#either way i'm still sick and feeling out of pocket so here we are

[apoptoses]

Not me waking up and throwing the results from the height comparison generator into photoshop so I can test exactly how Armand’s 6′0+ boyfriends look in different positions near him

Here’s the results, in case any of you are as deranged as me and need to get this detail in your next fic/art/bedtime imaginings. These are using 6′0 and 5′6 for reference, some of his men may be slightly taller.

Side by side to hold hands

Standing directly in front of each other (aka Armand is perfect forehead kissing height)

Hips aligned in case they’re uh....spooning

And from the side

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio DPxDC Nobody Knows Au Pt 3

Parts 1 and 2

They both fall silent and stare. 

That's an answer to one of many questions they've been asking themselves for years, isn't it?

Their best friend disappeared, and it wasn't abduction or murder. It was an escape.

“You guys don't have contact with Jack and Maddie, do you?”

Tucker swears there's a record scratch in his brain.

Sam gapes. “You mean your parents?”

Danny smiles, small, grim and humorless. “Jack and Maddie.”

Jesus Christ.

Sam glances over at Tucker and they exchange a look. Tucker knows they've been feeling a shared guilt for a long time, feeling like they didn't do enough. They had suspicions about something fucked going on in Danny's home life since the beginning of freshman year, but they never blew the whistle about it.

Rationally they know it wasn't their responsibility. All of Amity had suspicions - someone should have called CPS, and it shouldn't have been a couple of kids. A goddamn adult should have stepped up.

It doesn't keep either of them from feeling like they failed their childhood best friend.

“Considering I've spent the last four years suspecting they killed you and chucked your body into the portal to hide it? Hell fucking no, Danny,” Sam asserts.

The set of Danny's shoulders relaxes significantly. “Good,” he breathes. “Good. Please keep it that way.”

“What the fuck was going on in that house, man?” Tucker asks, a little sick to his stomach. He knows right away he shouldn't have asked.

Danny's expression shutters into something polite and pleasant to hide discomfort, and he immediately starts ‘casually’ gathering his papers and computer into his bag.

“Listen, I'm really happy to see you guys - seriously. I really should get going though, I-”

Sam reaches out and snatches him by the scruff of his shirt before he can even stand up all the way, yanking him back down into his chair.

His dumbfounded expression makes Tucker snort a laugh, so familiar and puppy-like. Danny is still all big blue eyes and nearly visible question marks when taken off guard. Tucker missed that face.

“You're not going anywhere until we get your phone number,” Sam argues, not a hint of wiggle room in her face or tone. “We'll get lunch or something, all three of us. Go to the mall. We're living in the same city, you know I'll hunt you down.”

When Danny hesitates, her face and tone melt into something softer.

“Please, Danny. We miss you.”

Danny melts a little, sighing and smiling. “...yeah. Yeah, I missed you too. I've missed you guys so much.”

“So?” Sam prompts, holding her hand out.

Danny huffs a little laughing breath and fishes around in his pocket, unlocking his phone and plopping it into her hand. 

His nails are black and green. Gradient.

Tucker doesn't know much about nails, but he knows there's a difference when Sam paints them and when she splurges for acrylics.

“Are those professionally done?” he asks, bemused. Danny had never expressed an interest in that kind of thing as a kid. It's kind of cool to see signs that he's, like…growing into himself.

Danny shrugs, and it feels good to see that he doesn't even seem to consider Tucker might give a shit in a bad way.

“I'm on my hot girl shit,” he deadpans, and Sam nearly drops his phone with the force of her startled laugh.

Tucker snorts. “Oh, well about time.”

“Hey!” Danny protests, offense fake and eyes dancing. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing, nothing! You had a glow up is all.”

Danny snickers and kicks him gently under the table.

“Okay, dick.”

It's like they never parted at all for a moment.

“Here, Mr. Hot Girl Shit,” Sam says, handing Danny his phone back. “I put our numbers in and sent a text in a group chat so you can't forget to reach out. I'm serious, Danny. We missed you, don't disappear. It was scary enough the first time.”

Danny grimaces, at least looking genuinely apologetic. “I know. I'm sorry. I really do need to get going today, though. I've got an appointment.”

“What kind of appointment?” Tucker asks.

The grin Danny gives him is mischievous and has a few teeth sharper than he remembers there being. 

He breezes past them and out the door with an impish response of, “Hide and seek with furries.”

Part 4

Masterpost

[roosterforme]

Would you write us a mini blurb of Kylie trying to steal Jake and then her trying to get with the other daggers. Would love to see Jake call her out for being a shitty friend and crappy person in general. Then watch him hype up his girl and she comes along and watch’s the whole thing unfold. would be amazing.

I've been thinking about this scenario all week! Kylie would sabotage her friendship with Darlin' (or what's left of it) just to have even the slightest chance to get some attention from Jake. I mentioned that she definitely hit on him at the bar before Darlin' formally introduced them, but apparently that rejection from Jake early on wasn't enough.

"I can't believe I'm graduating in a week," you moaned. Jake had you pinned up against your bedroom wall in your tiny apartment that you shared with Kylie. He was pretty sure your roommate heard the two of you having sex last night; the wall between the bedrooms seemed to be paper thin, and she barely looked at either of you all day while you moved your stuff out.

"And you're moving in with me today," Jake grunted, kissing along your neck as you sighed in contentment. "You're a busy girl, Darlin'."

There were only a few boxes that still needed to make their way to his truck, and while the two of you barely spent any time here together, he was feeling a little nostalgic. There was that one weekend when Kylie was in Mexico and the power was out at his place where the two of you made love on the living room floor. And your bed frame was bent after the week of spring break when he fucked you so hard, the metal got warped.

"This was a good apartment," he murmured, and you laughed in response.

"You told me so many times you hated sleeping over here!"

Jake took a step away from you, and stacked up three boxes to take to his truck. "I hated having to be quiet and get fully dressed before I could leave your bedroom. But there were some good times," he replied with a wink. "I'll run these outside and be right back."

You followed him as far as your apartment door, saying, "I'll check my mailbox one last time and meet you back up here."

Then you went right while he went left, and it only took Jake a minute to throw the boxes into his truck and sprint back upstairs. He was just getting himself a drink of water when he heard you walk back in.

"Hey, Dar-" But it wasn't you. It was your almost former roommate. "Hey, Kylie."

"Jake," she replied with a smile, making his name sound idiotically like it was three syllables long. "Let me see your phone?"

He took a long sip of water before he finally asked, "Why?"

"Just let me see it." She reached out and poked his phone in his jeans pocket, and he took a step backwards, spilling his water down the front of his shirt.

"Why?" he asked again, this time anger seeped into his voice.

"So you can have my number. For when you get bored."

He was so confused now. "Bored?" He would never be bored enough to want to talk to her, but then she said something that really made him mad.

"Yeah... bored with your relationship."

He stood completely still, and the expression on his face must have scared her, because her hand froze on the way back to his pocket. "You know what? You're a really shitty friend."

"No, I'm not," she said with a shrug, still trying to be coy.

But Jake snapped. "What is it exactly? You're mad that you were able to collect all the other guys, but not me? Or you're bitchy because she didn't have to do anything except be herself to make me fall in love with her?"

"What's going on?" you asked from the doorway. When Jake looked at you, there was uncertainty in his eyes, which made him sick.

"Absolutely not a damn thing," he practically growled. He took the mail from your hand and shoved it into the last box with your name on it. Then he picked it up and wrapped his free hand around your waist. "Say goodbye to Kylie. We won't be seeing her again."

Then he led you out to his truck without a backward glance and drove you to his place where you would never be treated badly if he had anything to say about it.

[astaroth1357]

Sick Days:

*MC is in the Croytus Hall kitchen, trying their damnedest to keep from coughing their lungs out while carefully monitoring a pot of simmering soup. They hear the footfalls of their housemate, Solomon, as he comes up behind them*

Solomon: Oh MC~! I have everything ready. Thankfully, the Devildom still has TV these days, even if the shows are out of d-... da-....

*a hankerchief flies out of his pocket and quickly covers his nose*

Solomon: ACHOO!!

*the hankerchief does its thing before flying off behind him to go put itself in the laundry, swapping places with a fresh one that finds its way back to his pocket once again*

MC: *keeps their back to him* Bless you.

*Solomon comes up and slings his arms over their shoulders, leaning against them like he's a sagging backpack. His head rests alongside theirs*

Solomon: Is it still cooking?

*he reaches out to lift the lid on the pot but MC, already knowing better, swiftly smacks his mit back down*

MC: Don't touch.

Solomon: Oh! Right, I'm sorry. Forgot the rules for a second. I'm sure it smells good... not that either of us would know.

*he contently sways their bodies from side-to-side while MC clears their throat, grumbling dryily*

MC: Y-ou know, you could cure us at any time, right...?

Solomon: So could you, yet here we are! You're just playing hookie from the brothers right now, aren't you?

*the MC tries to groan, but ends up regretting it as it stresses their already aching throat. They cover their mouth with their elbow to catch their raspy coughs before responding*

MC: U-ugh! Okay, fine... You're right. How about you stop breaking my balls and pick what we're watching...?

Solomon: I already have. Beel told me about this wonderful cooking show the other day! I think we can start with that, then maybe move onto a few movies Leviathan recommended...

Solomon: I have the TV set and heated blankets on the couch. Plenty of water, a few boxes of tissues (mostly for me), your favorite sweater, a plush Asmo bought me-

MC: ...

Solomon: -and anything else we need, I'll have my wand in reach! I figured for dinner, we can order out. It's lovely that you're making us soup, but let's not push-

MC: Sol?

Solomon: -Hm?

*MC wiggles him back until they can turn themselves around and wrap their arms around his chest. They rest their head up against the soft fabric of one of his old sleep shirts snugly*

MC: .... Thank you.

*Solomon looks taken aback by their sudden tenderness, but doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around them further and lightly cage them to his chest*

Solomon: Of course, MC... You take care of so many people. You deserve a break.

*a comfortable silence spreads between them for a minute or so, before MC starts to feel Solomon's cheek rubbing against the top of their head like a smothering cat*

Solomon: Oh, my adorable apprentice, you're just so cute when you're sick~

MC: *snaps their eyes back open and glares at his words, but doesn't let go yet*

MC: Sooool....

Solomon: If I didn't know better, I would almost want to keep you like this...

MC: *snorts* Good luck. The brothers would kill you for it. *they drop their arms from his chest, but he doesn't let go*

MC: Sol?

Solomon: I'm sure they would try, but you wouldn't let something bad happen to your beloved teacher, would you MC?

MC: *rolls their eyes* You wouldn't need my help, anyway. Let go.

Solomon: *squeezes a little tighter* Uh-uh! That wasn't my question.

MC: Sol, I need to stir the soup.

Solomon: And I need to hear an answer.

MC: Solomon, I'm serious.

Solomon: Oh? What's this? I think I'm gonna... ahh...!

MC: Wait, what are you-?

Solomon: Ahhh...!

MC: Solomon, let go!

Solomon: AHHHH....!!

MC: OKAY OKAY, I WOULDN'T LET THEM HURT YOU! Don't you DARE sneeze in my hair!!

Solomon: AHHHH- Just kidding~

*he finally lets them go and they lightly slap his shoulder before turning back around in a huff*

MC: Get out of my kitchen!

Solomon: Then I'll meet you on the couch again?

MC: Only after the soup is done.

Solomon: Then we can cuddle?

MC: Not if you misbehave!

Solomon: What if I steal the blankets~?

MC: *rubs their pounding temples at their teacher's childish antics*

MC: Solomon, I'm serious. Get. Out.

[riality-check]

tw for mentions of substance abuse (part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7)

ao3

Steve Harrington has been awake for fifty four hours. With luck, he'll be able to eke out another eighteen. Three days seems to be the sweet spot, even if he only makes it there half the time and, of that half, it only works half the time.

It's better than nothing.

Maybe four days is the sweet spot. Ninety six is close to one hundred, and that seems like a good omen.

Omens don't really matter though. What matters is staying awake.

So, Steve chugs his coffee and walks into the conference room. Coffee isn't enough, not nearly, but it'll do until he gets desperate enough to take something.

He really does try to only take them when he's desperate. It's easier that way, to just do it when he feels like he needs to rather than measuring dosages and remembering times. Hours start to blur around hour forty of being awake.

He walks in, sits down in the chair closest to the door, and is met with a withering glare from Eddie Munson.

Listen. Steve isn't happy about this either, but at least he doesn't look like he stepped in dog shit on the way here. Then again, Steve doesn't have the luxury of ever looking truly unhappy.

Eddie is a rock star. Mean is part of his brand, while mean is the antithesis to Steve's.

Whatever.

"Are you kidding me?" Eddie says, still staring at him, but Steve knows he's not who he's asking.

"He's the best person for the job," Chrissy, Eddie's manager, says.

"We don't need him."

Someone taps Steve's left shoulder. He turns to see Jeff, the lead singer of Corroded Coffin, give him a warm smile.

"Nice to meet you, Steve," he says, and Steve shakes his proffered hand.

"Happy to help," he says, and it's only half a lie.

The drummer and the bassist - Steve would probably be able to remember their names if he wasn't so exhausted - wave their hellos from a few seats away.

"Hi, Steve," Chrissy says.

He takes another swig of his coffee and gives her a little wave in response.

"We don't need a pop singer to write lyrics for us," Eddie says, still not letting this go.

"Yes, you do," Steve says. He sets his coffee cup down on the table and opens the folder he brought with him. "I read through the lyrics of every one of your songs."

"You didn't even listen to them?"

"Would have taken too much time."

That's a lie. Listening, even with the lengthy guitar solos, probably would have taken less time. But Steve needs something to fill the hours when he's supposed to be asleep, and reading, that slow process with its ample, awakening frustration, is the perfect thing.

"You became so much less interesting after your first album," he says. "Every one of your songs talks about the same thing. Conquering evil, killing demons, blah blah blah."

"That's what's in right now," Eddie snaps.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve catches the drummer and Chrissy make the same motion. They pinch the bridges of their noses, clearly frustrated.

Steve sees why Chrissy wanted to talk to him.

"It is," he concedes. "But I also read the lyrics of every song by the bands with top ten hits. They don't talk about it nearly as much. They sing about other stuff. And they don't use an F major chord in every one of their songs."

"We don't-"

"We kinda do, Eddie," the bassist pipes up. "I'm a little sick of playing F."

Eddie takes a breath. Steve takes the opportunity to take a pill.

He found a way to make it less obvious for people who have something to say about it. Steve will take one from his pocket, yawn, cover his mouth, and swallow it dry. Easy peasy. They don't notice, he doesn't have to deal with people who don't get it making comments.

Except when he does, this time, Eddie narrows his eyes. Like he knows what he's doing.

Steve doesn't like that look.

"Have you read my stuff?" He won't ask if Eddie has listened to any of it. He knows the answer is no, if he keeps bringing up genre like that really means anything.

Eddie doesn't respond. He keeps those narrowed eyes trained on Steve and stays silent.

"Didn't think so," he says, and he slides over the thick stack of papers Robin stapled together for him last night. "Here's everything. Read it. Tell me if you like it. I'm only helping you if you give a shit. This goes two ways, and I don't want to waste my time if you think I'm wasting yours."

Eddie doesn't take the stack, but the drummer, sitting next to him, tugs them closer. "Thanks."

"Let me know tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Jeff says, eyebrows raised.

Steve forgets that most people don't actually take advantage of their twenty four hours.

"End of the week," he says instead, and he relaxes when Jeff does.

The drummer starts flipping through the pages while the bassist looks over his shoulder.

"Need anything else from me?" Steve asks Chrissy.

"I don't think so," she says. "I'll call you back to set up a time for Saturday."

He's amazed by the fact that someone as sweet as her works with someone as pretentious as Eddie.

"Sounds good," he says, and he walks out, trying to ignore the feeling of Eddie's eyes on him as he goes through the door.

It only halfway works.

The pill should kick in soon, within a half hour, maybe shorter because of the coffee. Maybe he'll write something. Maybe he'll work on the piano melody he's been tinkering with for the past week. Maybe he'll read the latest book Robin picked up from the library, something interesting enough to be worth the frustration of the moving letters, something that will still fill the time.

He'll make it to seventy two hours. Then he'll crash because his body is a worthless piece of shit, and he hopes this is the half of the time when he doesn't have any goddamn nightmares.

Maybe he should pop another pill, just in case.

[anxiousgaypanicking]

Size Difference

Kingxiety (King Creativity x Virgil) Kinktober 2023 Day Thirteen: Size Difference Warnings: choking, stomach bulges, size differences, overstimulation, cum inflation, dacryphilia

"Ah, Anxiety," King greets him, grinning wide through his beard. "You've come to visit." 

Anxiety feels tense within the large, grandeur room. King chose to sleep in a vast castle in the imagination instead of in the mindscape with the rest of them, though Anxiety figures that if he had to choose between the dark side, the light side, and a side-less void that could be filled with whatever he decided, he'd choose the imagination as well. But standing in the carefully crafted castle, Anxiety feels rather small. Especially when standing face to face with King, who was double his size. 

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Anxiety shakes his head. "I'm just here to pass a message along," he explains, avoiding eye contact. "Deceit wants you to stop pushing Thomas to stay up super late. Says it's 'bad for his sleep cycle,' and stuff. Says he doesn't like how I act when Thomas is sleep deprived, either." 

King stares at him, and then frowns slightly. "What does Deceit know about Thomas anyway?" he asks, though it's obvious the question is rhetorical. Shaking his head slightly, King directs his attention back to Anxiety. "And what does Deceit know about you? I quite like how feisty you are, tired or not. You're like a blazing spitfire." 

Anxiety chews his inner cheek, stuffing his hands into his pockets. He ignores King, and instead says "I'm forced to listen to the light sides complain too. You're bothering everybody." 

"Oh?" King's lips quirk into a smug smile. "You'd know plenty about that, wouldn't you?" 

Anxiety frowns, lips curling into a sneer. He again brushes off King's jab, and curtly says "why are you being so nonchalant? Aren't you supposed to be on their side?" 

Huffing out out a laugh that's powerful enough to echo throughout the shimmering room, King answers "my dear, I'm on my own side. The lights don't understand nor value my prowess, and the only thing Deceit is good at is criticism. In fact, I'm surprised that you even perpetuate this silly idea of 'sides.'" 

Looking uncomfortable, Anxiety responds "we're all on a side. We can't change that. You can't just not be a light side because you're saying you're not. Same way I can't be a light side just by saying I am." 

"And why not?" 

Anxiety is no longer standing still, as this conversation makes him nervous. King almost questions why Deceit would send him here in the first place, before realizing that the former was probably too lazy to do it himself. He had a habit of attempting to solve problems from the shadows, after all, and refusing to address them until he absolutely had to. 

After a few moments, Anxiety lets out an agitated huff and turns to walk away and leave this place, already sulking at the idea of recounting his failure to Deceit, but before he can get out the door, King stops him with a genuine "wait." 

Anxiety lingers in the doorway despite his better judgement, not turning to look at King but awaiting his words. Silence hangs in the air for a moment, before Anxiety hears King chuckle softly. 

"How about a proposition?" King begins, which has Anxiety frowning and turning to scowl at King. 

"I'm not one for making deals," Anxiety bitterly responds, "or doing favors. Whatever sick and twisted torture you'd like to do can surely be done on any of your fabricated peasants." 

King waves his hand dismissively. "I wasn't alluding to torture, silly," he assures him, though the words feel rather condescending. "I can imagine why you'd worry about that, however. I'm not ignorant to the more... experimental things I do to my creations. But, no, the things I want to do to you are much more fun, and - after you hear me out - you have full autonomy to refuse. I'll even let you slap me across my perfect face should my offer offend you, if you so desire." 

Anxiety raises his chin. He does desire knocking the smug look off of King's groomed countenance.

"If you do my the honor of accompanying me to my chambers, I shall consider loosening my hold on Thomas's sleep schedule, and will instead relegate my wonderful ideas to strictly daylight hours."

"Accompany you... as in..." 

King's lips stretch into a delighted grin. "Sleep with me. Have sex with me. Love-make with me. Whatever you'd like to call it." 

"What do you get out of this?" Anxiety asks, stunned. 

King shrugs. "I could ask you the same question." 

Anxiety splutters in a mixture of frustration and fluster, clearly conflicted between the options of sleeping with King or getting chewed out by Deceit. Neither were favorable, but honestly the lesser of two evils was sitting right before him, and had spread his legs and leaned forward, smirking as he waits for Anxiety to consider his words. 

Hesitant, Anxiety shuffles forward, and says "fine, whatever. Let's go to your bedroom and get this over with," attempting to hide the fact his eyes flicker over King's large stomach and tall stature once he stands. 

King descends from the throne of which he was previously seated upon, and rather shamelessly lifts Anxiety up off the ground in a practiced scoop, cradling Anxiety easily in one arm, only made easier by their rather comparable size discrepancy. Anxiety immediately starts squirming, spewing out "put me down, freak!" but his protests are ignored in favor of King throwing open a large set of double doors, and tossing Anxiety onto an even larger bed. 

As he thrashes, Anxiety only manages to further tangle himself in the sheets, and it takes a solid few minutes for his head to finally emerge from a plethora of silk blankets and cotton sheets. 

"Asshole!" Anxiety hisses, snarling in King's direction as his bangs fall messily over his face. Even as they obscure his eyes, King can tell he's glaring. "Are you trying to kill me?!" 

"You can't die," King reminds him, before shrugging off his dramatic, floor-length cape, letting it gently fall to the floor. His hands shamelessly then begin undoing his shirt, which has Anxiety staring, enraptured. His cheeks are bright red while King's face displays nothing but smugness, even more confident once his shirt is peeled away and Anxiety is looking up and down his bare chest and stomach. 

King was big in all regards. If he flexed - which he does solely to gauge Anxiety's reaction - he developed rather prominent muscles. Sturdy abs, big arms, defined pectorals, all beautifully decorated with hair. And when he relaxed - which he does immediately after - all that muscle softens into pudgy fat, giving him a rather big silhouette that was simultaneously domineering and huggable. 

"Don't you know it's rude to stare?" King teases, as he undoes his pants just enough to pull them off easier later. Anxiety seems both embarrassed and annoyed that King keeps them on. 

"I'm just trying to mentally prepare for seeing you on top of me," Anxiety bitterly refutes. "I'm sure it won't be pretty." 

King huffs out a laugh. "My dear," he starts, leaning over the edge of his bed and beginning to crawl onto it, "everything I do is pretty." 

Anxiety shrinks back against the sheets, as though encouraged to by King's massive build, until he's laying flat on his back and King is leaning over him. King's fingers tauntingly trace over the blankets beside his head and around his body, but don't touch him outright, instead blowing on Anxiety to move his hair out of his face. Anxiety grimaces at the action, and then narrows his eyes at King afterwards. 

"Prick," he mutters. 

King ignores him. "Well? Aren't you going to get undressed?" 

"I've been too tangled in your stupidly large bed to move, let alone get undressed! Are you trying to get me to give up and go back to the dark side? Because right now, you're pissing me off way more than Deceit would." 

King makes a face. "Don't compare us. I'm far better than him, the same way I'm far better than you." 

"Far better at being annoying." 

Frowning, King pushes his hand into the bed beside Anxiety's head, sliding his knees upwards and forcing Anxiety's legs to spread around his waist. Anxiety flushes at their shifting position. 

"Watch your words," King scolds him, voice low, "remember that you're in my domain, and I won't tolerate disrespect. You're free to leave if you'd like; I already told you that you may. But I won't sit here and take your bratty behavior the same way that lazy, two-faced, no-good, encroaching-" 

"King," Anxiety says, snapping King out of his mini rant. King almost looks surprised for a moment, before grinning, and bending down further to reach Anxiety's face. 

With their lips almost touching, and his stomach pressing down rather pleasurably against Anxiety's front, King says "that's my king, to you," and then uses his hand to tilt Anxiety's head upwards. He catches Anxiety's lips in a deep kiss, moving his lips rather expertly against Anxiety's own inexperienced ones, listening to the little noises of humiliation the latter makes as he's blessed with this intimate experience. 

When King pulls away, he begins sliding his hands up Anxiety's dark grey shirt. Anxiety shivers at his touch, but doesn't stop King, and instead turns his head to the side in an attempt to keep himself composed. 

"Do you have any qualms about me stripping you down?" King asks, as he slowly begins to drag up the fabric concealing Anxiety's front. "Or are you secretly looking forward to this endeavor?" 

"I don't look forward to anything," Anxiety rebuttals, "let alone anything involving you or the other lights."  

"Hurtful," King huffs, "but not an answer to my question." 

Rolling his eyes, Anxiety spits "do whatever you want, so long as you do it fast. I don't want to be here longer than I have to be." 

It's King's turn to look annoyed, though playfully so, and pulls Anxiety's hoodie and shirt off and revealing the thin, pale stomach underneath. King raises an eyebrow and pokes him, which has Anxiety slapping his hand away at the action. 

"You could stand to gain a few pounds," King comments, which has Anxiety groaning. 

"Are you seriously criticizing my looks right now?" he crosses his arms over his stomach, subtly attempting to hide it. "As if you weren't the one proposing we sleep together. If you want somebody 'perfect' then you can just summon a sex doll!" 

King moves Anxiety's arms out of way. "It's not a critique; it's a... suggestion. Doesn't Deceit feed you?" 

"I feed myself." 

"Not very much from the looks of it." King hums as he pins Anxiety's wrists above his head, dragging his large fingers over the scarily prominent ribcage and hip bones. As King's fingers circle Anxiety's pelvis, he suddenly smirks, and adds "but this means my cock will be nice and snug inside of you. Do you think I'll be able to see the outline of my shaft through your stomach?" 

Anxiety stares at him and splutters. "What? I don't- you freak! You're weird!" 

King grins, and then undoes his pants just enough to let his cock out, which has Anxiety shutting up almost immediately. Leaning over Anxiety, King's cock presses between his own heavy, hairy stomach, and Anxiety's smaller one, which lets Anxiety truly see just how large King's cock is. Sure, he could have assumed that it'd be big - King is twice his size, after all - but it nearly goes all the way up to Anxiety's ribcage, and it's girthier than Anxiety's own fist. 

"Holy... shit..." Anxiety breathes, voice shaky. "King... I don't... that won't-" 

"It will," King assures him. "You'll stretch. Don't worry; I'll even pamper you a bit so it doesn't hurt. Trust me; I'm an expert on all things intimacy." 

Anxiety grits his teeth. "Whatever. Just... just..." 

King shushes him, and pets over Anxiety's face, before working off Anxiety's skinny jeans. Anxiety doesn't bother making it easier for him, and leaves King to do all the work, but it's only a matter of time before all his clothes land on the floor, making him feel naked and vulnerable. It has him flushing dark and avoiding King's eyes, but even so he can feel King staring intensely at him. 

King waves his hand and summons up a rather large bottle of lube soon after, and then dumps half of it onto one of his large hands, smearing it between his fingers and making sure they're all properly coated in the substance. 

"Relax," King urges Anxiety, rubbing his clean thumb over Anxiety's wrists, which he releases after a moment, letting Anxiety grip the sheets instead. "You're going to feel so, so good." 

Anxiety feels one of King's massive, thick fingers slide down past his balls and between his crack, smearing an excess amount of lube over his cheeks before just one of his fingers is pushing inside. Immediately, his toes curl, and his back is arching off the bed as he bites back a moan of unfamiliarity. It feels foreign, but not bad. Just... overwhelming. 

"There we go..." King praises him, his soft tone quite the contrast to his earlier ego. "Look at you, taking my finger so well! At this rate, you'll be able to handle my cock in no time!" 

Anxiety peeks one of his eyes open to stare at King's throbbing shaft, still rubbing against his smaller frame. Meekly, he retorts "I doubt that," but his voice is barely above a whisper. And honestly, he doesn't bother repeating himself, not wanting to give King any reason to stop. He's almost ashamed of how his own cock hardens at King's rubbing over it, and how it twitches as he thinks about being impaled on King's length. 

King's free hand stays planted on the bed beside Anxiety's head, but very subtly begins to crawl over Anxiety's collarbones. And as King very slowly begins to insert a second finger - stretching Anxiety further than he's ever been stretched - King's hand wraps around his throat, squeezing the sides of Anxiety's neck and limiting his blood flow, causing a sudden rush of surprise, pleasure, and dizziness to be sent through him. His hips attempt to jerk, but hardly go anywhere with King's thick fingers buried inside of him. 

"Good boy," King coos, eating up Anxiety's pathetic display with his intense eyes. "You're doing great. Relax..." 

Pumping his fingers in and out of Anxiety, King is fully aware of just how pleasured Anxiety must feel. Sure, he's clearly not used to this, but King watches with a smug smile as Anxiety's mouth opens in a silent moan and his body jerks as King's digits dig particularly deep into him. 

Easing his grip on Anxiety's throat, he listens giddily as Anxiety sucks in a mouthful of air, before exclaiming a rather powerful "fuck!" that says everything King needs to know about how Anxiety is feeling. 

As he adds a third finger, he tightens his grip again, once again leaving Anxiety literally breathless. 

Anxiety's small hands press against King's much larger one, but not to try and push him away. Mostly just to keep himself grounded as spit dribbles from the corners of his agape mouth. 

He can't breathe, and he can hardly think, and King's fingers just stretch him open without a care. He's going slow enough that Anxiety can't even worry about potential tearing, and it doesn't hurt regardless because of how thorough King is being. And he doesn't boast about how careful he is, but Anxiety can tell. He can see in King's eyes how badly he wants to get on to the main event, and yet he takes his time anyway. That mere fact has Anxiety letting out a strained whimper as his small cock rubs against King's. 

The pads of his fingers nudge against Anxiety's prostate, making Anxiety jolt as much as he possibly can beneath King's heavy weight, and what finally has King grinning and slipping his fingers out. 

"There we go," he purrs, as he releases Anxiety's throat, letting him take in a much needed breath. His hand moves to instead grab the back of Anxiety's thigh and lift it up, pulling his hips up from the mattress. 

Anxiety watches as King takes the remaining bottle of lube and pushes it against his hole, before squeezing the bottle, suddenly and intensely flooding Anxiety's insides with the substance. Anxiety lets out a cry, and reaches behind him to grab a pillow, throwing it at King's face out of sheer instinct. 

King laughs as it hits him. "What?" he argues, his mustache stretched over his playful smile. "This was the most efficient way to make sure things would go comfortably!" 

He pulls the bottle from Anxiety's hole, shakes it (which leaves Anxiety to watch as the bottle's contents are magically refilled) and then turns it upside down, using up the entire bottle once more on lubing up his cock. Anxiety almost believes it to be excess, but watching as King spreads it over his length has Anxiety now doubting if it's even enough. 

"King," Anxiety starts, nervousness clear in his voice. But King just shushes him, and squeezes his thigh, rubbing his massive cock against Anxiety's awaiting hole. 

"King," Anxiety says again, whimpering the word out. "King, is this- is this-" 

"It won't hurt," King assures him. "I'd never hurt you, I promise. And if it does, you tell me, and I'll stop. And if it doesn't, but you're not having fun, I'll stop then as well. Would you like me to stop now?" 

Anxiety's eyes shine with brief hesitation, before he's flushing dark and biting his lip as he shakes his head no.

King kisses his ankle as he guides it to wrap around his waist. "Good boy," he soothes, before he very slowly begins to work his cock into the man beneath him. 

Anxiety moans loud and pathetically as he feels the tip of King's shaft stretch him open. It's way more inside of him than King's fingers even were, but like King promised, it doesn't hurt. However, Anxiety does wonder if his body will be able to hold the massive length, as he already feels incredibly full while being fully aware King's barely halfway inside of him. 

"It's not gonna-" Anxiety stammers, as he watches his thin stomach bulge with King's girth. He sets his shaky hands against his stomach, pressing down on King's cock from the outside, which makes them both groan. 

"It will," King responds, not even needing Anxiety to finish. He lowers Anxiety's hips a bit so he can properly get a look at the bump, and lets out a satisfied laugh when he sees it. He presses his own hand down on it, enveloping Anxiety's fingers in his grasp, which has Anxiety gasping and squirming, squeaking out pathetic obscenities as he's filled further and further. And King just keeps pressing his cock deeper and deeper into him. 

Anxiety watches the bulge creep up his stomach - past what Logic would say is plausible. He knows they're not real, but even this is a ridiculous stretch! Literally!

Until finally King's entire length is buried deep in him, leaving his hips off the bed and his stomach stretched. 

Anxiety's eyes are brimming with pretty tears, his face a deep red. His hair is slick to his head with sweat, and one of his hands is tangled in the sheets, while the other stays trapped beneath King's own. 

Whimpering, Anxiety opens his mouth to plead, but no sound comes out. Anything he wants to say dies before it can even come up his throat. Every little bit of him is overwhelmed by the way King feels inside of him, and he can barely comprehend it. Especially when King starts moving; Anxiety barely has time to prepare. 

"King," Anxiety moans out, as he feels King's cock shift within him. Every movement King makes feels amplified tenfold to Anxiety, who's body is on the receiving end of each bit of stimulation. Still though, King slowly slides his cock halfway out, which makes Anxiety feel already so much emptier. He can barely brace himself for when King thrusts back in. 

He lets out a cry as King shoves his shaft back fully inside of him, with King exhaling sharply at the feeling. 

"Deep breath, Anxiety," King guides him, as if sweat isn't rolling down his thick chest, drawing Anxiety's blurry pupils to his attractive midsection. "In, and out." King pulls out a bit again, and then thrusts hard, making Anxiety's body jolt once more. King releases his stomach, but keeps hold of Anxiety's hand, pinning it above Anxiety's head and entwining their fingers. King's massive hand envelops Anxiety's digits, but Anxiety finds himself embarrassingly comforted by the wordless act of affection. "You're doing so well. You're taking my cock so well. It's rather impressive, honestly." 

Though Anxiety feels overwhelmed, he can't help but grin at King's words, and pant out "asshole," which has King smiling knowingly. 

Assured that Anxiety is at least comfortable enough to joke around, King slips more of his cock out, before thrusting in. He positions a hand on Anxiety's hip to help rock him on his cock, which makes both of them moan. 

As Anxiety clenches around him, squeezing his cock from all sides with his small body, King can't help but feel pleasured. 

"No person I can summon could possibly feel as good as you do," King grunts, as he watches Anxiety's stomach bulge with each thrust of his cock. "You stretch realistically, you react pathetically; you're the perfect combination of slut and sass to keep me interested." 

"You're lucky you're bigger than I am," Anxiety pants out, though he's quickly interrupted by an intense moan that he fails to swallow down, "otherwise your cheek would have a bright red handprint on it right about now." 

King squeezes Anxiety's hand, unable to hide his amusement at the comment as he continues fucking into him. He never speeds up past a steady pace - clearly not wanting to overwhelm him - but makes sure he thrusts hard. His thick shaft rubs against Anxiety's prostate, abusing it constantly without even trying. Anxiety's beautifully teary eyed, biting back softer noises but unable to keep the louder ones from escaping his lips, as his body trembles and he cries out. King can even imagine his back arching off the bed if he didn't have a massive cock inside of him weighing him down. 

"King," Anxiety whines, barely able to articulate his thoughts. "King-" 

"Close already?" King coos, interrupting Anxiety's train of thought. Anxiety gives him an embarrassed glare, but doesn't refute King's words, instead just biting his lips and weakly nodding. King groans as he leans over Anxiety further, pressing their bodies together and making Anxiety feel wonderfully trapped beneath King's hairy stomach. "That's okay. I'm flattered, if anything. Go ahead and come. I'm not done with you yet." 

Anxiety tries to meekly protest, though nothing is properly said, and though Anxiety does bitterly try and hold back his orgasm, his cock is being actively stimulated by King's own torso, and his prostate being thrust against truthfully doesn't help in his spiteful endeavor. So despite his embarrassment, Anxiety comes quickly thereafter, with a loud cry spilling from his throat as his head presses back into the fluffy pillows beneath him. 

King moans at his display. "God, Anxiety, who knew you'd make such a good toy?" he murmurs, and watches as Anxiety's overstimulated display can do nothing to argue against his words. Instead, Anxiety's eyes fill with shining tears, as his hand clenches hard to King's upper arm, nails digging into the flesh. He needs something to hold onto, and King is more than happy to be scratched by his jagged, bitten nails. 

"I shouldn't give you too much credit, though," King is quick to add, as he clarifies "most people are obedient for their king. Who's your king, Anxiety? Am I your king?" 

"N-n-" 

King thrusts into him rough, promptly shutting up his refutation. "Try again." 

"Mm," Anxiety presses his lips into a thin line, turning his head stubbornly to the side. Against King's stomach, his cock twitches, and is rubbed and fucked quickly back to full hardness, still slick with his mess from mere moments ago. 

"Say it." 

King's breathing speeds as he watches the tears roll rapidly down Anxiety's cheeks. Though Anxiety is attempting to refuse his words, King just can't back down. 

"Say it, or I swear I'll leave right now, and won't budge an inch when your desperate, pathetic, needy self comes crawling back to me for the satisfaction you know only I can bring you. Who's your king?" 

Anxiety's pupils dart in his direction, his eyes shining with the same lust and neediness that King's sure his own reflect. Both of them want this. Both of them are holding to the other, clinging to them. 

"You're-" Anxiety whimpers, letting out an overwhelmed sob as King fucks into his prostate, filling him with his cock, "you're my- my-" he sucks in a shaky breath, and squeezes his eyes shut to avoid meeting King's. "My king." 

King moans at his words, and presses the entirety of his body into Anxiety's. "Fuck yes," he breathes, his words barely loud enough for Anxiety to process as their bodies are as close as they can be. He holds Anxiety tightly, gripping him and thrusting into him as if Anxiety was a prized possession, and Anxiety gasps when he feels King's lips on his neck. 

Without warning, and while gingerly kissing the flesh of Anxiety's throat where his hands were squeezing earlier, he comes, filling Anxiety's small body with loads of semen. 

Anxiety truly feels he might burst. It's shot into him in massive waves, at first just flooding his insides, and then truly beginning to fill it. He's shocked there's even room considering how much space King's own cock takes up, but at the same time can feel streams squirting out his hole, dirtying the mattress. King makes an awfully pathetic noise into Anxiety's ear as he fills him. Anxiety comes too, both from the few, weaker thrusts King does as he rides out his orgasm, and from the feeling of being further stretched open. And then King pulls up, letting them both see the way Anxiety's stomach has bloated with his come, having been inflated without a care in the world. 

Anxiety opens his mouth to say something, but no words come out, and instead he raises his trembling head towards King. King pets through his hair, smoothing his sweaty bangs out of his face. 

"Good job," he praises, voice soft, in such a genuine manner that Anxiety has to look away in an attempt to hide his blush. "You did such a good job. So good." 

King slowly slides his cock out of him, making Anxiety cringe at the feeling of King's semen gushing out of him as well, but King doesn't even comment on it. Instead, he lifts Anxiety's messy body up off the sheets with incredible ease, and tucks him against his chest, a lot sweeter than Anxiety would have expected him to behave. 

"I'll run us a bath," King whispers, as he brings them both out of bed. "My tub is more than big enough for both of us. And you can spend the night with me, if you so desire. You'd be a great reason not to get out of bed and keep Thomas awake." 

Anxiety flushes, and turns his head away. He gives no response, but doesn't decline all the same, so King decides that if he wants to leave, he may. But for now, he carries him to his massive, conjoined bathroom, and does indeed start the water, which pours from the faucet with bubble soaps and Epsom salts already pre-mixed in (as per the magic-adjacent rules of the imagination). He holds Anxiety intimately as he sits on the tub's ledge, waiting for the bath to fill. 

And, well, Anxiety silently decides that maybe spending the night won't be so bad...

[vole-mon-amour]

I don't know if I'll write this fully when I have the time and energy (depends), but I know that if I won't get it out of my system, I'll forget & I don't want that.

The short idea is: a body of water (a river or a big lake). A magical fruit tree whose trunk is fully leaning over the water, so the chances of shaking it really hard and getting the fruits are close to zero. The three grows several kinds of fruit at once: peaches, plums, apples, pears.

Halsin and Astarion have been on the road for several days. Halsin is hungry as hell, they're low on food and money (and the damn druid absolutely forbids any kind of stealing, and it's not like they've encountered a lot of people to steal from on their travelling). And here's the tree, right in front of them.

The catch is, not only can Halsin not climb the tree (he'll probably end up in the water, either out of his clumsiness or because one of the branches/trunk snap under Halsin's weight and size), but he is also magically wounded in a battle.

Why does it matter that he's magically wounded? Because he can't heal himself. No potions or spells he has tried worked, so the healing is very, VERY slow. So climbing the tree and picking the fruits himself is out of the question—dor the reasons of mentions above, for also out of fear to make the damage way worse.

So, we have Astarion that bravely climbs up the tree (doesn't even complain much, he'll do things for Halsin he didn't do before for anyone else—because he cares for him very much), picks enough food that lasts them (Halsin, because Astarion mostly feeds off Halsin's blood—his favourite meal/treat) for days. Then jumps down in the water, makes several in-and-out of the water while carrying the fruits in his shirt.

And all I can think about at that point is Astarion being a wet cat in this situation. Up the tree (he's the beauty, he's the grace; he also knows how to pick pockets, so this should be twice as faster and easier), in the water collecting the fruits (hair sticking to his forehead, a bit grumpy, sopping wet cat),getting out of the water (the clothes sticking to his entire body and it feels horrible), sitting next to Halsin—Halsin is in the shade, Astarion in the sunlight in his underwear while his dripping clothes are drying on the tree. He tried to squeeze the water out of it, but of course it's still dripping.

Halsin probably watches his attempts, then calmly offers a hand (even two) ("Let me help you with that") while also flirting and thanking Astarion in the process. It was a really nice thing that he did, considering he's still unsure of the water and it doesn't always feel nice.

I can also imagine Astarion either wanting to try and get dry in those soaking wet clothes (unsuccessfully, obviously) until Halsin suggests he takes the clothes off. Or having trouble removing the clothes/himself out of the clothes because it's clinging to his body, it's heavy, and he's already been in the water for long enough and he is now kind of overwhelmed. So Halsin helps him get rid of the clothes in his usual calm demeanor, squeezes as much water as he can and hangs it to dry.

And in a while, when Astarion's body is dry again, Halsin offers him a spare change of clothing. When Astarion refuses (hell wait for his clothes to dry, thanks very much), Halsin wraps him in a light blanket and makes him sit in that blanket until the clothes are dry—not only it's important to protect Astarion's pale sensitive skin from a possible sunburn, but to protect from getting sick. The wind, the cold lake water, and a burning sunlight can be a cruel and unpredictable mix on him and his well-being (assuming he can get a cold).

Also, I'm still 100% sure Astarion is a cat. So he acts like one, and Halsin is his well loved, loyal bear. And they're a very, very cute couple.

So.

Would anyone be interested in reading/drawing that? No writing that, please, I want to keep the idea for myself in case I do write it into a proper fic.

[dawnoftime22]

to feel alive.

| N.R

Warnings: slight ooc!nat in the rain if you squint? other than that, none!

Summary: you invite nat to go in the rain with you for the first time, and it turns out to be a perfect memory.

Word Count: 1k

Category: Fluff!

A/N: listen to almost (sweet music) by hozier if you want to feel this fic as a whole. it was playing in the background as I wrote it with the rain outside <3

or fearless by taylor swift :]

| Started on 03/04/2023, 4:20 PM |

| Finished on 13/05/2023, 8:16 AM |

Masterlist

“What is better than a small moment of

your time, just to feel alive?”

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

"It's raining outside, do you wanna come out with me?" You ask, standing by the bedroom window, turning your head to look at her.

"To do what?" She had her eyebrows furrowed, as if it wasn't already from the work she was doing on the bed, but this time its mixed with confusion.

"Whatever feels right?" You shrug, the sentence having made its way out without you meaning to.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Natasha asked, clueless as to the point of getting wet in the rain and being cold until you get sick.

"I meaaan, I'm just inviting you to come out in the rain with me." You try to convince her, but she held her ground.

"Y/N, I have a mission report to finish, and we'll get soaked." She says, but you didn't care about getting soaked. In fact, it's what makes it so fun.

"So, then we'll just dry ourselves using towels." You give her a reason to push her to the edge of giving in.

"It'll make us look like kids." She countered.

"And who cares about that? We're gonna have a lot of fun, I promise... Please?" When she finally looked up from her mission report and saw that face of yours, she lets out a sigh.

"Only if you tell me why you wanna go out in the pouring rain." She raises her eyebrows, her head tilting in question.

"To just run around and feel alive!" You throw your hands up, before putting them in the pockets of your sweatpants, leaning against the wall near the window. You raised your own eyebrows at her, awaiting her reply.

"I'll give you cuddles when we get back inside?" You offered. Although she was already about to give her answer of acceptance before you added to your sentence, it did make her perk up from her mission report just a little more.

She saw the desperation seeping through your face. The rain started to settle down just a little more, so maybe it wouldn't be so bad. "...Fine," her shoulders dropped a bit, showing that she was giving in.

"Yes!" You cheered, grabbing your jacket so it wouldn't be as cold. Even though you knew there's probably a chance that you'll get sick once you're done either way.

"I really did fall in love with an idiot." Nat mumbled under her breath, but you still heard her.

"But you still love me!" You say, walking out the door while looking at her with a beaming face. Her eyes were fixed on you, and she smiled before shaking her head at your little antics.

You went off out the front door, as she grabbed her own jacket and followed you not long after.

Once you got outside, the cold air hit you, and woke you up from whatever calm state you were in. But it had only made you more excited to spend time in the rain.

You walked to where there isn't a roof over your head. You walked to the empty road.

She smiled endearingly at you as she stared at how you had your arms out, with your head up, and just taking in everything this weather is giving you. It was like watching an angel. And yet, all you did was watch the sky in awe. In fact, you could even be in love with the sky, too. But you looked at her just the same when you changed your direction.

"Come on, get over here!" You shouted over the rain as Natasha stood near the entrance still, where she was protected from the earth showering her. Slowly, she walked closer to you, like a careful cat. Honestly, she's been hanging around Liho too much.

You offered your hand out to her, as if you were to ask her for a dance. She took it, and you pulled her into the rain and she let out a small yelp. You let out a giggle at her reaction, and when she got out of the shock of how the rain hit her, she started to laugh because of it, and because of your giggle.

You start running around, careful enough not to trip. But she would be there to catch you, anyway. The droplets of rain could be felt on every inch of skin that it could reach. You felt alive.

Soft laughter filled the space. Even with the sound of the rain in the background, you could hear it so clearly.

"I love you." She said, suddenly, admiring you in the rain.

"What?" You shouted in an act of confusion.

"I love you!" She shouted over the sound of the rain, and it turned silent for a second. You laughed. You could hear her the first time she said it, you just wanted to hear it again in this precious moment.

"I love you more!!" You say in the middle of laughing.

"You're crazy for this, you know." She shoved her hands in her jackets pockets as the cold rain started to freeze her, and you pull her closer to you by having your hands around her waist. Your warmth radiated off of your body and it made her less cold.

"But its fun." You say almost under your breath, but she caught it. Smiling, you kiss her softly even with the water on your lips.

"It is." She leans her her head against yours when you pulled away, closing her eyes and relishing in this moment that she thought would just get her all cold and it would be for nothing but getting her clothes wet, but it's better than any other memory by far.

The both of you start swaying to a made up rhythm, your head resting on her shoulder, not caring the fact that either of you were covered in raindrops.

. . .

The blonde's soft green eyes scan over the two figures in front of her, trying to figure out what the two of you have been doing. "What happened to you two? Did you go out in the rain or something?"

"Yeah, basically." You shrugged with a smile

"I can't believe you convinced my сестра (sister) to get soaked in the rain with you..."

"My turn now!"

-----------------

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@notevenanna

[profound-bouquetbird]

Can i request a platonic Johnny Abot (i think thats his name) x hybrid reader from sweet tooth, we know he’s sympathetic twords the kids so what if while they were in captivity he chose a favorite, i think that would just be super cute (choose whatever “type” of hybrid u want)

YEEEESSSSSSSS. Thank you for making my hyper fixation feast 🙏

The type of hybrid is not really mentioned a lot but I like to think the reader is a snow leopard hybrid. Cuz snow leopards r cool

Also I think it's spelled Johnny Abbot? But I'm not rly sure

Also, there's 100% gonna be angst in this, if you want to you can request a separate thing where it's a different AU :)

Warnings: season 2 spoilers, mentions of guns and possibly death

Anyways, enjoy (also, cringe gifs come w this)

When he first saw you, he honestly felt bad and guilty for putting you in a dungeon

Not that he doesn't feel bad for putting the other hybrids in the dungeon, he does but.. you kind of seemed slightly different from the rest

Yes, you came from two parents (that day died from the sickness) and you weren't older than the H5G9 virus (is that the name??) But you just felt different, somehow

He would visit the dungeon frequently just to keep an eye on you, and every time he passed by he would peak through the bars to just see you

He felt as if it was his responsibility to keep you safe, even though you barely know him and you see him as a bad guy

When he would come in to take Gus away he would make eye contact with you with a sorry kind of expression before the doors closed. And you eventually picked up on his behavior

Every time he entered you would inch closer and closer, just to see if it wasn't anything that you and your friends sould be worried about. Eventually you warmed up to him slightly, still hated him for traping you and your friends but you weren't afraid to approach him

He would feel all happy inside when you were in front of him for the first time. Feeling like he was protecting you somehow, even though you were just standing in front of him

One day, or sould I say one night. When Johnny was passing by, he saw you sitting by the bars. Your face resting on one of the bars as you looked up at the stars, or to say the fairly small amount of stars that you could see

You didn't realize that Johnny was there, and that he was slowly approaching you

"Hey." You jumped and hissed as you backed away, "no, I'm not gonna hurt you, just.." He looked into his pockets and pulled out a few chocolate bars, "here." He smiled, extending his hand through the bars and towards you. You sniffed his hand and your pupils widened (?) As you looked at him carefully, you quickly snatched the candy bars away from him and you just stared at each other. He smiled, and you smiled back. "Thank you." You whispered, leaving Johnny in shock as you ran towards your friends to share

Every night after that he would pass by and give you enough candy for your friends or would give you something edible to eat, he isn't a cook so it would be roughly either a couple cans of food or just sliced up bread. Either way you ate what he gave you

After a while you started to spend more and more time with him. You saying a few words to him was enough to brighten his mood

He, of course, told no one that you could speak. He knew what tests Dr. Singh did on Gus, so he kept your ability to speak a secret. And you didn't tell Johnny that the other hybrids could talk, since you didn't want them in any danger

He would sneak you out of the dungeon at night when everyone is asleep so that you can look up at the stars and run around in the grass, after a while he would bring up the idea of letting you escape

You would deny, saying that you didn't want to leave your friends, and he would be understanding but also confused. Didn't you want freedom?

One night you told him the plan of your escape. He felt honored that you trusted him enough to give out that information, he also asked where you would be going, who you would be going with etc. etc. so that he could try and lead the general in the wrong direction

Before you and your friends escaped he gave you a necklace with a little fake key. The little key had your initials engraved in it

You smiled happily and ran to grab a rock, with you sharp nails you barely carved out a heart and gave it to him. You almost made him cry ngl

The day of your escape he did everything he could to keep any guard away from you and your friends,,, but mostly you if we're being honest

But of course, he couldn't keep you safe for long, he could just be a distraction while you all escape

He just wanted for you to be safe, he knew if he wanted you to be safe, he had to be far away from you

But, he still here the rock you carved him. And you still kept the necklace

When he was traveling with his brother and the crew all he had in mind was you, he was wondering if you knew, if you were safe, if he could do anything to warn you, to let you be safe

Now he was on the ground, pointing an unloaded gun at his brother. He gave this whole speech, and when he was about to pull the trigger, the gun didn't go off

Now to your point of view. You were waiting for the escalator thingy it get back so you could get on, but a gunshot was heard, you ducked down, covering your ears and squeezing your eyes shut. You felt a sudden emptiness fill your heart as you uncovered your ears and looked towards where the gunshot was heard

Your ears fluttered as you ignored your friends calling for you and ran, getting on all fours as you climbed up a tree, jumping from tree to tree so that you would go unnoticed as you approached the area where the gunshot was heard

You looked down and smiled when you was Johnny laying on the ground, you hadn't noticed the blood around him

You jumped down with a huge smile, "Johnny!" You yelled out if happiness, "you came! You're not gonna believe where Gus used to live!" You giggled in excitement, jumping around him, you didn't receive a response

"Johnny?" You questioned, tilting your head as your ears twitched in confusion. You cracked next to him, poking his cheek, "Joooohhhnnnnyyyyy!" You dragged out, continuing to poke his cheek

"This isn't funny!" Your eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as you gripped tightly onto his coat and shook him, "c'mon! Wake up!" You yelled, your face scrunching up in worry as you continued to shake his body. Your heartbeat increased as you shook him more violently, your face morphing from annoyance to worry, "Johnny?" Your voice cracked

You now noticed the blood below him, your eyes widened as you stared to breath heavily, shaking him more and more, "Johnny?! Johnny wake up!" You yelled, tears forming in your eyes as you turned him over. You started to sob as you shook him more and more, thinking that would help him wake up

You opened your mouth to yell his name out again when someone gripped at you hair. You screamed in terror, your claws coming out as you instinctively scratched their mech and but their arm as hard as you could, the guard yelled and cliched onto their neck and hand

You got up, looking at Johnny before starting to sob as you hugged him tightly. You kept sobbing and yelling apologies, as if it was your fault

The person you attacked pulled out a crossbow, but before they could shoot bear attacked them, grabbing you as she pulled you away. You started to sob, not wanting to let go. But bear picked you up and ran away towards the escalator thing as you reached towards Johnny, sobbing as you watched him. Slowly getting farther and farther away

A/n: *slurp* mmmm, angst

Anyway, sorry if it's crappy, it's my first time writing for this fandom 😅

[basilone]

can i request... demarco, and scrub or flash please <3

Oooo yes you can! 💙 I'm always up for writing Benny, he's great fun. (Applying a small warning here regarding a war-typical slang term for the Germans, and a slightly bigger warning for descriptions of Meatball having been a skosh under the weather.)

scrub / flash

He’d have been a whole lot madder about this if Buck had looked right as rain.

“Jesus,” he says instead, whistling low through his teeth once he gets a proper look at Buck’s face. “You lose a fight with a big glass door or something?”

Buck’s grimace makes the small splinters of glass sparkle in the light. “Or something,” he agrees. There’s dried blood on his cheeks, where the worst of the splinters still resides. “Crashed into someone’s kitchen. Straight through the window. Had enough sense to shield my eyes, but…”

“Not enough sense to avoid the window, huh.”

“Would like to see you try.”

“I got into a standoff with a couple o’ sheep,” says Benny, feeling at least a little bit defensive about his own dire circumstances here. “One of them stomped on my nuts and it went downhill from there. Fuckin’ Jerries found me by the sound of my squeaking. That shit hurts, Buck. More ways than one.”

Benny’s somewhat pleased to see the flash of deep amusement in Buck’s eyes. Knows there will be jokes about sheep somewhere in the distant future, mentioned when Benny least expects them to be. He can almost see Buck filing it away for future reference even now, though the man’s prolonged grimace makes it hard to tell how many jokes Benny will be subjected to.

“Want me to try and take the glass out?” he asks, already fishing around in his pocket for a cleaner cloth than the bloodstained one Buck’s holding. “That’s fucking unsanitary, you know. Leaving it in like that.”

“They had other priorities.” A slightly ragged huff of breath escapes the man seated in front of him. The glass shards tremble along with the breath. “Like finding out more about that B-17 shipment.”

“You too, huh.”

“Originality is not their strong suit.”

Benny chuckles at that. “They don’t have strong stomachs, either,” he says conversationally while he plucks the biggest shard of glass out of Buck’s cheek. “Mine was eating while questioning me. I made him regret it.” He snorts out a laugh as he wets the cloth in the nearby mug of water. “He was fishing for anything about the base, so I told him I was real fucking worried about Meatball.”

“Jesus, Benny.”

“Hey, not my fault that my dog woke me up with the most explosive case of diarrhea yesterday morning. Like I was tellin’ Investigator Jerry out there,” says Benny, jerking his head at the window, “damn dog crapped all over the bed and over half of me. Whining something fierce about it, too, making more noise than should be legal before dawn. So I said to the guy questioning me, Meatball’s got me all worried like that, like do dogs even get the flu? So I told him how it all smelled and looked, ya know, to get a second opinion?” He sucks in a breath as Buck’s motion almost makes the cut on his face worse. Swats at him with the cloth. “Hold still, there, I didn’t get–”

“Tell me you didn’t just spend the whole of interrogation,” laughs Buck, shoulders shaking slightly, “talking about the damn dog being sick, Ben!”

“I did,” he nods sagely. “We got real deep into it once I managed to explain that I’d had to take three increasingly colder showers to get rid of the stink. He looked real queasy about it. Stopped eating by the time I talked about the fact that Meatball started to sick up once he was done shitting everywhere,” says Benny, grabbing hold of Buck’s chin just to minimize the effect of the man’s laughter on Operation Glass Removal. “So I asked Jerry if he was done with his food, because it smelled real nice after all Meatball put me through, and I reached out to move his tray over to me so I could eat, you know? And that’s when he just cracked, Buck. Never had anyone remove me from their office faster, and I’m countin’ the time Harding asked me about that morning when I got back to base real late.”

“You outdid yourself here.” Buck winces as Benny��s fingers press down on his cheek to get a stubborn piece of glass out. “You were always the best of us at interrogation training.”

Benny shudders a little to himself. “Only because nobody’s scarier than my Nonna.” He eyes Buck critically. “I know you didn’t give them shit, either.”

“Name. Rank. Serial number. Enigmatic smile.”

“Putting Mona Lisa to shame there. Think they’ll try again?”

Buck damn near chuckles at that. “With you? I want to be in that room when they do.”

“Watch and learn, buddy.” Benny grins as he plucks the last shard out of Buck’s hairline. “There. You’re all set for some nice scars.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m real good to you like that. But Buck”– he says, sobering up fast, feeling the lingering knot of frustration tighten in his belly –“the next time I tell you to scrub the flight, we scrub.”

Buck scrapes his throat. “Won’t be a next time, Benny.” He nods at the bunk beds, the scratchy blankets, the uncomfortable everything of being completely trapped. “Look where we are.”

“Next war, then,” he replies, leaning back against his chair in a bid to get comfortable. Tries to ignore the fact that they’re stuck here. That they’re not gonna fly again any time soon. “Somewhere warmer than here. Sunnier. I wanna get real tan, Buck. Africa, maybe.”

“Next war.” A nod. The ghost of a smile flashing up at him from underneath the wet, bloodied cloth. “Sure, Benny, we’ll go to Africa.”

He exhales loudly. Feels the knot in his belly finally loosen, too. “That’d be an honor, sir.”

Buck’s eyes are calm. His hand barely trembles as he holds it out for Benny to shake. “Honor’s all mine, Ben.”

[themythicsages]

Another rp request, but more specific this time.

I would literally sell my soul for a good Geto to write against my Gojo. Like I am not kidding when I say that the fixation has been real and constant for the whole month or so since I legitimately got into jjk and it has only been getting worse each passing day. Curse my ADHD and the way it latches onto things.

My rules are very simple, same as the last blog. This would hopefully be a long-term roleplay, something to last for a good while or at least for as long as the muse lasts. I'm 21, so I'd prefer my partners be 19 or older, unless of course by some miracle I already know you from somewhere else but I highly doubt that possibility. I only roleplay on discord by using private servers for sake of organization and for quick reference, and I prefer to use tupperbox for roleplay but it is not required. While I am primarily here to look for a partner or two to write stsg with, I could be persuaded into other pairs and other muses. I have a masterlist in an earlier blog of the different fandoms and pairs that I could be interested in writing. My style fluctuates between literate(1-3 paragraphs) to advanced literate(3-5 paragraphs) on average, but I can adapt to anything between semi-literate(1 paragraph) to novella(multi-message) depending on motivation and what I am given to work with. Give me something good and I'll try to match to the best of my ability. Also do be warned that I am anime only, and while I do know plenty of what happens after Shibuya up to the ending thanks to having been spoiled long before I ever knew that I wanted to experience the media, I have not experienced these moments for myself. Feel free to correct me if I get something wrong.

I have a few different dynamics and aus in my back pocket that we could explore, but I am more than willing to try new things and come up with things separately with my partners. I'll list those out below.

Apocalyptic aus, Isekai, Sirens/Merfolk, Soulmate aus, Canon Divergent Aus/What Ifs(Stuff like Teacher Geto, Follower/Evil Gojo, Geto actually survives, or similar timelines for if things had gone differently in canon), straight up kinda canon (pre jjk-0, nobody needs to know that Gojo silently stans a handsome murder cultist😉), A N G S T, Storybook aus(every book is different, so this would rely heavily on what we cook up together), sfw g/t(I thought I grew out of this but apparently not. I latched back so fast that I even cooked up my own au and plotline for these guys man) and more that I can't list or we'll be here for literal hours. Feel free to ask about any ideas or concrete plots you might have!

There's not much that I won't at least try, but I tend to stray away from non-con, overly intense gore(tasteful gore is fine, but you know when too much is too much), and implied homophobia or transphobia. Though I would still ask about any ideas that are a little out there, just to be safe. I'll do the same for you.

If any of this sounds good to you then feel free to like and either comment or message me to talk plots and exchange tags. I look forward to writing with you!

This is Sage, signing out! 🎸(insert sick ass guitar riff)

edit: added extra dynamic that kinda hit me outta nowhere. midnight thoughts go brrrrr.

[bbygirl-aemond]

alicent comes across like a massive hypocrite in how she handles dyanna. like i do understand she herself has been a victim but that just makes it worse. like the second she's greeted with another victim she just gaslights her and literally does not hold aegon accountable?

sa tw

okay i COMPLETELY understand why you feel this way. as a survivor of sa myself, that scene was really uncomfortable to watch. i'm sure i'm not the only person who noticed the parallels to rich white boys having their parents pay off their victims and continuing about their lives irl. that being said, the more i tried to think about how i wished alicent had handled things, the more i realized i couldn't think of another response that would have been better. i think this is unfortunately one of those cases where there IS no right thing to do, and you simply have to choose the lesser of two evils no matter how sick it makes you feel. there are two hugely important pieces of context to alicent's actions here:

alicent is not the person with the ultimate authority here. as episode 9 makes clear, otto and the council have more power than she does.

at this point in time, alicent thinks that the lives of ALL of her children- not just aegon- rely on her successfully using aegon to usurp rhaenyra. see my meta here for the justification of this.

so with this in mind, let's imagine what would happen if alicent wanted to hold aegon accountable.

let's say she takes dyanna's side publicly, and accuses aegon of forcing himself upon her. what happens?

remember, at this point in time, viserys is on his deathbed and is completely unable to rule. and as mentioned above, alicent isn't the one truly in power in his stead- otto is. he's the one who has the council in his pocket and who works with them behind alicent's back. so now otto's the one handling the investigation and the punishments. and do you know what otto does? he accuses dyanna of lying, possibly of being paid off by rhaenyra to slander aegon's name. here are the possible outcomes otto would demand after that point:

dyanna is executed for crimes against the royal family

dyanna is tortured as part of the investigation to get the "truth" of what happened. she is either deliberately killed or forced into a false confession and then killed

dyanna is threatened and forced to withdraw the accusations, resign, and move far away. otto would either threaten her life or her family to do this.

alicent might TRY to stop this from happening, but as episode 9 makes clear, at the end of the day she is still a woman, and otto will always have more power than her even if by title alone he should not.

but bella, you might say, why doesn't alicent have larys spirit aegon away somewhere or kill him? here's where we get into the second piece of context. aegon is THE only real alternative to rhaenyra that alicent has. she's spent over a decade, in conjunction with otto, laying the foundation for aegon in particular to become king one day, long before there's any canon evidence of him being a rapist. there are resources that have been irrevocably invested in aegon in particular: helaena, the twins, and maelor. aegon is the only one on team green with a targaryen wife and two male heirs.

because of this, aemond or daeron simply cannot hold up to the credibility presented by rhaenyra, who has a targaryen husband and many male heirs. all of team green's eggs are in one basket, aegon's, by necessity since there was only one of helaena. even if alicent remarried aemond to helaena, it would take years for them to produce heirs of their own, and that's time alicent simply does not have because at this point in time, viserys is clearly on his deathbed.

remember, alicent was an end-of-life caretaker for jaehaerys. she knows how to recognize the signs. she knows they're running out of time. if she tries to switch tracks to aemond or daeron right now, right when viserys is about to die and they need their claim to be at its strongest, it will doom team green's attempt to usurp rhaenyra, and therefore (in alicent's mind) sentence all of her children to death.

should a survivor of sexual assault sentence a fellow survivor to inevitable torture, intimidation, and/or execution? no. should a mother sentence her two youngest sons and her grandsons to death for a crime they had no part in? also no.

i don't have a good or satisfying answer here for what alicent should have done. i think that's kind of the point: she didn't either. she did what she could for dyanna, without condemning dyanna or her children to death. alicent is the ONLY explicit sa victim in hotd; and she does for dyanna what no one did for her. she hugs her, she tells her she believes her, she ensures dyanna won't have to carry and birth the rape babies alicent was forced to, she gives her a way to escape her abusive situation the way alicent was never able to. within the power that she does have, she chooses to be kind, and she chooses to spare dyanna the fate she herself suffered.

it's an awful situation, and i think it goes to illustrate just how trapped and desperate alicent is. she doesn't like aegon. she doesn't want him to be king. she can barely stand to look at him, knowing what he's done. and yet she has to push down her morals and put him on the throne anyways because her other children's lives depend on it.

unfortunately, there's a recurring theme in this fandom where people would rather hate a woman for her actions at face value, without comprehending that the real villain here is the system that has created these awful, inescapable situations. the conversation between alicent and rhaenys in episode 9, which i've talked about here, is another example of the point just flying over most people's heads. but i hold for all hotd women (yes, including rhaenyra, for all the people who assume defending alicent means i must hate rhaenyra because clearly you can't like two women at once) that the true villain behind all of their morally grey actions is pretty much always the patriarchy.

[kahvilahuhut]

we both know how it will end

a small little thing i've been thinking about related to what happens before cynosure. some mars politics and stuff. hehe, enjoy 🤍

summary: Election days tend to look greyer if what you believe in is not winning. Even more greyer if you know how bad things would be if the guy who's currenrly winning wins. characters: Nathan, Dana, Victor (mentioned) warnings: smoking

Nathan stepped out into the quiet alkey. He's been leaving through back doors more and more now, to leave unseen and to avoid all the curious people interested in small talk or too nosy about his life. Often forgetting his coats inside, too.

The cold air felt weird on his hands, and as he unrolled down his sleeves, he was debating on whether to go back inside to get it or of he should just come back tomorrow. No, it's not that important. Not like I'll get sick anyway.

Last time he was on an election event, the room was full of hopeful, happy people. They knew things were doing well. And even if they wouldn't win, everything would be fine. Mars policymaking was always made on compromises, and everything was taken into consideration no matter what.

But this was different. Since the beginning, each of the guests seemed full of dread, no hope in sight. One of those who were in the race, a new face to him, at least he thought so, walked to Nathan at some point, asking if it was like this before. If everyone was so scared. Nathan shook his head, not having the energy to try and comfort the person.

Another stopped Nathan by the bar, asking how he felt about being here, yet not being able to actually do something. Stripped of rights he once had, in the worst way possible. "I'll be fine, don't worry," was all he could say.

Victor did as he promised - built a large group of followers who believed whatever he said - and it was enough to turn things around. Turn things to worse, so that only he and his friends would benefit from it, even if it would look like everyone does. Turn people against to each other so that they would have other things to do instead of paying attention to what was happening behind the scenes of the millionaire's charismatic show.

Nathan leaned back on the wall and took out a cigarette. A weird little habit he picked from a collegue, who was now missing, who knows where, not important right now. It's not like Nathan liked smoking - it's not like it had any effect on him, either, but the little smoke breaks they used to have usually helped him calm down.

As he flicked the lighter, a slightly distorted voice asked, "Feeling nervous?".

Nathan, startled, dropped both the lighter and the cigarette, and muttered a quiet 'fuck' as he kneeled to pick them up. "Do you enjoy scaring people like that?" He asked while dusting off the lighter.

"Still not used to this, are you?" Dana chuckled.

"No." Nathan looked around to make sure he's alone, and carefully sat down on the more clean-looking part of the street and closed his eyes. Blue interface appeared in his sights, along with Dana's audio call avatar. "Ugh. Okay. Yes to both of these questions."

"Well, I wish things were different too, you know."

Nathan rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't think otherwise."

"Aren't you grumpy today. Where are you?"

"In the back alley of the club, tried to have a smoke," he muttered and put the lighter in his pocket, "The streets are awfully quiet. It's unsettling."

"Smoking android. Interesting concept," Dana's voice sounded as if she's actually thinking that it's funny. "How's the sunset there?"

"Blue, like always. What do you want?"

"To check on you. Know how you feel. Can see it in your system readings, too."

"Why even bother asking if you can read?"

"I'm bored and have no one else to talk to," she paused for a moment, "Besides, I would love to hear your thoughts. Can't read those anywhere. Have you talked to Finn yet?"

"Phineas's still on Phobos," he muttered and looked at the sky. A darkish, uneven spot on the sky was making him painfully aware of how long it has been since he saw his partner. "As for my thoughts? Woke up today and thought, how much do tickets to Earth cost, and how much paperwork would moving there require. Hell, Dana, it is not going well."

"Hey, at least you can move."

"I'm not planning it, don't worry. I'm sure we'll figure something out. It's not the end of the world."

"Keep saying that. Meanwhile that rich fucker and his little friends will turn this whole planet into worker's nightmare or something. Or, well, not the whole planet..."

"So your plan is working?"

"Early to say. I am hopeful, though. Mackie reps seem to be quite excited. Nice to see a corporation that absolutely hates Victor."

"Good for you."

"Thank you! As for this day, well. We both know how it will end, Nate. I just wish you strength to survive it. Though I'm sure you won't need it, you're naturally good at it. Go home and curl up on a couch instead of some dirty alley full of dust after yesterday's little storm. Sun will shine tomorrow again, and maybe you'll get an idea or two on how to get out of this mess."

[self-shipper-snowdrop]

wouldnt P.E need to like... accommodate a disability like asthma

It's status as a disability around here is... debatable. I'll admit, I'm not sure if I feel comfortable calling my asthma a disability. It does impede my life, yeah, but it's one of those things that's a weird area. My asthma has been labelled "moderate" and it's not really considered one unless it's labelled "severe" around here. Basically, I don't feel like I have a right to use that label for myself, and critically it also means that legally they don't have to give a fuck.

Long blurb ahead about shitty HS experience lmfao

I got diagnosed around age 12-13, although I had been showing symptoms as early as age 10. It just got brushed off by the clinic as allergies at the time [dude literally said 'it acts exactly like asthma, looks exactly like asthma and we're giving you an asthma inhaler, but it's just allergies.' Like okay dude. Even 10 year old me felt that was weird] but my then family doctor was finally able to take a look and he gave me the diagnosis. Also he took me seriously right away, since he's known me since I was born. Literally, he delivered me as a baby.

The first year of gym was only not an issue because my ankle was broken for 75% of it. It was that long because it ended up re-injured thanks to a shitty teacher. [My mom was VERY close to bloody strangling that woman. Only reason they didn't charge in was me insisting they not and that I was fine. Also mom had a busy job but ngl she would have blown off the Prime Minister at that point;;;;] I also got diagnosed near the end of it so I didn't know until later.

Second year was where things got. Dicey. Originally was assigned to a male teacher; don't remember his name because we barely saw him. When I asked him if he could hold on to my inhaler or if I had a safe place to put it down, since I wanted to participate without holding it getting in the way [girl's pants not having pockets, I had to hold it in my hand] and the dumbass told me to put it in my gym locker. I, then 13-14 years old, had to explain to this fucking clown in a greasy wig why that was stupid. I told him by the time they recognized I was having an asthma attack, found the locker room key, figured out which locker was mine, either unlocked it or broke it open, found my inhaler and came back to me, I would be LONG dead. I just held it from then on. Thankfully, someone threw a dodgeball at his head and he got a scratched cornea, so he was out for the rest of the semester recovering. Ngl I like to pretend that kid did that intentionally, lmao. Unsung hero, that kid 🫡

Third year, the main issue wasn't the inhaler itself, but expectations to push myself WAY harder than was safe. I was kinda chubby then, still am, and they believed I was lazy. Truthfully;;; I just didn't like the activities they did, so I wasn't invested. On the mechanical bikes [which I actually didn't mind] the teacher there would come up and turn the tension WAY up, trying to force me to work harder. I'd get shouted at to "do better" and "put in more effort". I was putting in effort- I was trying, despite hating it- but like I said in that post's tags;;; it's a tightrope. I need to put in enough effort to actually get the benefit of exercise, but not SO hard that I ran myself into an asthma attack. My main triggers for an attack are allergies [which is basically outdoors, so it's dangerous as fuck in allergy season], illness [thus the special inhaler for when I'm sick], and heavy exertion.

I've run myself into an asthma attack several times- but only once when not in school. It's very scary, but it wasn't scary enough for the teachers for them to care. Also, it was autumn, so whenever we were outside it was even harder for me because of the cold, dry air. I really struggled, and became timid, because asthma attacks happened so often it was starting to hurt. I wouldn't be surprised if my asthma actually got worse in that time, because it was really, really rough. But them pushing me to "work harder" was a problem through everything, even if that last year of gym was much worse for it. There was a constant mantra of me being "lazy" and "not trying" even when I was. But they expected you to run until you puked your guts out. I was so, so lucky my parents told me "as long as you do your best, we don't care what grade you get" and made sure I didn't even try that. My brother had done that before me and that was devastating enough, my parents and brother didn't want me doing that too. Especially with asthma.

And really? Those teachers didn't care about any of us. One even told us all not to rough house [directed this at the boys but said it to everyone] because "I could get sued if someone gets hurt". The attitude was so bad that even kids who didn't like me- or even who didn't think I could speak because I was so quiet- would make sure I was okay after asthma attacks. The teachers never did. It was kind of wild, because the same people who pulled out your hair, grabbed your chest, called your slurs and slammed your face into lockers would also be the only ones on your side during a health emergency.

They didn't like me. I wasn't one of them, but they didn't want me to die. They did tone things down after that [not stop mind you] but still. It kinda brought people together. Alongside the whole "pedo teacher" thing; the mean girls may spread rumours about you but they still protected you from Mr. Pedo.

Basically, it was a weird experience. The teachers didn't care at all, and weirdly, it unified the kids. Even the ones who really did awful shit to the others. They still wouldn't watch as other kids got hurt. A dysfunctional kinship, really. But I find it sad how kids that literally yanked my hair out were also bigger defenders of me in gym than any teacher ever was.

[bonesandthebees]

Also, you know what I really like about this scene? That despite the fact that I’d already figured out what was going to happen, it didn’t feel like Tommy being dead was stretched out. It feels like the right amount of time for Wilbur to grieve and be in shock. Of course he’s not going to be thinking about the syringe. And the shift to him realising is so well done. He just leans forward to hug his brother and feels it shift.

Also, [Another sob broke out of him. He shifted to get closer to Tommy, to rest his forehead against his brother’s shoulder, when he felt something heavy shift in his pocket.] Auch. Just Auch. All of this hurts. Good writing Bee. I am terrified of the main character death in Rose now, thanks.

Anyway, I love how even in his desperation to get Tommy back, Wilbur still pauses, because bringing him back would fuck with Tommy’s believe that Kristin will take him when it’s his time. And if there’s one thing Wilbur respects (now) it’s Tommy’s religion, because Tommy actually got to choose.

But Wilbur also knows how scared Tommy was of dying. Something only he every really got to fully see (Phil saw some of it, but he would always try to solve it with religion).

[Kristin hadn’t been there then, and she wasn’t here now. It was only Wilbur. The decision was his and his alone.] You can argue that neither Goddess had every really been there, it’s always just been Wilbur and his own head.

[And, well, Wilbur had already decided he was sick of being used as a pawn in these goddesses games. He wasn’t about to let Tommy suffer the same fate.] HELL YEAH.

Something could also be said about Wilbur being just as possessive and selfish as Tommy, but it’s not like he can really ask if he can bring him back. It’s just funny to see the script finally flipped on them where Wilbur makes a distinction about what’s best for Tommy without consulting him and because that’s what he wants to do. Look I’m just having fun with the parallels okay?

(3/8)

-🌲

I'm glad it didn't feel stretched out!! I was very conscious of the pacing in this bit obviously, and wanted it to feel like we got enough time of tommy being dead for it to settle, but I couldn't drag it out either because wilbur had the syringe and he was going to remember it eventually

rose is gonna be so fun lmao

I said this while answering a wave of asks last night, but wilbur bringing tommy back was both him wanting to save tommy since he knew he didn't want to die, but also him being just as possessive and selfish as tommy is. the two of them have developed a dynamic where they feel like they can't exist without the other. and if tommy had been in the same position wilbur was, he would've brought wilbur back in the same way, but wilbur couldn't have known that at the time. even if he's ripping tommy out of the arms of his goddess, wilbur needs tommy by his side. he doesn't know who he is without his little brother

have the goddesses ever really helped wilbur? not really. wilbur has always had to be the one to break out of his role and save himself

[scoonsalicious]

Ok, so my brain never shuts off. Like ever. (Oh the joys of being an over thinker). So I’ve been thinking pretty much non-stop about Pocket and her situation.

So going back to Chloe. I know she’s blaming herself for that whole tragedy. But! She did save a girl that night: Birdie. If she hadn’t done what she did, would Birdie have been punished or killed? 🤔 Pocket did save her.

I’m also wondering if we know WHY Chloe was killed? Did they figure out how old she was? Did she refuse to do something? Or screw up? Or was she with a John who just got a little too aggressive? Maybe one of the other asks was right, and Hydra did experiment on her and it went badly…

As for the miscarriage…somehow, based on your answers, I knew this was coming. And it breaks my heart for both her and Bucky. I can see both of their sides too. I think Pocket’s “trash” comment was maybe her way of trying to convince herself that she was fine with it. That she didn’t really want it anyway. But I can also understand Bucky feeling and reacting the way he did too. It’s hard because I’ve never been in that kind of situation. Never experienced such a terrible loss. But you wrote it so well!

You write everything so well. You bring all of the characters to life. And I LOVE that you have backstory that isn’t in the chapters. You just get it. You’re a natural writer. I’m so impressed by your talent. Please never stop writing!

So much love! I’ll just be over here…(im)patiently waiting for the next part(s) to drop…

Oh, Bestie! My brain never shuts off, either! It's always running a million miles an hour, lol.

Pocket did save Birdie! You're 100% right. It's just so hard for her to recognize that when all she's focusing on is her failure. If Birdie hadn't done the coke, she probably would have been punished, and that was what Pocket was focusing on. But, she sees her actions as failure, because they led to a girl's death (however inadvertently; I'm not really sure what she thought she could have done to save Chloe, anyway-- it's just the perpetual 'what if' hanging over her head).

Unfortunately, Chloe wasn't killed for any big Hydra purpose. Hydra is selling women through the Wiggle Room as a funding source. They're doing it straight up to make money to support their other endeavors, and they straight up have no care for what happens to these women once they've been bought-- they just see them as revenue. So, whoever bought Chloe at auction did what he did to her simply because he wanted to, and he felt that he had the right to, because he bought her. It's as simple and sick as that. It ties back to this over-arching subtheme Pocket deals with of men hurting women because they think their wants are greater than a woman's life. She experienced it growing up, she experienced it with Bucky cheating on her, and now she's seeing it here with the trafficking.

Yeah, everyone jumped on the "Pocket is pregnant" bandwagon so quickly, I was not prepared, lol. Which is why I really tried to push poisoning, just to keep everyone guessing. Her "trash" comment was definitely a defensive maneuver, her trying to convince Bucky (and herself) that this didn't bother her, that he, in a way, still didn't have a hold on her. But, she admits that, if she let herself think about it, she would have wanted to have a baby with him. It was something that took them both completely by surprise, and hit them emotionally. Neither one was approaching it from a rational mindset, so things were said that wouldn't have been said if they had taken time to think things through, first. Thank you so much for your kind words! I'm just over here doing the best I can to make this convoluted fantasy from my head make sense on "paper," so it's so rewarding to know people are enjoying reading it as much as I've enjoyed creating it!

<3 Next part(s?) coming soon; I'm home sick with a migraine today, so maybe a little earlier than expected ;)