#heartbreaker event

[lotusoon]

Okay this is a very old chapter but can some one please talk about this. Like this has to be a foreshadowing of soi brother working for Baal.

[wearenotjustnumbers2]

I'm sorry for the cruelty of this picture, but I couldn't see Amina and not share her story. Trigger warning: eye injury (bloody eyes).

Amina Ghanem, 13 years old, says: We were sleeping and we heard the sound of tanks when they came and walked over the caravan in which I, my father and my siblings lived. The tank squeezed us inside the tin all night, and we were ran over, until the morning. And when they finally let us out, I found that my father and my little sister have been killed. Now we've been brought here.

She tells her story in this video with her little brother beside her. They're all on their own. Their mother is outside of Gaza and cannot get in or get them out. They have no way of communication, their father and sister are killed.

The eyewitness of Genocide.

[fairsweetlonging]

just thinking about how binghe had no idea that without-a-cure even had a cure and he spent all his years as a disciple thinking his shizun would at best be disabled for the rest of his life and at worst die a slow and painful death, and it was to save him.

[colorofneurosis]

So Quinni went full Fuck This mode masks off only to :

Have a great time going wild at a party

Accidentally become school captain

Solve a (bird)murder mystery

Run into a burning building; save three (3) lives 

Almost like... embracing neurospiciness can lead to surprisingly positive outcomes? Wooooah dude. 

[peace-hunter]

tfone au where OP is created as the last of the primes but way after them, a sparkling born at what were thought to be the last days of the war against the quintessons, the beginning of a new generation of peace after eons of war. a child meant to be loved and raised knowing nothing of war nor sacrifice.

he's kept mostly out of the spotlight by his siblings, who don't wish to expose him to everyone's optics so young, and want to wait until the war is done and over to properly introduce him to their people.

except of course the primes are betrayed and murdered by sentinel, the war is lost and everyone who knows and cared for the truth is either banished or outright killed in order to suppress it.

and the high guard, the ones the primes trusted the most, the ones that were supposed to protect them, the ones who failed in their most important duty, have to make a choice. to take the last prime, their last hope, with them to the surface, a hostile environment where there's little to no supplies and where they'll be hunted down by both sentinel and the quintessons as the biggest threat to their regimen.

or hide him in plain sight. place him where sentinel won't think to look for him. one more sparkling among many. and hope it will be enough to keep him alive. pray to primus that he'll protect his last child long enough for them to come back for him when it's safer (even if most of them have already lost their faith on him when he allowed the rest of his children to be massacred like that)

they almost lose their resolve when they realize they will have to take the little one's cog away in order to make him blend in with the rest of the newborns (and oh do they burn with murderous intent when they see what sentinel has done to their people but it's not the time yet-) but in the end they decide an impaired little prime is better than a dead one.

and so in the chaos of thirteen dead primes and a sudden energon crisis, a little sparkling who very few mechs really knew about and even fewer had seen completely vanishes. and in the depths of iacon a mech in charge of a new batch of newborns scratches their helm in confusion as they realize they must have miscounted the first time.

optimus prime is quietly erased from any official records by sentinel, written off as dead when they find a sparkling's frame mangled beyond recognition after an attack on the base of those rebels that insist on being a thorn on his side. killing the sparkling hadn't been precisely in his plans, he probably could've found some use for it after all, but he's not particularly upset about it either.

and orion pax grows up with an ache on his spark that tells him he's missing something far more important than a t-cog and dreams of gentle and loving hands, cradling him against the frames of mechs he cannot recall the faces of.

[rocketbirdie]

Weird thing that bothered me about Rebirth and I want to hear other people's thoughts.

Um... Why did they gentrify Gongaga? I can't be the only one who feels cheated by the chummy suburban development vibe in Rebirth.

OG Gongaga is an isolated village deep in a jungle. It's possible to completely miss the first chance to visit, because it's practically unheard of. All the young folks fled to the big city. A reactor blew up and killed most of the inhabitants, leaving the town in a state of decay. The houses are falling apart, the people are desperate, it's derelict and miserable.

An understated theme in the OG is how life is difficult without modern technology. Avalanche sets out to destroy these reactors without considering the consequences for their own futures, thinking "well it won't be easy but i'm sure it'll be fine." Gongaga is the story's way of showing you just how fine everything is going to be— despite being in a lush rainforest, long since violently cut off from Shinra's influence, these people still suffer immensely.

I wanted to see it in hd so bad honestly. The splintered rotting wood, the furskin rugs, the dirty brick walls. The unspoken yet unignorable trauma. The mournful purple twilight that quietly hangs over the whole village. I wanted to see the survivors' spiteful determination to make things work without mako.

Instead we got a squeaky clean Crisis Core rendition of Gongaga, with its down-to-earth upbeat stardew valley soundtrack and generic hard workin' country folk. The houses are like... twice the size i expected them to be. Neat and tidy, no holes in the roofs, no dishevelled interiors. No sign of struggle. Everybody is content at worst.

The reactor may as well have never exploded. Nobody talks about it. We hear some bullshit about Shinra trying to "make amends" or compensate people for the damages, and that's about it. Apparently everybody's just fine with this, because all of the original version's resentment and grief is gone.

Don't even get me started on the barker stationed at the town entrance. "Come experience nature's bounty!" Man... why are we treating it like a goddamn hippy tourist attraction. OG Gongaga would have had someone knock this kid's teeth out.

Idk I'm just sad. The melancholy is what made Gongaga so memorable despite its bump-in-the-road identity. I wish we could have gotten that instead of one big callback to CC.

[mcchi-ken]

fiddauthor galore featuring: another pmmm crossover, me getting the hang of drawing that wonky man (fiddleford), and a wip

the last one is a very obscure entirely italian reference but if you get it. i will give you a little kiss 😋 little hint: its a music video. you know this song. your dad loves it. there's the word gravity in it thats why i chose it

[folklorespring]

[backjustforberena]

RHAENYS TARGARYEN: And I must stand alone.

[numberonetribble]

When your love for each other is so great and it becomes something bigger than either of you, oh that's family baby!

[astracora]

The Cat Curse - MC Edition

Characters: Sylus x gn!mc (poly lads)

Warnings: Heavy hurt|Some comfort, Semi-canon compliant heart condition, Spoilers for current story release (Small mentions of Sylus bond up to 102 and all of Sylus' currently released content).

Word Count: 4170

Written: 23rd December 2024

Notes: New relationship Sylus/MC-centric but poly LADs (this time with group chat), with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me.

Now Playing: Monster, by STARSET

Masterlist

Next ->

You've been responding to his messages, Sylus notes, but something's off. He's been away on some inane business trip, ever since you, the doctor, the fish, the prince and he had visited a new kitty cafe opening. He rarely gets to see you visibly excited, you are worse at showing your feelings on your face than he is. Whenever you're faced with animals, of any kind, even Mephisto, your eyes sparkle and you could easily spend hours upon hours sat with them. Even more so if they let you pet them.

The first time you'd seen the evol kitties, according to the doctor, you'd been unsure. They didn't look like cats. Something off and a little wrong, but they mewed at you and straight away you'd gently stroked their noses. As if unable to hold back.

Since then you would drag any of them along to play kitty cards. You didn't like the game, had no patience for strategy, but you did like petting the cats. Sitting there between every round, barely looking at the board, and tickling small whiskers. Much to the fish's distress.

While Sylus doesn't really care if he wins or loses around you, he's almost assured a win when playing with you because it's simply not something you care about. Distracted and unbothered by the game. He's only relieved that when he sprouted ears and a tail (of the caracal kind), you had been just as enamoured with those. Finally smothering him in affection in the same way, and being distracted by his tail. Though he'd never confess to competing with cats, at this point it's just an everyday occurrence.

He found he enjoyed playing most with the doctor, unlike when the man played with you, he took no soft approach with Sylus, and it was fun to butt heads with him. Stubborn as they both could be. That left you to lean your head on the fish's lap, the prince asleep against your side already, and play with cats, to a backdrop of 'You're cheating', 'I'm simply better at this than you.', 'If you would stop getting distracted-' that you mostly blocked out.

Rounds later, he paid the bill before anyone else got chance to, and picked up some cakes to take back.

Then he'd had his business trip to attend, having moved things around so on your rare day off, you could see everyone. It was never fun to drop you off, Sylus missed you anytime he could not see you, and though he was prideful, he had been honest about not being able to sleep without the sound of your voice. A confession you'd flushed at and tugged at one of the straps of your prosthetic.

He'd watched you waver over how to respond, biting at your lip, and fidgeting, as you fought against your urge to run away from him.

Trying didn't come easy, you'd told him. Honesty and openness, it got even harder when you'd lost your family, it got easier with every day you were given room to breathe by all of them, and every friend you held dear to your 'broken' heart. He didn't want to dig, or poke at old wounds, not now you were trying to live... but he often saw too much of himself in you.

Whether it was because of the way you'd grown up, or his soul inside of you, it made him even more careful and aware of offering you what you offered him.

"I'll miss you too, Sy. Call me, alright?" Your finally settled on, cool metal hand taking his in yours and squeezing. Before he'd left you, reluctant and complaining, he'd pressed kisses over your face, down your neck, and finally pushed you to the wall of your apartment building, to steal all the air from your lungs. Thigh holding you up, as he tangled his hands in your hair.

When he'd tried to pull away, he couldn't quite, leaning back in once, twice, three times, chasing the warmth of your mouth. Over and over.

You'd laughed, pushing him back to breathe, gasping, "It's a week. We'll be fine for a week."

A week... you aren't possessive enough, he thinks, spinning his pen in his hand. Half listening to Luke and Kieran talk. He feels as though he's emptied and lost, missing parts of what makes him who he is, and your messages feel... the same.

He could be reading into it... you're not exactly one to put your heart on your sleeve, or cling. You're independent because you've had to be, and he still hasn't had enough time to get you to lean all of your weight on him.

So he sends a message into the group chat without you, made in order to plan surprises or outings.

🐦‍⬛: Is everything ok back home?

⛄️: Aren't you busy?

🐦‍⬛: I'm taking a break.

They don't have to know he's tuning out his business partners, hoping they'll talk themselves out so he can leave.

🐠: lucky, some of us have r busy

🐠: [Attached photo]

🐦‍⬛: Please tell me that's not paint on my walnut table.

🐠: won't answer u then

⭐️: looks more colourful now

He rubs the space between his eyes, already dreading returning to the mess, and regretting letting the fish use his space for storing work while his studio is being fumigated. The partners at the table tense at his action, but he doesn't bother sparing them a glance, so they relax and resume talking.

🐦‍⬛: Is anyone going to answer my question?

⛄️: Is there a reason you're asking?

He hesitates, it's just a feeling, if he worries everyone, and it's nothing...

No, he didn't get this far by not trusting his instincts.

🐦‍⬛: Kitten's messages have felt off.

Two exclamation reactions are his instant response, the fish and prince. They start to type, then stop, then start again.

🐠: what way?

⭐️: have U called them?

⛄️: Calm down, they took some time off work because of a cold.

🐠: y didn't anyone tell us?

⛄️: I thought they would have asked Tara to contact you, or contacted you themselves?

🐦‍⬛:  They didn't.

⭐️: ive been on mission for a couple of days, i can stop in tomorrow when its over

He puts his phone down too forcefully and looks at the room. He's... irritated. Not like he normally is when it comes to you, a childish way where he can't have enough as he likes from you. Like you're a toy he cannot stop playing with. He's almost angry, but mostly sad.

He's been patient, surely you can at least talk to him if you feel sick?

Sylus is done with this trip, he's bored of listening to people talk nonsense, and he has no need for anything they have to offer. "We're done here, Luke. Kieran."

Waving his hand absently and ignoring protests behind him, he leaves the room, phone in hand.

🐦‍⬛: I'm coming back now.

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

Jenna had sent you home, it's not the first time she has. You're terrified one day she'll get bored of having to keep track of your health. Or you'll really let her down, and get you... or more importantly someone else, hurt.

It's probably not a normal mindset to worry so much about what your boss thinks, or to fear disappointing them like they're your parent.

It's not like you have parents to know what's that like... but gran's disappointment every time you got into fights growing up... well it was enough.

Caleb used to cover for you, within reason. He lectured you, told you to pull yourself up and figure it out. That fighting every battle against every jerk you met, reckless and stupid, would get you killed. "Come on pipsqueak, use that energy for something better. Something worthwhile."

So many reasons you didn't want to or couldn't, you wanted to tell him... a hand clenched over your chest.

You were so tired of disappointing them both though, so tired of seeing worn eyes tending to cuts and bruises. Bandaging your back, or fixing the set of your arm.

Being a hunter was that answer. If you used what little life you had in you, unsure when your busted up heart would give out finally, then you could greet Caleb and Gran with pride. Your life was a tool, to make others better.

So every day you weren't working, felt like a day you were failing them... failing to be worth anything other than the core in your chest. A vessel with no purpose or value but to hold something you hated. That could kill you.

It wasn't like you could work like this though... you'd laughed at your partners when they'd sprouted ears and tails. Especially Raffy, he'd been so disgruntled at the fate that had befallen him. This was... probably karma. Pointed, soft ears on top of your head, pinned back against your skull. Pristine white, so they at least blended into your hair.

At your back, a bristled tail, huge and furry... already having picked up some dirt to sully what had been pure white.

It hadn't settled since it had appeared, and you wondered what that said about you...

Fucked up mess. Stupid fool. Useless.

Too loud, everything was too loud. You could hear your neighbours through the walls, all the cars below your apartment, every child crying, dog barking, cat mewling.

It hurts.

You covered your ears with your hand, but noise filtered in through the new set you'd acquired.

Hurts.

You'd grown accustomed to the state of your heart. If you don't pay attention you can miss something, and you care now... perhaps you always did, just too raw like an open wound to let yourself.

It's racing and panicked. You don't need your hunter's watch to know it's too fast. 

Burying yourself into your bed, you cover your head with the duvet, grab at your headphones to shove them into your ears, turning them as loud as they can go, and bury your head under the pillows.

Your phone buzzes at your side, and you don't want to touch it. Scared to leave the cocoon you've built for yourself.

You'd begged Tara to tell Zayne you were sick with a cold, that you would be fine soon. She'd given you a heartbroken look that had made you bristle further, pity. Always pity.

You didn't want pity.

Before your fraying emotions could get the best of you, you'd fled the hunters association, hood up over your head and run home.

You can feel your tail trembling, struggling to swish under the blanket as you struggle to calm down, to at least get some sleep.

Maybe if you sleep it will go away.

Maybe when you wake up you'll feel better.

Useful.

Worth having around.

Not on the cusp of disappearing with nothing to show for yourself.

-----

When you'd woken up, tail still bristled, and newly acquired fangs digging into your bottom lip. Blood staining the bedsheet, you'd finally fished your phone out from your nest.

3am.

The world was quieter for it, and you wondered if this was part of why Sylus preferred the night to day.

You didn't remove your headphones, but you did finally open up your messaging app, seeing messages from everyone.

TaraTara💖: I hope you're ok bestie, if you need anything let me know.

Number One Lumiere Fan: Tara said you were sick, if you have time, I have a few shows you could watch to waste time. Only one is about Lumiere! Promise!

Simone (the one whose guns explode): Hey! Tara said you weren't doing so hot, if you want some company for a movie night, I make the best soup you'll ever have!

Captain: Remember to actually get some rest, take advantage of the break, alright? Everything will be fine here.

🐠cute fishie 🐠: hey cutie, wat do u think?

🐠cute fishie🐠: [Attached Image]

⭐️little star⭐️: missions going well, how are U?

⛄️sweet snowman⛄️: Tara said you're sick, I'll come over to check on you as soon as I can. Make sure you eat and drink.

🐦‍⬛pretty bird🐦‍⬛: Meetings are always more boring without you kitten, I hope you're missing me as much.

Your tail settles, curling against your side, fur flattening and you try really hard not to cry. You wish you'd thanked Tara when you left instead of fleeing, overstimulated and hurting.

Wounded like the cat you're teasingly referred to as. Feral and ready to hiss and scratch. You've spent so many years shutting people out.

Shutting Gran and Caleb out.

Shutting them out you wasted so much time until it was too late.

Why can't you learn?

You force yourself to respond, trying to sound as much yourself as you can... it's unnerving, to wear a mask over a mask. You wonder if you'll ever recognise your reflection.

You hesitate as you go to respond to your partners. You should tell them, reaching up to roughly pull the ears on your head. They'd understand, they've been where you are. Your brain says you should go to the kitty cafe, find out how to fix it this time around... but being out there, in the noise...

Instead you send some version of you're fine, and things are fine, everything is good. You're good.

You're together. You're useful. You're not a burden.

You aren't fragile and sick and useless.

You are worth keeping around, even when your heart picks up speed again, beating so hard against your chest that you fear the core wants to escape its fleshy vessel.

The straps attaching your prosthetic are digging into your skin, rubbing it raw, but you ache to even try to remove it. Fighting with the buckles and biting at the bit. You're still in your uniform, and you're sure by now you need a shower. The idea of water shooting a shot of anxiety straight into your chest, flaring up your tail, and your ears flatten as far as they can.

No water...

Maybe later.

Or you can really fill out how shit you feel with a wet wipe bath.

Caleb would kill you.

You don't want to think about it anymore. You want to let the quiet take over, or reasonably so with the screamo in your ears. Blasting the noise outside into nothing.

So you go back to sleep. Easing the pain in your heart with the only sure fire way.

---------

You can't breathe. You can't breathe.

Bolt upright in bed, hissing through your teeth, chest so tight you can feel your ribs.

You flounder, pulling at where your straps should be, but they're gone, no leather under your fingers. So you move to claw at your chest with one hand, gasping.

Hands grab you, and you struggle and you fight and you hiss. Fangs out, feral and ready to claw your way free. Arms far stronger than you pull you against a warm chest, tilt your head back and pills are placed in your mouth. You try to spit them out but a hand is on your throat, rubbing at your larynx. You swallow and then water follows it.

You splutter and cough, and you wriggle and struggle. Your head is pressed against skin, and you sink your fangs in.

Out. Out. Out.

"It's alright, you're alright, I'm here."

Blood fills your mouth and his scent surrounds you and you shiver. Blinking as your heart medication begins to do its job, easing the fractured organ in your chest. You spit, trying to clear your mouth of the taste of metal, shivering and shaking but your chest isn't constricting you now.

"Sy-" You cry outloud, he holds you, not bothered by the blood tricking down his shoulder. Of course he isn't, he heals it, the pain nothing in comparison to watching you choke on air you can't breathe. "Sorry. Sorry." You mumble against his skin, licking where you bit, crying and shaking. Wrapping your arm around his neck.

He assures you, and he rocks you both in his arms, rubbing your back and running a hand through your hair. Careful around your ears, not going far enough down to touch your bristled tail.

He hums and he rocks, and he squeezes you tight enough to ground you.

It's an hour or two later when you can finally feel any semblance of stable. You can't bring yourself to look at Sylus, he's stroking your cheek and wiping tears from your face, and all you can do is stare at the bed. You can't think of what to say.

You didn't take your medication, you hurt him... it's not the first time, but when this happened with Caleb you didn't have a cats' fangs.

Between you opening up and me prying, I prefer the former. He'd told you, after a terrible day, listing every way he would support you.

With all your sharp edge, you place your hand over his on your cheek, "I'm sorry, Sy."

He huffs, turning you in his arms so you're facing each other, but his one hand grips your hip, sturdy. Solid, strong. He doesn't hurt, but escaping would be hard. You try hard not to.

Though you can feel the... your tail swishing.

He looks at it, at your ears, then at you, red nosed and disheveled.

"Explain."

It's a command, brooking little argument, and though normally you'd refuse to take orders, you duck your head now. Avoiding molten eyes and seeking out something to focus on. The hand that was on your head, stretches out in between you both, palm up, and you take it quickly. Toying with his fingers, squeezing it in your own. Finding connection in your hand on his.

"Jenna sent me home, my evol doesn't work, I can't fight. I... it hurt. Everything's so loud."

You can't see it as he frowns, as your ears prick, then settle, seeking out all the things that hurt them. "I went to sleep, thought it would make this go away, but it didn't."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You hear it then, the pain, like he's biting down on glass. Your eyes dart up and his eyes are glassy, warm red gone dull. "You left your prosthetic on. It was rubbing your skin raw at the angle you were sleeping. There was blood on your sheets." He presses his forehead to yours and breathes you in, "Then this. Why didn't you tell me?" His voice cracks, and you want to be sick.

You twine your fingers with his and choke on the words, "I didn't want to be a bother."

He hisses, his grip on your hand almost hurts, but you probably deserve so much worse. You lied to him, to them, and you hurt him. More than just biting at him.

"You need to tell me. No matter what. No matter what I'm doing, beloved. No matter the issue." He kisses your forehead, over and over and over again. "Promise me."

You nod, and curl your pinky around his, just like you used to with Caleb when he made you promise to come to him with an injury. The words are too stuck in your throat, your voice too sore to use, but you nod. Desperately.

"You're not a burden to be carried, kitten. Ever. Do you understand?"

You don't. You want to, but it's hard. There is no part of you that feels easy or fun, but you do love him. So much. More than you thought yourself capable of. More than you wanted, on borrowed time.

"I'll try." You promise, and it feels like you've cycled back around to the start. Promising to figure things out at home, promising to aim for something. A future you're not sure you're going to ever see.

He takes it in earnest, you do not go back on your word. You are loyal and once you trust, you trust with your heart and your soul. It is yourself you do not trust.

Instead he eases you back into his lap and stands, you flinch and release his hand to grab his neck with your hand. "You need to be cleaned up, I'll help." You go to tell him no because it's water, and you're more a cat than even he teases you for, but you have your head in his neck at this angle, and his scent is so strong. Your tail flattens and begins to flick, lazy and soothed. You hear him chuckle, vibrating through his chest and through yours. "I'm not going anywhere."

-----------

Sylus eases you through steps. He's seen you injured, he's seen you with phantom pains, and he's watched you battle nightmares. Wanderers with swords through your chest, your heart stopping, an explosion you can't stop. He knows what you look like when wounded, he also knows that you fear his reaction when you are.

It takes time to heal wounds, he knows that intimately. You'd never shed your rage or anger, not really. When someone has made mention of gods you'd scoffed, when someone has talked about EVER and their many plans to help humanity, you'd snarled. You trust no king, no god, no corporation to fix the world or the people in it. He knows you're always scared but you keep walking forwards anyway, and he admires and loves you for it.

He just wishes you'd take his hand when that happens.

He has not felt fear like seeing your heart failing you in his arms before, and no matter the violence of your struggle, he would let you rip him to pieces to survive.

He has so much time, and his greatest fear is losing you too soon.

He cleans, and he dries, brushing hair and rubbing lotion to ease the burns on your skin. He helps you dress, finding clothes that don't irritate your tail, because at least he is intimately familiar with that, and then he sits you down on the couch with vegetable soup. Not handmade, though he'd rather have done so. He doesn't want to leave you alone, so he orders what he needs. Sending the twins running around. He's sure you'd like to see them, but he's worried their exuberance will agitate the overstimulation you're combatting.

Watching your ears flick this way and that, picking up too much. As though you don't already struggle with the world's input.

He almost feeds you, wanting to heal you with his own hands, like he's anything like the doctor... he's not. His skills are in bloodshed, and he is as sharp edged as you are.

Except you have made yourself a weapon, to be worth the pain, and he was made a weapon, to survive the pain.

He does not move far away, however, kneeling at your feet, and massaging your calves while you eat. You try to pull your legs away, but he keeps them held, and continues his movements. You have soothed his body before, stitched his wounds, kissed where his scars would be, and he will not have you lacking his own love and affection.

A dragon does not love lightly. Though you don't remember the depths he has gone to for you. This is an easy act of devotion.

"You need to tell them too." He finally speaks, as you clear your bowl. He's relieved to see your ears are no longer flat, your tail is not bristled, you are as relaxed as you can be. You nod, guilt written in your face, and he retrieves your phone for you on black and red mist.

Sitting at your side, he grabs your brush and begins to brush your tail. You almost leap into the air, startled and dropping your phone onto the couch cushions. "Sy!"

"Cat fur can get tangled, especially long fur." He smirks, pulling you closer, and brushing through it with long fingers, "So let me take care of it."

You flinch at the contact, stare at where his hand is in the new found attachment, then keeping your eyes trained on your phone, you nod.

He's content to let you write out what you need to, to be honest with the others, he doesn't want to have that job. It's your mission to step out of your self made cage. So he brushes quietly, the twitching tail in his hands restless, but soon as soft as you can be in your relaxed moments.

Your head hits his shoulder, ears twitching in sleep as all the pent up energy and stress escapes you. Held in long white furs in a small brush. You mutter in your sleep, words he can't understand, and whistle through your nose, little noises that make him laugh.

The best, however, is the purring in the back of your throat, broken up by sleep, and the tail that has found its way around his wrist.

He does not move you, but he retrieves a blanket and holds you against him, cheek pressed to the top of your head, against your fur ears, and keeps watch while you finally find some peace.

⛄️: Are they alright?

🐦‍⬛: They will be.

[wander-wren]

bothers me in trc fandom when people refer to “ronan’s suicide attempt” because it was pretty importantly NOT a suicide attempt. gansey, noah, adam, they all assumed it was, which is why gansey freaks out when ronan goes missing overnight at the beginning of trb, but it is not. it was a dream creature he brought back that had clawed him up.

i’m sure you could argue that that’s just an indirect suicide attempt, ronan’s subconscious, etc (opal tells him the night horrors are him), but i don’t see it that way. ronan is angry and grieving and violent in the wake of niall’s death. the night horrors, to my knowledge, don’t target ronan so much as they target any soft, living thing they can destroy. we don’t see this scene happen. we don’t see the day or the nightmare that comes before. we just have ronan’s word, and ronan says it wasn’t a suicide attempt, so it wasn’t.

and we can talk in circles then about whether ronan is suicidal actually—personally i think he has a sort of reckless disregard for his own life (see: drag racing, dream drugs) and has internalized a lot of the ideas about him being a “bad kid,” but i don’t think he’s actively suicidal. and that’s important to me. it’s important that ronan doesn’t actually want to die. i think he’s struggling to see the point of what everyone wants him to do (school), and struggling to envision a future for himself.

if ANYTHING was going to make ronan suicidal, truly, it should have been the dreamer trilogy. he’s isolated from all of his loved ones, literally starts dying if he’s not careful with the ley lines, and also the world is ending. we can see his same thought patterns repeating (“you’re always the car crash, ronan”) and we see him struggling with reality and identity (every conversation with bryde, who remember is part of ronan’s psyche, and also the looping dream with the mirror). and he’s not suicidal in the dreamer trilogy.

we talk a lot in this fandom about “gansey kind of wanted to live.” i think we should talk about how, despite everything, so did ronan.

[bpdlottiematthews]

persephone had it right

“a burning hill,” mitski/“the beatrice letters,” lemony snicket/“cigarettes & saints,” the wonder years/“the beatrice letters,” lemony snicket/“samson,” regina spektor/“the beatrice letters,” lemony snicket/“letters to doc,” cathy linh che

[rewritingcanon]

me watching a little girl in the single digits innocently explain to me that jk rowling is who she aspires to be when she grows up:

[god-damnit-vinne]

the stealing part doesn't excite me as much as being pursued by you, y'know?

[m-ayo-o]

emoji event 🍒💔🖤 : virgin!reader + breakup sex + suguru 18+ messed up emotional situation, depression mention, insensitive reader, good fuck w the saddest boy around :( wc 1k for @i-literally-cant-with-this !! ty for requesting this one was soooo hard

You've been pulling away from him for months.

He can feel the distance. 

Or perhaps he's pushing you… he finds it easy to blame himself these days, with the way he's been suffering. All the negative thoughts stacking up, one by one. With each curse he collects, another part of his soul dies. He wonders how much longer he can keep this up.

Either way, your relationship is going downhill.

Since you're a few years younger than him and he's your first boyfriend, he hasn't been pushy with you physically and you've never even had sex all this time.

But now, after another dramatic argument centering around his apparent self loathing and lack of motivation, things are getting quite heated.

If only you knew what he was going through. If only you understood the burden that weighs so heavily on his shoulders.

If only he could tell you.

But he can't.

And he can't stop you hating him.

And with the way you're going, he's going to end up hating you too.

"You don't even want to fuck me, do you?"

He's pulled from his thoughts.

"What?"

You turn to face him, tears in your eyes, "You don't want me."

He can hear the pain in your voice now, everything slipping into place. He realises, through no fault of his own, without even meaning to, he's been neglecting you. He's been hurting you.

"Wait, it's not-"

He panics. But it's already too late. You can't stand it anymore. It's not that you hate him, it's not that you're blaming him for being depressed... you feel guilty thinking like this, but you need the old Suguru. You need the Suguru you met last summer, under blue skies, with that confident smile and those flirty eyes.

You need him. But he's not coming back.

"All I wanted- was for you to be my first, ever since I met you, Suguru... I loved you..."

"Wait, wait- loved?"

"I have to go, I have to leave, Sugu, I can't stay here. With you-" your sniffling and hiccupping is persistent now.

"No..." he steps up to you now, leaving his apathy behind to clasp your hands, "no"

His grip gets forceful while he leans down to face you, nose to nose.

His dark eyes flit between yours; tear stained and puffy. He presses his forehead to yours and blinks away his own tears.

"You can't go," you feel his breath on your lips, for the first time, feeling that desperation and want from the man you so sorely crave.

You shake your head.

"'s too late"

"No, no, baby, please," he grabs the back of your neck now, his expression turning pained.

"Please..." his voice mellows again, "please let me show you... how much I love you"

You blink up at him with those pretty, watery eyes. It's been ages since he told you that.

"Sugu, it, it's different-"

"Please," he insists, pushing you till your ass meets the kitchen counter and his arms surround your body.

"Let me," he presses kisses to your cheeks, like he's trying to make the tears disappear, "let me do this."

Your lip trembles, but you nod and accept a soft, longing kiss.

And another. He keeps going, more and more, until he pushes your mouth open. He takes his chance, slipping his tongue against yours in a kiss so deep and loving he might just convince you to stay. At least for one more night.

"It's really over?"

You look up at him and nod, not knowing what to say, and he claims your lips again; your whole mouth.

This kiss feels heavier, now you can feel the warm trickle of tears down your cheeks. You can't tell if they're yours or his.

But you don't care. You get lost in the moment, finally feeling him touch you how you need it.

Now you're all over each other, everything is just going so fast.

You tug at his hair, then his shirt, stripping him and exposing his muscular chest.

"Suguru…" you don't want to leave him.

You pull at his belt now, undoing his jeans and getting your hands on him.

He looks a little hesitant, but moans at the contact, his hips starting to move as you stroke and palm him.

"Baby," his hands find your waist now, "let me take your virginity."

And there it is.

That sexy, charming voice of his has got you weak at the knees.

"Y-yes, Suguru" you blink and nod, feeling stunned, "yes."

He lifts you instantly, taking you into another hot kiss while your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him in tighter to feel every smooth roll of his hips.

"Sugu- ah-"

The bulge in his shorts feels heavenly between your legs- you're so touch starved he could easily get you cumming in your pants, just as he has many times before.

But tonight you're finally getting the real deal.

One of his slender hands pushes your skirt up, panties pulled aside, making you gasp. You can't help the look of hesitation that crosses your face.

"You want me to touch you?"

"Uh huh, yeah Suguru, I, I just need to feel you, please," you're borderline sobbing, hearing his voice so smooth and assertive.

He can't believe you're getting like this for him. He didn't realise you wanted this so badly.

So he taps at your clit, building up that pool of slick that's just perfect for sliding his fingers through. Then into you, slowly, seductively working you open. With each suck to your lip and every pump of his fingers, your pussy throbs and aches for him.

He watches your eyes cloud over with lust when he pulls his fingers out of you and proceeds to smear the wet juice all over his cock.

"Ngh, so fucking wet," you hear him moan, spreading your legs for him eagerly while he pumps himself and massages his tip over your clit.

He quirks up an eyebrow, giving a final check over your expression to ensure you're not backing down, and starts sinking himself inside.

"Ah!"

"Shit- I'll go slower, sorry"

You cling onto his shoulders, watching him bury himself into you, inch by inch.

He gets you crying his name, now he's pushing on such a sensitive part inside you- one you've never touched.

You take in sharp little breaths, the feeling starting to overwhelm you.

"Does it hurt?" He asks softly, pressing kisses over your cheeks.

You nod and stroke his hair.

"Yeah, Sugu it hurts…"

Fresh tears prick in your eyes, feeling the spread of his cock, the ache in your core, in your chest, in your heart.

You never thought your first time would be like this.

It was never meant to be like this.

But god, he feels amazing.

Your body starts to relax, your mouth hanging open with a soft moan as you start to enjoy the motions of his body; your bodies, entwined as one.

"Does that feel nice, baby?"

He holds your legs open and steady, fucking you slow, getting your insides all knotted up with his sweet words.

"Yeah, f-feels so good- s-so full"

"Mm, you feel that really nice deep spot I'm hitting?"

He watches your eyes roll back. Of course you can.

"Yeah, Sugu-"

"If I keep touching you there you'll cum- you want that?"

He sounds so fucking sexy all you can do is nod and take him.

"Yeah, I know you do, I know, let me do it for you"

He fucks you so sensually, your hands tangled in his hair with his lips sucking at yours, your bodies undulating together; pulsing like waves.

You collide again and again, in and out, until you're introduced to a new kind of pleasure.

He fucks you through the most intense orgasm of your life- you know it may be the last he'll give you. Seeing you lose yourself, leaning back on the counter to accept every ounce of pleasure, he fills your body to the brim.

"Ngh, yeah, well done baby- how does your little virgin pussy like my cum, hm?"

"F-feels hot, Sugu"

He pumps you slower and slower, bringing you down gently.

"Did so good sweetheart."

He kisses your cheek and brings your head to his chest, his body engulfing yours in a big hug.

"Now you can at least say you'll miss the sex," he hums and kisses your head.

He lets you get cleaned up, watching you set your clothes back in place while he savours every moment of your presence. He knows he's going to have to watch you walk out that door at some point.

"Stay," he brushes your hair out of your face, "just for tonight."

"I-I-" you hesitate, looking down.

"Then I'll let you go."

Suguru, why are you doing this to yourself?

"It won't hurt as much if I get to fuck you a few more times."

suguru | m.list