#full brain emulation

[vinff7]

Apropos of nothing I now love the idea that when Bane and Bhaal appeared to Gortash and Durge in their dreams to make them Chosen, they saw Very different versions of Bane. I would just love if Durge saw the MTG Bane and just got increasingly more confused as he heard Gortash describe the god to the painter that made the BG3 Bane portrait. About the only thing in common is: Shirtless, Unnatural Eyes, Black Gauntlet (sort of?), some kind of Lightning/Energy? (Also random headcanon: I like to think that once or twice Durge slipped up and called Bane 'Your dad' when talking to Gortash since he is just used to associating church leadership with being god born and he views himself and Gortash on the same level)

[keeps-ache]

blaaaauhhhghhgh [melting into a goop] aohhhghghhshabh

[savageboar]

alright hot take: people are way too outraged about the rdr1 port. like yeah $50 isn't Great but good god i don't see y'all demanding ppl boycott skyrim anniversary edition on switch which is like 80 dollars now if you buy skyrim on switch it was 60 dollars and to upgrade to anniversary edition it's another 20. where's the half hour DON'T BUY THIS GAME rants for that.

[m0e-ru]

the way im more invested in replaying golden on an unstable vita emulator in full jp than actually continue portable on a very reliable and equally accessible emulator on my phone

[felixdragonheartofficial]

TFA TEAM PRIME HUMAN REDESIGNS FINALLY

FUCK

+headcannons

Optimus: gotta stay focused

looks too old compared to his bot form.

I find it impossible for Optimus to be more than a million years old in this canon. In the least, he's older than 1000 years and since we have mfs that are canonically over 70 million years old(fagatron iykyk) compared to that, he feels like a dude in his early-to-mid-30's being the group parent.

---

-I made him more youthful, gave him curly hair, and tailored his clothing to actually look like his bot form.

-workaholic

-on the cusp of barley being able to hold his liquor

-doesn't own a pair of pajamas until Sari gets some for him

-usually forgets to put them on, but appreciates the gesture

-stays active for like, 3 days until he can't fight off sleep with work brain anymore, and unceremoniously passes out on the couch to sleep for a full 24 hours

-ratchet sighs and puts a blanket over him as per routine

-frequently checks security feed

-elf on the shelf despiser

-early morning talks with jazz and ratchet over coffee (they all wake up at 6 am)

-half thrives on caffeine and a vigorous training protocol

-is a dog person, loves German shepherds to death

David sama, pls forgive me ily very much

Ratchet: to old for this nonsense

doesn't match his body type in the slightest.

Ratchet is really old, he's got a sallow face and a gramp gut, how dare they square him. He's wayyy too angular and peachy looking.

-I gave him his luscious curves back, adding all the equipment id expect a field medic to have because he is a field medic, not a regular doctor. I changed his facial proportions, and also made his face gaunt, for that dead inside PTSD look.

---

-drinks his coffee black with brown sugar, literally drinks it piping hot

-is one of those old people who complains about noise

-confiscates bumblebee and Sari's toy cars, and puts them in a high up cabinet

-neither of them know how to bypass the child safety lock lmao

-casual clothes includes a lot- a l o t of plaid shirts, and 10 pairs of the same blue jeans

-tunes out bulkhead and prowls convos about birdwatching

-big fan of political satire dramas

-Sentinel doesn't approve

-Ratchet doesn't give a rats ass about what he thinks of course

Bumblebee: professional smart-ass

doesn't match his body type/age.

Bumblebees holoform is presented as a 10-12 year old child specifically for the fact that he's short, and the comedic relief. Total ass

I set his human age as 19-20 years old, making him more of a big brother to sari because that og model is disappointingly lackluster

---

-Bumblebee is a scrappy wisecracking punk, like an adhd kid who just got roller skates for Christmas.

-since he doesn't have wheels, I feel like he'd wear skates instead to emulate the feeling

-terrible at watching where he's going cuz he's too busy trying to show off, so ratchet makes him wear all that padding + training wheels

-legit despises the padding and training wheels

-Jealous of Blurr for mastering roller blades lmao.

-his favorite games are choose your fighter and fps

-saw ONE ancient ass assassins creed playthrough and begged ratchet to install hidden tasers in his arm bands (was denied)

-Sari used her key to do it instead

-self appointed "rizzler"

-Optimus has zero idea of what that means and thinks it's code for something dubious

-Ratchet knows what it means and thinks it's silly

-"I' was something of a rizzler myself back in my day, kid"

-bumblebee cringes

-loves summer and swimming

-wants to be the fastest thing in the sea because y'know, it's bumblebee

-is spooked from the beach for awhile cuz he saw sharks in Prowls nature documentary

-there are infact, no sharks in lake Erie

Bulkhead: big guy, bigger heart

doesn't match his body type/aspirations.

Jesus fuck he's so wide?? And his belly migrated to his shoulders?? I'm gonna be honest, I really hate this design. I feel like it contributed to the "brute strength = stupid" take that most in the fandom associates with him.

---

-Bulkhead is a SWEET. CARING. NERD YOU FOOLS. He's like the male version of a tall goth gf-

-a tall-nerdy-farm hand-physics bf, You got me fucked up.

-Its already shown that bulkhead really likes art in Addition to creating it. He hates being only seen as the "muscle" so it wouldn't make sense for him to lean into that.

-bunny slippers that him and sari made together(she provided the buttons)

-the slippers go missing sometimes (basically considered community property unless he's wearing them)

(ratchet and prowl are the main offenders)

-frequent art museum goer

-really likes watching cooking shows, but is too shy to make food himself

-Owns a ton of star maps

-Really wants a treehouse that he, bumblebee and sari can hang out in

-pillowfort enjoyer

-casually reads quantum physics at the beach

Prowl: draft dodger

Doesn't look like him at all.

Prowls holoform being a mustachioed,white, police officer was an actual jumpscare for 7 y/o me, I kid you not

---

- I know this bitch would not wear a helmet (you can't force him to) que windswept hair

-Not as much as starscreams, for obvious reasons but yk

-prowl is like one of those "shoes are a prison for your feet"

-emo hipster

-has a pet cactus named "planty"

-bumblebee heckles him for it

-can and has brought his cactus with him on early evening motorcycle rides

-the helmet is reserved for his cactus, bring your own >:(

-salad consumer

-him and jazz share custody of the cactus

-repeat victim of the cat distribution system

-ratchet has probably spent hours telling him they can't keep any animals at base

-frequent midnight picnics with jazz

-and beachcombing

-and roaming around antique stores cuz jazz wants to know what vinyl records are

-got a mug with an attempted pink chibi cat with big round shiny eyes painted onto it, courtesy of bulkhead trying to find an artsyle

-cherishes this mug to death

-has a shrine dedicated to it

[tugoslovenka]

i love baldur's gate 3, truly i do. i find it one of the most wonderful games in recent times and the work that larian has done in trying to emulate a dnd-like video game is commendable bc they have done some good work with the lore and mechanics. but i really, really would like it if larian would for once in their goddamned fucking existence released a full game on launch day. i know games will always need patches to address some issues, but releasing info abt the upper city as a hub area weeks before release only to completely scrap the idea altogether? having NO ending, literally no actual epilogue or anything that adds to the story after the fight, just this random black screen and no proper epilogue? the half-baked encounters against orin and gortash after making them out to be on the same level ketheric's fight which actually felt like a boss? making dark urge this entire ~special origin story without actually allowing a player to do a true evil run without losing out on like 2/3 content? there is no punishment or reward for not taking/taking the tadpoles, it literally means nothing in the grand scheme of things. also for a multiplayer game, there's a resounding lack of actual story progression if you have all four slots covered, like it straight up locks you out of a lot of companions' stories bc you can never take them with you. this isn't even getting into the horrendous bugs and performance issues that straight up fry PCs by the end of the game. also adding fan service without any actual plot like - halsin's completely useless existence in act 3? also nonsense like gortash being lorded in the middle of wyrm's rock, the literal first fortress to the city that would not house the new lord of baldur's gate under any circumstance? gale starts the game with a TRUE RESURRECTION scroll that can be used to solve a myriad of problems, including, i dont know, curing karlach entirely by killing her then reviving her? having to go to cazador's palace through a random tower in the middle of the city? the emperor just deciding to abandon you and join the elder brain after spending years fighting its influence if you decide to go against him? like these are all unfinished parts to a "full" game. i still have nightmares from DOS2 and what a fucking mess that was and the fact that you need the "definitive edition" to make the final act work is straight up predatory... honestly fuck y'all for making ppl pay twice for the product they should have gotten the first time. anyway the game is great but larian needs a kick up the ass for some obvious bullshit that would not be tolerated if it were any other studio!

[badbugbotblood]

Mini conspiracy to do with lrt actually because this has been rotting my brain. The timeline doesn't necessarily make sense because there is like a small ocean of time between the unplugging of TurboTime and Turbo's incursion into Sugar Rush, BUT HEAR ME OUT!

So we know that the visual design, vocal flair and body language of King Candy is HEAVILY inspired by Disney's Mad Hatter from their original animated Alice in Wonderland (1951). The resemblance is extremely deliberate. The hair, the high collar, the iconic lisp, the presentation.

But if we look at King Candy's visual design when compared to the other human avatars of SUGAR RUSH, our little faux monarch here does NOT STYLISTICALLY MATCH UP!

The racers of Sugar Rush are very clearly emulating a typical cutesy Japanese 'chibi' style. Round heads, big eyes, little noses, and legs that (while not so long as to be anatomically realistic) fit the proportions of their bodies. Their outfits are sleek and their silhouettes are quite thin.

King Candy does not follow this same design philosophy at all (and it's for this reason that I also personally believe that King Candy's appearance as a whole was a fabrication of Turbo's, rather than an unfinished NPC character whose model he commandeered).

I think an interesting in-universe explanation for King Candy's appearance could come from another game. One which Turbo would have known well.

After all, TurboTime had had a neighbor in Fix-It Felix Jr.

While their design language definitely does not line up 1:1, I see more of Felix in King Candy's appearance than I do the likeness of any Sugar Rush avatar. There are some commonalities in the facial proportions of King Candy and Fix-It Felix. Their heads are taller, eyes are smaller, and their mouths are wider. And then there is the nose, which is to me and my delulu brain the most obvious visual similarity between these two.

So. Say you're a societal pariah after doing something seriously taboo, and you need to blend in with a group of newly-arrived strangers in order to avoid being caught and punished for your misdeeds. There's not much time, and you need to get your affairs in order before anyone realizes what you're doing.

I think that, with his take-over of Sugar Rush being an extremely time-sensitive ordeal, Turbo had very little chance to devise the perfect disguise. So he cheated just a bit, took inspiration from a place that was familiar to him.

His own appearance, ghoulish and grey, dressed in blazing red over stark white, that would never fly in such a whimsical world. But he once knew a cast of characters with designs that all the Players found appealing at that time, and he fell back on that knowledge to craft his royal façade. All he knew for sure was that his avatar had to be cute, colorful and coherent.

The end result definitely doesn't scream Sugar Rush when you really scrutinize it, but it held up for fifteen years. Fifteen wonderful years full of racing and ruling and winning to his heart's content. Turbo was satisfied, maybe even truly happy.

I wonder if part of his apparent surprise during the Big Twist Villain Reveal(tm) came from him not immediately recognizing the ashy grey skin beneath the mask he'd built more than a decade ago. After all, he'd spent right around half of his entire life as the one and only King Candy, the benevolent monarch and best racer of Sugar Rush.

He would have been more than happy to leave his loathsome original avatar behind with the rest of the eight-bit era. It had done him no favors even when he wasn't old news just yet.

How unfortunate for him that the pesky Glitch had different ideas.

[tteokdoroki]

❛ you're fucking gorgeous like that, spread out like a good boy / girl who just wants to be eaten. ❜ WITH KIRI PLS ILL DIE

☆༉ — EIJIROU KIRISHIMA: 0-800-HOT GUY-HOTLINE.

line. ❛ you’re fucking gorgeous like that, spread out for me like a good boy / girl who just wants to be eaten. ❜

extension. shibari kink, oral sex, begging, praise + afab!reader/pro hero!kirhsima, nsfw, minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

things to note. dani baby, i hope this pleases you bc im ngl i ascended to heaven writing this hehe !! anyways ily mwah mwah !!

“s-surprise?” 

when you’d texted kirishima, asking him to come home early, this hasn’t been what he expected at all. he was a good man, he took his job saving the day a little too seriously. but when his baby texted him, in need and urgently, he was happy to hang up the mantle of number five hero to come and be your hero. 

kirishima was a good man, but maybe good men don’t secretly thank the heavens that civilians don’t need rescuing so they can come home early just to fuck their baby. 

“well this is nice,” eijirou does try to keep his voice even as he enters your shared bedroom — a place full of love and lust, usually in equal amounts. he feels his cock throb behind the heavy leather pants of red riot’s uniform. his tip oozes thick and viscous precum against the inside of the material at the sight of you, though it hardly does anything to alleviate his yearning. 

you’re a vision of beauty, something only the gods of the highest power could spread, spread out against silken sheets with your ankles tied to the bed posts by red ribbon’s as dark as the blood that pumps through kirishima’s veins. that same blood that carries happy hormones through the chambers of his heart and right up to his brain, dizzying the redhead with delirium and desire for you.   

thumbing the ribbon, eijirou comes to stand by the bed — swaying on his feet as he watches you tantalisingly scissor two of your fingers inside your tight heat while your hips back up in search for more. “you did this all for me? now, what did i do to deserve such a treat like this?” he speaks through a pout as if he’s mocking you, the rough palm of his hand traversing it’s way down your calves and your thighs that twitch under his touch. 

truth be told, he is mocking you. because while he appreciates the view, kirishima knows your tiny little fingers are not enough to get you off on their own, he knows you must’ve been right on the edge  waiting for him. his poor little baby. you poor little thing. 

“missed you,” you croon, slipping another finger inside yourself to emulate the feeling of kirishima stretching you open. a squelching symphony echoes throughout the room as you fuck yourself and narrowly brush up against your g-spot, bouncing off of walls and shooting straight to the hero’s sopping, seedy length.  “been workin’ so hard. w-wanted to treat you.” 

“yeah? kirishima hums huskily as the bed dips beneath his weight. to see a man of his sheer size crawl between your open legs only serves to make you gush into the seat of your palm as it lewdly slaps against your puffy mound. “a reward all for me? god baby, i must be the luckiest man on earth t’get rewarded like this...” he continues, voice lowering to a carnivorous and lecherous growl that has your back arching away from the bed. the redhead can hardly control his slur either, saliva pooling in palette of his tongue as a sign post for his desperation to taste you. 

calculatedly, eijirou spreads your swollen folds apart with two fingers — head swooping down to spit down on your clenching cunt and add his spit to the mix, watching the frothy white slide into your hole alongside whatever juices you leak. like the filthy, not so good man he is — he inhales deeply, moaning at the scent of your sex in the air.  “you're fucking gorgeous like that, spread out like a good baby who just wants to be eaten.”  his words taper off, drowned out by the loud slurping sound he makes as his lips wrap around your budding clit. “god, you’re so fucking wet down here, gorgeous. all for me?” 

“a-all for you!” high pitched whines burst out from your spit-slicked lips and your legs jerk against their restraints when kirishima lays his tongue flat against your slit — sucking the juices right from between your swollen folds. he pushes your hand aside, languidly rolling his tongue past your entrance to fuck your greedy little hole, even though his appetite for your sweet nectar is probably greater than your body’s need for him. 

kirishima’s ruby framed eyes roll back into the darkness of his skull at the taste of you and the way your nimble fingers sift through his red locks, harshly tugging his face into your sopping heat. “fuck me baby,” he laments mindlessly, lapping at your clit and your juicy pussy while you soak his cheeks with the syrupy essence that flows from your gooey insides. “i want it, want it all over my face. fuckin’ cover me in it.” 

moving to rest your restrained legs on his broad shoulders, eijirou spreads you even further than before — whining against your folds, nose nudging your clit that pearls with arousal, pink tongue stimulating you to the point where your mind literally fucking breaks. you’re a mess, and if you could see yourself now, you’d be embarrassed at the way your thighs shake either side of your boyfriend’s head — every drag, and roll and flick of his tongue dragging you towards the orgasm your body so desperately cries out for. 

“please baby, ah— fuck, please give it t’me baby. wanna taste you, want my reward so fucking badly, it hurts,” kirishima knows better than to talk with his mouthful — but he really can’t help it, wriggling his tongue against your ribbed walls in an impatient attempt to get you messy and squirting all over him just like he wants. three of his rough fingers find themselves on your clit, rubbing in tight circles while he sucks on your pussy so hard you think you might die.

“c’mon baby, know you’re close. you’re gonna cum for me? yeah?” a condescending chuckle vibrates against your sex, threatening to knock down the bricks of pleasure building in your lower tummy. “oh you fucking are. yeah you are… come on baby, come on. there you fucking are… oh, fuck.”  at this point, he’s fucking the sheets — high on ecstasy, cock aching to cum but he won’t until you do.

your orgasm nearly kills you. 

it sucks the life from your lungs and replaces it with all that is eijirou kirishima — your mind goes blank and your body convulses so hard that he has to hold you down while he kitten licks you through your high. eijirou takes everything that you give him too, gulping down the stream of your arousal until he feels like he’s choking, gagging on your juices like they’re the last thing he’ll ever have to drink. 

he does so because he’s grateful. 

because kirishima isn’t one to take eating you out as a reward, for granted.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[saigethearies]

saige’s terrortober presents…

red

after revealing his long-kept secret, kei finally allows himself an indulgence he’s craved for ages.

vampire!kei tsukishima x fem!reader

contents/warnings: mentions of killing & dead body present in one scene, established relationship, slight angst in beginning, slight hard dom!tsuki, degradation with a smidgen of praise, use of slut/whore, unprotected vaginal sex, vaginal fingering & oral (f!receiving) while reader is on period, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, very brief mention of abuse & mugging, no mention of period product so reader is free-bleeding maybe idk, mention of period stigma but not from our king tsuki

wc: 3.4k

18+ MINORS DNI

not everyone was a fan of your boyfriend.

kei tsukishima could be an absolute smartass when he wanted to, always aiming to have an attitude of disinterest and never holding back his honest and brutal opinions. he wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but he wasn’t a monster.

until you found out he was.

literally.

sarcastic personality and all, you loved your boyfriend dearly. you saw softer, sweeter parts of him that no one else did, and it never failed to make you feel as if you were the most special girl in the world.

so nothing could have prepared you for seeing blood smeared across his mouth, color matching the twin scarlet holes in the jugular of the body he was holding onto.

your breath was caught in your throat as the two of you stared at one another. tsukishima himself was at a loss for words. he had never wanted you to see him like this, wanted to hide this part of himself away for as long as he could.

he should have figured the ruse- pretending to be normal- wouldn’t last forever.

“kei,” you breathed out, trying to keep your eyes trained on his own and not on the blood dripping from sharp, pearlescent fangs.

“this…”

“don’t say ‘this isn’t what it looks like’, kei. we both know better than that.”

“...fair.”

he could sense the fear emulating from you, practically tasting it in the air, and it made his stomach churn. he wasn’t supposed to be making you feel this way. he’s supposed to soothe your dreads, ease your anxieties, not be the cause of them.

“please don’t be scared,” tsukishima started, trying to keep his voice as level as possible. “i know this looks really bad, but i promise i’m not gonna hurt you. you can trust me on that.”

“can i?” you asked, your voice breaking a little. “you don’t sound too convincing while holding someone’s…lifeless body.”

“you have a point, yes, but please just let me explain.”

he began to stand up, and that’s when you felt the trepidation course through your veins even faster. you knew your boyfriend was tall, but it was a detail you never dwelled on too much. now, seeing him at his full stature and covered in blood, it was a fact that suffocated you.

tsukishima didn’t even get a chance to try and expound the situation before you were taking off, moving as quickly as you could to get away from him, from the body, from everything.

the blonde felt his heart sink into his chest, but he knew you were well within your right to have this reaction. what was he even expecting to happen when you discovered the truth? keep on loving him as if he wasn’t a bloodsucking freak? that was a fucking pipedream.

yet he always let himself indulge in hope when it came to you.

_____

sobs raked your form as you sat curled on the floor, hugging your knees to your chest.

your mind was still reeling, brain struggling to relay and process the scene that unfolded before you not too long ago.

your boyfriend was something right out of a creature feature. he was a…what was he? a vampire? damn, even saying it in your head sounded insane. there was no way this was real life.

but it was.

he was standing over that body. there was blood all over him. he was quite literally caught red-handed.

a knock at your door made you jump. you didn't even have to look through the peephole to know who it was. your intuition already had your skin prickling.

“go away, kei.”

your request was met with silence. he probably left, and while that should be good news to you, a part of you was upset he didn’t put up more of a fight to have you hear him out.

he might be a…whatever he was…but he was still your boyfriend. you wanted to think your relationship was still important to him even though he was currently scaring the shit out of you.

“will you please listen to me now?”

you let out a shriek as you fell onto your back, looking up at tsukishima standing before you in your living room.

“how did you…”

“i turned into a bat and came in through the vent.”

your eyes widened in disbelief. “really?”

he scoffed. “no, idiot, you left your backdoor unlocked again.”

“oh. oops.”

the normalcy of the exchange so far was welcomed by the two of you, considering the last one took place with a corpse present.

sighing, the blonde sat down so that he could be closer to your level. you uprighted yourself, laying your hands in your lap as you meet tsukishima’s warm brown eyes. while you were still apprehensive, you gave him a small nod.

“i’m listening, kei.”

he took a breath and began. “i can’t remember how i was turned. all i know is that it was when i was in high school and by an older vampire. you tend to blackout during the change.”

“so that’s what you are? a vampire?”

“it wasn’t obvious already?”

“i just wanted confirmation, jeez.”

he chuckled at the little huff you let out, happy to see your personality peeking out through your nerves. “the bite marks ended up healing, and i didn’t feel too different at first, but then the first cravings eventually came.”

“for blood?”

“yes,” he answered, figuring he shouldn’t push it with too many sarcastic responses. “at first i tried to just rely on animals, but that wasn’t enough sustenance. i had been turned for almost a year when i finally drank from a human neck.”

a look of disdain came onto your face, remembering the scene from earlier.

“but,” tsukishima continued, “i never drink from innocent people, especially not women nor children. my first human was a guy trying to mug an elderly woman, and then i continued that pattern because it helped me feed more guiltlessly. figured if i were to do it this way, i was at least getting bad men off the streets.”

“the guy tonight?”

“abused his ex-wife.”

you nodded, letting the information soak in. while killing was obviously a no-go in most normal situations, this was no ordinary case scenario. tsukishima was going about this in the most just way he possibly could, and that eased your anxiety some.

“hey,” he said, pulling you from your thoughts. he reached a hand out to you, and after hesitating for a second, you placed your hand in his. his thumb started stroking your skin.

“i told you that i would never hurt you, and i sincerely mean that. i’ve been this way since before we even met, and not once have i ever thought about laying a single finger on you in that regard. you can still trust me, i swear. this is a lot of information to take in, i know, but please stop being afraid of me so i don’t have to go on another of these cheesy spiels. they make me feel light-headed.”

that finally had a giggle leaving your lips, and the blonde smirked in triumph.

he had a point. you always trust your gut instinct, and not once had tsukishima ever given you a reason to feel as if you weren’t safe around him. the reaction you had earlier was a natural response that anyone else would have when discovering that their boyfriend was straight out of a monster film.

well, now that you’ve had this discussion with him, it was less of a monster film and more of an undead romance novel.

vampire or not, he was still your kei. your smart-mouthed, dinosaur-loving, volleyball-playing kei tsukishima.

you squeezed his hand in yours.

“no wonder you've always gone through so much sunscreen.”

“shut up.”

_____

after a month, you were really starting to enjoy being a vampire’s girlfriend. you were living every twilight fangirl’s dream, except your tsuki was much more entertaining than edward cullen. especially since he actually cuddled you while you slept instead of standing there and staring at you.

your questions began to stem less from fear and more from curiosity as the time went on, too, and your boyfriend was always willing to give you a truthful answer. he knew that honesty was going to be key when entering into this new era of your relationship.

“no more secrets,” you had told him.

a saturday evening found you laying in bed, tsukishima spooning you from behind as the two of you enjoyed a break from your hectic schedules. unfortunately, your weekend wasn’t as peaceful as it could have been, because of course you had to get your period that morning. no matter how many menstrual cycles you’ve lived through, the discomfort never ceases to be annoying.

the blonde gently massaged his thumbs against your abdomen, trying to soothe some of your cramps as his much larger frame cocooned yours. a pleased sigh left your lips.

“thank you, baby,” you said. “this feels so much better.”

“i knew it would,” tsukishima replied, resting his chin on the top of your head.

he continued his soft kneading, the sensation feeling as if a cat was making biscuits on your flesh. the pain continued to ebb away and you began to wonder why you couldn’t have always had your boyfriend’s skilled fingers aiding you during times like these.

whenever your time of the month had come around in the past, you didn’t see your boyfriend that much until it was pretty much over. you had always chalked the phenomena up to a coincidence, but after recent events, you were starting to think that tsukishima’s absence was very much intentional.

“tsuki,” you called out to him, hardly registering that you opened your mouth. your inquisitiveness seemed to have you running on autopilot.

“hm?”

you’d already gotten his attention, so you might as well go ahead and ask.

“this is the first time that you’ve ever really hung out with me while i’m on my period. did you avoid me before because…you know…” you trailed off.

“because what?” he inquired. “be more specific, use your words.”

the command sent a tingle to your core, the same three words falling from his lips many times before when he had you pinned underneath him, demanding your obedience as you slowly became a babbling mess.

however, the tensing of tsukishima’s body behind you let you know that he already knew exactly what you were trying to imply. he just wanted to hear you say it.

“does it, i mean, does the blood tempt you?”

you were half expecting him to scoff in disgust at your question. there was a chunk of the male population that viewed periods as gross, why would one be enticed by menstrual blood. yet, you had to remember that was a stigma held by immature boys.

You were dating a man.

tsukishima was on top of you before you could even notice he had moved. his eyes were a darker hue than usual, desire clouding the typical warmth of his irises.

“yes,” he answered. “yes, it really fucking does.”

the heat pooling between your legs intensified, however you needed further reassurance before you could even try to do something about it. “you don’t think it’s gross?”

“the blood i crave leaking from the very cunt i could eat for hours on end? that sounds like fucking heaven.”

oh, that’s right. you werent just dating a man. you were dating a man who was a vampire.

“kei,” you breathed out, lip wobbling as you stared up at him. “i need you.”

“is that so?”

his lips were on yours before you could even blink, kissing you with such force that you were left breathless. you couldn't remember the last time tsukishima was this intense in the bedroom, and that thought only made you crave his ministrations even more.

mewling into his mouth, you felt the sharp point of one of his fangs graze against your lip. a shiver ran through your body, panties growing even wetter at the reminder of just how dangerous the man ravaging you right now could truly be.

as if he could read your mind, the blonde pulled away. “you trust me, right?”

both of your chests were heaving, lust blown eyes boring into one another's. you could tell your boyfriend’s self control was slipping. yet, even on the verge of descending into depravity, tsukishima made sure to put you above himself. to honor your body and the permission you give him to touch it.

a soft smile curled onto your lips. “of course i do, baby.”

of course you did. because that was the type of person that you were. always looking on the bright side, always able to find the good in people. your world was filled with silver linings, whereas he was always the to type to focus on the stormclouds. you two had always counterbalanced each other, yin and yang, and this time was no different.

he was worried he was a monster, but you didn’t think so. you still trusted him. you still loved him.

tsukishima placed another kiss on your lips, this one much more tender, and reached his long fingers under the hem of your shirt. you aided him in getting the garment over your head, watching on in delight as he rid himself of his own shirt and returned to your skin.

you sighed as his large palms squeezed your breasts, the blonde placing open mouth kisses on your flesh as he began to lower himself towards your cunt. you jumped when his fangs occasionally glided along your body, feeling tsukishima’s lips curl into a smirk at your receptiveness.

his large frame settled above your heat, tugging your soft shorts down so that your cotton panties could be revealed.

“this wet already just from some kissing? god, you’re such a desperate slut.”

the mean words only made your core throb even more, tsukishima’s sternness always igniting a fire within your needy heart.

“kei, please,” you whined. “wanna be touched, please!”

“on your soaked and bloody pussy?”

you slowly nodded. “y-yeah.”

you felt your heart skip a beat as kei pulled your panties off, a dark glint coming into his eye as he saw the pale pink mixture of two fluids- your sweet blood and your sweet slick. you watched his chest expand as he took a deep breath, inhaling the addictive scent.

“you have no idea how long i've dreamed about being able to do this.”

and with that, his mouth descended upon your cunt. a small moan left your lips at the feeling of his tongue flicking on your clit once, twice, three times before moving to lick at your entrance, catching the liquids tsukishima had silently craved for so long. while his tongue ventured into your pussy to catch more of your red-tinted essence, the blonde brought his thumb up to rub at your bundle of nerves, causing lights to dance across your vision.

your hand came down to tangle in his hair, tugging his head even closer to your core. the combined stimulus of tsukishima’s tongue penetrating you and his fingers tending to your bud had you whining in bliss. as his ministrations increased in intensity, so did your noises.

the coul winding up in your abdomen got even more taught when tsuki began to synchronize the drag of his tongue along your upper walls with the stroke of his finger down your clit.

it wasn’t long before you found yourself cumming on his face, legs trembling on his shoulders as you felt yourself ride out the wave of ecstasy.

your boyfriend wasn’t stopping though.

if anything, feeling your cunt tighten around his tongue prompted him to start moving even faster and apply even more pressure behind his touches. you squirmed at the sensations, being catapulted from the downfall of one orgasm right into the buildup of another.

“kei,” you whimpered, to which you felt him take the hand that wasn’t between your folds and place it on your stomach, holding you down. his silent warning of telling you to behave.

suddenly, tsukishima switched the positions of his mouth and fingers, his lips coming to encircle your bud while two of his fingers stretched your pussy open. the change caught you off guard, accelerating you even closer to another tumble off the edge.

you had started to grind your drooling cunt against his hand, the new feeling sending your already sex-fogged mind into an even greater haze. his fingers were hitting that spongy spot hidden within your walls, and each impact made you twitch.

“ah! right there, right there!”

a particularly hard hit had you climaxing for the second time that evening, bloody cream soaking tsukishima’s fingers. he pulled them out, not hesitating to lick them clean. he unabashedly groaned at the taste.

“even better than i imagined. not bad for a filthy slut like yourself.”

you were still shaking, mind numb as you fought to catch your breath. yet, you still knew your place. your boyfriend was generous enough to make you cum twice while he hasn’t cum at all.

even though they felt as if they may as well have been made of jello, you spread your thighs once more, presenting your sloppy cunt to him.

“kei,” you breathed out. “want you inside. please?”

the trademark smirk made its what onto tsukishima’s face.

“i really have trained you so well, haven’t i? don’t even need to ask you to open your legs up for me anymore.”

ridding himself of his sweats and boxers, the blonde moved his tall figure so that his face was hovering over yours, bending your knees above his shoulders.

“or maybe you’re just that eager for some cock that it’s instinct at this point. who knows, though? you’re still a whore all the same.”

his words were always harsh, but the way his thumbs gingerly stroked the flesh of your hips let you know his true feelings. you felt his grip tighten before he slammed in all in one go, almost folding you in half as he set a quick, hard pace.

you screamed out, hands flying to his back in an attempt to ground yourself. he continued to thrust into you, long cock dragging along your pussy in the most delectable way possible.

tsukishima had been panting in your ear until he moved his mouth downwards, lightly dragging his fangs along your jugular. you knew he could easily tear through the skin there, feast upon the blood coursing through your veins like he’d done to countless others. however, he would never. you weren’t like the people he fed on. you were precious to him, the most sacred person in his life.

the thrill still sent tingles of excitement through your body, alighting your core once more as you mewled and gyrated your pelvis against his.

“i love you, kei,” you babbled out to him, eyes glassy from how overstimulated you were. “love you so much.”

he didn’t say it back, and you didn’t expect him to. the blonde wasn’t the ‘sentimental during sex’ type. however, feeling the increase in vigor behind his thrusts upon hearing your words was all the response you needed.

“fuck, i’m close,” tsukishima groaned out, moving his hands from your hips to your tits. “you’re gonna give me one more.”

the feeling of his nimble fingers tweaking at your nipples while his dick pistoned into you had you climaxing for the final time that night. you squealed out, so sensitive at this point, and you cumming around his cock triggered his own release into you.

tsukishima went ahead and pulled out of your overworked cunt before collapsing on top of you, muscles going slack.

you giggled, arms coming to wrap around him. “that might have been the best sex we’ve ever had.”

the blonde hummed. “you’re okay? i wasn’t too rough or anything?”

“i feel great,” you replied, a drowsy grin on your face.

your boyfriend snorted at your expression before moving to stand up.

“i’m going to get us some water,” he said, moving towards the door before pausing. “oh, and by the way-“

you stared up at him quietly, waiting to hear what he had to say. your heart fluttered when tsukishima’s lips pressed against your forehead.

“i love you too.”

———

saige’s terrortober masterlist

[yuurei20]

Malleus Facts Part 94: Magic (pt3)

Malleus explains that he cannot fix his Roaring Drago toy because he cannot repair what he doesn’t understand, but having read the manual he is capable of fixing Diasomnia's microwave, so it seems he is capable of understanding machines.

We see another one of Malleus’ abilities during Spectral Soiree: he casts a spell over the campus that traps the inhabitants inside and stops time, in addition to kidnapping half of the student body (which soon increases to all students on campus).

This is later revealed to be preparation for a Halloween Party and Escape Room that was managed with ghost magic―not Malleus’ alone―and with Lilia’s full approval and cooperation, making it difficult to tell how much of the adventure was Malleus’ doing.

Another of Malleus’ powers seems to be an as-of-yet vague ability to return things to their “proper” form, as we see him do during Spectral Soiree (despite how he had never seen the Sparking Hall’s true form before) and Book 5.

In Book 6 it is revealed that this ability works on humans as well.

(It is interesting that two of the three instances that this ability has appeared has involved Vil.)

Malleus also seems to have a power that is similar to that of the Thorn Fairy: he says that he is capable of emulating her ability to fill a space with briars “in mere seconds,” though we do not see him do so. (Briars might also be a part of his unique magic?)

Malleus himself describes the Thorn Fairy of legend as a “controller of thunderclouds and brains” who “possessed insurmountable magical might.”

Malleus says that he imagines people feared her and kept her at arm’s length specifically because of how powerful she was as “respect grows into awe, and over time, awe turns into dread. Such is the way of things.”

Malleus is strongly affected by Lilia’s announcement that he will be retiring, and his subsequent explanation that “there are some things that not even (Malleus) can change.”

Lilia uses a joint defensive magic lesson to take place in the coliseum as an example of unchangeable destiny, but Malleus’ displeasure summons rain.

It is not specified if this change in the weather successfully altered the “destiny” of those who were supposed to have an outdoor lesson.

[mirensiart]

I think the worst thing about making comics with a lot of dialogue is trying to come up with poses that don’t look too ridiculous but aren’t just like, a character bust not moving and where the face is the only thing emulating

Like I personally speak with my whole body lol full moving around and gesturing so I try to emulate that in my comics

But trying to think of new poses every time fries my brain a lil bit, I’m ngl

[imaprettygirl]

An act of submission

(Emperor Zhongli x gn reader)

"They say that a good servant reflects the personality of its master…" Zhongli chuckled as he traced the brim of his cup with his finger. Despite maintaining a calm facade, the corners of his lips occasionally twitched upwards into a smirk, yet he was trying so hard to hide it—a futile exercise in suppression.

"Erm… excuse me, what?" You replied. Was he complimenting your guzheng or was he throwing shade at you for imitating him? It wasn't your fault, but you couldn't help but think that it was the result of being by his side for a long time. Putting on a private solo concert for the Emperor was nerve-wracking: one wrong mistake and there goes your wrist. One thing you didn't know was that you had managed to plant the first seeds of obsession in his heart which resulted in keeping you by his side and dragging you along everywhere he went. Too bad the amount of love he shows you is just the surface of it. You never know how deep the ocean is, hm? During the time spent with him, your brain had subconsciously picked up his habits, resulting in you emulating him sometimes. How very bold of you to assume that he hadn't noticed it.

"Erm…" A small, soft sound slipped out of your mouth. It was really obvious that you were trying to ease the awkward tension between you two.

Upon hearing the soft sound of your voice, Zhongli paused and gently lifted his gaze from his cup. His eyes full of adoration and love wandered across your features. Such beautiful features which he wished to preserve forever. If his mind were a room, you would undoubtedly be the wallpaper, your presence permeating every space, reflecting the depths of his fascination for you.

There it was, the reaction he was hoping for. That expression which was akin to a baby deer in the headlights. Your eyes were wide in confusion and your lips were slightly parted but wide enough to let out an ‘eh?’ sound. Zhongli chuckled, amused by how your face had gone red. Possibly because of the steam from the tea or him making advances on you- oh, how he wished that he was the reason of you being so shy and flustered. The soft glow of the red lanterns cast a warm light on your face highlighting the contours of your profile, giving him the opportunity to observe your facial expressions in detail. To be frank, he was proud of himself for bringing a reaction out of you. He may have experienced joy and pleasure throughout his life but they all were nothing compared to the happiness he gets from your smile. He was slowly plunging himself into the spiral of obsession but he didn't know it.

"Ah, nothing. According to what I said earlier, I put the musical instrument in the position of the servant while you are its master. The strings of it bend to the will of your hands to produce such beautiful sounds… Not to mention, the songs produced by it are as gentle and soothing as you. It reflects your personality, don’t you think so?" Zhongli replied in a genuine voice but the predatory glint in his eyes gave it away.

“Thank you…” Your voice trailed off at the end as you were unsure of what to reply

“No need to thank me, I was just stating facts” He brought his cup to his lips as he said so. Zhongli’s gaze fell upon your hand wrapped around your tea cup. “Do you mind if I take a look at it?” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes lingering on your left hand. Even though it seemed like a request, you knew that it was an order. Your hand shot up immediately even though you were praying desperately that he wouldn’t chop it off for accidentally playing the wrong note earlier that day. A soft hum left his lips as he lifted your hand higher to the level of his mouth.

“Do you only plan on plucking the strings of your instrument for the rest of your life?” The emperor caressed the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Erm… maybe. What’s there to pluc-”

“There are many things you can pluck, my dear. For example… my heart. You can pluck it out and I would thank you for it” The way he said it so casually shocked you for a moment. Zhongli eyed the ring on your index finger which you inherited from your mother. Your heart was thumping loudly that his words were drown out. “Y-Your majesty…” Your face was as red as the lanterns hanging above both of you.

His lips hovered above your ring for a while to toy with your conflicting feelings at the moment. After what seemed like an eternity, he brought his mouth down to leave a kiss on it. “A jade wrist loses to a golden cup, so slender, so slender, it’s the passing of youth…”

-Irene Callista

[ghost-bxrd]

ANOTHER DAY another cool au by the ghstbird community <33 Eldritch Jason Todd u are gorg <3, random question for brainstorming since I'm too invested now

How did the adoption scene take place? The same crime alley thing? Catherine todd? Willis? AAAAA or just local eldritch being that steals car parts (he's emulating human behaviour in crime alley, maybe he just tosses them later to kids???) maybe he just has immense compassion towards humans (although he doesn't fully understand them) (all Jasons need to be made out of bleeding compassion FOR ME BUT!! depends on what characteristics we're pulling for) (AND. IF HE'S DYING FOR SHELIA? gotta be compassionate. HE'S ROBIN, he is full of love towards these fleshbags. Though... uh... nonhuman... and having messed up emotional responses)

Nonono, because Robin Jason with his bleeding compassion is so important to me as well!!!

So basically (because I’ve put too much thought into this little au as per usual) the bullet points for eldritch Jason and the things you mentioned are as follows:

Jason spontaneously came into being. Eldritch things aren’t usually born in the way humans are, and Jason used to be a concept that suddenly gained consciousness.

(There was a short period of time where the brainstorming went into the direction of “eldritch jason found a dead street kid and assumed his appearance/inhabited the body”, but this seemed a bit dark so I had to come up with an alternative)

Jason watched humans for a quite a while and—alone from the very beginning— became enamored with the concept of family and love and happiness and belonging

One way or another (no specifics as of yet) Jason ends up with Catherine and Willis. Willis isn’t too shoddy in this au, he’s just… pretty neglectful. And a criminal. He does his damndest to stay well clear of wherever Jason is because that kid— he’s not normal. Maybe he’s a meta, Willis doesn’t care, all he knows that the sense of doom he feels around him is unnatural and he’d rather make his home in prison than around Jason

Catherine loves Jason. She can’t see beyond the surface layer of humanity Jason wears, partly due to her substance abuse, and Jason… knows that humans can’t last long like this. He can see her organs failing, her brain activity dimming, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. And he’s too busy basking in the love he’s finally feeling for the first time

Jason loves being human. If he could lock everything that isn’t human about himself away, he would. He thrives on witnessing strangers showing compassion to one another, to see them struggle and overcome hardships. They’re just a blip in the cosmos, in time, but they’ve got so much to offer. But likewise, he loathes witnessing injustice

When Jason ends up on the streets he’s just a big ball of sad. No home, no love, nothing. Nothing left. At least he needs neither food nor shelter to survive, but it still sucks. He loses some of his blind eyed wonder for humanity during this time, but not enough to give up on it. He adapts, he overcomes, and like you said, he starts emulating other street kids. Collecting scraps and handing them out to the young ones. And when he sees the Batmobile just standing there… well, that’s a week’s worth of food for ten of the kids he knows

Hitting Batman with the tire iron is a knee jerk reaction borne from cautionary tales about adults. He’s not actually scared of Batman

(Batman may be a little scared of Jason. Especially when he ends up buying him a burger and, out of the corner of his eye, thinks he sees Jason unhinge his jaw only to reveal five more jaws and and an abyssal void and—)

Just… eldritch things. And the tribulations that come with pretending to be human. Wanting to be human.

[chongoblog]

My First Pokemon Playthrough

So I've noticed in my time of talking about Pokemon, I've told a lot of various anecdotes that are all a part of my very first time playing Pokemon. I was feeling nostalgic, so I figured I would share what I remember about this playthrough for everyone to enjoy. There may be a tangent or two in there and people who have followed me a while may have heard these before, but hey.

For context, I believe I was about 8 years old at the time, and after collecting some Pokemon cards, watching a kid play Crystal at summer camp, watching some of the anime, and generally being a pretty big fan (I even have Pokemon Yahtzee burned into my memory for some reason...), I finally got myself a Game Boy Advance with Super Mario Advance 2: Super Mario World, some Frogger game (after looking it up, it was Temple of the Frog), Tony Hawk Pro Skater 2, and, of course, Pokemon Sapphire.

I remember that my starter was Torchic. I don't remember why I chose that one, although I remember really liking the color red at the time (which I still do), so that was probably why.

I don't remember too much about my team or the general progress I made in most of the game, but I do remember Slateport City. For those who do not recall, in Slateport City in order to advance you need to get into the museum, which is blocked off by Team Aqua Grunts until you talk to someone in the shipyard. There are also Team Aqua grunts blocking the route ahead

Now, my 8 year old brain for some reason concluded that the only way to get past the Team Aqua Grunts was to intimidate them with a high enough level Pokemon or something like that. So one night, while I was supposed to be asleep on a family beach vacation, I beat down more poor level 13 Pokemon than I could count. I learned later what I was actually SUPPOSED to do, which led to me finally fighting the Team Aqua Grunts.....with a level 42 Blaziken.

And since the Name Rater was in Slateport City and my starter had evolved, I figured it was only appropriate to give him the new moniker "MAGMA MAN"

The rest of the playthrough went about as normally as tearing through the game with mostly Blaziken normally would go. There were a couple exceptions though. First off, at the Weather Institute, after I saved the day from Team Aqua, they were kind enough to gift me a Castform, but my party was full, so I couldn't get it. My 8 year old self did not read this. (Remember this, it will come back later). But I managed to make my way through the game, catching Kyogre with my Master Ball and giving it the nickname "LEGENDARY"

Then we come to the Elite Four where I hit a brick wall. I don't remember my team at the time exactly, but I do remember it was MAGMA MAN which had reached about level 80 or so, LEGENDARY which was about level 48, a level 36 Pelipper, two level ~35 Tentacruels, and some other sixth Pokemon I don't recall. And for some reason, I just couldn't beat the Elite Four with this team for some weird reason. The best I could ever get to was Drake. I felt I was utterly defeated.

That's when we bring a new character into the story. A member of my friend group at the time who we'll call "John" to protect the innocent. Now John had a very "uncle who works at nintendo" type energy to him. The group used to play Gauntlet: Dark Legacy together all the time, and when I got the GBA port of it, he convinced me to trade my recently obtained copy of the Pokemon Trading Card Game Boy game for a Gameboy-Gamecube cables, only for me to learn too late that it didn't work like that, and from there, there were no backsies (but then I got ahold of a copy of Pac-Man VS and Four Swords Adventure then I learned to emulate, so who's laughing now).

Anyway, John saw that I was struggling and he decided that he wanted to help me out. You see, he had come across an incredibly powerful and rare Pokemon that couldn't be found in the wild. He had gotten it exclusive, and I had never seen it before. It was called a "Castform". Now John had Ruby version, so he decided that as much as it ached him to part with it, he figured it would be a reasonable trade to trade this powerful Castform for the slightly less powerful LEGENDARY. I agreed.

And then he moved to Ohio.

To this day, Castform is my least favorite Pokemon because of this betrayal. I was so distraught at 8 years old that I completely restarted my game of Pokemon Sapphire. I don't remember much about that second playthrough, but there's a reason why.

This rival battle on Route 110 is somewhat infamous for being quite the sudden difficulty spike. And since I knew how to get past Team Aqua now, I didn't have an over-leveled starter to stomp my rival with ease. After losing to her about five or so times, I got frustrated and figured that whatever team I had wasn't cutting it. So I restarted again.

In my third playthrough, I made it all the way to the rival battle on Route 110. Then she stomped me repeatedly. So I restarted again.

This cycle would go on for, like, 15 resets. I didn't count, but it felt like there was hundreds. As I would keep on resetting and playing through the early-game of Pokemon Sapphire (which I had practically memorized at this point), I would start to take things a lot less seriously, sometimes picking the girl character, making my name random gibberish, etc.

Eventually, on one of these playthroughs where I started with Treecko, I actually managed to beat the Route 110 Rival Battle! And on my first try too! And thus began the epic journey of a girl named DE.

Now, I'd figured at this point that maybe only leveling up one Pokemon wasn't the best approach, so I was trying to balance my teams a bit better (I guess my rival taught me something). I was making my way through the game, and one day I'm checking out my best friend's Pokemon in Ruby, and who do I see in his box, but a Kyogre. I take a look at his name, and I can't believe it. It was LEGENDARY. John had traded it to my friend before he moved.

My friend didn't know that it was originally mine, so he offered to trade it back, which I accepted. LEGENDARY was a disobedient little bastard since I didn't have enough badges, but he got the job done. I don't remember the team I ended up using to finally beat the Elite Four, but it included my Sceptile starter, a Sableye that somehow knew only Fighting-type moves, and two Kyogres, LEGENDARY and LEGENDARY2.

And that's my first playthrough of Pokemon Sapphire. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.

[daechwitatamic]

Vice;Grip || chapter 2 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose.  A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!! //

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.

Section Specific Warnings: depiction of a depressive episode, recreational drinking and bar scenes, allusion to oral (f. receiving), kissing, rough sex/man-handling, explicit penetrative sex, dirty talk, aftercare, didn't venture fully into writing dom!vernon but i have been informed i wrote something that might be in the realm of a dom drop, language obviously, reader is called a gendered slur by a stranger, law-breaking :), actual fluff for a second, allusions to drug use, car sex

wc: 6900

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

1 yr, 5 months ago

The onset of spring brought a lack of color. Grey clouds hung full and heavy, low over the city skyline. Grey crept into the corners of your apartment, darkening rooms during daytime so that you needed to keep lamps on even in midafternoon. Grey crept over your body, into your limbs. Days stretched and nights inched; you only got out of bed because you had to feed the damn cat.

That's part of why you'd gotten the cat in the first place, after a particularly long episode a few years ago, when Chan had presented you with a list of things he thought you should do to combat the blues, as he'd put it.

He meant well. But he always came at your depression like a problem solver, like just doing the right things could make it go away.

And sure, his suggestions were things that would help - get outside, call someone, don't isolate, shower even if you aren't leaving the house, drink some damn water - they weren't a cure. They were better reminders for when you were okay - good at keeping you okay for longer stretches. But when it was already too late, when the grey came, they all sounded fucking pointless. 

Anyway. The cat had been a good idea. 

is it bad?? 

Chan did his best. He was a good best friend. He just didn't understand it.

The answer to his question, you thought, as you flipped your phone over so you wouldn't see the notification if he followed up, was yes. Yes, this time was particularly bad. But you didn't have the energy to type those three words. 

Terrible friend, your brain accused, and it was right. 

You managed to drag yourself to work, to at least show up so you could continue to pay for your apartment and your damn cat, but not much else. You existed on cans of diet coke and microwave meals. You doom-scrolled until sunrise, then slept an hour or two at most before getting dressed for work. You left texts unanswered, the mail piled up. So did the dishes. 

Chan came by, once, did your dishes for you. It made you feel worse - useless and pitiable. You'd rather he just go away, but you held it in; you knew that would only hurt his feelings.

You learned from your mistakes, one thing that could be said in your favor. 

“Have you called your doctor?” he wanted to know.

What was the point? There wasn't a stop hating your life pill. 

“What if you tried painting?” he asked.

“What if you just let me be?” you countered, finally tripping over the line from embarrassed apathy to defensiveness. 

That pout again. “It might help,” he said. “Don't most famous artists do their best shit when they're down?”

“Get out,” you deadpanned. He dropped it, knowing this was a bigger issue, a bigger argument, than this current episode, a complex situation that went beyond the boundaries of your brain chemistry.

He put the last of your now-clean plates away. “Let's go somewhere,” he suggested.

“Chan,” you groaned. “I’m tired. I can't go gallivanting -”

“You're not tired, you're depressed,” he argued. “And going outside will help you.”

“I might have to kill you,” you said seriously, and he rolled his eyes. 

In the end, he let you win. He'd been around long enough to know that eventually you'd venture outside again, hit the bars with him again, text first again, laugh at his stupid memes again. It was just a waiting game. 

Still, when he left, you sat on the edge of your couch with your chin in your hands. On the living room rug, the cat rolled and showed you its belly. 

“Not you, too,” you groused. 

The cat did a few alligator rolls and then scampered into your bedroom and under the bed, as if chased. 

You sighed. You made your way to the spare room, which had been shut - to keep the cat out. To keep your ghosts in. 

Your easel was still set up in the corner. You were kind of surprised it wasn't covered in cobwebs. You'd been sketching just on paper last time you'd worked, trying to make decisions that way so you wouldn't waste a canvas, and it still sat there. 

You inched closer, ran your hands over your brushes. Took a step back, eyed the paper and your sketches. 

It was bad. Thank god you hadn't put it to canvas. 

You pulled the paper down, crumpled it in your hands. You chased the cat out with a gentle nudge of your foot, and closed the door again, keeping both cats and ghosts on their respective sides of the door.

There was no rhyme or reason to your brain, no map or calendar to follow for the starts or stops. But eventually, the clouds broke. The grey gave way to baby buds of green, yellows pushed through soil, determined to meet the sun.

You texted Chan - drinks??

He responded - about time!!!

You texted Vernon - hello, its me

When he didn't answer, you tried again - sorry for the radio silence. 

Still nothing. 

You checked his socials, saw that he'd been doing his thing - a smattering of selfies, some group shots with the guys he played music with sometimes, a few nature shots: the moon, once, and what looked like the river at night. 

The silence stretched. You gave up, considered it over. Grieved a little, because it had been good. 

You went out on a night that teased summer even though it was months away, sank into the familiar blur of too many shots - not enough to be a problem, but maybe enough to make problems. 

Under the club's ever-moving lights, you took a selfie, your drink and cleavage both showcased in the shot. 

Send it to Vernon, the urge to make trouble suggested, and you listened without hesitation.

And - finally - an answer.

come here after?? 

You smiled a tiny, victorious smile and knocked back the rest of your drink. 

omw.

Later, he gave you a rare and devastating pout as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smoothed fingers down the still-shaking inside of your thigh.

“What'd you make me wait so long for?” he complained, those sharp eyes sparkling with mirth. When you shrugged, still a little mindless from your high, he gave the same spot on your thigh a playful slap. “Don't do it again.”

1 yr, 4 months ago

busy tonight?

not busy but.

???

not in the best mood.

bet i could fix that.

yeah. idk.

why don't you let me try? 

“What's wrong?” you cooed, teasing, when Vernon let you into the apartment. 

He didn't smile, didn't play along, and it sobered you quickly. 

“Don't want to talk about it,” he muttered, crowding into your space. “Wasn't that big of a deal anyway.”

Just want the fix you promised, he thought. 

You moaned like liquid gold when his first kiss was a bite. Encouraged, Vernon gripped you by the shoulders, pushing you back against the wall hard enough that he heard your breath escape in a single huff. He hesitated, eyes searching your face; a question.

You lifted your chin, eyes shining with something hard. When he kissed you again, you threaded your fingers through his hair and pulled, hard enough to make him hiss; an answer.

His pace was frenzied from the start, your legs around his waist and the wall holding you up. His hand curled around your throat, not squeezing, but sliding up to grip at your jaw instead, keeping you from tilting your head back, closing your eyes, losing yourself in how he felt slamming his hips flush against yours with dizzying smacks.

When you whined that you were close, he pulled you away from the wall and lowered you both to the ground, the wooden floor of his entryway cold and hard beneath your spine. It didn’t matter, didn’t do anything to stop the vortex tightening below your stomach. You slapped a hand over your face as it distorted in pleasure, Vernon kneeling between the legs you still had gripping his waist, one of his hands braced on the floor next to your head, holding his body over you.

“That’s right,” he breathed, gritted teeth flashing over you, forehead wrinkling as his own release closed in on the chase. “Just fucking take it when I fuck you into the floor.”

Then he was pulling out, breaths hissing through his teeth as he straightened up, one hand pumping himself furiously until strings of white decorated your stomach, cooling immediately in the apartment’s chilly air.

His breathing was ragged as he sagged back onto his heels, and you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, watching him warily.

Then he stood and slipped into the hallway bathroom, the light clicking on and illuminating the unlit entryway where you’d just fucked. You heard the sink run, then shut back off, and Vernon returned. He knelt gingerly - you could see his knees were red from kneeling on the wooden floor - and cleaned your stomach first, then gently between your legs.

You sat the rest of the way up then, watching him carefully as he sat back on his heels again, avoiding your gaze. Something about the moment felt like a thing alive, unfurling between you like a casablanca lily under the refracted light of the moon.

You spoke at the same time.

“Vernon?”

“You okay?”

You swallowed, rubbed absently at your elbow where you’d smacked it on the floor during the position change.

“I’m fine,” you said tentatively. “Are you?”

He sighed, rubbing his hands over his face, and then peering through his fingers at you for a second before dropping them again. “Thought I hurt you.”

You shook your head. “I’m okay. I would have said something.”

He nodded, relief starting to bring feeling back to his hands again. He stood and reached a hand down for you. When you took it, he closed his fingers around yours and pulled you to your feet.

“I know we don’t usually do this,” you said, rubbing at the parts of you that had been on the floor - the backs of your legs, your ass, “but could I take a super fast shower before I go?”

“Yeah,” he said, so quickly that the word almost trips on itself. “Of course.”

He led you into the bathroom, rummaged in the disorganized linen closet for a clean towel, pressed it into your hands.

“If you need one, too,” you said easily, as he reached around you to turn the water on so it could heat up, “I don’t mind if you join me.”

He paused. “You sure?”

You shrugged, then leaned over to put your hand under the spray, testing to see if it was still cold. “It’s your shower.”

Under the stream of warm water, you turned to face him, front to front, looking up at him with clear eyes. Something in your expression was so open, Vernon couldn’t help but feel both the desire to step into the space you seemed to be offering him as well as the desire to get far, far away from it.

He’d been so angry before you’d texted, furious enough that he’d bruised his knuckles punching the doorframe; now, as the chemicals in his body settled down, he felt those knuckles throbbing. He was disgusted that he’d lost his temper, guilty that he’d taken any of that anger out on you, who had nothing to do with it.

He was scared of the desire he felt to be closer to you, just for tonight. Scared that fucking you hadn’t been enough to soothe whatever it was that roiled inside him, like it usually was. Scared that he felt like he needed more than sex to heal this particular burn.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and part of him thought he was apologizing in advance, like he knew already he’d run scared at some point. “For being so...”

He didn’t know what word fit best. 

“I told you,” you said, pressing a little closer, “I would have said if I had a problem.”

“Okay,” he said, frowning a little. “If you’re sure.”

Then he reached over and brushed a thumb along your cheekbone, chasing away a rivulet of shower-water. You closed your eyes for a second, and he swore he could feel you lean into the touch, just slightly.

He didn’t know how to explain how he felt. Kind of like he’d done a hot-coal-walk; the exhaustion that came with an adrenaline crash, the vulnerability that came after facing down something big, that need - the burn inside him needing cool water before it could quiet down.

With the shower off, the silence in the bathroom was loud.

“Do you…” Vernon started, then stopped. His heart hammered, the adrenaline returning. He covered the moment by toweling his hair roughly and pulling his hands through the strands so they’d lay right. “Do you want to stay for a little bit? I was gonna order delivery, maybe watch something before I finish my assignment.”

He’d expected you to think about it, to turn it over in your mind the way you turn his things over in your careful hands, the way you turn him ass over head with just a smirk. Instead, you nodded right away.

“Yeah,” you said, like it was no big deal. Like you did this all the time. Maybe you did, just not with him. “I was starving, actually. I could stay for an hour or two.”

On his couch, the leftovers of the food scattered on his coffee table, you reached for his hand, ran a thumb imperceptibly along his purpled knuckles. You didn’t ask what happened, just brought them to your lips and pressed the lightest kiss before putting them down again and reaching for your noodles, as if it hadn’t happened at all.

That was when Vernon saw the potential of it, an entire picture, framed and labeled: you could hurt him so badly if he let you, if he let it get that far. For whatever it was that burned inside him, you were the cool water… but you could absolutely be gasoline, instead.

1 yr, 3 months ago

If you closed your eyes, you could pretend the light that passed over your closed lids in a repetitive pattern was the sweep of a lighthouse beam. You could pretend that the rumbling bass of the music was the roar of the ocean. You could pretend that you weren’t here, in a shitty bar, but at the seaside. You could pretend that you weren’t alone. You could pretend that you weren’t you.

You drained your drink and caught the bartender’s eye, gesturing for another, sliding the sweating glass away from you once you knew a new one was coming.

“What are you drinking?”

The voice came from your right, and you lifted tired, disinterested eyes to find the source of it.

“G and T,” you answered, because it was one fewer syllable than saying gin and tonic and maybe that one syllable would do the dirty work for you and tell this guy that you didn’t want to talk to him.

“Nice,” he said, like you’d said something interesting, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. You didn’t return the question, just slid your phone screen on and opened your messages.

wyd

drinks at my hyungs place. wbu

damn. guess i have to settle for one of these very mid prospects at the willow

damn thats a sad story. if only you had a better option

if only my better option werent busy at his hyung’s

no one said i had to stay here. ur at the willow?

yep

The guy to your right tried again. “The DJ tonight kind of sucks, huh?”

You looked back at your phone.

don’t leave

You smiled into your drink, a thrill dancing through your bloodstream. The lights and music didn’t seem as garish as they had ten minutes ago.

“My boyfriend’s on his way to pick me up,” you said flatly to the guy who kept trying to talk to you, “so you might want to find someone else to complain about the DJ to.”

The word tasted like lemonade on your tongue - acidic and sour, sweet and refreshing, taste buds blooming and shriveling in tandem. Even the knowledge that it was a flat-out lie didn’t stop your heart from beating faster.

You expected the guy to get up and leave, maybe throw you a dirty look on his way. Instead, he seemed to call your bluff, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to read you.

“I don’t think I’d let my girlfriend go out alone looking like this,” he said evenly, and you let out a derisive laugh.

“The fact that you just said the words let my girlfriend probably has a lot to do with why you’re here alone,” you countered, a flash of victory slicing up your spine when you saw his face flush.

Before he could retort, you hopped down from your barstool, pushing your way into the crowded dance floor. You didn’t even want to dance, you just wanted to get away. If Vernon wanted to find you, he could come find you. He’d told you not to leave, he hadn’t said make it easy for me.

He found you anyway; he made it look easy. He stepped around a group of guys talking in a circle and into your space, like he was following a path, like he knew there’d be room for him.

You were happy to see him. You were happy he came. You were happy to breathe him in, to feel the warmth of his body and smell his cologne and hear your name tumble from his mouth like a statement. You were too drunk to tuck these truths away into pockets and folds where they would be harder to find.

You stepped to him and wrapped your arms around his neck. If he was surprised, his body hid it well. His hands came to rest on your lower back, pressing you closer to him as you leaned up to find his mouth.

You kissed him slowly, at odds with the frantic bassline vibrating under your feet. You let him tip your head back, changing the angle, sweeping your mouth with his tongue until you both tasted lemonade.

“Happy to see me?” he asked, a hint of a smirk on his face, one eyebrow arched in question and one half of his mouth twitching into a smile.

You didn’t have it in you to lie, so instead you said, “Your place?”

He led you outside.

As luck would have it, the idiot from the bar stood beside the front door, a cigarette between two fingers. His expression darkened when he recognized you, then further when he saw your fingers linked with Vernon’s as you stepped into the quiet night.

“Your girlfriend’s a fucking bitch,” the guy bit out, dropping the cigarette butt and stepping on it.

Vernon’s eyebrows shot up.

Evenly, he said, “She’s not -”

She’s not my girlfriend. You felt your stomach swoop, and you felt yourself flinch.

“- a bitch. She’s just smarter than you.”

Vernon tugged on your hand, leading you across the street to his parked, waiting car.

You tried to bite back a smile, and he looked sideways at you, his own lips twitching.

“What?” he demanded.

“What?” you parroted.

He scowled at you, but his lips were just smiling. “What?” he asked again.

You laughed. “Let’s go,” you said. “The bitch wants to kiss you more.”

You expected his smile to sharpen. Instead, something in it seems to soften, changing from teasing to actual affection.

“Alright,” he said, turning to start the engine. “Can’t really say no to that, can I?”

“You could,” you mused, as he pulled away from the curb and the bar slid into nothingness behind you, “but I just don’t think you should.”

1 yr, 2 months ago

wyd

melting

srsly

no, seriously. i am laying on my living room floor like a starfish trying not to turn into liquid

come to hyungs

its too hot to move

i have an idea, come meet me at hyungs

You frowned at your phone. Of course your aircon died during the only heatwave you could remember in your entire adult life. Your whole body felt sticky; you were pretty sure you were stuck to your floor.

It was too hot to move.

what’s the idea??

you’ll see. i’ll order u a car. can you bring a couple towels?

“Vernon, no,” you laughed, your voice echoing.

He shushed you through laughter, both of you leaning on each other as you stood at the edge of the yard, the grass tickling the bottoms of your bare feet. Upstairs, at his friend’s place, you’d thrown back a few shots for courage before following Vernon out here, and you were feeling them, your head swimming like your body might soon be.

“It’s a circuit, see?” he tried to explain, pointing through the night, as if you could see through all the fences and over all the hedges. “Five yards, five pools, and then we end up right back here and we get in the car and go. Just follow me, don’t stop for anything.”

“Someone’s gonna call the cops,” you complained. “And these neighborhoods all have cameras.”

“That’s why we keep moving,” he said, his grin so excited and so un-Vernon that you almost couldn’t bear to say no to him. “No one’s gonna call the cops if we’re already gone - it’s not worth it. You ready?”

You hesitated. “You’re good to drive us out of here?” you checked.

He held up his hands as if to show innocence. “Only had a beer,” he promised. “But I’ve got something fun in the car for after, if you want.”

You felt your grin turn wolfish. “Okay. I’m right behind you.”

“Try and be quiet,” he warned, then took off running across the yard, cannonballing into the pool with a splash.

You tore off after him, leaping into the water and suppressing a shriek when the cold water hit you. You felt instantly sober, jittery with adrenaline, alive with laughter. You spluttered your way to the surface and pushed water away from your eyes, trying to find him through the shadows.

He was already climbing out the other side, water running down his back, the muscle shifting in the half-light as he hoisted himself back onto the pool’s deck. You hurried across the pool, climbing up beside him, giggling wildly.

“Shhh,” he warned, but he was giggling too as he led you carefully over the fence to the next yard.

As soon as you crept close enough to the pool to jump, a motion-activated light came on, flooding the yard white and causing you to cover your eyes.

“Quick!” Vernon told you, grabbing your arm and pulling you in with him as he jumped.

You let out a stream of bubbles and water rushed into your mouth. You felt your feet hit the bottom and you pushed off hard, surfacing quickly.

Again, you followed him across the pool, both of you laughing and whispering, “Hurry! Quick!” as you climbed out and headed around the house to the front yard.

“Okay, this is the hard part,” he told you, both of you shivering as the night air caught up to you. “We have to cross the street, hop the fence, and then the pool is around back.”

“I’m ready,” you promised, with a particularly hard shiver.

You sprinted across the street, both leaving wet footprints on the pavement. His hand felt warm in yours when he helped you over the fence, warm on your body when he held your waist as you climbed down.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” you muttered, but giggles still spilled out of you.

“More fun than melting, right?” he asked, and you thought that you’d seen him smile more tonight than in whole months of coming together at night.

You thought you might move mountains to see him smile like this again, gums showing, open and honest, happy.

Then you were underwater again, swimming hard to keep up, following Vernon through the night as he pushed his way through some hedges and held them apart for you.

You made it to the last house before someone caught you, slamming the back door open and shouting, “Hey!”

“Go, go, go!” Vernon cried, laughing with such abandon that it sounded like goose honks, pulling on your hand as you both stumbled, dripping, towards the car.

You’d set towels on the seats before starting, so you tumbled into the car and he peeled away, both of you laughing wildly as you left the neighborhood behind.

It was miles before you calmed down, gasping in breaths and trying to hold them before exploding into laughter again.

“I’d better not end up on the news,” you scolded. “I’m in my underwear.

He gave you a searing sideways look. “I noticed.”

You felt yourself warm again, despite being in soaking wet clothes.

“Where next?” you asked. “Home?”

He let out a breath that was almost a sigh. “I don’t really want to go home,” he admitted. Then, “I was having fun with you.”

You considered this. “Not to be a cliche, but… I know a place.”

The quarry was quiet, surrounded by only trees; without posted lights, everything seemed to be just varying shades of black - the black of the water just darker than the black of the stone ledges just darker than the walls of trees just darker than the sky sprinkled with stars above you.

“We have to be careful,” you warned him seriously. “If you slip and get hurt, it could be bad.”

He turned the flashlight on his phone on and set it next to the metal rungs that jutted out of the stone, a makeshift ladder for the swimmers who came here during the day, when swimming was allowed.

“It’s going to be way colder than the pools,” you added.

“You’re not selling this very well,” he pointed out.

“Don’t be a chicken,” you teased.

He eyed the water. “I’m having second thoughts.”

You nudged him in the ribs, which caused him to squirm away, hands batting at yours, a noise emitting from him that made you laugh out loud.

“Are you ticklish?” you demanded. “How did I not know?”

“Come on, are we jumping or what?” he asked, laughing, still trying to keep your sneaky hands away from his ribs.

“Yeah, that’s probably the only way to actually get in,” you admitted, still laughing a little. Your abs felt a little sore from how much you’d laughed tonight.

You stood on the edge of the stone, toes curling over the ledge, Vernon’s hand tight in yours. You stood on the edge, the ink-like water beneath you rippling slightly, marring the reflection of the constellations high above you. You stood on the edge of something, knowing full well you were afraid to swim.

He counted you down, and together, you jumped.

The water was freezing - it hurt, it stung, and you shrieked and laughed as you surfaced. A foot from you, Vernon was shouting.

“The towels!” you told him, already swimming towards the little dot of light that marked the ladder.

Shaking and shivering, you reached your towel, wrapping it around yourself. Behind you, Vernon jogged up, making noises like a disgruntled horse as he found his own towel.

“Oh my god,” he groused, grabbing for you. “I’m freezing, come here.”

He opened his arms, the towel behind him like a wingspan, and you stepped into the space, letting him wrap his arms and his towel around you. You stood shivering together, trying to let your body heat chase the cold away.

You wrapped your own arms around his middle, pressing yourself closer as your legs shook, shivers rolling up your spine in waves as your body fought the chill. 

“C’mere,” he murmured above you, holding you a little more tightly, his own teeth chattering. 

It was the first time, you realized as you turned your head to rest your cheek on his chest, that you’d held each other. It was the first time you’d been between his arms when you weren’t fucking, the first time he’d tightened his grip around you for a reason other than gratification. 

You didn’t want it - didn’t want to know that it felt nice in his embrace, didn’t want to know that it fit right and felt safe. You didn’t want to know that you liked it, didn’t want to have to fight against the humiliation of wanting more.

As soon as the full-body tremors died away in the warm, sticky night, you stepped away, eager to put distance between you again. 

Later, he looked over at you from the driver’s seat of the car, red-eyed, his smile stretching slow and thick like putty. When you straddled his lap, his hands searching out the bare skin of your back, you rocked against him and pressed open-mouthed kisses to the column of his pretty throat until you were pulling groans from him with each pass of your hips. 

Forget, you thought, as you pulled your underwear to the side for him. Forget every single thing but this.

When you slipped an arm behind his neck and pressed your foreheads together as you lifted and dropped, you weren’t sure whose memory you were hoping to erase with this most recent pleasure-chase: yours, or his.

1 yr, 1 month ago

There was no map or calendar to this thing your brain did. It was summer, the sun shone, and yet the days bled together again, sunsets swirling down the shower drain.

The last time you’d gone radio silent, the last time your world had gone grey without warning, Vernon had answered in kind. His own silence had shouted for him until you’d tempted him back.

This time, he didn’t resort to silence in retaliation to yours. Instead, he kept trying, relentless. If you’d had more presence of mind, you might have wondered why.

wyd

[ ]

yo. whats the deal

[ ]

i will have you know that this is very insulting

[ ]

don’t get mad but im coming over

“What the fuck, Vernon.”

“I said don’t get mad.”

“It doesn’t work like that. What are you doing here?”

He leveled you with a look. “You gonna let me in?”

“Literally, no.”

You hadn’t showered in days; your apartment was probably grosser than you were. The cat milled around your ankles, trying to weasel its way outside, and you hopped from foot to foot trying to nudge it back inside.

“Why not?” he asked.

You huffed, annoyed. But the annoyance was the first thing you’d felt all day, and something inside you clung to it, desperate for more of anything but the crawling nothing that’s kept you company for days.

“Because,” you grumbled. Because there’s nothing for you here. Because I have nothing I can give you. “I’m… just not in the mood.”

He stepped back from the door so you could see more of him. “I’m not asking you to be.”

“Then why are you here?” The words fell between you, heavy. If you hadn’t been so low, if you hadn’t gone all day without eating, if you hadn’t been on your thirtieth hour without sleeping, you would have known better. You would have realized that you were asking, if you aren’t here for sex, then what are you here for? 

You wouldn’t have asked a question that you didn’t want the answer to.

He met your eyes. He seemed to teeter on the edge of telling you the truth, giving you the real answer. Then, he muttered, “Got bored.”

You knew it wasn’t the whole truth, and he knew you knew it, and yet neither of you were willing to look at it directly.

“I fail to see how that’s my problem,” you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

He watched you for what felt like a long time, face serious, eyes glittering and attentive. Then, instead of answering, he repeated, “Are you gonna let me in?”

You frowned at him, but there was a little more pout to it than anger. “I’m all gross,” you said, instead of answering.

Something in him softened - it was visible on his face, in his shoulders, like he knew this was your way of saying yes. “So let’s shower,” he suggested quietly.

You felt trepidation, like part of you expected him to stay soft, to try to take care of you. To your relief, Vernon acted like everything was normal, scrunching his face at you when the water was too cold as he stepped in, washing his own body in silence and letting you do your thing.

He didn’t try to hold you, didn’t ask you when you’d eaten last, didn’t try to talk about it - didn’t try to fix it. He was just… there, and this - along with your first shower in days - was somehow revitalizing in itself.

You pulled on clean sweats, which was better than the day-four sweats he’d found you in. “The apartment’s kind of… sorry,” you mumbled, looking around the living room, feeling a bit of that familiar shame crawl up your neck as you noticed the evidence that you hadn’t been picking up, or running a vacuum.

Vernon flopped backwards on your sofa, unphased, one arm bent behind his head. “We’ve been doing this for almost a year,” he pointed out. “I know how it usually is.”

It isn’t usually like this. And neither are you.

You wondered when it happened - your ability to finish his half-thoughts, your ability to know what he meant when he only said a fraction of it.

You stood awkwardly beside the couch where he was lounging, and he looked up at you with a tiny, amused smile.

“What do you wanna do?”

What you really wanted to do was cocoon yourself in blankets again and put on repeats of a show you’d already seen. But now you had to look functional. You might be mad at him for showing up like this, now that you thought about it.

“I dunno,” you said, which was close to the truth.

“You wanna eat?”

“Honestly?” you asked, pursing your lips a little. “No.”

“Okay,” he said easily, and it struck you again how different this was than how Chan treated you when you were low. Chan would have already had the food delivered, and would be chasing you around the table with loaded chopsticks, demanding you take a bite.

“Can we just… watch something?” you asked, unsure.

Vernon wordlessly reached for your remote and held it up to you, nonplussed.

You wondered if it was an act, how easy this was, how unbothered he was, how he seemed to just understand what wouldn’t help.

You knew it wasn’t; you’d been around long enough to know that Vernon’s demons weren’t all that different from yours.

You settled somewhere between his body and the back of the couch, one leg bent over his legs, one of your arms over his stomach and his arm curled around your shoulders.

“This is weird,” you muttered into his chest, and his laugh rumbled under you.

“Why?” he asked, his smile big, like he thought you were particularly funny. “Not used to being big spoon?”

Not used to cuddling - with you.

“Yeah,” you said, because that was easier.

On your TV, a show ran through several episodes, the changing scenes splashing you and Vernon with changing colors, casting his face blue and then white and then black and then red and then blue again. Sometimes he’d watch, sometimes he’d scroll on his phone. You mostly felt his heart beating under your hand and let your mind whir.

At some point he started mindlessly (or not mindlessly, who could know) stroking your back, gentle touches brushing up and down, slow, slow, the way he always was. At some point you shivered, goosebumps rising along your arms, and snuggled closer to him. At some point he shifted you from slightly beside him to on top of him, a second hand slipping under your loose tshirt and joining the first in tracing stripes up and down your upper back.

You shifted against him, something coming to life with a shudder like the furnace in your parent’s basement on cold autumn nights. Heat worked its way slowly from your core to your stomach, down your legs.

He kept his eyes on the tv, innocent, but you could hear his heartbeat. It couldn’t lie and pretend.

You shifted again, squirming until you’d worked his t-shirt up just enough that you could touch skin, too. You trailed your own fingers over the inch of exposed stomach you’d found, and delighted in the way you could feel him start to harden beneath you.

Then, you delighted in your delight. It was the first good thing you’d been able to feel in almost a week.

You said his name, and he finally looked down at you, eyes nearly black in the unlit room.

“What is it?” he asked, and his voice was suddenly so low it sent shivers tumbling down each vertebrae and tripping over to your limbs. “Want me to make you feel good?”

No, you wanted to say as you answered his question by pulling the hem of his t-shirt higher, encouraging him to lift up so you could pull it off. No, just want you to make me feel.

1 year ago

Everywhere Vernon looked, all he saw was circles. Circle of red in his bowl when he inhaled. Circle of condensation on the table when he lifted his beer. Circle of light reflecting from his phone case, laying in the setting sunlight, to the ceiling. Above him, the ceiling fan circled lazily, nowhere to be.

And you - you and him. That was a circle, too. A cycle, at least, which was close enough in his opinion. Text, hook up, skitter back to your respective places, wait out the next weekend. It was as rhythmic and routine as waves breaking and then getting pulled back out only to come shatter on sand again. It was out of his control, up to forces far greater than he was.

Vernon’s friends had texted to hang out and he’d declined. He told them he was seeing his parents, but really, he just wanted to be alone. He wanted to watch the ceiling fan circle, he wanted to let his brain go staticky quiet, he wanted to burrow deep into things that made him feel less.

But he still, somehow, wanted to see you. He wanted to be alone, and being with you didn’t feel like not getting that.

It was a little scary, he thought, that you were the exception. That he could be with you without feeling the uncomfortable pressure of being with others, of having to be on, of having to fake cheerfulness and keep up with chatter that only exhausted him.

Vernon wasn’t a kid. He knew what it meant.

whats up

honestly not a lot. want me to come over?

Yeah, he did. He did, even if you weren’t going to hook up. He did, even if you were just going to lay on opposite sides of the couch and scroll on your phones. He did, and he hoped he’d end up with his arms around you, and he hoped he’d make you laugh at least once, and he hoped you’d stay and just be there with him after.

When you came over, he asked you how you felt about it - about him, about you and him. He asked by laying you on your back in his bed, by brushing fingertips along your face. He asked you by sliding your leggings away gently, pressing his mouth to each inch of your inseam as it became exposed to his dimly lit room. He asked you by kissing you through the lace you wore for him, then kissing the same spot once that lace was on his floor.

He asked you when he crawled up your body until his tip teased at your entrance and you whined, shifting to try to take him. And - when he took it slow this time, teeth scraping at your neck and then tongue hurrying to soothe the sting, his arms bracketing your body like he was sheltering you from an incoming storm.

(Maybe, he considered, he was.)

(Maybe, he considered, he was worthless in the face of this storm’s wrath.)

(Maybe, he considered, he was the fucking storm in the first place.)

And you heard his question loud and clear. You pulled on your leggings as soon as you were cleaned up, popping your hood up over your head as you searched for your phone. You kept your eyes on your screen as you waited for a car to come, murmured, “Later,” on your way out the door.

Vernon’s apartment rang with quiet. He was alone, he’d gotten what he’d wanted.

He’d also, it seemed, gotten his answer.

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thank you so much for reading!!! i'm always happy to hear what you think!

[tragicallyuncreative]

Johnny looked at me quickly. "I didn't mean nothing. I meant, well, Soda kinda looks like your mother did, but he acts just exactly like your father. And Darry is the spittin' image of your father, but he ain't wild and laughing all the time like he was. He acts like your mother. And you don't act like either one." -The Outsiders, Chapter 5

~

It’s funny, because Darry emulates his late father in so many ways (not just in looks and a shared name), despite trying his best to create his own path and not live that lifestyle. Don’t get him wrong, his father was his hero and he admired him beyond words, but didn’t want to struggle the same way his father did. He didn’t want to be stuck in a town he hated, break his back in construction all day for 20+ years, only to barely keep his family afloat and above the poverty line, and to have people look down on him despite trying his best. He wanted to be more, to get a degree, a high-paying job, be able to live comfortably, and yet here he is, stuck working for the exact same construction company his father did his whole adult life to keep a roof over the boys’ heads, always worrying that it’ll never be enough, secretly ashamed of his social status.

Soda, on the other hand, mirrors his father not in looks, but in personality and strives to live just as he did. He recognized from a young age that, like his father, his brain didn’t work the way his brothers did. Nothing came easy to him academically, but he doesn’t see why that should hold him back. After all, his father dropped out in 6th grade, and led a life that Soda views as nothing but successful: a steady job he enjoyed, a beautiful family that despite not having the latest car or fanciest home, was full of love, and a carefree attitude that kept him young at heart. What Darrel Jr. saw as a hard, sad, dead-end life, Soda sees as everything he could hope for. So while his brothers mourn what they view as the only way for Soda to lead a successful life (education), Soda embraces the opportunity to do something he truly loves, work he takes pride in, despite others not understanding. Why should he spend time trying to be good at something he’s not? He can earn money and contribute to his community and build up his trade career. He’s happier at the DX than he ever would be in school, just like Darrel Sr. was working in the cornfields of his adopted parent’s farm all those years ago in that little one-road town in Texas that was ravaged by the Great Depression. And when the Vietnam War breaks out, Soda jumps at the opportunity to again mirror his father in what he sees as the bravest and most noble thing a man can do: serve his country. His brothers and friends beg him not to enlist but he does, full of pride as his hair is buzzed and dog tags are placed around his neck, joining his late father’s, the ones he hasn’t taken off since the day of his funeral. On the first day of boot camp, he stands straight-backed and determined, ready to serve, to defeat the enemy, just like Darrel Sr. defeated the Nazis in 1945.

~

Hi! I have so many headcannons for The Outsiders universe rattling around in my brain, and I can't always share them fully in my stories, so I figured it's about time I started to share them here. Stay tuned for the backstory of The Curtis Parents, Darry and Two-Bit's friendship, and The Mathews Family. Enjoy!