grandfather in Mandarin.)

So we don’t really know which of his two grandfathers Hong Lu is referring to but knowing that in the novel only his paternal grandfather is mentioned and died before the novel begins, I think the "grandfather" Hong is talking about is Jia Daishan (and that he probably died in the world of Limbus Company too)

Jia Daishan:

Son of Jia Yuan

first Duke of Rong

husband of Grandmother Jia

father of Jia She, Jia Min and Jia Zheng

grandfather of the three first Spring Ladies (Jia Yuanchun, Jia Tanchun and Jia Yingchun), Jia Zhu, Baoyu, Daiyu, Jia Huan, Jia Lian

died before the beginning of the novel, reason why we don't know much about him

V/ Mention of his father in the game + comparison with the original work

LCB sinner, chatter#1

If Hong Lu is indeed the equivalent of Jia Baoyu in the world of limbus company, Hong Lu's father should be Jia Zheng:

Jia Zheng:

He is the second and youngest son of Jia Daishan and Grandmother Jia.

He has a wife, Lady Wang, and two concubines: Zhao (with whom he had two children) and Zhou

Father of Jia Zhu (deceased), Jia Yuanchun, Jia Baoyu, Jia Tanchun and Jia Huan

Confucianism had a great influence on him: he is a Confucian scholar who tries to be an upright and decent person, he fulfills his duties of filial piety towards the Dowager, and wants to educate his children strictly

Afraid his one surviving heir will turn bad, he imposes strict rules on his son (Jia Baoyu), and uses occasional corporal punishment.

Jia Baoyu is afraid of him

He has the ambition to become a good civil servant

But he lacks experience and is easily deceived by others, which earns him a bad reputation.

VI/ Mention of his siblings in the game + comparison with the original work

Main story, Canto III, episode: 2

Detour Tales, Chapter 5.5, episode: 13

Abn. Logs, Pink shoes: lacking data

If Hong Lu is indeed supposed to be the Jia Baoyu of the world of Limbus Company, then, if we refer to the novel The Dream of the Red Room, Hong Lu should, like Baoyu, have 4 siblings:

Jia Zhu:

First son of Jia Zheng and Lady Wang

Big brother of Jia Baoyu and Jia Yuanchun and half-brother of Jia Tanchun and Jia Huan since they share the same father.

In the original novel, Jia Zhu is already dead prior to the action of the novel, so we know very little about him.

He had a son (Jia Lan) with Li Wan

Jia Yuanchun:

First female family member of the quartet of "Springs", first daughter of Jia Zheng and Lady Wang

Big sister of Jia Baoyu and Jia Yuanchun and half-sister of Jia Tanchun and Jia Huan since they share the same father.

She is about 10 years older than Baoyu.

She was raised by her grandmother

As an older sister, she taught Baoyu to read and write when he was liitle like his mother would have done.

Originally one of the ladies-in-waiting in the imperial palace, Yuanchun is later promoted to the highest ranking of imperial concubine "Xiande”, having impressed the Emperor with her virtue and intellect.

Despite her prestigious position, Yuanchun feels imprisoned within the four walls of the imperial palace.

She died at the age of forty, following an illness, in total isolation.

Jia Tanchun:

Third female family member of the quartet of "Springs", second daughter of Jia Zheng and his concubine, concubine Zhao

Big sister of Jia Huan and younger half-sister of Jia Zhu, Jia Yuanchun and Jia Baoyu since they share the same father.

The fact that she is the daughter of a concubine is still such a burden that she often claims Lady Wang, Baoyu's mother, as her own

Tanchun is a very clever and capable person, as much as Sister Phoenix for comparison

But, as the proverb says, "he who comes last will have fewer opportunities than the others", and this is what happened to her, because when her family declined she had not done much and she was sent to a distant region following an arranged marriage

Jia Huan:

Third son of Jia Zheng and his concubine, concubine Zhao

Little brother of Jia Tanchun and younger half-brother of Jia Zhu, Jia Yuanchun and Jia Baoyu since they share the same father.

More info just below

VII/ Mention of his brother (Jia Huan) in the game

Main story, Canto I, episode: 30

Main story, Canto V, episode: 18 (there we don’t know if he is talking about Jia Huan or not but there are not many other options and from what we can deduce from Jia Huan’s behaviour (in game and in the book too) it’s not very out off character)

Jia Huan:

Third male family member of the generation of the Jia household, son of Jia Zheng and his concubine, concubine Zhao

Little brother of Jia Tanchun and half-brother of Jia Zhu, Jia Yuanchun and Jia Baoyu since they share the same father.

He is described as ugly and clumsy

He and his mother are both reviled by the family, and he carries himself like a kicked dog.

He is very cunning but mediocre, he shows his malignant nature by spilling candle wax, intending to blind his half-brother Baoyu

That’s all! If I have forgotten any moments where Hong Lu talks about his family, don't hesitate to tell me and I will add it! Also, I tried to verify and proof-read all the info and everything should be correct but if I made a mistake feel free to point it out to me :)

[ace-lesbionage]

Just imagine Hades, not long after meeting his nephew Perseus Jackson, being called by the judges because there was something he should see.

Imagine his face as he saw every moment: from when Gabe was born, when he met Sally (and began abusing her), when he met Percy (and began abusing him, too), to the moment that Gabe Ugliano was turned to stone.

Imagine him noticing a gleam in the eyes of Sally Jackson as she gave Gabe the box. The very same gleam that was in his own mother’s eyes as she had plotted their father’s downfall. He similarities between the situations and he doesn’t like it. (He ensures that Sally Jackson gets more than the statue was worth when she sells it; after all, he could respect how she handled the situation.)

He may not show that he cares for his family, but he does. And, in the brief time that he had known of his nephew, he had grown begrudgingly fond of his brother’s youngest demigod child.

Then he looks at Gabe. This mortal had hurt his nephew, who had looked at him and called him uncle, the hours later had fought Ares one-on-one and won. So this mortal wanted to hurt his family? He knows that he will pay for the rest of eternity.

Imagine this happening with every child abuser. He hates those. Every single one goes to the Fields of Punishment.

[olympusrox]

WHY ARE ALL THE BG3 COMPANIONS SO TRAUMA

gale was groomed from a young boy by mystra

astarion was forced to use his body to bring his slaver victims

karlach was sold by the person she worked for and trusted with her life (ironic)

shart got manipulated and gaslighted into joining a cult of the direct opposite beliefs to what she grew up with and was made to erase her memories to serve shars whims and keep her secrets

Laezel got manipulated her whole life into believing that Fantasy Cronus (haha yk cuz he consumed his kids and they ended up killing him as revenge) was the only thing that she needed in life and was shielded from the outside world (another point - her and shart are diff sides of the same coin)

Wyll got forced into a pact to save his city and then his father rejected him and turned him away when he needed him most

Minthara got manipulated by orin and the cult and was abused by her

Minsc got abandoned by his bsf pookiebear no1 gal and then was manipulated (heavy word for minsc it wasnt that big it was just. Fake Jaheira: hey come w me and do what i say. Minsc: Where you go i goooo, What you see i seeeee) but yeah

Jaheira's hubby dies idk when and she had to leave her kids, leave her bsf pookiebear no1 gal and then finds out that said bsf pookiebear no1 gal was being manipulated by a shapeshifter to kill ppl in the cults name (theres so much more for Jaheira but i havent played the first 2 games sorry guyz so idk)

Halsins chillin idk tbh

[wxnheart]

Simon has his moments whether you know it or not.

His father's words ring like echoes he can't escape from and no matter how hard he tries, he can't help but second-guess himself when it comes to you.

Being a soldier is a hell of a lot easier than being in a relationship. There are absolutes—sureties—and direction, and the twitch of the trigger finger or a shadow cast over the enemy's eyes was all the decision necessary between life and death.

But off the field with you, there's nuance, shades of grey darker and deeper than anything that's been thrown at him before, and he thinks of his parents. He thinks of his dad, a black hole of misery and hate, never offering a kind word and lashing out at the thought that his sons would even think to be better than him. Simon thinks of his mother and how he watched the light in her eyes dim over the years, watched as the cherished floral perfume and cheeky grin became a fleeting memory because the miserable fuck would rather have a soulless husk for a wife than the proud woman who could and would challenge him, and he fears becoming like his father. And every day he fights that battle and wonders if he'll ever win the war.

He thinks you could do better. Fuck, he knows you can. He isn't the most attractive nor is he the most personable. Bloody hell, he still freezes up whenever you surprise him with a hug or kiss—Simon's thoughts linger on these more than they abso-fucking-lutely should.

But then he sees your smile and the brightness in your eyes so unlike his mother's. He sees you being yourself unashamed, and the way you shower him with affection makes him feel like the most special motherfucker on the planet. He remembers when you first called him by his name and for once he didn't feel the dread or hear the lingering threat behind it.

So yeah, Simon fears becoming like his father. He fears it and fights that battle every fucking day, but you... because of you...

Shit, you're all the more reason for him to win that goddamn war.

[wishful-thinking-is-dumb]

Girl, I neeeeed a pt. 3 of the medieval au. When you feel up to it, of course. Have a good day! :)

Simon Riley - Medieval Au Part 3

Knight Simon Riley x Thief Reader

Once he's finally done emptying all of the water from the bathtub, he puts the empty basin down and he walks toward you. You cower from him, trying to cover yourself with the towel. He bites back a scoff, he kneels down in front of you with another towel and he dries your hair.

“You’re fine, stop being so dramatic.” He grumbles, his face blank. You can't get a read on him at all, his face doesn't show what's going on in his head and it freaking you out. He finishes drying your hair, getting out as much water as he can. He doesn’t want you to get a cold, would he?

“Stay here, I’ll get you some clean clothes.” He says as he stands up, leaving you on the spot on the floor. You curl into a ball, you feel so vulnerable and confused. You watch him leave, and you are scared enough to listen to him, as he is more than capable of hurting you if you try anything stupid.

He comes back a minute later with a pair of trousers and a blouse. Both are definitely his, they are going to be way too big for you. You sniffle into the towel, watching as he approaches you.

“I’ll get you a belt in a minute, put these on.” He drops the clothes in a pile beside you, he leaves again to presumably get a belt. You quickly change into the clothes, not wanting him to watch you change. He even has a pair of undergarments your size? Why would he have these?

You put them on anyway, wanting as much of your skin to be covered. You put the tan trousers on, they are also your size. You pause for a moment in mild shock and confusion, but you quickly put the shirt on when you hear his footsteps coming back to the bathhouse. God, even the shirt fits! Did he guess your size? Why would he have clothes your size if he lives alone?

You straighten up your posture when he walks back into the room, he hums in approval when he sees that you have dressed yourself already. He has a simple leather belt in hand, and he walks right up to you. You have to fight yourself so you don't back away from him.

He loops the belt around you, practical wrapping his arms around you. He buckles the belt and tucks your shirt in. He looks you over, seemingly satisfied with your much neater appearance.

“Much better..” He mumbles, smoothing out the blouse. He looks back up at your face and he frowns when he sees tears. You feel your heart sink when he frowns, is he mad at you? He uses his thumb to wipe your tears away, and you wince, thinking that he might strike you. He sighs, seemingly a little disappointed at your reaction.

[darth-emerald]

My thoughts on the Wilbur Soot allegations

I support Shubble 100%, though we shouldn't just attack Wilbur until we know that he was the abuser for sure. I just hope that if this is true and the allegations are found correct, that Wilbur is getting the help he needs, though it doesn't justify his supposed actions. This doesn't, however justify the harassment, doxing, and death threats. Even if he is an abuser, he is still a human being and no one deserves that.

[luneemeritus]

This scene is so sad for Angel. As someone who already has several trust issues, he finds out there is a traitor in the Hotel, that is working for the Vees (one of them is his rapist/abuser, Velvette other made the love potion that is used to abuse him, and Vox putted more than 5 cameras in his room, it's literally Hell), is slutshamed by the traitor and attacked with a psychodelic confusion, something he is unfortunately used to (be drugged against his will is probably a similar sensation). It's twice sad because moments ago, Vaggie and Charlie literally told Angel AT HIS FUCKING FACE that he "wasn't trying" and that Pentious was "truly interested".

When I say Charlie wants to help but doesn't know how, I mean it. The first person who actually understood and helped Angel was Husk.